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chaos-burst · 3 years

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direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she��s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this... how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

#doriax #critfic #exu fic #critical role #dariax zaveon #dorian storm #exandria unlimited #exu #fanfiction #screeching into the void #text #this has an M rating on ao3 jsyk #we have ~9k of practice kissing/college au magical realism here my guys #dorian #dariax

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keewriting · 3 years

Text

Cove x MC - One Shot #1

[Read on google docs to insert your MC's name]

The crescendo of rain hitting your window woke you from a peaceful slumber. It didn’t often rain this hard in Sunset Bird, especially not during the summer. You felt a pang of disappointment that your typical summer pastimes were not viable on a day like this.

You rolled groggily out of bed and sighed, wondering what Cove thought of the unfortunate weather situation. Knowing him, he’d be even more bummed than you — then it hit you! The list!

You scrambled over to your messy desk and opened the biggest drawer, which you affectionately called the “junk drawer.” This was the home to everything of value that didn’t have a specific place in your room. The actual value of the items in the junk drawer was pretty questionable. From old gaming devices and batteries, to loose papers that could maybe be useful someday.

With everything shoved out of the way, you uncovered the beacon of hope for this gloomy day. A small spiral notebook with a shiny turquoise cover, speckled in tiny yellow stars. You and Cove started using this notebook on rainy days for games of hangman and tic-tac-toe. There were years of games in this notebook, nearly every page filled with games and doodles.

You sighed wistfully as you turned the pages and reminisced about each game. Your first ever hangman game with Cove occurred on a particularly hot day. Yet, playing paper-based games became a rainy day tradition for you two. You went out and bought a special notebook just to keep them all in one place.

During your first hangman game with Cove, he settled on the phrase "you are cute." You couldn’t decide if that was the most Cove-like thing he’d done or if it was boldly uncharacteristic. You blushed at the memory and smiled gently.

Remembering your mission, you snapped out of the Cove-induced trance. You began flipping pages faster until you landed on one containing a list. On the last rainy day you and Cove suffered through, he had the idea to make a list of things you two could do to pass the time. It seemed he could only handle so many games of hangman and tic-tac-toe.

You each took turns writing something you would want to do on a rainy day. There were even corresponding doodles scattered on the page to illustrate each activity. The stark difference between your handwriting compared to Cove’s stood out to you today. His was relatively neat compared to your chicken scratch.

Rather than continuing to dwell on your poor penmanship, you looked closer at the items on the list. There were a total of 14 entries. You skimmed past each one with a focused scowl on your face until you landed on number 12: ear piercing. This was one of your suggestions, and one that didn’t come easily. You went back and forth in your head before writing this one. Considering how you would ask your moms for permission, what other people would think, and how Cove would feel about it. At the time of writing it down Cove seemed on board, for you at least. He was apprehensive about getting one himself, preferring to avoid the conversation with his dad.

A sly smile formed across your face. You decided that at 13 you were old enough to take control of your own body, regardless of what your moms would think. You emphatically shut the notebook and hopped up from the desk chair that you had slumped into earlier.

With a newfound energy you began quickly getting ready. You pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and rummaged through your closet, looking for your yellow raincoat and rainboots. As cliche as they were, you quite enjoyed the look. You could really use the brightness on such a cloudy day. You remembered to shove the small notebook in your back pocket.

You bounded down the stairs and out the door, calling out your goodbyes to whoever was still in the house. You paused under the awning to pull your hood over your head before walking carefully across to Cove’s house. The rain was still coming down hard and the street was slick with rain. With how clumsy you were you couldn’t afford to rush over and slip on a puddle.

Once you reached the Holden’s door you removed your hood and knocked confidently. Mr. Holden appeared momentarily to open the door, his face lit up when he saw you standing there.

Mr. Holden: Y/N! Hey, buddy. How are ya? Come on in!

You stepped inside with a smile and began wiping your feet vigorously on the door mat.

Y/N: Good morning, Mr. Holden. Is Cove around?

Mr. Holden: Sure is, he's surely tucked up in his room still. Why don’t you leave your boots and coat here and you can go wake him up.

You grinned at the thought as you pulled your coat off to give it to Mr. Holden. You slipped off your boots and thanked him as you tip-toed over to Cove’s bedroom door. You considered your options, truly unsure of what he could be up to behind closed doors. After some quick deliberation, you opted for loudly barging in while singing his name.

Without another moment of hesitation, you turned the knob and in a sing-songy voice, called out to him

Y/N: CoooOOoooove, rise and shine!

Cove’s sleepy figure stirred gently at the sound of your voice. He blinked open his eyes slowly and rubbed his hands through his seafoam green locks as you stood over him beaming. Finally, he uttered his first words of the day.

Cove: Y/N? What are you doing here so early?

You chuckled and sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to make Cove blush and start to sit up.

Y/N: Do you hear that? Outside?

Cove paused for a second before looking past you out his window. His expression dropped and he groaned.

Cove: Rain…

You scooted closer and crouched so your faces were level. You smiled deviously and noted how his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened.

Y/N: Cove, today we will fulfil our destiny.

Before he could utter a word, you shifted to retrieve the crumpled notebook from your back pocket. Cove slid up more, clearly intrigued. You turned to the right page and faced it towards Cove while pointing decidedly to number 10.

Cove: Ear piercing… oh yeah! You want to do that one today?

You nodded enthusiastically, hoping Cove would still be on board for this idea. You knew it was a one-sided activity, but you could use his support since it would be your first piercing.

Cove: The mall has a piercing booth, right? Or did you have somewhere else in mind?

Y/N: The mall is exactly what I had in mind!

Cove: Cool. So, how are we getting there?

For the first time since early morning, you felt defeated. Your shoulders slumped and you looked down at your hands. At 13, you might be old enough to get a needle through your ear, but you still couldn’t operate a vehicle. The mall was also too far to walk to, you remembered the time Kyra drove you all to the mall for a visit. Noticing how down you became, Cove spoke.

Cove: I could… ask my dad to drive us there. He isn’t working today. I’m sure he’d say yes.

You instantly perked up and turned to Cove with an open-mouthed smile.

Y/N: Really? Really. Really? Would you?

Cove chuckled and nodded. You wrapped around him with a tight hug the instant his head jerked upward. Your face planted on his chest. You exhaled loudly as you listened to his rushed heartbeat. After you pulled away, Cove got up and smiled nervously, flustered and ready to get the day going. You sat patiently on the bed while Cove got ready and asked his dad about driving you both to the mall.

Once he returned to his bedroom, he wordlessly flashed you a smile and thumbs-up combo. You followed him out to the front door where his dad was waiting with your coat. You accepted the coat and slipped on your boots. Cove had no rain protection, but you decided to stay quiet, knowing he preferred minimal layers.

You all headed out the door into Mr. Holden’s car. Cove sat in the backseat with you even though he typically preferred to ride shotgun. You felt special that he would rather keep you company. A startling question from Mr. Holden interrupted your pleasant thoughts.

Mr. Holden: I hear you plan on getting an ear piercing today, Y/N. Is that right?

Your mouth fell agape and you looked over to Cove, who upon noticing your expression became concerned. You realized you didn’t tell Cove about your plans to keep the ear piercing a secret from your moms. Now that Mr. Holden knew, it was almost certain he would casually bring it up to your moms. Not willing to reveal your sneaky plans, you spoke confidently.

Y/N: Yep! I’ve been wanting one for a while.

Mr. Holden: Hey, that’s great. I bet it’ll look really cool.

You looked over at Cove and smiled at him, hoping to relieve any confusion or concern. He returned the smile, but still appeared deep in thought. The rest of the car ride was uneventful. Mr. Holden dropped the two of you off and notified you of his return in 3 hours.

As soon as you were alone, standing at the entrance of the mall, Cove turned to you with his arms crossed over his chest. You looked up at him sheepishly and noticed his shrewd expression.

Cove: What was that about? That face? Should I not have told dad about the piercing?

Cove’s perceptiveness toward all your quirks was a blessing and a curse. The smallest look on your face could be a dead giveaway to him. You knew he would feel guilty for ruining your plan, but there was no point in trying to hide it from him.

Y/N: I didn’t get permission from my moms to get a piercing.

His eyes widened as his arms dropped to his sides.

Cove: Oh my God, I didn’t realize. I’m really sorry. Are you going to be in a lot of trouble? I don’t want you grounded all summer. We won’t be able to hang out as much. Maybe we should get smoothies and tell everyone it was a joke—

You cut off his rambling, not wanting him to tire himself out so early. Although you appreciated his concern, especially regarding your ability to spend time together.

Y/N: It’s okay, Cove. Really. I totally forgot to mention it when I told you this morning because I was so excited. They would have to find out somehow, right?

Cove: I guess. Can I make it up to you, though? I’ll buy you a smoothie anyway.

Y/N: Well, I could never say no to a smoothie from Cove Holden.

You smiled at each other and continued into the mall. You walked with purpose toward the piercing booth. Your stomach was turning with eagerness and nerves. Cove’s long strides matched perfectly with your short but quick paces. He looked at you with a comforting smile as you closed in on the booth.

The piercer at the booth was an older teen with an assortment of piercings on their own face and ears. They chewed gum loudly as they took down your information and set you up on the cold, hard piercing chair. While they put on gloves and prepared the tools, Cove inched closer to stand next to you.

Cove: How are you feeling?

Y/N: Nervous, excited... very rebellious.

Cove hummed in acknowledgment. You felt his hand brush the hair behind your ear. He gently pinched the now exposed top of your ear. You felt goosebumps travel across your skin at the touch.

Cove: This is where you want it, right? What was it called again… a helix?

You felt your face get hot, pleased that he remembered, and surprised that he was so casually touching you. You managed a quiet “mhm” before the piercer sauntered over to you.

Piercer: Alright, kid. Where do you want it?

Cove shifted out of the way as you pointed to where he had touched. You explained to the piercer that you wanted a simple helix on your right ear. As the piercer was marking your ear, you looked at Cove with pleading eyes.

Y/N: Cove, can I hold your hand?

A distinct blush spread across his cheeks but he didn’t hesitate to position himself next to you on your left side. He offered you his hand and tried to smile reassuringly. You took it gratefully and practiced different levels of squeeze pressure. You didn’t want to accidentally hurt Cove. His hand was hot and familiarly comforting.

Piercer: Ready?

You looked straight ahead and tensed up. You felt your heart pounding in your throat, annoyed that you were so nervous about something you definitely wanted to do. You felt Cove’s eyes on you, a reassurance that he would always be there for you.

Y/N: Go for it.

The piercer lined up the needle and stuck it through your ear in one quick motion. The pain was sharp and quick. You winced and instinctively tightened your grip on Cove’s hand. He squeezed back gently and you could hear a slight sympathetic groan escape his throat. A throbbing soreness replaced the initial sharp pain. You sighed as the piercer removed the needle and inserted a simple silver hoop.

Cove: Y/N? Are you okay? How did it feel?

You looked up at Cove and met his concerned gaze. Without letting go of his hand, you offered a small smile.

Y/N: It definitely hurts. But having this helped wonders.

You lifted his hand and gestured to it with your eyes. His smile reflected a mixed sense of pride, embarrassment, and relief.

Cove: I’m glad… Here, let me get a better look at it.

With your hands still intertwined, he helped you hop off the piercing chair. You faced him and turned your head to the side so he could see the piercing.

Y/N: How does it look?

Cove smiled widely with eyes bright.

Cove: I like it. You look amazing, Y/N.

Although Cove instantly seemed to regret his phrasing, you felt thrilled. Knowing that Cove was into it made facing your moms later seem a little less daunting. You hoped he could be there to help back up your decision.

Y/N: Thank you, Cove. And thanks for being my stress ball.

Cove: Anytime. How about that smoothie I promised?

You bounced excitedly with a loud “Woo!” You finished the transaction with the piercer and listened to their spiel about piercing care. Soon you were off to the smoothie stand with Cove.

Y/N: Do you know what combo you’re going to get? Same as last time?

Cove hummed thoughtfully. You wondered if he was also remembering the time you stole a sip from his smoothie. He never ended up finishing it after that. You felt a pang of guilt and decided you would let him keep the smoothie to himself.

Cove: I think I’d like to mix it up. There were so many great options to choose from.

Y/N: Right?! I would love it if I could just add all of the fruit and berries. Make a super smoothie concoction.

Cove scrunched his face in exaggerated disgust. You chuckled at his reaction and gently nudged his arm. He nudged right back with a warm smile planted on his face.

You each placed your order with the smoothie attendant. Cove paid for both. You felt appreciative of the gesture, knowing he wanted to make you feel better about your foiled plan. His consideration for your feelings made you feel warm inside, even though you didn’t blame him at all for the mishap.

Cove picked up both smoothies and handed you your order with a smile. As you continued your walk through the mall, you took a long, deep sip and then exhaled loudly.

Y/N: That really hit the spot! Thanks, Cove.

Cove simply nodded as he continued to sip at his smoothie. For a second you thought his lips wouldn't move from the straw for the rest of the trip, not willing to risk losing a drop to your sneaky mouth. But then, he broke free and smiled with a wince.

Cove: Brain freeze.

You burst out laughing, relieved that he would actually be available to talk to you.

Y/N: I know a trick for getting rid of a brain freeze! Here, look at me.

Cove faced you quizzically. You opened wide, turned your face upward, and pressed your tongue up to the roof of your mouth. His gaze dropped to your mouth while his own mouth fell open. An obvious blush spread across his face and he nodded. You wondered if seeing the underside of your tongue was a little too scandalous for Cove. You closed your mouth into a cheeky smile.

Y/N: Try it. I promise it works.

Cove turned away from you and tried your trick with his mouth firmly shut. He sighed in relief and immediately took another sip of his smoothie. That earned another laugh from you. He smiled at you sweetly with a mouthful of smoothie.

The walk continued pleasantly for a few minutes. You laughed, and teased, and joked with each other comfortably. You both reminisced about the last mall trip you had with Lee and Derek, even though it was only a few weeks ago. Suddenly, Cove’s pace slowed and he came to a halt. When you turned back to look at him, his expression lost in thought. He absentmindedly picked at the side of the cup with his nails. You noticed tiny indentations marked across the styrofoam cup.

Y/N: Cove? Is everything alright?

Cove breathed out and walked towards you gently. He extended his smoothie towards your face. His face red and his eyes glued to the smoothie, refusing to meet your gaze.

Cove: Would you like to try mine? I think it’s delicious. I think you would like it.

Stunned, and a bit apprehensive, you thought deeply. You didn’t want Cove to miss out on the rest of his smoothie again. But this time he was offering. You wondered what changed, and hoped this wasn’t more piercing-related guilt.

Y/N: If you’re sure, I would love to. But promise me you’ll finish the rest.

Cove’s eyes snapped to yours and it was his turn to feel stunned. You never revealed to him that you knew he never finished the smoothie last time. He looked embarrassed, but you had to be sure he wouldn't throw it out again.

Cove: I— yeah. I’ll finish it.

That was good enough for you. You wrapped your lips around his straw and took a big sip. The flavor was different to yours, but still satisfying. You kept your eyes on Cove while you pulled away from his smoothie. He slowly raised the smoothie to his own mouth and took a quick sip, all while looking desperately to the side.

Y/N: Success!

Cove let out a nervous laugh, glad to have made that much progress. He was still blushing while you continued your trek. You wondered if his face would ever return to its normal color as long as that smoothie was in his hand.

You finally made it back to the entrance with Cove. His dad would be returning to pick you up in a few minutes, as promised. You both threw your empty smoothie cups into the nearby trash can. You looked out the glass doors and noticed the rain finally stopped falling. There might be a chance to enjoy the outdoors with Cove before it was time to face your moms.

You decided to wait outside. He stood next to you and sighed.

Cove: I’m sorry again.

Y/N: It’s okay, I couldn’t have asked for a better rainy day partner. Thanks for doing this with me.

You inched closer and smiled up at him. He grinned back, convinced that everything would be okay. You waited in a comfortable silence, satisfied with your own rebellious actions.

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

What If...? II // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: After playing The Orpheum things were looking up, Sunset Curve bought the house that owned the studio the band used. Alex lived in a safe environment will only love, Reggie didn’t feel like a ghost in his house and Luke was no longer sleeping on a couch. Life is good until it isn’t.

Warnings: Swearing, accident, injuries, angst, car accident (this was written before If I Stay)

Words: 2.7k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog . There will be more parts, total coincidence that it has a car accident. Also appears when I try solely fluff it turns into painful angst. My apologies, the next part will be better but also prepare for it too.

A/N: Sorry for disappearing. I have Lost Time Part 2 finished, If I Stay Part 2 is also finished but I really want to put a new part out for What If...? so here you go!

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood, 1996

A hot cup of your morning brew cradled in your hand you stared out the window to the garage where Sunset Curve had practiced for years. A year had passed since The Orpheum; the band got signed to a label with an EP being dropped. The moment money came to the band Luke, Alex and Reggie had pooled money to buy the house the garage belonged to. You just happened to be over a lot still being seventeen.

“Hey,” Luke spoke, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his body tight against yours. His chin resting on your shoulder as his hand swiped the mug to take a swig from it.

“Hey!”

“Don’t sound so offended.” Luke chuckled, “I’ve tasted other things that belong to you.”

“Disgusting.” Alex gagged walking by the couple with distaste written clearly all over his face. He adored you two together, but he didn’t like the activities that you frequently did behind closed doors.

“Yeah, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t play wrestle in the middle of the night.” Reggie scoffed heading up the stairs to his room while Alex blinked after him.

“I- and he wonders why he’s still single.” Alex sighed, heading to the living room to watch a film whereas Bobby was grabbing a quick drink before leaving. The only member of the band that didn’t live in the house but then again, he didn’t have issues with his parents; well if he did, he never told anyone else.

A snicker fell from your lips as a deep chuckled vibrated through the body courtesy of Luke’s close quarters with you. His arms tightened when you shifted in his arms, glancing at his watch before you pushed the mug back into his hand.

“Gotta go.” You sighed, pressing a kiss to Luke’s cheek and freeing yourself from his warm embrace to nab the bag from the chair. Luke released a whine detesting the emptiness in his arms, “As much as I would have to stay and cuddle all day, I have plans.”

Luke released a long sigh with a nod glancing as Bobby’s gaze fixated your form heading for the front door. He snapped out of it when Luke hit his chest.

“C’mon man! That’s my girl.” Luke scoffed, making his way for the stairs, “Go, home, dude.”

Bobby did as he was told glancing up at the ceiling where each boy would be in their bedrooms until practice later that night. Bobby couldn’t help that he found you attractive, but he would never step over the line with his bandmate. You were already gone when Bobby got outside and the harsh glare on the back of his head from Luke.

Lance had picked up his daughter itching to play you the bones of the new song he had recorded with the band. It was by far his favourite one given that it was centered on you growing up which he both hated and loved. He had missed more of your life than he cared to admit so it is the last year before you would leave the house, he had taken a break from touring.

