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vaguely-concerned · 3 years

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TF x Graves, 2500 words, complete and utter fluff

Stifling another yawn against the back of my hand I glance over at the window, which shows only the flat dark of a moonless night outside, before turning my eyes back to the line of T.F.’s naked back.

I’m already undressed and perched on the side of the bed, watching as T.F. is still in the middle of his nightly ritual of hanging or folding his fine clothes up all properly and neatly, lest they, I don’t know, unduly crease somewhere they ain’t meant to or somethin’. Listen, I keep my clothes in a pile on the floor by the side of the bed, right next to the shotgun, both within easy reach in the case of a middle-of-the-night emergency skipping of town. Our priorities in these matters don’t really intersect much, but to each his own and so on.

I don’t know why I’m waiting for him to come to bed to lie down myself, exactly — my eyes are already making a spirited attempt at staying shut on me whenever I blink, I’m pretty sure I’d be out and snoring in about three seconds once I got settled — but my skin has that thin restless thrum all through it that I know from experience won’t be satisfied until he’s settled into place against me and besides, the view is nothin’ to sneeze at in the meantime. He stands there shirtless, belt unbuckled and hanging loose around his narrow hips, though the fastenings of his trousers are still done up. In the light of the oil lamp across the room he’s in a rare state of relaxed unselfconscious disarray, his hair grown out long enough again that it spills over his shoulders and down his back while he fastidiously fastens the cufflinks back into place on the empty shirt so they’ll be easy to find in the morning. As he finishes up with the cufflinks he sings to himself under his breath, a good-natured jaunty little tune I vaguely remember the Brick would sometimes break out once you got a couple of drinks in him.

The hum under my skin grows higher and keener.

Stretching an arm out I hook my fingers into one of his belt loops and gently pull him in by it towards the side of the bed, until he’s standing between my legs. It prompts a half-bemused noise from him, but he goes along easily — when I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my forehead against his belly he seems to catch on, though, a sound of amusement vibrating through his chest.

He slides his hand to the back of my neck, twining his fingers into the short hair there, thumb trailing back and forth along the hairline.

T.F.’s too damned scrawny to have much in the way of padding anywhere, but there’s the warm body softness to him here nevertheless, the sweet yield and shift of a living thing whose pliancy belies the supple strength beneath. I rest my cheek against the flat of his stomach and sigh, moving my hand at the small of his back in slow caressing circles.

“Come to bed already,” I murmur, too sleep-softened along the edges to worry overmuch about makin’ sense.

He chuckles, fingers stroking through my hair. “Well, I was on my way, but then I was waylaid by some deplorable fellow in the process. Hell of a thing.”

I grin and turn my face up to him, so that my chin is resting against his belly and my lips brush his skin when I talk. “Huh. Sounds like a real shady character. You want a trustworthy sorta guy to escort you safely the rest of the way?”

“With such dangerous reprobates skulking around in the area, that’s probably for the best,” T.F. nods somberly, fond amusement deepening his voice. He runs his thumb down the bridge of my nose. “Could I afford to hire the services of a strapping upstanding gentleman like yourself, though?”

I make a nonchalant sound in my nose, squeezing him closer against me for a moment. “Eh, don’t worry ‘bout it, this one’s on the house.”

His thumb drifts down to rest at the upturned corner of my mouth as he grins back at me. “Hey, looks like it’s my lucky day.”

I kiss his stomach and lean back enough so I can start in on the fastenings of his trousers — not with any sort of heat behind it, there’s no hint of sex in the air, but in a weird way this is equally satisfying, the everyday-textured contentment of being close without any particular purpose, being the one to slowly render him naked in front of me for no other reason than that he lets me, his hands still smoothing patiently through my hair while I work.

Once I’ve got all the buttons sorted I run my thumb along the sharp edge of his hip bone until I can tuck it into the waist of his trousers and use it to tug them down. We get them about half-way down his thighs like that before we have to pause for him to shimmy out of them the rest of the way on his own, his hand resting on my shoulder for balance as he does the traditional one-legged hop to extricate his foot. Serves him right for only ever wearing pants that might as well have been painted onto him. I mean, not that I’m complainin’, mind.

“Whoa!” he says, laughing as he almost overbalances at the last hurdle, but my hand shoots out to steady him by the hip before too much disaster can be wrought. “Well, not the smoothest strip tease I’ve ever pulled off, sorry about the inconvenience.”

I nose at the newly revealed crease of his hip over the edge of his underwear. “Eh, that’s okay, if I actually wanted a proper show I’d just suggest a round of strip poker again and sit back and watch while you lose.”

“Oh, that’s a strange yet beautiful dream world you’ve made up for yourself there, Malcolm. It’s touching, really, the things the mind will do to protect itself from the truth. Positively — aah!”

T.F. jumps as I draw some of the skin of his hip between my lips and use them to nip sharply at it. His startled yelp turns into a snigger as I let go, possibly ruining the castigating effects somewhat when I brush my lips soothingly over that spot right after.

“Let that be a lesson to ya,” I say sternly.

“A lesson on what, that your mom was apparently half turtle?”

I grunt, still trailing soft kisses over his skin. “That judge in Piltover was right back then, you are an incorrigible menace to all decent and right-thinking people everywhere.”

“First of all, that might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