“It’s not fully finished. The working title is Bittersweet.” Your father spoke glancing over, “It’s slower than our usual song, but I have ideas.”

“What was the inspiration?” You questioned leaning your head back to glance over at him. A small smile tugged at the rock star in the driver’s seat.

“Almost twenty-years ago a struggling musician snuck into a concert he couldn’t afford. A struck of luck had a pretty ballet dancer attending too. It was an odd love story, and that musician had a double miracle. Eighteen years ago, he met the second love of his life.” Lance had a way with words that entranced anyone, whether it be musically or not.

“That musician was you.” You took a guess that ended up being right when Lance nodded, “Dad.”

“I was hoping you would harmonize on it with me? My sound guy is incorporating your voice as a baby, and in the ending, I want you to say something.”

A bright smile turned the corners of your mouth up while silent tears rolled down your cheeks at the idea he had. At that moment, you also decided to keep the collaboration and song a secret from your boyfriend and friends.

“I’d love to.” You spoke swiftly hugging his arm before he was shoving you back to your seat and his arm slung in front of you.

A blindly light made its presence known for a second before a loud crack shattered around you and your body was slammed the dash—a scream coming from your father before everything went quiet. You prone form slumped onto the crushed door unaware of the cries taking place outside the car.

Lance moaned fluttering his eyelids as consciousness brought him into the world again. His brain struggling to make sense of why the car was on its side. It connected when his first thought was his daughter.

“Sweetheart.” Lance’s tongue caught the copper taste in his mouth, but it was the petrifying taste fear that lingered as he received no response.

Straining his neck, he could see now you were laying against the crushed passenger door of the car; the car on its side with Lance strapped to the seat. A sharp cry released as he caught the blood coating the profile of his little girl. A haunting sound of Bittersweet filled the car among Lance’s sobs.

In the home of Sunset Curve, it was notoriously known that the only channel on TV was MTV, never the news. As usual, the guys were fighting over what kind of pizzas, they should order unaware of the countless news reports on a car crash. It wouldn’t be under hours later that they found out.

“Guys!” Alex’s head snapped up as Bobby struggled to breathe in the entrance of the kitchen, leaving the front door wide open.

“Mushrooms Bobby?” Reggie inquired oblivious to the tension radiating off the rhythm guitarist. Bobby had enough sweat it was like they had just finished a fifteen song setlist under boiling lights.

“Have you guys seen MTV?” Bobby demanded gaining the attention of his three bandmates as looking lost at the uncharacteristic anxious boy.

“Is our song playing?” Luke spoke, leaning over the island with a grin. His messy hair almost covering his hazel eyes.

Bobby didn’t reply other than to rush over to the tv to get to MTV. Instead of music blasting the house, a somber person was sitting on a chair.

“The musical world is struggling as the world waits for news on musician Lancaster Jameson following a car accident early this afternoon. Little news has been released on the circumstances leading to the crash on the occupants with both vehicles.” The man spoke sitting on a stool behind a makeshift desk.

Luke’s heart dropped at the words that rocked him to the core. His body working on autopilot was already moving to the door, he needed to be there for you. You must be terrified for your father. Luke had to be there for you. He just didn’t know you were in the car as well.

“An emergency response official revealed, however, that as they used the jaws of life, a song was still playing. A song very unlike anything Lancaster’s band has released before.”

A taxi, courtesy of Alex, pulled up beside the lead singer with his friend helping him into the backseat before joining him as well. Little did they know about the scene at the hospital.

Your mother, Nancy, sat silently ripping apart a Kleenex a nurse had graciously given the woman as she waited with bated breath. Her pallor pale and gaunt under the harsh hospital lights where she waited to hear the news for her family. Her tears began to fall as Luke, and his bandmate appeared in the ER.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” Alex spoke, heading straight for the woman pushing the fears and anxious feelings to be dealt with at another time.

The woman couldn’t look Luke in the eye, knowing that the media had been issued legal documents to ensure you were kept out of the news. The lawyers had swiftly jumped on that part of the accident while your mother worried herself with the what-ifs swirling in her head.

“Luke.” She breathed, leaning to pull the teenager into a hug, “I’m sorry I couldn’t call.”

“I understand. You need to focus on Lance.” Luke supplied, stepping back to look around the room for you. His brows furrowed at the lack of evidence you were there, “Where’s Y/N?”

Nancy’s eyes watered further at the mention of her daughter still in surgery looking over to Alex, who collapsed into the chair understanding the look. Luke didn’t see it.

“I suppose the lawyers did an excellent job.” Nancy sighed, digging deep inside herself to lead the teenage boy to the chairs be had settled into, “I’m very sorry, Luke. Our lawyers reacted to the accident, but Lance’s name was already released. He wasn’t alone.”

“Y/N-“

“She’s in surgery right now.” Nancy’s voice broke slumping into the chair, returning to shredding the Kleenex in her hand. Alex was stock still in his chair, “I’ve been told she was lucky. There hasn’t been news on Lance yet.”

“Oh my god.” Luke breathed, staring at the scuffed shoes he had had for years by now with a little doodle you had done one night. The world faded as Luke went over a single moment, he had shared with you, and something burned; something he had carried for months now felt heavier than ever before.

Hours went by for Luke, Alex and your mother slowly the ER waiting room grew to have Reggie for support. He was the most serious he had been in his entire life; he had contacted the Patterson family but pleaded they wait for news at home. Reggie knew Luke wouldn’t be able to deal with his unresolved issues with his parents and the grief.

“Mrs. Y/L/N.” A doctor wearing scrubs called outgaining the attention of Nancy who rushed up to the older doctor, “Please follow me.”

Nancy wavered in her steps as the doctor brought the middle-aged woman to a quiet room where the sound of a heart monitor beeped. Nancy was quick to rush over to the body, resting still out from the medication.

“Y/N.” Your mother breathed collapsing into a chair where she grasped your hand tightly. Her eyes took in the superficial cuts on your face and the brace on your wrist.

“She’s miraculously lucky for the severe car accident, she has a minor concussion along with a broken wrist. We had to remove her appendix or spleen, but she’ll be fine. The seat belt, however, snapped upon impact.” The doctor spoke facing the sobbing woman with pity in his eyes, “By the bruise across her chest we can see that your husband protected her, the media calls with ‘being soccer mom’d’ or my daughter does. Had he not done that the injuries would have been too severe to survive or she would have been in a vegetative state for the rest of her life.��

“Lance. Is he okay?”

“We need to talk about that. If you could follow me, we’ll let your daughter rest.”

Sunset Curve came to an early hiatus in their music career as Luke refused to leave your room from the moment he was allowed. When visitor hours were up, you could find him in his car struggling from sneaking into your room, but the warning of charges from the guard kept him in his place. For the first time in his life, Luke had no urge to put pen to paper or strum a single tune on his guitar.

He would stay silent in the chair beside your bed, holding tight to your hand in despair and guilt. He would, of course, visit Lance when your mother came to see you, they traded off not wanting either one to be alone.

A moan from the bed brought the attention of Luke and Alex, who had visited today to convince his best friend to come home for a shower.

“Baby?” Luke lunged closer as your eye fluttered open scanning the room with bleary eyes and sadness, “Hey.”

“Why are you holding my hand?” You questioned glancing at the hand intertwined with yours. Luke’s face dropped stumbling back at the look you cast him.

“You don’t-“

“I woke up from an accident, and you can’t hug me?” You finished staring at the boy down, unaware the delivery of the question could very well be better than it was. Luke heaved a sigh gently, pulling you into a hug.

“That was cruel. I thought you didn’t remember me.”

“Luke forgetting you is like forgetting what the moon is.” You spoke wincing as you leaned back, “What’s the damage?”

Luke’s eyes glared at the nonchalant behaviour you displayed. At the same time, he was an utter mess from a week of sleeplessness and crippling fear. Alex’s deep sigh as he pushed down on Luke’s shoulders to place him back in the chair.

“The damage is you’ve been unconscious for a week with a minor concussion, a broken wrist, a bruised knee that was recently diagnosed, you are one spleen less, and you won’t have to worry about getting appendicitis. You will be incredibly sore from the bruises as well.” Alex supplied leaning to gently hug your form for even if you were dating his ex you had quickly grown to be a surrogate little sister.

“Oh.” You blinked, turning to stare at the wall, “What about my Dad?”

“He’s fine. He’s been struggling with orderlies every day to escape to check on you.” Luke spoke, “Your mom and I have had to do shifts between rooms during visitation hours. Security wasn’t happy to find me in here after hours.”

“Good.” You nodded leaning back in the bed staring up at the ceiling muttering a reply when Alex murmured, he would head to tell your parents you were awake.

Luke once had romantic plans before the accident, but when he found out about your accident, everything hit him. What-ifs of never living his dreams with you, of the things he might never get to do.

“Your hand better heal fast so that brace can come off.” Luke spoke, keeping his gaze on your face entirely in love with you. Your look of confusion amusing him, “Well how will the ring fit?”

“Ring?” You questioned becoming owl-eyed when Luke pulled out a stunning ring from his pocket, “Oh my god.”

“You tend to change my plans with everything you do. I was going to have this big speech and a romantic dinner, but I can’t wait.” Luke spoke, leaning to wipe away a tear from your eye, “I never want to be that scared again so until I can blow your socks off with a better proposal will you marry me?”

Your hand cupped the smooth cheek of the boy you loved more than words could ever say, “No.”

Luke’s heart broke at the words he never anticipated to hear, “What?”

“I say this because I love you, but I don’t want to go into an engagement with bad blood between you and your parents. You’ve shown them that your dream was worth it, but now you have to reach out. I want only happiness when we get engaged.”

Luke nodded his head, putting the ring back in his pocket, disappointed in the response, but what could he do? You gave a reason, and while definitely annoyed him he couldn’t fault your compassionate nature. For once in your entire relationship, the silence was awkward.

“So…” You trailed off, avoiding looking at Luke, “Have you decided on a tracklist for the album?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Luke shook his head only to be relieved when your parents came into the room. Nancy was already crying as she collapsed into the chair.

“Oh baby.” Nancy spoke, pressing a kiss to the bruised forehead you currently rocked. Lance scowled as he was rolled closer to the bed by the orderly.

“I’m fine.” You grumbled as your mom scanned every part of you, “Seriously!”

“I almost lost my baby.” Your mom snapped before apologizing at raising her tone, “Let me coddle you.”

You resigned yourself, but there was a sadness inside as Luke shared a goodbye before leaving you alone with your parents. You really wished you hadn’t been wrong in your decision.

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#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #charlie gillespie imagines #what if...? luke patterson #caitsy and ash productions

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kyoupann · 3 years

Note

Please do more of the writing head canons. It’s really interesting to see other people’s ideas on the topic, so if you can be bothered, I would highly appreciate more, thanks bye <3

Y’all don’t know how happy I am to talk about these headcanons, they are my babies and I love them so much :’) thanks for asking g <3

Handwriting Headcanons

Same dynamic as before, try to guess whose handwriting it is before reading and tell me how many you got right! <3

You can find the first post here (no need to check it tho)

Quick disclaimer: halfway through making my initial notes, I remembered I had one (1) single lesson of graphology in my applied linguistics class, but that was a year ago and some information might be off. I just thought it was neat to include.

Another quick disclaimer: I don’t know much about Hylian, but I like to think it has a similar stroke system to Japanese, so the pressure and accuracy of your strokes play a major role in your handwriting (among other things, ofc.) so there are some parts where I focus more on that

(First Row, from left to right)

Sky

Our first boy is mother hen! Believe it or not, he has the prettiest handwriting out of all of them! Sky: probably has nice, even elegant handwriting because Sun forced him to practice when they were little. In the end, that paid off because his handwriting is the prettiest one. There’s no pressure, but he is confident in what he writes that his lines aren’t thin. Mistakes? what is that? this boy has impeccable grammar and spelling. No mechanic errors to be found in his letters! I’d like to think that many of Hyrule’s classic/staple poems were originally written by the firt king aka sky child. Like, imagine, after a retiring from being a Person of Power (as the first ruler), Sky finds comfort in the arts: revisits his old woodcarvings and starts writing poetry about the world he still doesn’t fully understand. wowie. tldr: sky writes poetry and you can pry it from my cold dead hands.

This is what one of his letters would look like:

Next one is the one and only, our Hero of Time

2. Time

I’ll die on the “Time didn’t know how to read and write” hill. His handwriting is simple, not pretty but not messy. It has some grammar and spelling mistakes here and there. Can become unreadable if writing in a hurry, he sorts of forgets spaces between words are a thing/letters have different sizes and lowercase letters end up the same size as capital letters. I’m not saying he sometimes forgets to write articles: he just doesn’t want to. Honestly, he just has this dad-neat handwriting. He is a gentle dad and writes like a dad, if he puts too much pressure onto the paper, his handwriting become too sharp/angle-ish and ends up looking ugly. And as much as he would like to not care about it, in the end he does (:

Malon taught him how to write and it was quite the experience. At first he didn’t want to because he was ‘too old’ to learn and it was torture at first, but now look at him devouring his cowboy novels.

A chunk of his handwriting:

*sniff* such a dad quote.

3. my mansss, your 4x1 deal at Target: Four

Look, my boy is patient! He could do some nice and fancy lettering if he wanted to. He was taught that handwriting and spelling said a whole lot about him as a person, you know, like a first impression kinda thing; so he always proof reads more than twice before sending a letter. Super rare grammar mistakes.

The faster he writes, the more slant his writing becomes. Under stress/ when not sure how to write things down, run-on sentences are everywhere and his handwriting is inconsistent in general (I don’t headcanon each part of him having completely different handwriting because handwriting becomes muscle memory over time. It’s just slightly different variations of the same, like idk Vio’s handwriting is neater than Green’s and Red writes hearts instead of any dot/circle and no, I do not take constructive criticism on that, jk i do.) Adding on to each of the colours’ handwriting, I’d think Red and Green write with words slanted to the right( inclined), Vio is a mix of the opposite, so reclined and straight, and my mans blue a true neutral writes straight (kinda like Time’s).

The logic behind this is that inclined writing supposedly means honesty and need for giving (and getting) affection; reclined means, as you can probably imagine, defensiveness and repression of true feelings, but also shows great concentration; straight handwriting means self-control, observation and reflection as well as distrust and indifference. But as complete being (tm), Four just writes as in the image example which is not too straight and not too inclined, and I believe that’s a good middle for him

HOWEVER, if I’m feeling in the mood for crack, I totally accept this boy to have the ugliest, chicken scratches-looking handwriting! :’D It’s just funny to think that someone like him, who has to be precise and careful in his work, can't write neatly to save his life.

One of his letters would look like this:

Also I just LOVE how his hero titles look in this font ksksks

and that’s

(Middle row, from left to right)

4.- Mister Bunny Boy - Legend

His uncle taught him how to write. I’d call his handwriting pretty and neat at a first glance, but he presses too hard on the paper, most of the time staining the back or the following page. Sometimes will retrace some words if he doesn’t like how it looks (which only makes it messier). According to my notes, a thick or strong handwriting represents determination/commitment.

As I also headcanon him to know many languages, mechanical errors are more present than grammar ones; that is, weird capitalisation of words. Punctuation is somewhere in between; uses too many commas when he should just cut the sentence. he mixes punctuation from two languages or more in writing when too distracted (or too focused, because, well, pressure.); when he writes for himself, he has almost no problem following said language’s punctuation rules. Also, this is just polyglot culture, and I’m projecting a bit, but when he forgets a word in the language he’s writing, he just replaces it with its equivalent in another language because we don’t care about fluency, but rather functionality. in this household (more on that in my language hc, ksksks).

An example of his writing:

so powerful

4.- Mr. Wolfman, howl me a song - Twilight

I don’t have much for him because 1) I don’t think he writes a lot and 2) he is a hands-on/visual learner, I’ll die by that. He only learnt how to write because Ulli insisted it was important and he was not about to disrespect his momma; he IS That Guy, but doesn’t really write enough to have neat handwriting.

Many people seem to overlook the fact that his house is filled with books and write him as completely illiterate (which if not explored properly, ends up feeling a bit disrespectful and full of prejudice, but go off I guess; and that’s on my core Headcanons for Twi); however, he sticks to simple sentences. Knowing how to read and understanding a text is different from knowing how to write them. Like, when we would see a semicolon and understand its position in the text, but didn’t understand the nature of it. Is this clear? idk i’m sorry. So yeah, boy reads a lot, writes very little.

As for his Actual Handwriting, as opposed to Legend, his handwriting is thiccc but not because he presses into the paper; he is just that messy, he has no sense of ink-flow-control, he does what he can with what he has. To the untrained eye, his handwriting illegible letters like v, n, u are very similar; when he makes notes for himself he does it in the form of doodles or small ‘icons’. But! He reads a lot, so he rarely makes spelling mistakes (: he is your go-to guy when you don’t know how to write a word.

An example of his writing:

He keeps a journal, sue me.

3. My first born- Warrior

Okay, first off... I accept this is completely biased. I saw the idea and said “That’s True”. If you haven’t, please read Effective Communication; or The Lack of Thereof by htruona, a fic where the boys reflect on the language barriers between them. It’s incredibly funny and probably what made me start making these silly notes. So, if you’ve read that fic, you know where I’m going.

My man, Warrior, can’t fucking write. I mean, he physically can, but it’s very bad. Here’s the reason for it, tho, and it’s not his fault: Technically, he knew how to write alright but he joined the military and whatever note he had to write had to be concise or in the worst case coded. He mixes capital and lowercase letters. If we consider that he joined the military at around 15, his handwriting and grammar had yet to continue developing. Just think about how after summer break, your handwriting was always slightly worse than before because you didn’t write for an entire month. Now think what 2 years can do to that. Hmm, not cool, dude. He makes quick notes, when writing he’s all gotta go fast. he is the lighting mcqueen of writing; good for emergency messages, not ideal for love letters. His punctuation also suffered a lot, he only know full stops and commas and hardly uses them. A sentence for him is either one word or fifty without a single comma, no inbetween.

His hero title and an example of his writing.

(Bottom row, or what I like to call “fuck cursive” row)

7.- Magic man - Hyrule

I’m basic and I do agree with the popular headcanon of he not knowing how to write because well, y’all know his Hyrule. He only knows how to write his name because that’s important, same with numbers. I don’t see why would he write/read except checking the roadsigns. (he can even use this as an excuse for getting lost frequently; he thought it said something different.) But I do think that because his habitual reading consists of roadsigns, his ‘punctuation’ is weird af and places full stops/points/periods at the same level of his words and his commas/question/exclamation marks below them. Yk, creative license. Sadly, I don’t have much about my magic hands man so here’s what his writing would look like if he actually wrote a paragraph:

Man, I love Hyrule.

8.- Man, I don’t understand this boy - Wild

Cursive? ain’t nobody have the time for that. He woke up and had to save the world in his underwear while not knowing how to read nor write. He learnt during his journey and was taught by multiple people from different regions, that explains his inconsistent spelling of things and names for them. So Wild knows language variations for many items and uses them interchangeably (even if they aren’t exactly the same). Another headcanon related to writing/language skills that I’ve been thinking about is that if the shrine was able to cause amnesia, I’m sure there were other areas in the brain affected which leads us to language disorders such as agraphia and aphasia. But that’s a story for another day ksksksk

An example of his writing (after relearning)

9.- The best of sons - Wind

I don’t have much for him and that makes me sad. Look, he’s a kid, doing kid things like stabbing dudes on the head. This boy was taught cursive by his grandma, but could never do it and no one needs it anyway. His handwriting is good enough for his pirate life, Tetra is the one to handle Official stuff, he just gotta sign. Spelling and grammar mistakes abound. He is still relatively young and can correct his handwriting if he desires. But same as Wild, with how many times he’s been thrown out and hit his head, I’m starting to consider some language disorder for him as well.

An example of his writing:

aaand that’s it.

Thanks, y’all for showing interest in this silly thing uwu it was fun to finally talk about this. If you ever want to discuss ideas/headcanons(especially if they are related to language and culture), I’m your person (: I’m always happy to hear new headcanons. Feel free to add anything to this post either in a reply or in a reblog, I’d love to hear from y’all <3<3

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

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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rreeaahh · 3 years

Text

“I told your brother I have all the luck I need” | Oliver Wood - pt. 1

pairing: oliver wood x reader

word count: 2,562

summary: being Harry’s older sister, Y/N can’t let him do whatever he pleases. she takes care of him maybe a little too much, but she knows what’s better for her brother, and nothing can change her mind. or maybe...

a/n: I’m really nervous writing this because I want it to be perfect. Please, let me know if there are any mistakes. This one is for @alwaysnforeverfangirl , who gave me the bright idea<3

warnings: none, i think.

“You don’t get it, Y/N, I’m the youngest Quidditch player in a century! Professor McGonagall and Oliver Wood said I’m pure talent!”, said Harry again, even more excited than the last time.

“And I said I’m proud of you, Harry”, but actually you didn’t pay that much attention to your little brother. Your Potions’ homework was a hell, as usual, and you needed to be fully focused on it.

“Could you at least pretend that you really are proud, as you say? You didn’t stop reading since I came here and it’s annoying.”

“Sorry, mate, I guess you’re right”, sighing, you pushed away your parchment just for a moment, to talk to your brother. He was very happy to have your attention, even for a bit, so he could tell you everything again.

He told you how he got back the Rememberall from Draco Malfoy, the boy who was a little bully in your eyes, and how Professor McGonagall presented him to Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Griffindor Quidditch Team. He was speaking with such an enthusiasm, which made you feel a bit sad because of your thoughts.

“That’s cool, mate, really cool”, you whispered while paying attention again to your notes. Playing with your quill and bitting your lower lip, you gave Harry the impression that something was wrong.

“What is it, Y/N?”, he asked tilting his head so he could make eye contact with you. He knew you too well so it was hard to lie him in the face.

Again, you let down your qill and looked him in the eyes with a serious expression.

“I don’t want you to play Quidditch yet, Harry.”

“You don’t?”, shouted Harry, gaining an ugly look from Madam Pince. You muttered an apologize and focused back on Harry, who seemed angry and sad at the same time. “But you said you’re proud of me, what happened?”

“Quidditch is a dangerous game, Harry, and I don’t think you should play this year. Maybe next year, or in your third year, or never at all”, you said the last part for yourself, but you knew he heard you. “And, besides, you just started your Flying lessons, you need more practice.”

“But Oliver said I’m good enough, I already told you, Y/N. Why can’t you just trust me? I’ll be fine, I promise”, giving you his famous puppy eyes, you got upset. He knew you couldn’t resist them, but that was a serious situation. “You worry way too much, Y/N!”

“That’s not true!” This time, the ugly look from Madam Pince was for you, so you bitten your cheek. “Look, Harry, you’re distracting me from something really important. I made my decision, so stop bothering me, please.”

“Yes, Potter, stop bothering your sister.” You looked annoyed behind you and you tensed up a little when you saw Oliver with some books in his hands, smiling at Harry. “Your sister is very busy, and I think you should train for Quidditch, instead.”

His hair was messy but he still looked perfect in his uniform. Even if you weren’t a big fan of Quidditch, you couldn’t deny how good looking was the Captain of Gryffindors. Being a third year, you didn’t have any hope for him to actually see you, but he knew you were Harry’s sister. Actually, that’s how a lot of people knew you – being the older sibling of The Chosen One wasn’t fun, because you felt even more pressure on you to protect Harry, no matter how upset he would be about that. Later, he’ll thank you for looking after him.

“Yeah, I would do that but my very busy sister doesn’t agree with my position in the team, so I guess you need to look for another Seeker.”

Oliver’s facial expression changed suddenly but he put another smile on as quick as possible.

“Is that so?”, he asked you with a little amusement in his voice.

Putting yourself together, you gave him the same smile in return. “Rough game, Quidditch. And you know that better than anyone, Wood.”

“Rough, indeed, but also noble”, and before you could say something, he continued “And I know that better than anyone, Potter.”

You wanted to play it cool but, in fact, your crush was talking to you and he was smiling while doing it.

“Potter, let me alone with your sister”, Oliver asked Harry politely while letting his books rest on your table. “Maybe I can change her mind.”

“I have to meet Ron in the common room, anyway. I wish you good luck, Oliver.” Harry got up and looked at you for the last time, hope in his eyes, and than looked back at Oliver when he started speaking.

“I guess I already have all the luck I need, but thanks Potter”, Oliver smiled again and winked slightly at you. “Now go, I’m sure your friend is waiting for you.”

After Harry was gone you sighed and grabbed your quill again, pretending to study your notes. Oliver sat down in front of you, where Harry was sitting a moment ago, and he was staring at you.

“I’m not changing my mind, Wood”, you said without looking at him. A part of you knew you would became weak if you made eye contact with him. That happened at every Quidditch match you were forced to attend and you saw him playing. He was talented and passionate about this sport, but he also got hurt badly on his first match.

“I guess you already know that Professor McGonagall herself suggested that your brother would be a perfect Seeker.”

“Yes, I know, but I don’t agree with her. Harry is too young and he needs to pay attention to his classes”. You started to make doodles in the corner of a parchment, thinking how his brown eyes were on you, on your movements.

“So you say I’m failing my classes.”

“I didn’t say that, Wood”, you told him quickly, looking at him for the first time since he sat down. And, as you thought, he was looking at you too. “I said that my brother needs to pay attention to things that are more important than Quidditch, because yes, Mr. Captain, there are things more important than this game.”

Just after you finished your sentence you realized your sassy tone. You blushed a little so you put your head in your hands, hoping that Oliver didn’t see it – but after his giggle, you weren’t so sure.

“Stubborn one, I like it”, he said leaning on his elbows and getting a little closer. “You would be a great Quidditch player too, Potter – stubborn, determinated, focused on your goals; how about you giving this useless game a try?”

“I’ll pass, thank you very much”, you frowned at him slightly. You had a lot of things going on and playing a sport didn’t sound like something for you at all. “I don’t wanna be impolite, Wood, but I didn’t ask Harry to go away so you could take his place and distract me from my homework.”

“Of course, I’m sorry, Potter. I’ll let you finish your…”, he looked in your notes, squinted his nose and continued “Potions essay, if that’s what you want.” Getting up he smiled at you again and took his books. “But I hope you won’t pass my invitation to The Three Broomsticks this weekend. I can be stubborn too, Potter, and our discussion about your brother’s place in my team isn’t finished yet.”

You didn’t realized his words, they sound unreal. He asked to talk to you again, at The Three Broomsticks in two days. Clearing your throat, you forced a smile at him.

“I’ll think about that, but don’t hope for another answer.”

He laughed and said his goodbye, using your family name again.

“So you got a date with Oliver Wood?”

“Merlin’s beard, Hermione, you scared me”. The little girl apologized from her study table, which was in your left and smiled shyly.

“Sorry, Y/N, I could not stop myself from hearing your conversation.”

“It’s fine, ‘Mione, don’t worry. But I didn’t get a date with him”, and with that being said, you tried to focuse again on your homework, even if you lost all your ideas.

“You don’t want it to be a date?”, asked the girl again, now sitting at the same table as you. “Oliver’s nice and he seemed to be interested. He even complimented you.”

You looked at her with a raised eyebrow. Hermione was a sweet girl, even if Harry often talked to you about her and described her as an “annoying know-it-all”. She studied near you everyday in the library and sometimes she would recommend you books or even gossip with you about the teachers. She was fun for a first year.

“It’s not a date because his interest is me approving with Quidditch. Not like I could have a chance with him”, you laughed and looked to Hermione, who wasn’t so sure about your amusement.

“Why not?”, asked Hermione again, which made you sigh.

“You put a lot of questions, don’t you? He’s older than me and the Captain of a Quidditch team – and you know what I think about this game –”

“Dangerous game, I know, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a chance with him.”

“I’ve been in this school for three years, sweetheart, and all he’s interested in is Quidditch: nothing more, nothing less.”

Before she could say anything else you got up, took your things and waved her goodbye, leaving the library and heading to your dormitory, where you hoped to finally find the silence you needed to finish your essay.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how hard you were studying, you always felt dumb during Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall was talking she knew what and you tried to take notes about everything that seemed to be important – her entire speech, to be more precise. When she announced the end of her class you breathed with relief. All your classmates were leaving and you wanted to do the same, but McGonagall asked you to stay.

“How can I help you, Professor?” The concern in your voice was obvious, you couldn’t hide it, no matter how much you tried.

“You’re not helping me, Miss Potter, you’re helping the entire school. I guess your brother told you about the situation, so I don’t need to repeat it.”

Of course she wanted to talk about that! You started to feel a little angry but she was a teacher, so you needed to stay as calm as you could.

“Yes, I know the situation and I guess you already know my opinion.”

“I do, Mister Wood told me about your little discussion from yesterday. I want to assure you, Y/N, that Harry will be safe on the field.”

“Respectfully, but you can assure me about nothing, Professor. You can’t say if Harry will or will not get hurt while playing and I really like the idea of my brother being safe and alive.”

You didn’t expect McGonagall to understand your feelings. Harry was your world, entirely, and you wanted to protect him more than anything. Not wanting him to play Quidditch wasn’t the worst decision you made – and, in fact, Harry could do it, but he knew how mad you would be if he did something you told him not to. He always felt like he was doing something illegal when he stepped out of you words.

“I see. Well, I respect your decision, Miss Potter and all I can do it’s to congratulate you for being such a responsible sister. I’m sure you take good care of your brother and make the right decisions.”

Not knowing what to say after that respons, you thanked McGonagall and left the Transfiguration class thinking about all this mess. Why didn’t anyone understand that you just want to keep him safe? After years of wipping his butt, feeding him and playing with him – all of this while helping your aunt around the house – you could take care of your little brother better than anyone.

“Well, well, Georgie, tell me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this Y/N Potter?”

“You’re right, Freddie, is the one and only Y/N Potter, leaving McGonagall’s class later than the rest.”

“I think she got herself in trouble, somehow. I didn’t know she can be a bad girl”, said Fred to his twin brother, ignoring your presence.

“Oh, no, mate, she can’t!”, laughed George and you started to feel angry again.

“Not in the mood, guys.”, you told them through your teeth as you walked between them to the Great Hall.

“Ah, what happened darling?”, asked Fred in a sweet tone, trying to warm you. He raised both his eyebrows when he saw the look on your face. “We have an angry Y/N, George, be careful.”

“I’m not angry!” you stopped in the middle of the corridor looking to them. Drawing air into your lungs you apologized and continued your walk.

“I expected to see you more happy, sweetheart, honestly.” George had a calm tonality, despite your previous shout. “We thought that Oliver’s invitation would make you really, really happy”

“What?”, the wonder was present in your question. Of course you knew what they were talking about, but how did they find out?

“Yes, we heard that Oliver asked you out, Y/N, and given your little crush on him-“

“-the crush that exist since forever-”, added Fred.

“-we thought you would be in cloud nine, love all over you”, finished George, putting his arm over your shoulders.

“How do you guys know?”

“Don’t be silly, darling”, spoke Fred again. “Oliver said that he’s excited to meet you Saturday in Hogsmeade.”

“He is?” you asked them again, surprised with the new information the twins were giving you.

“Of course, why wouldn’t he?” asked George while smiling down to you.

“But he is a little concerned about your answer, we heard you played hard to get but I can’t say I’m disappointed.”

“I didn’t play hard to get…”, you tried to explain them as you entered the Great Hall.

“Then you should let him know”, suggested George.

“But don’t sound too excited”, continued Fred and with that they left after smiling at you.

Oliver Wood wanted to take you on a date. The fifth year boy you had a crush on since your first year asked you on a date. The famous Quidditch player asked you on a date. You didn’t realized you didn’t move from where the twins left you just after Harry called your name out loud, waving at you.

You started walking but instead of going to your little brother, you continued to walk toward the end of the Gryffindors’ table, where Oliver Wood was eating his lunch in the company of his friends and teammates.

“Hey, Wood”, you called him confident, staying a few steps away from him.

“Potter”, he answered with a smile on the side of his mouth. “How could I help you?”

“I only wanted to tell you that tomorrow’s gonna be a great day, sunny and warm. I think about drinking a Butterbeer.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing, Potter.”

“Good for you”, you said and you started to walk away, going to your seat.

“I told your brother I have all the luck I need!”, he shouted behind you.

“We’ll see, Wood. We’ll see.”

a/n: jeez, i can’t tell you guys how much fun i actually had writing this one. it’s the firts part, i think i’ll add another one or even two, depending on how i continue to write. i hope you enjoyed reading this one<3.

#harry potter #oliver wood #fred weasley #georgeweasley #hermione granger #ron weasley fanfiction #hpfanfic #oliverxreader #slytherin #griffindor #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #hogwarts #magic #love #quidditch #y/n #oliver x y/n

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pj-nothingmorethanwhirlwind · 3 years

Text

3. OF RUBBING, SHOUTING AND LEAVING

Julia POV

When we arrived in Seattle, it was already past midnight. The sky was clouded and the city lights created an odd kind of halo above it. There was a cool, gentle breeze and a fine rain was pouring down, catching glimpses of street lanterns. The city seemed calm, sleepy but not asleep, a weird mixture of idleness and silent, well-hidden persistence.

"You OK, kiddo?" Jack asked, sounding almost sorry to leave me behind. To tell the truth, I myself was unsure whether I wanted to stay in this city, where every thought of too loud or too quick motion seemed to just vanish under the deep, heavy calmness. Did I want to stay there, be a roommate of some person I've never met, probably someone square and boring as the whole city, with a shirt collar peeking from under an old, grey, knitted sweater? Was this my idea of a great adventure in America, getting to know the beautiful mountains and beaches and fields? It was not, but I was there anyway. Maybe a greater force, a destiny or fate had pushed me there. You always find what you're looking for in the most unexpected places, my mother used to say. Well, maybe this was my unexpected place, even though I didn't really know what I was looking for-Thus a privilege of youth, I thought, amused. What would anyone here in Seattle think of me if I said that out loud? My English unfortunately consisted of many unuseful phrases I had stolen from Shakespeare or Byron.

Jack was looking at me expectantly, waiting for my answer. I hesitated, then nodded. "I'll be OK, I guess."

"Good. I'm gonna call my friend, the one who's looking for a roommate."

"Wait, isn't it, like, 1 in the morning?"

"Oh don't worry, they're only getting started by now." Jack shot me a mischievous grin and wandered to the nearby pay phone. First, there was no answer. Then Jack decided to dial another number. After a while, I decided to follow, curious.

"What do you mean, you don't know where he is? - OK, yeah, whatever. - So you good with that? - Great. - Yeah, see you around. - Oh, she's sweet, don't worry. - Bye, Xana."

Jack turned to me and I blushed a little, suddenly embarrassed I had eavesdropped on the conversation, even when it was about me.

"That was Xana, she lives there too. So, my friend without a roommate, his name's Chris. Nice guy, he's in a band. He's roommate with this couple, Andy and Xana, Andy's also in a band. Uh, Chris is away right now, god knows where, but I'm gonna take you to Andy and he's gonna take you there, to the apartment."

"Can't you take me there?"

"I could, but there's no one in there. I don't wanna leave you at their front door, waiting for god knows how long till they return."

"What about this Xana girl?"

"She's not there, she's at Demri's."

"Who's Demri?"

"This girl, the last time I checked she was dating Layne."

"Who's Layne?"

"Uh, man, that's getting way too complicated," Jack laughed. "He's also in a band. Come, you'll soon wrap your head around it, I promise."

I followed to the car, then stopped.

"Is there, like, someone who's not in a band?"

Jack laughed again, than Dave's head popped out from the car.

"I'm not, I got kicked out a while ago."

We got in the car and Jack drove us through the empty streets. There were a few buses we missed, most of them empty. I felt a sudden pang of nostalgia, I was gonna miss these guys, even though I met them just a few days ago.

"That's our part of the town," Jack exclaimed. There was little difference at first glance, but soon I realized what he meant. The buildings had a few graffiti on it, there were flyers and posters on the walls and street lanterns.

Jack pulled up in front of an old building, its facade peeling down, a heavy door doodled with random names and symbols. He left the engine running, got out, then opened my door and lead me to the trunk. We dug out my backpack and a little rugged handbag I always carried around and headed to the door.

"Make sure to come say goodbye before you leave with these cool dudes waiting inside!" Dave shouted from the car and I had to laugh.

Soon, the door buzzed and we entered. The building smelled like a latex paint, spilled beer, and paper, and I kind of liked it. There weren't many places that gave straight away a creative vibe, and this place certainly did. We heard a faint strumming and humming and Jack lead the way down the stairs, just where the sounds were coming from.

He tapped the door and opened, there was a dimly lit room behind, with a once red carpet on the floor, papers and instruments everywhere. In the back, there was a drum set, the walls were decorated with Post-Its, on the ground or laid agains the walls there were all sorts of guitars- I saw a cherry burst Les Paul (literally the only brand I could recognize), some acoustic ones, some electric. In the middle there was a mic stand and in front of it, an old couch and two men.

The first one sat on the ground, turned to the couch, cross-legged, strumming through guitar strings. He was lean, had long, dark hair and wore a baggy shirt with bright green shorts underneath. I wasn't sure I could trust a guy with such questionable fashion choices. The other one was more muscular, wearing an off-shoulder tank top, with a bandana wrapped around his head and messy, brownish hair. The both of them stopped playing when they noticed us and exchanged quick looks. No one said anything for a while.

"Uh, this is Julia," Jack said then. Well, that was weird. Suddenly, everything got into motion.

"Fuck, man, I didn't recognize you for a sec there! Thought you were some weirdo who got lost. We haven't seen you in a long while, dude!" The one with the bandana got up from the couch and laughed shortly, big grin plastered on his face. He hugged Jack, then turned to his friend. This one was spinning around his axis, trying to free himself from a cable plucked in his guitar.

"Uh, yeah, be with you in a minute, just trying-" He stopped abruptly when the bandana-man simply unplucked the cable and smiled.

"Oh, thanks." He also hugged Jack with one arm, saying: "Long time no see, man."

Jack smiled, shook his head and motioned to me. "Wish I could stay longer, but we haven't eaten yet and I'm just stopping here. Delivering this one to mister Chris Cornell himself, but the man is hard to pin down."

"Sure," both of them nodded, seeming unsure what it has to do with them. Then both of them turned their faces to me.

"Uh, I'm Jeff," the one with the bandana introduced himself.

"Julia," I smiled, and shook his hand.

"You shake hands," he laughed and pulled me into a quick, hesitant hug. We both smiled, more warmly this time.

"Yeah, I'm Stone," interrupted the other one with a smirk. "No hugs from me, sorry."

I nodded.

"Is Andy around?" Jack asked.

"No, man, he left just ten minutes ago. Went to some bar or whatever."

"I don't suppose you know where?"

Again, both of them nodded at the same time.

"OK, good, then we will go grab something to eat and we'll stop by later?" Jack asked.

"Alright, man, let's get this straight, I know what you want. We can take her to Cornell's, but I don't know if there's gonna be someone in there," Jeff sighed.

"Andy's gonna be there of course."

"Uh, I don't think so, dude. Andy's...." He seemed to be looking for the right words, then simply decided to let go. "Things are difficult with him lately."

"Huh?"

"Man, it's hard to talk to you 'bout it, I mean, after Slovak. But Andy's got issues and, uh, it's not just fun and games as it used to."

I noticed a slight change in Jack's expression, a flash of pain and.. regret? guilt? Sooner than I could figure it out, it was gone.

"Sure, then..."

Jeff turner to me, fidgeted a little, then slowly said: "I can take you to my place, if it's OK with you. And tomorrow I'll drive you to Cornell's."

"Thanks," I nodded.

"We'll be back in half an hour? Hour?" Jack asked.

"Hour would be better," Stone said. He seemed like a quiet one, but maybe he was.. irritated with me? Angry he had to take care of some girl Jack brought along? You're overthinking this again, you're overanalyzing, girl, a radar went off in my head. I sighed. Stone waved awkwardly and turned back to his guitar.

I left my stuff at the door and followed Jack back to his car, seeing Dave waving from behind the window.

"Hey, I'm not leaving yet," I laughed as soon as I opened the door.

"No?" he asked, a little confused.

"Andy's not here," Jack explained, sounding tired. "We'll go grab some terrible fast food and come back in an hour or so."

We ended up in Dick's Drive-In. The place was almost empty, there was a teenage couple in one of the booths and one old man across the diner. The place was small, with tired service and a little bit too cold food. In a while, we were all sitting squashed in the only booth that seemed to be able to pass the hygiene control, the guys eating burgers and fries. I had to settle for fries in a tiny paper box which Dave gladly decorated with "FRIES- Saving herbivores since 1920 AD" title.

"You know, technically I'm not a herbivore. I eat eggs and cheese and stuff, I just don't eat meat."

"Yeah I know.. Well I didn't know until you told me, but it makes sense I guess." We all laughed and Dave continued. "Now I get why I didn't get to a college."

"You didn't get through admission exams?"

"They do that?"

I studied his face for a while, trying to decide whether he was joking or not. "You didn't go through admissions, and still expected to get to the college?" I asked slowly.

"Nah man, I never really tried to get in there, I dropped out of high school. I was just trying to pretend I'm not a fucking tramp." Dave laughed. We all laughed too, but in my mind, I thought In every joke there's a little bit of truth. I'd bet somewhere deep down, it was really bugging him. I reached to his hand and gently squeezed it, trying my best to seem reassuringly.

"You know, one tramp is worth at least ten neat handed square copies of J. Evans Pritchard, PhD., OK?" I smiled.

"You know the movie? Damn, girl..." he smiled too, more sincerely this time. "I'm really starting to envy these guys who're gonna get you now."

I made a small "aww" and squeezed his hand again, mindlessly playing with a wooden ring he was wearing on his littlefinger.

"You'll come see me again some time, won't you?" I asked silently. I liked the rest of the group, I really did, but I didn't really consider them friends. But with Dave, we just.. clicked. Jack Irons was sweet, he helped me a lot, and the rest of them were fine too, but Dave was just something extra.

"Of course. Now stop this thing you are doing, it's growing increasingly uncomfortable."

I stopped and looked in his face, confused. He just shook hid head and laughed, catching me in a little embrace.

"Dude, that's like some shit from a movie right there!" one of the guys exclaimed loudly and we both turned to him. His face was hidden behind a big black camera with the rest of the group tucked behind him, watching the screen, Jack Irons looking at us like a pround director. Apparently, they had filmed something of the last moments while we were too caught in our bubble. And they found it terribly amusing.

"Dave, if I were you I wouldn't leave her behind buddy," Jack smiled and wandered away, seeming a little bit off.

We smiled at each other. Our hour had almost passed and I soon had to tell goodbye to the guys and go meet two strange men who didn't seem very keen on babysitting me for the remainder of the night.

"You think I should bring them something to eat? And some coffee?" I asked.

Dave smiled and nodded, getting up to keep me company while I order the food.

I ordered burgers with fries for both Stone and Jeff, hoping they won't have any moral objections. Then I decided on one simple black coffee and one latte, and a coffee with milk for myself. Dave helped me carry the food to the car while I carried the cup holder.

"They are really lucky to get you," he noted while I was getting in the car. "I'll come see you as soon as I can."

I hugged him and we drove the entire way back in silence. When we parked at the same spot we did an hour ago, I felt hot tears in my eyes. I quickly blinked to get rid of them.

Dave hugged me tighter, making sure I didn't drop the tray with coffees with one hand.

"I hate saying goodbyes," I said, my voice suddenly weak and raspy.

"Yeah, me too. Never was good at it." He seemed sad too, or maybe just my imagination was kicking in. "I'll come see you, OK? I mean it. Be sure to stay safe and sound until then."

That was when I lost my fight agains tears.

"What kind of fucking weird name is Stone, huh?" I sobbed and we both laughed, trying to make it through the goodbye without too much damage on our reputation.

"I'm gonna walk you down there," Dave offered and I nodded. The rest of the group quickly hugged me and promised to see me again someday. Jack Irons kissed me on both cheeks and embraced me tightly. Then, he whispered: " Irons is my real name, by the way. I know you've been wondering about that all along."

We laughed, then the door buzzed and Dave escorted me to the basement.

With his hand on the handle, he hesitated. I turned my face to his, ready to ask what's wrong, when I heard what stopped him: there were hudhed voices coming from the inside, sounding as if the people speaking were rather raising them than lowering. I figured they had to shout-whisper because they were too afraid someone might hear.

I looked to Dave with a question in the eyes, wordlessly asking if we should eavesdrop. He understood what I had in mind an shrugged uncertainly, then moved closer to the door. I followed, placing the tray with drinks and bag with food on the floor.

"What the hell do you think about yourself Stone, huh?" I recognized Jeff's voice. He sounded as if he had had this conversation a couple of times before. "That's not just 'bout yourself. Not about me either. Get over it man."

"The fuck? Every time you tell me this, you do exactly what I told you not to do, and then you come to me a week later crying over how everything got fucked!"

"Sure, Stone, whatever. I'm sick of this. You know what- I wouldn't even care anymore, 'cause I should have already gotten used to it, but now it's simply not only about me and you. She needs a place to stay and I want her around. I don't need your sail of approval."

There's was a pause and I considered opening the door, then Jeff started talking again. His voice seemed more calm and tired this time, but he was talking with a slight urgency.

"Everytime there's this, everytime you and I disagree because you think you're so smart and so clever and so fucking better than everytime around you - no, let me just finish- everytime I say 'okay, whatever, let's figure this out, let's find some middle way' and everytime-everytime we do it your way because you're psyching over what could go wrong if we don't listen to you, and because you simply cannot take being not listened to. But now you don't even know that girl and you say she's no good straight away, and you say you think 'bout Andy and Chris and the band, but all you're really saying is that you're an asshole who decided he doesn't like her and that's why you're not even giving her a chance."

I slowly got the drinks and opened the door. Jeff was standing with his back turned to Stone, visibly irritated. Stone seemed upset. His eyes immediately darted to me and his lips curled in a displeased grimace.

Jeff turned to me as well, his expression guilty.

"Hey- uh, I'm.. I'm sorry."

I just shook my head and offered a weak smile. "That's okay."

Stone grabbed his guitar and a big with some things and left before I - we - could say anything, offering only a simple "See you later, I guess."

Jeff mumbled "Bye, Stone" and immediately hugged me as if he had known me for several years, almost flipping over the tray with drinks and spilling them all over ourselves.

"Jeez, I'm sorry," he said with a sort of embarrassed, apologetic smile. "I'm sometimes thinking about getting my master's in clumsiness."

"Oh, you should see me."

"Nonsense," Dave interrupted. " You guys are gonna love her. I mean, Stone's going to like you too when he spends some time with you," he added, turning to me.

"You wanna sit?" Jeff offered, motioning with one hand to the old couch. We got seated and he started talking, seeming guilty and irritated at the same time.

"I'm sorry for before, I really am. Stone's a good guy, but we have some problems between the two of us, and it's hard to figure it out. I don't know what you heard, but it wasn't actually about you.. it was a bit more personal."

"You don't have to explain. It's okay," I smiled, absolutely honest this time.

Jeff fidgeted a little with his fingers, something I had already noticed before. It seemed as if he had played some tiny imaginary guitar and I wondered if he was really unconsciously rehearsing some chords for bass which he obviously played.

"I, uh, I brought something to eat, and some coffee." I said.

"What, really?" Jeff almost yelled as if I had told him I brought Christmas presents. "You've already reached the number 1 in my most favorite person of the day list."

Dave took out the content of the paper bag and nudged me, urging me to shift a little closer to him to make some room, and placed two burgers with fries between us on the couch.

Jeff immediately grabbed one, then I handed him the latte I got for him.

"A latte?" he asked as soon as it opened it, not displeased.

"You seemed like a latte-y sort of guy," I explain simply.

"Oh, totally. Hey, was this second burger for Stone, or..? Can I eat it then as well?" He asked with a slight smile, his mouth full.

We all chuckled. While Jeff was eating, there was not much conversation. Dave hugged me with one arm and placed his chin on my shoulder, rubbing the back of my hand with his finger. I watched Jeff eat and wondered about what I had gotten myself into, recklessly agreeing to be a roommate of someone I had never met, with one of his friends obviously already hating me.

"Are you guys, like, together?" Jeff asked in between bites, interrupting my flow of thoughts.

Me and Dave both shook our heads at the same time, bumping them together painfully. Jeff burst out laughing, and we both soon joined in.

"Are you hurt?" Dave asked still laughing, rubbing his head where mine hit him. I shook my head again, more carefully this time. "Careful with that," he noted.

"Are you hurt?" I asked, turning to him, his hand still gently rested on mine. "There, let me."

I took his hand away from his head, than placed a kiss in there and smiled. Dave looked me in the face, then kissed me on the cheek, grabbed my shoulders and turned my body back to Jeff. He watched us with an amused smile, chewing his food.

" I thought you guys said you aren't a couple."

"We aren't." Dave said and placed his head again on my shoulder, one of his hands dropping down on my hip. I didn't mind, it wasn't uncomfortable, but there was nothing sexual or flirtatious in it either, which was absolutely okay with me.

Jeff finished eating and started collecting his gear, various cables and plugs and whatnot.

Dave leaned in a little bit closer, my face still not turned to his. "You know, when I told you to stop in the Dick's.. Fuck that sounds ridiculous," he chuckled. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you, it wasn't really uncomfortable, it was just.. well, your hand rubbing my thigh was.. uh.. you know what I mean don't you?"

"What?"

"It was uh.. I mean it was nice, but it kind of.. distracting..?"

I finally understood and nodded. "God I'm sorry, that feels embarrassing."

"No it's OK, just.. You know. Bad timing and all," he winked at me, then silently laughed at himself and got up, making me stand up with him since I was partly sitting on him.

I wasn't really sure what to think, but then I simply shrugged in my mind, knowing it won't soon matter anyway. He was leaving, I was staying, and that meant I didn't have to start analyzing any feelings I might or might not have.

Soon after we left, Jeff carrying his bass and all his gear (well, maybe all of it, I had no idea) and my handbag, Dave carrying the black coffee which was originally meant for Stone, making disgusted faces each time he took a sip. I carried just my backpack and one cold coffee.

Jack and the guys were all arranged around the car, some of them sitting on the hood or standing around, Jakc sitting in the driver's seat with his door open. I immediately recognized Stone standing next to him, laughing and fidgeting awkwardly. Both Jeff and Dave seemed to be quite surprised to find him there too, but Jeff simply went over to him, patted his shoulder and handed him some of the leftover fries.

"Hey, Dave, buddy, I was just about to show Stone the cute video of you two lovebirds we filmed today!" one of the guys, the one with the camera, said. It didn't seem like anyone except me and Dave noticed, but then Jeff turned to him and asked: "What video?"

I quickly hushed him with and soon all the guys got in the car, realizing they had already wasted more than enough time in Seattle, certainly more than planned.

"Wait, can I get a copy of that tape? The video thing?" Jeff yelled after them when the car started to back from the parking lot.

"Sure, but can I get your address first?" Dave yelled back from the car.

Jeff started jogging along the road next to the car, dictating his address before the car drove off.

Then it was just the three of us, Stone sipping his coffee I got him, Jeff smiling wildly with his hair in his face despite the bandana. He has quite a handsome face, I thought, watching him adjust his off-shoulder top, and a nice smile too.

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amerrierworld · 4 years

Text

Curtain (vi)

Carol (2015) fan fiction

Pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Word Count: 1,969

Wednesday. 3pm

There were 16 students today, Therese noted, and it thrilled her. She'd attempted to find a spot to put some of the kids' artwork on display, but alas, Tucker would probably have her head for it.

As everyone got settled in, most kids familiar with each other and the room now, Therese saw a small blonde girl lingering in the doorway. She was wearing overalls and a soft pink shirt underneath and eyeing the room nervously.

"Hi there," she said politely. "Are you here for art club?"

She nodded timidly, and Therese scanned the list quickly to find her.

"What's your name, sweetie?"

"Rindy."

"Oh, that's a nice name, I like it," Therese said as she ticked off the name; Rindy Aird. The only Rindy she'd encountered in the whole school so far.

The toddler's face scrunched. "People say it's weird."

"Well, I like weird names. My name's weird too."

Rindy's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Sure thing. Here, let's get you a seat. Do you like drawing?"

She got everyone settled in rather quickly with the promise of fruit gummies at the end of the day. She assigned each easel a number and got everyone set up with shared cups of paint that were distributed for every two or three kids (watered down, sadly, because she couldn't afford more), and she got them started on painting self-portraits.

Every student was also covered in an oversized dollar-store t-shirt to protect clothes from paint and Therese herself had a worn down paint shirt that hung down to the middle of her thighs.

The small girl with crazy blonde curls was struggling, trying desperately not to get paint on the shirt. Therese wandered around the easels and when she reached Rindy, the girl was scrunching her face in a frown.

"What's the matter, Rindy? How's your painting going?"

"Don't like it," she murmured. There were only a few stripes of purple and blue on the paper and she held the paintbrush by the furthest end, her small hand not strong enough to control the brushstrokes.

"Here, try holding the brush like this; it gives a better grip that way," Therese demonstrated, angling the brush and gripping closer to the top.

"But I'll get paint on my hands!"

"That's okay, you're allowed to get paint on your hands. We can alway wash it off."

"But paint on my clothes," Rindy said, not taking back the brush from Therese as she offered it. Therese noted that her paint shirt didn't have a single splatter on it at all.

"But you haven't got any on your clothes?"

"I don't wanna paint!" Rindy said abruptly, startling Therese. The first grader was close to tears and Therese quickly set the paint aside and moved her to a desk.

"Alright, no worries, Rindy. We can draw with crayons instead, would you like that?"

"Yes," she said, voice small. Therese offered a pink paper; saying how it matched Rindy's shirt and she eagerly began drawing. Therese followed her lead, sitting next to her and drawing with small coloured crayons on a blue piece of paper. She was huddled in a kid-sized chair next to Rindy, making her posture awkward but she didn't move.

When the clock came close to 5, Therese got the kids to start washing up; giving them a two minute warning so that they'd all have time for gummies, and the class ran off to collect paint cups, brushes and paper.

Rindy helped put the crayons back in order with Therese, and suddenly said,

"My daddy doesn't like it when I get things messy," as she tried to colour code the crayons, until Therese insisted it didn't matter.

"Is that why you didn't want to paint?"

She nodded. "If I get clothes dirty, I did a bad thing."

Therese nodded while knowing full well how hard it was for kids to not get clothes dirty; with play and games it was bound to happen. Did Rindy even play?

"Well, we can always draw with crayons. We've got plenty, and you can use whichever ones you want," Therese said, snapping the lid shut. Rindy's face lit up again and she showed Therese her drawing.

"Is this your family?"

"Yah, but just my mom, cause it's just me and Mommy right now," Rindy said, a pudgy finger pointing at a taller doodle of a blonde woman next to a tiny stick-figure girl of Rindy herself.

"Oh, it's really nice, Rindy, are you gonna show your mom? I'm sure she'll love it."

Rindy grinned and giggled, hugging Therese's arm next to her, "thank you Miss B!"

She had the kids line up, and soon enough parents came by to pick them up, cooing and complimenting their various art projects they took home. Mrs. Morgan stopped by and made smalltalk with a few of the moms and the group began to thin out, leaving only a few kids and their parents.

Therese went back into the room just to examine all possessions had been picked up and she only needed to put things back to normal when Rindy came into the room, practically in hysterics with her backpack swinging behind her.

"Miss B! Miss B! My drawing, I forgot it!"

"No worries, Rindy. Look, it's right there." She picked up the drawing left on Rindy's desk and crouched down to hand it to the toddler.

"Oh, thank you Miss B!" The girl threw her small arms around Therese's neck, nearly throwing her off-balance.

"It's a beautiful picture, Rindy. Make sure you don't lose it!"

Pointed clicks of heeled footsteps caught Therese's attention and she looked up to see Director Ross, out of all people, standing in the doorway of the room, staring at the teacher clutching the toddler in her arms. Therese's breath caught as grey eyes met her own.

Paling, Therese let go and stood up quickly, her hands wringing. Was she related to Rindy? Surely not. But she said her mother had come to pick her up.. did Therese really miss that important factor?

"Mommy look!" Rindy squealed, confirming Therese's suspicions. "It's you and me!"

She waved the art above her head, rustling the paper excitedly. Director Ross took and examined it, smiling.

"It's wonderful, Nerinda. Did you say thank you to your teacher for finding it?"

"I did!"

"Alright. Aunt Abby is just outside, why don't you go show her?"

Rindy flew out of the room with the paper clutched in tiny fists, greeted just out of sight in the hallway by another familiar voice- Miss Gerhard exclaiming "oh hi there kiddo!"

The silence was deafening. Therese felt inadequate, the same way she had slumped in Gen's impeccable shadows during closing night. Here she stood, paint splattered on her hands, still wearing the painting shirt over her top and trousers.

Director Ross on the other hand was wearing a dark brown pencil skirt, and a fitted red blouse that hugged every curve. Her heels made her much taller than Therese remembered- she always wore flats or low heels at rehearsal.

"Hello," she squeaked, feeling bared and exposed. Ross' eyes were unreadable as they stood across from each other.

"So, it was you- this... new art teacher."

"Uhm, yeah, that's me," Therese mumbled, shifting on her feet. Ross came closer, her perfume taking over Therese's senses.

"I saw your name in the directory, but thought it couldn't possibly be the same girl as Abby's dear photographer from months ago."

She remembers me. Dear God. "Yeah, that's me," Therese said again, stupidly. "I-I mean, yes. I studied art as well as photography, but being a photographer isn't the most... fulfilling job. In terms of money."

"Ah, I see. A struggling artist, then?"

"You could say that."

"Well, I must thank you. Rindy seemed overjoyed just now, she couldn't stop talking about you in the mere minutes when Abby and I arrived."

"Really? Oh, goodness."

"Well, up until she realized her picture was missing."

"Of course, she was very enthusiastic about making it. " Therese replied numbly. "I had no idea you were her mother." The last bit was blurted out and Therese nearly kicked herself for sounding so invasive. Carol only smiled lightly in understanding.

"Ross is my maiden name. Aird is my husband's, and so it's Rindy's as well. I should be down as Carol Aird in the directory, just for the sake of continuity at this school," she ran a hand through her locks, and Therese blinked. Carol.

"Your husband?"

"Ah, well, ex-husband I should say. We got divorced just last year."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Carol said, her eyes sweeping across the classroom and settling back on Therese's form, clad in the painting shirt that was far too oversized for her. "Your uniform, I take it?"

Therese blushed and hurriedly unbuttoned it, "Well, sort of," she stammered. "So I don't get paint everywhere."

"I see," Carol responded coolly, eyes roving up and down Therese's form, now clad in a nice, professional outfit without a single splatter of paint. "Seems to have worked."

Therese felt like she was about to faint at the implication that Carol just checked her out, but she kept her cool.

"I'm, uh, looking forward to see Rindy again in this club. She's got a lot of charisma for drawing; that could probably become a talent if she keeps trying."

Carol looked away with a quick shade of guilt passing over her expression. "Ah, well, that. I hadn't intended to keep Rindy in this -your- club at first. I needed her to stay somewhere until Abby and I finished up a last meeting today."

"Oh, right, of course, silly me," Therese shook her head and smiled at Carol, a little defeated. "She's always welcome, of course."

With that, the brunette turned and headed to the desk to pack up the last of her supples.

"It's not that I wouldn't want her here," Carol blurted out. Therese turned to look at her, the only thing giving away Carol's own nerves being the higher tone in her voice. "It's a bit complicated. I'd rather have her home with me- I mean, I didn't mean-,"

"Of course," Therese said again. "It's no problem, Carol, really. It's only a small art club, it's not NYU."

Carol nodded, irritated at herself that she had been on her way to getting through to the brunette and she messed it up herself.

"But-," Therese piped up. "If you'd like for her to come back, but don't want to miss any time with her, I'm sure you could come help out in the program. If you don't mind getting a bit messy. With paint, that is," she added hastily.

"Really?"

"Sure. Clubs have parent volunteers all the time. You could help me set up," Therese was rambling at this point. "Rindy could paint, and I'd have a better control of the kids that come in here with someone else to help. That is, if you'd like to. There's no issue if you chose not to- only if you didn't want to miss out on things with Rindy, but if Rindy really liked it here-"

A cool hand touched Therese's upper arm, halting her rant. "I'd love to, Therese, really. It sounds wonderful. I haven't been in a classroom setting for years."

"Right, okay," Therese squeaked. "I can talk to registration about it, if you'd like."

"Well, then. That's that," Carol smiled. She gave Therese a teasing wink and left the classroom, breezing out with newly regained confidence.

Still got it, she thought, as she picked up a chattery Rindy and slung an arm around Abby's middle, heading out to the parking lot. Back in the classroom, Therese continued cleaning up, setting the easels back in place and putting desks in order with a huge grin on her face, humming happily.

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abyssmail · 3 years

Text

Caerul Design Notes,

because I’ve actually put a lot of thought into creating Caerul’s aesthetic and I’m lowkey really proud of it. I won’t get into her actual character concept/personality/backstory/etc. since this got super long, but this is how/why I made the choices I did with regards to her name and visual design!

▶ Caerul’s color scheme started off way bluer (hence the name “Caerul,” from caeruleus/a/um - “blue”/“cerulean”/“azure”/“of the sky/sea” in Latin) and less saturated, but when I gave her a (dead) twin with a red theme, I wanted them to look more alike and made both of their hair purple (although I haven’t actually done more than sketch Roseus before... he’s got purple hair and red eyes). Purple’s my favorite color, and unnatural hair colors don’t seem to be uncommon in Orth, so why not, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ The red elements in Caerul’s design are meant to represent her honoring Roseus!

All of the base colors I use when drawing Caerul! They all end up looking a bit darker once they’re shaded though.

▶ As well as shamelessly using one of my favorite Latin words (I’m a Classics major, okay ;;>~>), I also tried to pick a name that sounded similar to the ones that already exist in-universe. This was actually fairly tricky, since as far as I can tell the names in Made in Abyss have a WIDE variety of influences. Some of them seem passably Japanese-sounding (Riko, Jiruo, Kiyui, Nanachi) disclaimer I bring dishonor to my ancestors and know 0 Japanese so this is just about vibez, others seem Western-ish (Reg, Nat, Lyza, Prushka). Some are fairly whimsical (Shiggy, Maruruk, Mitty) while others are more mysterious and fantastic (Any of the White Whistles besides maybe Lyza). The only common thread I could really settle on was a general fantasy feeling to all of the names. I tried to capture that nebulous vibe with Caerul’s name, although with something so vague and subjective it’s pretty much impossible to say if I was entirely successful. I named her siblings afterward with other Latin color words and ended up with a RGB theme lol.

▸ By the way, “Caerul” is pronounced “KAI-rool.” It rhymes with “Hyrule.” The ae diphthong makes an “eye” sound in Latin #TheMoreYouKnow

▸ “Caducalae” is a portmanteau of “caducae alae,” literally “falling/doomed/futile wings” in Latin (again), playing off how pointless it is to be able to fly when the Curse of the Abyss is a thing. Originally, they weren’t supposed to work at all outside of the Abyss, but I decided that was boring for crossovers/other verses so I scrapped it. I’m not too happy with the name since it doesn’t fit the naming scheme of the canon relics (there is no precedent at all for gratuitous Latin in Made in Abyss, which is a good thing because it’s overused in fantasy, but Latin was the only thing I was good at in high school sooooo... ^^;), but I didn’t like any of my other ideas that much, either. “Wings of Futility” feels more canon, but it’s also kinda depressing :/

▶ I’ve mentioned before that Caerul’s build is based off of mine for art reference purposes (it’s convenient to just look in the mirror while making the pose I want =w=)b), but another reason she’s so short is that I didn’t have to make the caducalae quite as big since she’s smaller, so she can actually go indoors if she’s careful.

▶ Long hair isn’t super practical with mechanical wings with lots of bits for it to get caught in, but Caerul idolizes Lyza, so I left her hair as long as I could reasonably get away with.

▶ I heavily referenced the canon Made in Abyss character designs for Caerul’s clothing so she would fit into the world, but made some alterations to make everything more personal to her and accommodate for her wings. In general, I lightened everything up, since she takes a bunch of short, quick trips rather than lengthy expeditions. Her gloves, for instance, are loosely inspired by the ones we see many delvers wearing in the manga/anime, but are less heavy-duty and are convertible mittens/fingerless gloves for better dexterity with handling letters and such.

The best close up of the gloves I could find was actually a screenshot of the aftermath Reg & Riko’s orb piercer encounter, but I didn’t want to have to tag this for gore, so you get Lyza ^^; There’s a filter over Caerul here so you can see the glove better which is why she looks kinda washed out :/

▶ Her coat is heavily influenced by Jiruo’s, since he’s the only Moon Whistle we’ve seen in canon.

yeah, uhhhh, sorry to yoink your style my dude ^^;

▸ Caerul’s has a different color palette, a simpler lapel border, an extra set of outer pockets, and three separate panels in the back that button around her wings so she can put it on! I haven’t drawn it, but her shirt works similarly.

This is my favorite detail about her design tbh... it’s just really satisfying what a logical solution it is for some reason??? the original doodle is off rotting somewhere in my Modern European History notes, but I tried to recreate it just as sloppily here =w=)b

▶ Caerul’s corset isn’t just a painful fashion choice - it’s actually meant to be a(n admittedly heavily stylized) brace for her back against the weight of her wings.

▶ Since Caerul can’t wear a backpack with the wings, I had to get creative with storage options for her. In addition to an undetermined number of pockets on the inside of her coat, I gave her these two pouches on her thighs to carry more stuff.

I wonder how buff your quads could get carrying a significant amount of weight there...

▸ Messenger bags don’t seem super practical for delving, so I didn’t design a specific one for her to carry all the time, but Caerul does use them on occasion. Even with that, though, she still has far less carrying capacity than the average delver, which is a problem she has to deal with when carrying out her duties!

▶ The wings/caducalae were by far the most difficult part of designing Caerul, and it took several redesigns over 2+ years before I was finally happy with them. Their first design was deliberately far simpler in the interest of having to draw them a zillion times, but they ended up clunky and unwieldy looking:

chonky o~O

▸ The final design is MUCH more of a pain to draw (in fact, a lot of the time I cheat and just copy and paste them from drawings I’ve already done), but I think it looks much sleeker and more “functional”.

I also got better at making my diagrams look slightly more authentic ;0

▸ I knew I wanted jetpack-style thrusters to be a component of the wings to somewhat justify the shit I wanted Caerul to be able to pull with them (especially to eliminate the need for accounting for the damage landing suddenly could do to her ankles), but incorporating them proved to be one of the biggest problems of the design. At one point, they were going to have a whole separate attachment point on her back, but I finally just made them an offshoot of the first “joint,” as you can see in the final design.

A really messy intermediate caducalae sketch. The weird double pentagon shape was meant to be the part of the relic actually fused to Caerul’s back, but I scrapped that too when I scrapped the separate limbs for the thrusters.

▸ Speaking of the joints, they’re all balls so they can rotate all over and I don’t have to fuss too much about how they move. Likewise, the frame is metal, but I treat it like it’s kind of flexible, so Caerul can “flex” the wings open and closed. These wings are hard enough to draw period okay I’m giving myself every excuse to be inconsistent af on purpose.

▸ The caducalae have some “bonus” features that I’ve sketched out, but that Caerul hasn’t unlocked yet, and won’t for a while.

owo what’s this?

▸ For the wings, I think my biggest inspirations were some of the mechier Cardfight!! Vanguard dragon units (although I don’t remember which cards specifically) and the energy wings on the ninth-generation knightmares in Code Geass R2.

I’ve made a lot of OCs, and since I don’t like to use faceclaims, I’ve done a fair amount of character designing. I don’t think I’ve ever spent as much time or had as much fun with any of them as I have with Caerul, though! OCs aren’t always super well accepted in fandom roleplay, but the Made in Abyss community has been super welcoming and I’ve had a blast. Thanks for listening to me gush about Caerul if you got this far, and thank you to everyone who’s interacted with her!

The original sketch of Caerul from back in 2017. How far we’ve come :’D

#miscellaneous info #mun art #appearance #ooc #((no one cares lol))#((but I had fun putting all my thoughts down in writing ^^;))#((also! the full version of the new caerul art from the promo!))

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xstar-dustroleplayx · 4 years

Text

Blank Canvas

{Story set in my rp verse with @kaibagirl007 }

===========================

There were times when Seto loved his mansion. With it being so spacious, he could just work in silence in one of the rooms and avoid everyone. Than there are times when he hated how big it was, especially when he couldn't find something....or someone.

This was one of those times.

"Muffin?...Muffin?! Are you still here?" Seto called out through the mansion. About Two hours ago, Aqua texted him asking if it was to come over. At the time, he was busy with emails and other small mundane tasks for KaibaCorp to make Monday's work load a little easier. When he saw it, He was kinda deep and wanted to finish what he was doing, so he texted back saying he could, but he was busy so he wouldn't be able to greet him.

Well....That was two hours ago. Aqua didn't even great Seto himself. Just why did he come over anyway?

"Muffin?!" Seto huffed slightly. Damn he hated his mansion right now. And here he was excited for a cuddle session with his sugar muffin.

"Aquamarine?" Seto called out to a part of the mansion that even he rarely visited. There he heard soft singing of an angels voice. He couldn't help but smile softly and follow the voice to a door that was slightly cracked. Gently pushing it open, he couldn't help but blink from the bright Sunlight streaming from the window.

And sitting in front of it, was his sweet Aquamarine.

The smaller man was sitting on stool in front of an easel holding a small canvas. He was painting covered short overalls and messy t-shirt, and his hair was in a long pigtail. In his ears he could easily see earbuds in.

'Explains why he didn't answer me...'Seto thought with a soft sigh. Still he was happy to see Aqua and his heart melted at how cute his boyfriend was, singing and swaying to the beat, yet still was able to...do whatever he was doing. Just what was he up to?

Quietly walking over, he hugged Aqua from behind and laid his chin on Aqua's soft hair. Said name jumped and looked slightly panicked before relaxing. Giggling softly and pulling out his ear buds, he glanced up.

"Hey Teddy Bear, I thought you were busy working." Aqua asked. Both shared a quick kiss before Seto answered.

"I was, than I heard a beautiful voice and just had to follow it." Seto said, chuckling at Aqua's slight blush. While Aqua never saw his voices appeal, Seto did and loved to compliment him whenever he could. Before Aqua could argue, Seto's eyes turned to the Canvas and the sketch. It looked familiar...

"Is it...a blue eyes?" Seto asked and Aqua beamed.

"Yep...But which Blue Eyes~" Aqua said teasingly. Seto got a thoughtful look, before looking back at the canvas. It didn't look like any of his three blue eyes he had in his deck, and he doubted Aqua knew of the fourth that he....yeah.

So that left one option.

"Its Nacre!" He said grinning and Aqua nodded. Seto got a smug look on his face, and Aqua giggled.

"I finished the sketch and I'm proud of how it turned out, but I still need to paint it." He also stretched (Seto moved back when he did this).

"But I also need a break..." He sighed. Seto chuckled.

"Well you can always take one." He said smiling. "However, I must say Muffin It will never cease to amaze me how easily talented you are with art. You did something like this in just two hours-"

"Its been two hours?!" Aqua exclaimed and Seto laughed.

"As I was saying, you could do something like this in a short time span and it looks so perfect." Aqua rolled his eyes.

"Its not perfect, Her jaw is slightly out of proportion, her wings aren't fully symmetrical, her eyes aren't as detailed as I like-"

"You are your own worse critic Muffin." Seto said sighing and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend again. Aqua shrugged slightly.

"Besides this is just some practice..." He said before his eyes brightened, and he turned to his boyfriend with shining eyes.

"Wanna do a free style paint with me?" He asked excitedly. Seto blinked and looked at Aqua with confusion

"Aqua, must I remind you of Adena?" He said skeptically. Aqua gave a soft giggle before standing up.

"Yeah, I know." He started before grabbing another canvas and setting the nacre one aside. "But Freestyle has no rules! You can do whatever you please!" He said happily and looking at Seto.

"It could be fun, We could create something together..." He said with a hint of shyness and Seto relented. He really couldn't say no to Aqua...he just couldn't.

"Alright Muffin...you win." He said with an smile. Aqua giggled and started pulling out paints.

"You probably want to change clothes. Paint is messy, and takes....a lot to wash out." Aqua said laughing bitterly and Seto gave a smile.

"Alright, I'll be back in a second." He said walking back to his room. He didn't have a lot of "relaxing" clothes, outside of Pajamas, but he did have a pair of comfortable sweatpants and the aheago shirt he got for his birthday he didn't know why he kept it..

Walking back to the room he left Aqua in, He felt elated..excited! Was painting together something "normal" couples do? He gave a quiet chuckle to himself. Since when did he become so...comfortable with this feeling. He didn't know...and if he was honest he didn't care.

Walking into the room where he left Aqua, He saw that there was now a stool for him and Aqua was busy pulling out paints. He had this look of total focus on his face. It was a look that Seto wasn't too familiar with, but it was one that gave him shivers. And as soon as he saw that look, it vanished like the wind and was replaced by the soft, sunshine smile he loved so dearly when there eyes met

"Oh there you are! Come on, All thats missing is you!" Aqua said waving him over, which Seto happily obliged. Sitting on the other stool, Aqua handed him a paintbrush and held out an pallette of colors. Seto looked them all over before dipping his brush in Red Eyes Red and was about to start painting....

Except he didn't

Seto just....sat there, blank minded. He wanted to paint, but he didn't know what. Also he couldn't just undo a mistake like he could press backspace on his computer. It made him nervous...what if messed up and it looked bad?!

'This is why I work with technology..' Seto thought bitterly to himself

Aqua watched his boyfriend's eyes start to cloud over. Not a good sign as it meant Seto was over thinking...Again. Aqua gave a soft sigh before picking a paintbrush of his own. He gave a glance to the paint pallette and then Seto before a mischievous grin came to his mind. Dipping his brush in Blue Eyes Blue he painted a heart on Seto's cheek.

"What's the use of feeling blue~"

Seto blinked back to reality when he felt something wet on his cheek. Raising a hand, he felt something sticky...and heard his giggling boyfriend. A quick glance to Aqua was all he needed to know what happened. He gave a soft sigh before smiling...than looking at Aqua more closely.

Aqua has beautiful caramel skin, aside from a few tiny scars he got from childhood, it was perfectly flawless in Seto's eyes. It was also...clean. A small smirk came across his face.

Oh yeah...He knew exactly what he wanted to paint now.

Aqua's eyes were shut and he was still giggling. Seto leaned over and painted Aqua's neck. Said name yelped and looked at a now Smug CEO.

"Seto!!"

"Hey I was just painting on my Canvas~" Seto said teasingly before readying his brush for another attack. Aqua did a quick mental debate.

He could A. Use his magic and easily paint Seto or B. No Magic and get easily owned.

Both are tempting....and He shouldn't Magic to cheat when Seto was pretty powerless

Aqua gave a playful smirk and readied his own paint brush.

"Well then, It seems I have a very handsome canvas in front of me." He said waving his own brush. Both men were in a stand off, staring at each other with a playful seriousness.

They waited for whoever would strike first, a stillness was in the air.

Seto struck first, easily painting Aqua's neck more and making the smaller man start giggling. Damn Seto's speed! Aqua swiped his paint brush against Seto's forehead, and Seto instinctivly pulled back and gave a playful glare at his boyfriend. He quickly cleaned off his brush and dipped it in Baby Dragon Orange and grabbed Aqua around his waist and started painting Aqua's arms with random doodles.

Aqua started to laugh loudly and squirm. It didn't really tickle, but it did still feel funny to the smaller male and his skin was unfortunately to sensitive for his own good. Seto himself started chuckling. He couldn't deny how adorable his muffins laugh was. However his eyes drifted close while he was laughing, and Aqua struck back.

Using his magic to clean his brush, He changed the color to Dark Magician Purple and he painted Seto's neck and ears. Seto shivered and recoiled. He gave a glance to the giggling man next to him. Despite being painted on...he couldn't help but melt.

He was making Aqua laugh, a sense of proud filled him.

Until Aqua coated his paintbrush in Insect Queen Green and accidentally got it in his hair.

There was an errie silence for a second as both males looked at each other. Aqua suddenly looked worried and flustered and started trying to clean it off.

"Shit, I'm so sorry Seto, I didn't mean for that to happen! Oh Kami-" Aqua said in a rushed panicked voice. Seto took a moment to process what exactly JUST happened.

There was paint in his hair

It was green

It was probably ugly

His boyfriend is panicking. Wait What?

Seto looked to his boyfriend who's eyes darkned spectacularly. Which was never a good sign. So slowly..very slowly, Seto reached his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him into his lap, which made Aqua yelp than burst into giggles when Seto Nuzzled his neck, a clean part

"Hey now...I'm not mad." Seto said playfully kissing his boyfriends cheek. He grabbed his paintbrush again, and started painting Aqua's other arm, alongside just gently tapping his fingers on Aqua's stomach. Sending the smaller male in a fit of laughter.

Aqua squirmed and wiggled, but Seto had a tight grip on his waist so he couldn't do much. Except laugh, that he could do!

"Seto!" He managed to get out. "You absolute Bastard! You suck!" Which made Seto himself laugh. He knew Aqua was just throwing empty insults his way, and he just let them roll off his back. This was probably his favorite way to make Aqua laugh, and how he loved when he did.

But he also knew when to stop. The second he did Aqua panted, trying to fill his lungs with much needed air. He than turned to his boyfriend with a playful glare.

"One of these days, I'm going to find all your ticklish spots and go to town on you." He said, his eyes glittered with mischief. Seto gave his trademark smirk.

"I'd love to see you try~" It wasn't as if Seto wasn't ticklish, he was, but it was in very few spots, and Aqua only knew one. So he was safe for the moment. He turned and started to clean his paint brush, before handing Aqua his.

"Let's paint for real this time, Shall we?" He suggested and Aqua nodded and cleaned his brush. Coating the brush in Kuriboh Brown, he started painting a base of a tree trunk and branches, which gave Seto an inspiration.

Coating his brush in Dark Magician Purple, He started painting a resemblance of the wisteria he had growing in the mansion gardens. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was fun..and he was doing with the person he loved most.

Aqua on the other hand, cleaned his brush and pulled out his favorite color: Ra Gold. He started painting small golden vines on the tree, sometimes making small flowers along the way.

"That's beautiful Muffin." Seto said in a warm voice and Aqua's cheeks flushed with the praise. In return he kissed Seto's cheek and went back to painting. Both men painted in a blissful silence, occasion sounds of movement from cleaning a brush or a compliment.

Soon Seto cleaned his paintbrush for a final time and dipped in blue eyes blue, and started to create his favorite duel monster with accuracy. Well he tried at least. With each stroke of his brush, he felt a little less confident in himself and felt he was disrespecting Blue Eyes. His movements started to slow.

"Hey, It doesn't have to be perfect....as long as you had fun with your work, to me it'll always be a masterpiece." Aqua's soft voice drifted into Seto's ears and a smile worked its way to his lips. He placed a kiss on Aqua's head and went back to painting.

After a few minutes he stopped and sat his brush down. The form wasn't perfect, Nothing compared to Aqua's masterpiece of earlier....but it was his. It was theirs, and that was all that mattered.

"This is probably the most beautiful work of art I ever seen." Aqua said with a happy giggle and Seto rolled his eyes.

"No its not, Its nothing compared to what you can do."

"So? This is OUR masterpiece Mr. Kaiba and I will address it however I want." Aqua said in a playfully snobbish tone which made both men laugh before they shared a tender kiss.

Soft and tender, a feeling of happiness between the two before they separated. Aqua gave a bright smile before he looked down on himself and laughed.

"I need a shower..." He said and Seto chuckled.

"So do I...and I need my hair washed."

"Wanna kill two birds with one stone?" Asked the smaller male with a tone laced with mischief. Seto smirked.

"Are you going to keep your hands to yourself Muffin?"

"Hey it was you last time!" Both men gave another laugh as they started to clean up the area. Besides Aqua flicking paint at Seto a few times and Seto getting revenge, the place was clean in no time and Aqua held Setos hand.

"Ready to get clean?" He sang out and in response, Seto picked him up bridal style and started to walk out. Aqua clung to him and leaned on his shoulder. Looking back at their painting one last time, he aimed a little magic at it adding one final touch.

"Are you gonna hang our masterpiece~"

"Pssh, Probably not."

"Seto!!"

While the couples little squabble grew farther and farther, if one were to look at the painting now, They'd see an new addition.

A small golden lotus on top of the Blue Eye's head.

A few days later, Seto's Home office got a new decoration.

#aqueto #{aquamarine}#{seto kaiba}#{my writing}#//Holy shit this took me such a long time and the ending killed me.#//But i fucking did it bois!#//I'm also posting this on AO3 because yes

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casseythebee · 5 years

Text

Mirror Mine (Peter Parker x reader AU)

Title: Mirror Mine

Prompt: Soulmate AU where when your soulmate writes something on their skin it shows up on yours and vice versa

Summary: You go with your dad to one of Tony Stark’s party and there you meet him

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female!Reader

Words: 1.8k-ish

Warning: slight swearing (blame Bucky “What the hell” Barnes, and fluff

A/N: I know reader inserts usually have your age but in the story, the reader is on the younger side just so it makes sense with the story, sorry. Most of the ships aren’t cannon but just roll with it.

“Absolutely not.”

Your father looked instantly pissed when you walked into the room. You were heading to one of the biggest nights of your father’s career. It was one of Tony Stark’s big parties and your father had been invited to spark up some business deal or whatever, you honestly had no clue. He was supposed to bring your mother as a plus one, but your little brother had fallen ill with a slight cold, and she wanted to stay with him.

“What’s wrong?” you ask throwing your hands in the air and rolling your eyes.

He gestures to your clothes and says in a disgusted tone of voice, “There is no way you are wearing that. This is a big night for me and I need you to look amazing and act amazingly.”

A tight red plaid mini skirt fit snugly on your hips, under the skirt black tights hugged your toned legs, and a black crop top accentuated your curves. You had smacked blood-red lipstick, a messy braid fell down your shoulders along with a golden chain necklace. And to tie the whole outfit together, a nice black leather jacket.

“I knew this would happen so I went out last night and picked out a dress, let's go try it on,” your mom chimes in.

“Okay but please be quick, ladies,” your dad says.

“The dress is gorgeous and I can redo your makeup to match, oh you are going to look so pretty!” your mom exclaims leading you into her room.

“Names,” a cold voice demands to your father.

“(Y/D/F/N) and my plus one is my daughter (Y/F/N),” your father reassures him handing him the invitation he got at work. It’s a small, ivory piece of paper with swirly, gold letters printed on it.

“Isn’t she a little young?” the buff bouncer asks tipping down his glasses and looking you up and down.

“That my kind sir is none of your damn business.”

With your arm linked through your fathers, you guys walk into the Avengers compound and head through the all-white front foyer- your father's shoes making clacking noises while your ballet shoes are utterly silent- and head to the glass elevator. Your father presses a higher number, number 10, as the elevator travels upwards you catch quick glances of the other rooms, they all look like living spaces, and one sterile-looking hallway with many doors branching off.

When the elevator finally stops you guys step out of the elevator and look out into the room. It is filled with people, some you recognize some you don’t, the girls all wearing elegant dresses, and the men suits and tuxedos. There is a massive bar on one wall, some couches scattered around everywhere, a wall made entirely of windows, a DJ booth on another wall, speakers placed at random everywhere, and a dance floor in the middle.

“Okay so the objective is to mingle around with as many people as possible, okay?” your dad explains.

You give him a light shake of your head and he drops your arm and struts over to a group of people, completely at ease. Not sure what to do you follow him towards the group.

When he gets to the group they all exclaim his name and welcome him in like they’ve known him for years.

“I said go mingle, and be polite, and just make a good example.” He shoves you off lightly.

Not sure what he means by make a good impression you head over to the bar to get a drink. Noticing how young you are the bartender completely ignores you by serving everyone else around you. No one notices that you are there and does nothing to help you.

“Can I get a glass of champagne and an old-fashioned?” a smoky voice asks.

You look up to see none other than James Buchanan Barnes the former Winter Soldier. He has his hair slick back and a plain black tux. “You are James Buchanan Barnes,” you marvel. Then you shake your head and add, “I’m sorry if that was rude.” You look down at the bar ashamed of your behavior.

“Hey, it’s fine. Really you’d be surprised how many people here look at me and see the terrifying ‘Winter Soldier’. It’s nice to meet someone who sees me for me.”

“Oh yeah, I know none of that ‘Winter Soldier’ stuff is your fault. I mean you are a great person so I guess that’s all that matters,” you say with a shrug.

He chuckles and asks, “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh no, I can’t drink! I’m too young to drink. I’m just trying to get water.”

“Thank you. Can I also get water please?”

James Buchanan Barnes takes a sip of his old fashioned and asks, “Wait if you are so young what the hell are you doing at one of Tony Stark’s parties?”

“Well my dad is here to make a good impression to these people for his job and my mom would have been his date but she had to stay home to take care of my brother. So he brought me.” You punctuate the sentence with a shrug.

“Well how about you come over and meet the gang? Come with me.” He starts walking away but adds, “You can call me Bucky by the way.”

Remembering what your dad said about being polite you promise yourself not to drool over the heroes and make a fool of yourself. Bucky leads you over to one of the couches, there are some people sitting on it some around it. You recognize all of them even in their fancy clothing.

“Okay so this is Nat she is Russian and angry, don’t cross her. Tony the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. Stevie the blond beauty.” Steve’s face blushes bright red. “Thor the muscular alien king. Loki the trickster he will try to kill you at some point, but it is okay because he is really just a softy.” Loki gives him a grunt and a dirty look. “Bruce, he is also a big softy, but don’t make him angry. Sam he really sucks, we just hang out with him because we pity him. Rhodes now him we all love. Peper, now she is the best, like the best, we all love her. Nick, he scares me, but I’m sure there is a sweetie inside under all of the angry shell. Clint, he is dumb and shoots arrows. Scott, he can make himself small and do close up magic. And everyone this is… I actually don’t know.”

“My name is (Y/N). And it’s nice to meet all of you. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Nonsense, we were just discussing soulmates. Where were you, Mr. Blond Beauty?” Tony teases.

“I… was uh saying that when Bucky was regaining his memory, he would write little notes on his hands and they would show up on mine. It was kind of like a little peek into his head.”

“Yeah, I get Stevie’s doodles on my skin,” Bucky swoons. They are staring lovingly into each other's eyes and everyone but you seems to find it disgusting and annoying.

“Ignoring that, sometimes I see equations and whatnot show up on my skin, and I think it’s kind of cute seeing what Jane is working on when I’m not around,” Thor admits with a shrug.

“Same!” Pepper and Natasha sigh at the same time, and that earns a chuckle out of everyone, a smirk from Tony, and a blush from Bruce.

“Yeah every once and a while I get equations on my hands when Hope needs to remember stuff,” Scott adds rolling up his sleeve to show everyone.

“What about you, (Y/N)? Any cool stuff on your skin?” Tony asks turning to you.

Every eye in the group is staring at you. You can feel all of them beating down on you. You can’t mess up and embarrass your family so you simply say, “Yeah I guess, a phone number and a name here and there. Most of the time it is just due dates for projects at school.”

“Sorry, I’m late Mr. Stark. Everyone else, sorry,” says a cute little squeaky voice coming up behind you. The person the voice belongs to sits down next to you, almost on top of you. He has soft brown eyes, fluffy brown hair, a sharp jawline, and a smile that could light up the room.

“Hey kid, nice suit,” Mr. Stark says, admiration in his eyes.

“Where have you been, Pete?” Steve asks, leaning over you to tousle his hair.

His face turns ruby red. “I had to wait for Aunt May to get out of work so she could drive me.” The boy scans the room his eyes stopping at you, he looks you up and down his jaw practically dropping to the floor.

A navy blue ball gown is fanned out around you. The dress itself is a bit poofy at the bottom and floor-length, and it is decorated with lace appliques. White eyeshadow tinted with gold sparkles dusts your eyes and lip gloss coats your lips. You and your mom decide on just doing natural hair just using hairspray to keep it in a position you like.

The boy's brown eyes skim over you again, stopping at your breasts before moving on to your lips, your nose, your shimmering eyes, and lands on your hair framing your face.

“Hi,” he breathes a little smile on his face. “I’m Peter by the way.”

“I’m (Y/N).” You look down your skin tinged red as a blush creeps up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“How about you, sweetie?” Natasha asks looking at Peter. “What kind of stuff shows up on your skin?”

“Oh my gosh, it is the most beautiful thing,” he gushes, “swirls and flowers and all kinds of designs. I love it every time I wake up there is a new one.” He pauses. “One night I was up late doing homework and I sat there for almost an hour watching the ink flow onto my skin. It was a few minutes until 4 by the time I couldn’t stand being up that long so I collapsed and by the time I woke up there was pen marks up my left arm almost like a sleeve tattoo.”

You run your hand up your arm and goosebumps appear.

“What is that on your arm, (Y/N)?” Bruce asks gesturing towards you.

A surprised noise escapes your mouth and you look down reading the marks on the backside of your palm. They read, “Don’t forget to ask Tony about the rose for Aunt May”.

“Um, it’s… just, um,” you stutter.

Next to you, Peter’s eyes go wide as he reads and he slaps his hands over his mouth in surprise. Everyone can clearly see what is written on his hand matches what is on yours.

“Well, you know what that means!” Tony whoops.

Next thing you know you and Peter are caught in a dog pile as everyone in the group is on top of you.

The rest of the night you and Peter take turns answering each other's and the rest of the group’s questions as a “get to know you”.

#peter parker #tony stark #Steve Rogers #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #Bucky Barnes #thor #loki odinson #scott lang #james rhodes #pepper potts #clint barton #nick furry #sam willson #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #peter parker x reader

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oneirataxxiaa · 4 years

Text

Demon Claws and Crossbow Bolts -- [chapter two]

chapter two, yayyyyy. people seemed curious about Riley, so feel free to send in an ask to ask her any questions!! This will now be the average length of chapters.

also a quick message to Dolly , I named Crossbow, Mia, after the canon daughter of Oliver and Felicity. Sorry if this isn’t alright, but I needed a name for her haha.

warnings : swearing , violence , injuries , dark topics

rating : 16+

It was raining outside when she woke up, strange considering last she remembered, it was a clear night with no clouds. Riley pushed herself up from laying down, finding fabric underneath her and above her. The bed was not well made, but the sheets and blankets were clean. Pulling the blanket down, she could see bandages - slightly tinged red with soaked blood - wrapped around her torso, it wasn’t tight, but it restricted her movement a little. Turning on her side to sit on the edge of the bed, Riley surveyed the room. It looked like a typical bedroom, various collectables on the shelves, through the half open wardrobe door she could see clothes hanging up with shoes on the floor. A few posters were tacked to the walls, some bands, movie posters, some she recognised, some she didn’t

The bed had black sheets and a grey quilt, the pillow behind her head was a dull red in colour that she supposed matched the colour scheme the room was going for. There was one window, just across from her, above the dresser. The blinds were drawn shut, but she could hear the battering of a storm beyond the glass. Riley raised a hand to her head, running a hand through her mess of hair, then down the side of her face, feeling plasters along her cheek and jaw. Her eye was slightly swollen, though it had some sort of cream on it, and her bottom lip was still split in the middle. When her hand dropped down to her lap again, she noticed she was in different clothing. She wore a red sleeveless shirt of a sweater type material and black sweatpants that were a little too large for her. Neither of these things, she owned. Something she did own however, was the vest resting on the bedside table. It took her a good minute or two to shift the vest onto her body, wincing ever now and again

“Where are we?” She asked aloud, quietly as not to alert anyone in the building. Riley attempted to get to her feet, wincing because of both her healing injuries and the cold floor below her bare feet. It was that strange faux wood lino that you usually find in a living room. Not very good at retaining heat. Her legs hurt like hell, but had a strange numbness to them, making walking an uncomfortable experience.

“Not sure , don’t remember” Fenris replied, he sounded alert, keeping an eye out, yet behind his words was a sluggish tone that indicated that he was still extremely tired. Riley walked to the door, about to open it carefully, only to hear faint voices on the other side.

“I just checked her bandages, you’ll probably need to change them soon if she keeps bleeding”. The voice was female, young, younger then her, but not a kid. She sounded sure of herself, not faltering on her words. ”you’ll be alright to keep an eye on her after I leave?” The question was posed towards someone else in the room. Riley moved slowly, opening the door and walking through. Down the hall was were the voices were coming from, perhaps in a living room of sorts. Riley listened to the conversation as she walked towards the sounds.

“I’ll be fine” was the curt male reply. “She’s still asleep isn’t she? Won’t be any trouble then”. Footsteps moved away from Riley, a door opening. The woman peeked around the corner, seeing two figures in the room. A shorter female at the door, about to leave, and a taller male inside the apartment. It was clear it was an apartment now, considering what she could see outside the room. The girl had brown hair, down to her shoulders in a side ponytail of shorts, sharp features accompanied by hazel eyes. She was far too young to have such a serious look in her eyes.

“Dad said that if you need anything-”

“I don’t need his help Cross, i can handle this myself, i’m not a kid” The male crossed his arms, seeming to act defensive, though his voice didn’t change.

“I know, I get it, that’s what I told him, but you know what he’s like, he’s just being-”

“Oliver?”

“Yeah”. The girl stood there, not talking for a second. When she looked up again, she looked over the males shoulder, catching Riley in her gaze. Riley quickly moved back, leaning against the wall.

“Oh, you’re awake, that’s good” The female walked towards her, looking around the corner. “I have to leave now ‘cause i’m meeting up with some friends of mine, but Roy’s here if you need anything, i’m Mia Queen”

She held out a hand to shake, only for Riley to look at it with a blank expression, slowly raising an eyebrow. “This is the part where you tell me your name, and shake my hand” Mia added helpfully, holding her hand out a little further.

“Where am I?” Riley asked. Stepping around Mia and looking around the apartment, it was a bit of a mess, some discarded dishes on the sink. The carpet was rolled up on one side and the couch had a miss-match of pillows on it that made it look like someone had tried to decorate but didn’t really want to. It seemed like something she would see in her old neighbourhood. Someone who wasn’t rich, but wasn’t overly poor. A low middle class.

“You dropped through the Zeta tube in one of our safe-houses two nights ago, dead to the world and beaten to a pulp” The male talked, walking a little closer to the two girls.

He was tall, taller then Riley by a good few inches with a dark red-brown shock of hair. His eyes were light, a blue or pale green perhaps, the woman couldn't tell. What caught her eye - and she wondered how she hadn't noticed it right away - was the sleek deep grey metallic arm attached at the elbow to his left arm. It looked deadly, and the lights glowed a faint red. Who were these guys? “Who’d you piss off to get beat up that bad anyway?” Riley shook her head.

“Some Central City villain brat” she hissed, sitting down on on the couch, moving a few of the pillows to make room. Her legs had begun to ache after standing for even that short period of time. “He’s got these terminator knock offs after me” Mia looked at her with a strange expression before hiking her bag further up her shoulder and walking towards the door. She paused by the entrance, glancing at her watch quickly.

“Alright, well you have fun with that problem - don’t kill each other, i’ll drop by later to check in!” The girl closed the door behind herself with a click, leaving the two alone. It was silent for a little while.

“say something , they mean no harm” Fenris muttered in the back of her head, trying to get her to speak. Riley rolled her eyes at the beasts attempts.

“Wheres my bag?” She dismissed the demon, looking back towards the hallway she came out of. The boy, she assumed he was Roy as Mia had pointed out, replied.

“In Jason's room- that’s the room you were in” Riley nodded and pushed herself to her feet, pausing as she got a headrush from getting up do fast, then walking back down the hallway. She reached the room again, and now that she was paying attention too it, written on a whiteboard on the door was ‘Jason’ in messy and broken handwriting. Around the name were a few little doodles of a red helmet and a batman symbol. Dismissing it, Riley pushed the door in and turned to close it, only for the handle to catch on her torso, hitting the wound under her bandages.

Pain shot through her stomach when he cried out, clutching it tightly and stumbling back against the side of the bed. Heavy footsteps darted down the hallway and someone stopped in the doorway.

“What’d you do?” He sounded annoyed, leaning one arm against the door, looking down at her.

“I hit the fucking doorknob” Riley growled, steadying her hand on the bed to pull herself to her feet. Her movements were shaky and she found herself unable to muster her usual strength.

“Be careful” Roy said, taking a step back and eyeing her getting up.

“No shit Sherlock” Riley bit back, glaring at him, Roy just rolled his eyes, ignoring the glare, and turned back down the hallway to the living room to go back to whatever he was doing before Riley woke up.

Two hours of sitting alone in that room gave her two things. One, was a serious hate for the ticking clock mounted on the wall above the bed. The other, was a growing sense of dread. She had been here two days, according to Roy anyways, and she didn't want to trust him - no matter what Fenris insisted - the Inventors little machines would certainly have reached here by now, right? This thought crossed her mind while looking at the darkness beyond the closed curtains. Night had fallen, and it had to be about eight o’clock when a knock at the door sounded.

“What” Riley said, sitting up on the bed, a book that she’d taken down from the shelf in her lap. The door didn’t open, but a voice called from the other side.

“Do you want food? I’m going to order something” Riley thought for a moment, she was starving. The cramping feeling in her stomach from lack of food was returning - they must have found a way to feed her while she was unconscious - and Fenris was growing restless.

“Yeah, sure” her reply was a little reluctant, and footsteps faded down the hallway again. Turning back to her book, she decided to continue to read for a little, at least until she had finished another few chapters. It was about half an hour before she became bored with that task.

Riley pushed herself off the bed, placing the book carefully back on the shelf and looking around the room again.She’d already noted the posters, a few of the bands were her taste, but some she didn’t know at all. The dresser had some photos on it in frames. Walking forwards, she brushed her fingers over the top of the photos. One was of two boys, perhaps around 12 or 13. One was taller, raven black hair with bright blue eyes, grinning with his arm around the other boy. The other was a little shorter, with blue eyes and redish-brown hair. Both of the boys were grinning widely at the camera. The next photo was of the same two boys about the same age, but this time they had two others in the frame. An older boy, maybe 17 or 18? and a girl who looked about 10. The boy with the auburn hair was carrying the girl on his back, her leaning her arms on his head with a grin. The older boy with dark hair and blue eyes was ruffling the hair of his younger look-alike.

The last photo was a more recent one. The black haired boy she still didn’t recognise, but the other was clearly Roy. They were sitting on a rooftop somewhere, and it was a selfie taken by the black haired boy. There were people in the background. Riley recognised the suits of Nightwing and Artemis.

“We need to leave”

“Can’t . Injured to bad” Fenris replied, making Riley cringe. Like she didn’t know that? “sleep, need it to heal” he continued to talk, making a headache begin to throb in the back of her head. “trying to help , they can help” the sincerity in Fenris’ voice was alien and strange, but it comforted her a little that he cared so.

Another knock sounded at the door.

“Foods here”

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jenthebug · 4 years

Text

Taking some characters out for a test drive

I wrote what might become a scene in my novel, to give myself some practice with these new characters and this new setting.

The preacher’s son meets the witch at a farmer’s market, 1311 words.

A tall, muscular man with a crew cut approached a booth at the Bonny Farmer’s Market. He walked straight up to the proprietor, who was eyeing him suspiciously. “I don’t think we’ve formally met. I’m Cole Harlan, Don’s son.” He held out his hand for a handshake.

“Terra Moirai.” She gave him a quick, perfunctory handshake. “I’ve had a few conversations with your father,” she said coldly.

“Did he tell you that he’s leaving town for a few months? He’s going on a mission trip to Thailand to build homes for the homeless!” Cole beamed. “I’ll be preaching in his place on Sundays. You’re welcome to come to tomorrow’s service.”

“That...is not what I heard from Don,” she said. She tugged the hair tie out of the braid that hung over her shoulder, a tangle of green and brown curls, and unbraided it. “He explicitly told me that I am not welcome in church, not to speak to his family, and not to spread my wickedness in this town.” She piled her hair on top of her head and pulled it up in a messy bun. “I’m spreading my vegetables. Is that okay?” Her voice hit a sardonic note.

“That’s more than okay! I actually came over here because your greens look so good! And, Terra, please excuse my father.” His whole posture seemed to soften. “He is a man of the Baptist tradition. He’s very conservative. He wants his flock to adhere to the Baptist Faith and Message, live a lifestyle free of sin, and take the Bible as the final word.”

“You sound almost apologetic.”

Cole sighed. “I’ve only recently moved back to town. I’ve been away for four years, studying at seminary, and becoming an ordained minister myself. I’ll admit, I spent too much time doodling in my notebook and listening to secular music and staring out the window with my eyes glazed over. But one thing held my attention every time I studied it: The teachings of Jesus Christ. I’m not sure if you know this, but there are times that the Baptist Faith and Message seems to contradict the teachings of Christ, and there are many more times that the lifestyle we live contradicts those holy lessons.”

Terra raised an eyebrow.

“Have you read the Bible?”

“No.”

Cole seemed unfazed. A gentle smile spread across his face. “1 John 4:20 states that ‘Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For they who do not love brothers and sisters, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen.’ And while it’s easy for a person to say they hate the sin yet love the sinner, that statement is usually followed up with berating and punishments. That is not a loving way to treat a person. To love someone, one must act lovingly and kindly.” He opened up his cloth bag and began inspecting the bunches of spinach and kale piled up at Terra’s booth. “Church should be a hospital for the spirit, not a museum of how closely one can stick to doctrine and tradition, you know?”

For the first time since meeting Cole, a smile spread across Terra’s face. “Well said!”

Cole grabbed one bunch of spinach and one bunch of kale, examining them closely. “How on Earth do you get these to grow so well? I planted spinach, kale, and lettuce in the backyard this spring. The spinach was alright, but it was so small. The kale immediately bolted and went to seed, and the lettuce just died.”

Terra nodded knowingly. “The soil in eastern Colorado is just so sandy! I come from the foothills, where the soil is more dense, so I’ve had to learn a few things. Water often, it’s totally worth it to set up drip irrigation. Mix more compost into the soil than you think you need. With the heat out here, partial shade works better than full sun, despite what the seed packets say.”

Cole nodded. “Alright. Water, compost, partial shade.”

Terra stepped back and smirked. “You want to know if I put a spell on these things, right? Called up the Devil and asked for good veggies?”

Cole laughed nervously.

“I draw my energy from the earth, and return my energy to the earth. Everything I do is a reflection of the cycles of nature. My spirit communes with the spirits of the soil, the plants, the water, the insects, the animals. I am as much a part of nature as the seed that grew that spinach, and as much a part of the seed’s growth as it is a part of mine.”

Cole gave Terra a blank smile as he tried to wrap his head around her words.

“I did not call Satan, and I did not cast any magic spells on those vegetables.” She spoke simply and bluntly. “I’m just a really good gardener with a bit of an innate advantage. Call it a green thumb if that makes it easier for you.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll take two spinach bunches and one kale bunch, please.” He pulled three dollars out of his pocket and handed them to Terra.”

“Thanks, take your pick.”

“Hey! Cole!” Hannah, Cole’s sister, ran up to Terra’s booth. “There you are! I tried texting you!”

Cole gave Hannah an apologetic look. “Sorry, I got caught up talking to Ms. Terra. Have you met her?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve bought skin care stuff from her before. She makes a really good goat’s milk soap.”

“Is that what that stuff in the bathroom is?”

“The pink bar of soap? Yeah. Goat’s milk, rosewater, all kinds of good stuff.” Hannah pulled her blonde waterfall curls up into a bouncy ponytail and turned to Terra. “Hey, have you ever thought about making hair stuff?”

Terra laughed, pointing to the green and brown bundle on her head. “Maybe I should! But I never really do anything with my hair, except make sure it’s clean and untangle it…”

“And you dye it,” Hannah said. “That’s damaging, especially since you’re lifting brown.”

Terra shook her head. “Nope. No dye. This is just how it grows.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Cole said.

Without a word, Terra lifted her combat booted foot onto the table, behind the iPad that she used as a point of sale. She lifted her long, brown skirt to reveal that she hadn’t shaved in way too long. Along with the brown stubble that Cole and Hannah expected to see, there were little green hairs mixed in.

“Oh...kay. Now I don’t.” Cole pressed his lips together, trying to suppress a laugh.

Terra giggled and put her foot down. She sprayed down the table with a homemade cleaning spray, wiped it with a washcloth, and rang in Cole’s purchase.

“Cole, would you like a receipt?”

“No thank you.”

“Hannah, are you still okay on soap?”

“Yes, I am, but I was hoping for some of the rosewater toner that you had last time.”

“Oh no, I sold out of that!” Terra cringed. “Tell you what. I’m coming into town on Tuesday to get my oil changed. I’ll bring a bottle for you then, and only charge you $10 instead of the usual $12 for the inconvenience.”

“Sure! Thanks! Can we meet here at the park at 5:30? I’ll be on my way home from cheer practice.”

“Why not just meet at the school? It’s right by the garage.”

Hannah cringed. “Well…”

Terra sighed. “You know what? The park should be fine.”

“Thank you so much.” Hannah said.

“Yes, thank you,” Cole said. “It shouldn’t be like this...but it is.”

“Yep.”

Cole held out his hand for another handshake. “It was nice to meet you, Ms. Terra. I mean that.”

Terra smiled and shook his hand again. “And it was nice to meet you, too, Cole. I also mean that.”

#my original writing #practice

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markword · 4 years

Text

Summary: You have had a crush on Jungkook since forever ago, but he’s changed and so have you. But when you get closer to him-in a different way than expected-feelings start to come out of the dark.

What’s in this bitch: swearing, SMUT, and a lil but of spice✨✨

Side note: this is my first fanfic, so plz be nice and enjoy!! She’s a long one so get comfy and get somethin to eat and get your playlist ready ✌🏼and there will be typing errors so ignore dem por favor

WITHOUT FURTHER ADUE::::

The echoes of your footsteps drilled into your head at an annoying volume. It didn't help that your heart was incessantly pounding either. You sweep by the empty classrooms, books laying on the floor, sprawled out in a hurry. The paper in your hand was nearly as wrinkled as your shirt, picked straight out of your hamper due to the lack of time and lack of any better ideas. The bell rings and kids start to spill out of every classroom, almost taking you off your track. the bell left an annoying buzz in your ears that kept you charging forward. No one has ever given you a note, not in the four years of highschool. The note was battered and slightly torn from your fidgety hands toying with the edges all day. You'd only read it once, out of fear that if you read it again, it wouldn't say the same thing;

Go to the main entrance after last period.

I'll be waiting.

j.k.

your heart couldn't help but flutter when you first opened the tightly folded note. you couldn't help but think of who sent it to you. He was always on your radar, but not in the romantic sense. You knew it was Jeon Jungkook because of the way the words were scribbled on the paper and obviously, how he closed the short note with his long lived nickname, ¨jk. He was always quiet and reserved in middle school, which would be his defining trait until sophomore year rolled around. rumors upon rumors built up about him, almost taking you off your feet when you first heard them. Jungkook, the quiet and sweet kid you basically grew up with through school, caught with a girl in a school bathroom? for some reason, the rumors were never proven but something about how he swayed when he walked and looked at girls for a split millisecond had them planning baby names. He had silently nudged you toward the conclusion that they were undoubtedly true. The hardest part about seeing his personality take a 180 was the fact that your secret but not so secret crush on him in middle school had quite nearly been strangled to death by the man that stood waiting for you, at the main entrance.

As your pace slowed, your ears and lungs caught up. you knew you were near the main entrance, but you couldn't see over the rushing flow of students going to and fro. you catch a glimpse of the top of his head, and miraculously, he notices you too.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't still have a little thing for him.

you couldn't help it. Maybe it was more of an instinctual hormonal pull, but he was easy on the eyes and in a rugged way, almost dreamy.

His longer dark brown hair, pulled into a small bun, perched on top of his head. his loose black v neck hanging dangerously against his strict collarbones. his baggy grey joggers molded to all the right places but still looking stylishly comfy.

you stride closer to him, and see that he was making small talk with a fragile blonde girl. He erupts into laughter, showcasing his devilish smile. which was always accompanied by his cute dimples. one of the reasons you became so hopelessly in love with him in middle school was that sweet and sour smile of his. You couldn't help but look for it every once and a while in class. You slowly approach him, giving him enough time to wrap up his previous conversation.

"Oh, hey Y/N. Sorry to leave a mysterious note like that" he smiled with his eyes, making the apology that much harder to not accept (although it was a pain in the ass)

"It's really okay. Why'd you want to meet here though? I haven't talked to you for a while"

"That's not true I talk to you everyday in class" he smiled, but it was obvious he was poking fun at you and your nervousness about being there with him. He had to admit, it was a little suspicious.

"Well, what is it then?" you were starting to get impatient, letting your temper mixed with your short attention span to get ahold of you. which of course, didn't go unnoticed by Jungkook.

"Iwas absent yesterday for that chem quiz. can you tell me what's on it? I know you’re smart and you understood the material really well."

You were definitely infuriated, knowing this could've been sent by text or even asked in the fleeting moments after class. you see him at least 5 seperate times a day, why a stupid fucking note to some clandestine meeting?

"Jeon, couldn't you have just texted me? But yeah, Iremember a few questions it wasn't that hard." You were dying for an explanation, but the way his face went blank and uninviting, was enough to gather the realization that you weren't getting one.

"Im taking the makeup test in 10 minutes. Do you think I could cram the answers in time?"

Of course he could. He was insanely and almost annoyingly smart. but just like his soft nature, that disappeared over summer break before sophomore year.

He sent you off with a quick thanks and then casually turned his heels to walk to the chem classroom. Once he left, you started to realize the strangeness of it all. He could've asked anyone in Chem 2, but he asked YOU? With a note to meet nonetheless. thinking about it gave you a headache, so once you turned on your car to go home, you started to think about what songs to play and what dinner will be instead. The car ride home was uneventfully blissful, the usual weird seat dancing and emotional signing to your favorite car songs.

You walk in the door with an exaggerated "humphf" when setting down your backpack to go look in the fridge to look for a snack you knew wasn't there. Your phone vibrates on your kitchen table and slightly annoyed you at how it proceeded to rumble loudly against the flat surface. You pick it up only to see that Jungkook had sent you a post on instagram with another message that read;

jungkook:Thanks for helping today, here's this to show my thanks

it was a distorted meme that you'd seen hundreds of times before, but its humor ran out after the second time it beamed on your screen. It surprised you that he sent a meme, but it surprised you even more to get another taste of the old Jungkook you knew. The one who would thank you for helping him out, and seem genuinely thankful. Sometimes you’d catch yourself stealing fleeting glimpses of him in class. you'd often try to pick up on his new tendencies and see some of his old, but comforting ones. He would also space out in middle school, leaving his notebooks riddled with doodles and scribbles to keep himself awake. Just two days ago, he was in a lab with you and you couldn't help but glance at his notebook for a split second; graffitied with little faces and tiny but strategic and pleasing scribbles. You're still looking blankly at the screen, sure that he noticed the "seen" under his texts a while ago.

you: Of course j.k. Ibet you aced it anyways

All of this weird and sudden contact had your head in a whirl. Too many questions and literally no answers. you thought it best to leave it alone for now. But he didn't.

_______________________________________________

You don't remember when you dozed off exactly, but you knew it was a good night's sleep when you woke up with a dry mouth and a full bladder. You groan and reach for one of the countless half filled water bottles on your nightstand. Huh? a sock?

"Whatever, Ihave to pee" you mutter to yourself. for a moment you didn't realize your deep and groggy voice.

"Wait, what" There it is again! you've never sounded this dead in the morning, even when you were hungover after your wildest night out. You finally flicker your eyes open only to be met by an unfamiliar ceiling fan and light grey walls. You rush to sit up. Something wasn't right. you look down and almost scream.

"Where are my boobs?!" your hands shoot reflexively to your chest, where they always are and are met with a dull smack as your hands hit complete flatness. You scurry out of the unfamiliar, but disgustingly messy bed and dart your eyes to find a mirror. It was weirdly easy to get up and dash to the mirror in the small bathroom to your right considering it wasn't your body you were in.

You stood panting in front of the mirror to see Jungkooks face staring back.

"What in the FUC-"

_______________________________________________

Jungkook sorta remembers when he went to bed. By sorta he means he knew it was between 8 PM and 1 AM. He's not good at remembering things, besides, he's already up now. He cracks his neck and instinctively reaches his hand down his boxer shorts.

"Where is my-" he suddenly feels his arm push against something warm on his chest while he extended his arm to find what was there just last night. He grabs the foriegn object on his chest, anxious to grab something since his usual apparently isn't there right now. Is this a boob? It was a boob. he reached up to mimic his other hand. and there's TWO? of course there he knew that. He'd seen plenty of them, but feeling them on himself? Hell no. THAT'S never happened before. He sat up, hands still clenched around the annoyingly loose bra that covered-well-HIS tits. His face went tense as he looked for a mirror. He slowly approached the mirror hanging on the door, hoping to not be met with one of his drunken hookups that could've been a witch for all he knows. He slowly opened his eyes.

"Y/N?! Damn. well, she has nice tits, I have to give her that."

——————————————————————————

You both immediately shot a text to each other, hoping it wasn't a dream, because if it was, you'd both look like idiots. But after telling eachother what happened when they woke up, (Jungkook left out the whole boob ordeal) and you decided to skip school today and sneak out of the house to meet and try to figure out what happened last night.

After throwing on something Jungkook might wear, you couldn't help but notice his figure staring back at you. He really was handsome. You flashed a beefy smile at the mirror and stayed smiling after seeing his signature but memorable smile. You finally talked his mom into letting you stay home just 30 minutes ago, with jungkook in an earbud listening and telling you the best way to make his mom cave. You were slightly annoyed when he said that all he had to do was say he felt sick and your mom was already convinced. It was still uncomfortable hearing your voice through the phone. you sounded really stupid on the phone. you decided to meet at a park close to both your house and his to figure it all out and how to undo it. You had a hard time figuring out how to drive his car but ended up to the park in one piece. well, Jungkook arrived in one piece. there was still no sign of your body yet. Your car comes screeching to a halt next to you before you see your body get out of the car in rage and slam the car door shut.

"Be careful with her she's old" you whine, referring to your beaten up and chipped car.

"Shut up and follow me. We gotta be alone." He grabs your arm and pulls you farther into the park and only loosened his grip when there were less than 5 people around.

"What the fuck happened, Y/N? This is freaking me out. How does this shit even happen? And why me and yo-"

"No, you shut up you're making me dizzy. I don't know my answer for all of those questions. oh god, what do we do at school? AT HOME? WHEN I HAVE TO PEE?" You almost choke on your breath thinking about going to the bathroom with a whole different set of tools.

"I don't know Y/N... I mean I could help you practice..." He reaches down toward your crotch-no- HIS crotch and you flick him away with wide eyes and a blazing stare back at him.

"This isn't a joke, Jungkook. What do we do?" you swallow heavily and look back at your body through his eyes.

"Ew. If I'd known that's what I look like I would just wear baggy sweats everyday..." you whisper it to yourself but since you were both so quiet and focused in thought, he heard it.

"Oh shut up you have a great body, Y/N."

"Did you LOOK? I didn't look, I thought it would be rude. wait-DID YOU LOOK YES OR NO?" you did look. He just doesn't need to know and wouldn't help your case any.

"Of course I did. nice tits by the way." he winked and cracked his neck again. you were too much in a daze thinking about how someone else had seen you naked. JUNGKOOK has seen you naked. Did he just say; nice tits? That doesn't matter, we need to figure this out before you cut off his dick for looking at you.

"We need to figure this out right now." you weren't kidding. if he touched your boobs that would be enough to commit manslaughter. it didn't matter if it was actually you that you were killing.

"We can go to my place now. Let's get something to eat. My mom wont think twice about me having a girl over anyways. She won't bat an eye and she'll leave us alone. Just tell her that we are both sick and want to study to catch up since its convenient. Its our best option." He cracked you a smirk, sending shivers down your spine. it was him alright, just in your body. You get up and start walking towards your beat up car out of habit to leave until he grabs your arm, almost jerking you so hard you would've fallen on your ass.

"Damn Y/N, your body is pretty strong. Stronger than you were in middle school. But lets take my car. I'll drive."

You couldn't help but blush at him mentioning middle school. I guess he really did pay attention to you back then. Your thoughts immediately hone in on memories of gym class when you'd be the best playing any activity and you embarrassed the boys in front of their respective crushes. you couldn't help but let out a little giggle, sounding even better when it came out as Jungkook's grisly and low voice. You settle in the car, and fidget with the seatbelts and keep your head glued on the dashboard to avoid any eye contact just in case you were still blushing. jungkook lets out an audible sigh before turning the keys in the ignition and putting the car in reverse. You couldn't help but look at him, sitting in your body, as he put an arm out behind your headrest to backout. He flickers his eyes between you and behind the car.

"Its so weird seeing my body like this, like from another perspective," you could resonate with what he said, especially since he's manhandling a car with legs wide open, but he looks like you at the same time. "I wonder what I look like during sex..." he mutters the last part under his breath and chuckles, part of him hoping that you would hear.

"Just ask one of your many lady friends, Jungkook. I'm sure they'd love to tell you all about it." You scoff. How could he change so much from the boy you were infatuated with? He was the same in small ways, but barely. It made you sad and frustrated when you realized that you secretly hoped he'd be the same around you after all these years.

"I could. But right now, I'm not exactly myself." You both reach to turn on the radio to drown out the awkward tension that seemed to have seeped in the car. You back off since it technically is his car anyways. He puts on one of his playlists and the first song starts to play. Its not rap and you're almost surprised. But you've known since middle school that he likes more indie and classic rock than anything else. You put your window down and look out with an elbow grasing the bottom of the window, and your hand finding its way to your hair. Well, Jungkook’s hair. Soft. You turn to look at the song name and realize jungkook is glaring at you. You never knew your face could look so scary.

"Don't feel pressured to act any different. Just be you and act normal, even if you want to touch my hair." He snickered and shot his eyes back on the road, making a smooth right turn at the light you'd been stopped at.

"Its a habit. Besides, you've seen me naked Jungkook, who cares if Iaccidentally touch your hair?" you had started to become more and more angry at his annoyingly hot voice. Just by hearing it in classes, you felt a tinge of wetness down under. But you're sure its just because of his voice, right?

"Am I wet right now? Is this what it feels like?" He chuckled so hard and loud you almost see your soul shoot out of the car and get run over. What the fuck do you even say to that? You had an idea as to why it happened but what do you say to jungkook?

He's still laughing a little when he shoots up straight in his seat.

"I know what it is Y/N, you think I'm SEXY."

you gulp. you decide that staying quiet is your best option, the one that will make you look less flustered and more cool about him calling you out.

"You know, Ihad a huge crush on you in middle school. It was almost embarrassing. I think I wrote you a love letter one time but I never gave it to you. You were such a player back then." He chuckles again, but softer this time. He confessed something embarrassing to get the conversation away from the obvious pool of wetness between his legs. YOUR legs.

"I did too." you mumble still looking out the window, trying to hide your excitement at his confession. you were happy but, that was a long time ago anyways. It didn't really matter now.

"Would you look at that, maybe we found out why we switched bodies." His facial expression was flat, almost bored looking. you both sat in silence until he pulled the car into the unfamiliar driveway you left this morning. You get out of the car and he reaches for the door and tells you to make yourself at home, as a joke, of course. To anyone else looking at you two, you were Jungkook, and this in fact, was your house.

"Maybe if we confess our past feelings, we will switch back. That’s the only thing I can think of anyways. You cool with that?" He was pouring himself a glass of apple juice and he set it down on the counter to get another glass for you.

"Yeah why not." you sipped slowly on the cold drink as he led you up the stairs to his room. You settle down on his bed facing each other, almost looking like two young girls at a sleepover talking about their celebrity crushes. you were both sitting with your legs folded and leaning in toward each other, a weirdly comfortable position for the both of you.

"You first." he grumbles with a cheesy smirk.

"Okay," you take a deep breath to collect your thoughts, "I liked you from 5th to 8th grade."

"That's it? I think we need a little more since we are still staring at our own bodies across from us." he was rocking side to side trying to conjure up any thoughts on how to fix your strange situation.

"Maybe we should kiss." He leans forward, which you dodge at the speed of light.

"What are you doing Jungkook?!" Your eyes wide open and stomach fluttering.

"Maybe this is how the spell thingy breaks, it makes sense."

He's right, If the reason you were stuck looking at yourself from this perspective was that you needed to confess and makeout, then so be it. You'd try anything at this point. You missed your own bed. He charges in closer to you slower this time and grabs your face. the way he was using your lips made it impossible to notice how quickly you'd shut your eyes. You opened them to see Jungkook staring at you with wide puppy dog eyes.

"Hell yes I'm back bitche-" He quickly silenced you with another kiss. I worked? You were sure you’d live out your days in another body. But you weren’t mad that his first idea worked out. But you weren’t about to keep your mind on the subject, Jungkook was millimeters away from you with his taunting lips. This kiss was more passionate and more eager. Your legs went limp, and your face set ablaze at Jungkook's fluid and sexy motions against you. He pokes his tongue at your lips, asking if he could enter. You quickly let him roam around your mouth, leaving you breathless and seeing stars. He slides his hands down from your face and traces the outer line of your figure, leaving goosebumps in their wake. you could feel the pool between your legs as your thighs began to quiver under his careful and strategic touch. He shifts you down, so that you're on your back and he is using an arm to support himself above you. you let out a needy whimper and you finally move your arms down his chest to trace his undoubtedly hot body. he flinched when you stopped at his waistband, and you were left just toying with the elastic until he forcefully pulled your shirt off your body, only leaving mere seconds between the deepening kiss. Neither of you were ready to stop. You could feel your body start to heat up against his and he slowly moved his waist into yours at a steady rhythm. you could feel his apparent erection glide across your thighs with every motion. You could feel the heat escape your core when you opened your legs farther, hoping he'd get the hint to touch you where you wanted him the most. You wanted his hands everywhere, but your arousal was too hot and strong to ignore for much longer. He slowly navigated his kiss downward, taking extra care of your neck, sure to leave a couple marks in his wake. once he reached your chest, with your bra still clinging on with the sheen of sweat you both worked up. As he moves his hands to hold you still, they rest on your hips with a tender but strong grip, willing you not to squirm under his touch. He started to kiss along the edge of your bra, frequently nibbling at the tender skin that lay beneath. He was taking his time of course, he'd been wondering what touching you and making you all worked up like this felt. He'd often steal glances at you in class, never letting go of his childish middle school crush. He'd accepted that he'd always feel something toward you, what that was he was unsure. But having you under him, and your back arching your chest towards him made him hungry. He knew he would never get you out of his head after this.

You take your arms behind your back and unclasp your bra hoping he would fasten up and make your horniness subside. He immediately grabs onto one and closes in on the other with tender kisses, licking around your nipple just to hear your sighs that turned into moans between his needy lips.

"Please Jung-" you whine trying to push yourself into him closer. you wanted to be swallowed into this moment. The tension was released, and god did it feel good. He cut you off with a strong and lasting rub against your core, just making you want to whine for more. He was rock hard, so the only thing he accomplished was making you shut up and making you kiss harder and your grip on his hips tighter. He finally slid his hands slowly up the inside of your thigh and his slender but strong fingers snaked their way under the thin cloth that was sticking to your folds. He took a deep and exaggerated swipe across your center, making you shiver with pleasure.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of that," he said, flashing a smile smile in between kisses on your neck.

"Just put it in already I'm dying here..."

With your words, he swiped off his shirt and pulled his pants down, showcasing the famous bounce as his erection springs out of his loose pants. his fingers wrapped around the fabric of your shorts, playing and twisting at them with want. He pulled them down slowly, propping your leg on the bed before throwing the soaking shorts somewhere on the floor. He pushed your thigh open with his now faster motions of his thigh, trying to get more friction against you. You whimper and reach for his erection. before you could fully palm it, he suddenly stopped and stared down at you, trying to catch his breath that had been sucked up by your deep kiss. He slid his thumb across your lower lip.

"Not yet Y/N. Let me do this first. I promise I’ll get to that in a minute." you watch him utter his words in a growl as he slowly drags his soft lips downwards between your breasts and then your stomach before his messy black hair is level with your core.

"I'll be gentle. Tell me if you want to stop at any time, Y/N."

You weren't expecting him to be gentle, or even offer an out for you. All the rumors of him being a brute and rough when it comes to sex and intimacy. You could see the old parts of Jungkook shining through. before you could think about it anything else he pressed his lips against you, lips pursed around your clit. a shake engulfed you, sending shivers up your spine and out of your mouth as a long moan. his tongue grazed over every inch of your center at least 3 times before he started to slow down and suck on your clit, leaving you able to feel every vibration of his ruffled moans against you. before you could recognize that you were almost at the peak of gushing-

"Are you still okay, baby?"

"Y-Yes. Oh GOD!" he had pushed two fingers into you, making you buck your hips into him. He grabbed your thigh with his other hand, silently telling you to stop letting your reactions distract him from the task at hand. Literally. He curls his fingers upward and moves slowly, applying just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back into your head, but gentle enough to keep you just below the line that would make it hurt. He was taking care of you, just like he said. You couldn't help but let your mind wander to his various conquests as he quite literally lapped at you like a starved man. Did he treat them like this? Was he this sweet but seductive with everyone? Are you the first to be thinking about this? His nibble at your folds broke you out of your daze. It doesn't matter now anyways, he was with you and he was good at making you feel good. Just keep going, you thought. It only took another nibble and his tongue in your heat to make you start to see a light.

"Jung- I'm-" you squealed. He just kept going, knowing that what he was doing was the ticket to your long anticipated orgasm. You quickly find yourself grabbing at his head of hair, just to help yourself ride out your climax. You feel the wet drip out of you, and Jungkook's tongue licking it up with lustful motions. Once he cleaned you up to his liking he lifted his head to look at you. Your eyes closed, chest heaving, and sweat making your face gleam. You really were beautiful, he thought to himself. But he wasn't done with you yet. He leaned over you and moved the baby hairs stuck on your face to the side. His doe eyes were searing into you, making you shift under him. You brought your hands up to rest on his chest. He really was beautiful, you thought to yourself. But you weren't done with him yet.

"Let me get a condom. Or are you on the pill? Its up to you, whatever you're comfortable with, baby." His term of endearment took you by surprise, but it didn't feel weird coming from his mouth, almost natural to him. You liked it, it even made your stomach hollow with excitement, but you'd never tell him that.

"I'm on the pill. I don't mind at all jungkook." His grin leaked into a smile, that adorable, sexy smile of his. it practically taunted you, knowing that his now stretched out lips were pressed up against you just mere minutes ago. You watched as he finally pulled down his boxers, allowing his painfully hard erection bounce out. The head, red and angry with understimulation, with beads of precum trickling down his length. He was big, just like the rumors had said, but you weren't expecting that he'd have the perfect length and girth. You knew after you felt him, it would be hard to go back. Especially since just his lips and tongue made you feel something you'd never felt before, something you'd think about at night while you played with yourself.

"Are you ready? I'll be careful with you if you're worried that it might hurt." He sat next to you on the bed, looking for any sign of regret in your eyes. Instead, he found your hungry eyes looking him up and down, completely naked in front of you.

"Don't hold back Jungkook, if we are going to do this I want to feel everything." You could barely focus on anything other than him. His abs, and the way they flexed when he let out a guttural laugh. His Adam's apple, that bobbed up and down when he would talk to you. His long, messy black hair, and how it framed his face. His rosy lips and how they pouted when he wasn't talking. Everything about the man sitting next to you was perfect. His features were just the same as they were back in middle school, but they became more mature and more sexy than cute.

"I'm excited to feel you around me Y/N. I've been thinking about what it would be like, and now you're here, and you're all mine." he uttered before leaning in for a soft kiss, making it easier to hide your face that was obviously blushing at his words.

"If you don't want me to hold back, Iwont" he whispers into your ear, making you wet all over again. His hand found your thigh amid deep kisses, and pushed it farther so he could fit himself between your thighs, allowing his erection to slowly graze over your dripping center with every motion. After Jungkook gathered enough of your arousal on himself, he decided it was enough to allow him to easily slip into you and lose himself in you. You grabbed his hip, angling him parallel to your body, begging him to ease himself into you.

"Please Jungkook..." you whine again.

before you could finish your sentence you felt his tip graze your entrance, teasing you with the heat. He was STILL teasing you? You grip your arms around his torso and force him closer, automatically pushing his length into you, but still not bottomed out yet. He was big and you wondered if you could realistically fit all of him in you. As soon as you pull him closer, Jungkook loudly grunts and shoots his head back at how well you fit around him.

"You feel so good Y/N." He breathes, starting to pump in and out of your heat. He didn't hesitate to throw your leg over his shoulder, allowing him further access into you. Within seconds he finds your g-spot, (he figured it was there since you let out ungodly moans when he hit it) and continues to hit it with each thrust. Each thrust was greeted with a slapping noise and the sounds of your arousal being moved around by Jungkook. His thrusts became more slowed, but deeper, grazing your cervix. The stretch that once felt uncomfortable started to feel pleasurable.

"Right there Jungkook, please don't-" you were too out of breath to even finish your sentence.

Jungkooks heavy breathing would've sent you over the edge right then and there, but he somehow kept you from coming to elongate the feeling of you around him, filling up his senses. His thrusts started to get sloppier, but still had a lustful drive in them. He shot his arm up to the wall, giving him support against his fastened pace. He grunts and shoots the other hand to use his thumb to circle around your clit, making you arch towards his touch.

"I'm gonna-" he spits out, clenching his jaw.

Not long after he warned you, you felt him throb against your insides, a warm pool filling you up. Just the sounds of Jungkook as he released into you was enough to make you follow suit not long after him since he rode his high within you.

"Sorry Ijust-" you put your finger up to his plumped lips to make him shut up.

"Don't say sorry Jungkook, It was perfect. Maybe too perfect..." you look to the side to avoid his taunting gaze. But he grabs your chin and demands for eye contact.

"I've had my eye on you since middle school, Y/N. And Iintend to keep it that way," He kisses your forehead before he gets up and throws you a hoodie that smelled like him.

"Get up butthead, we are getting icecream." he says through his stupid little grin.

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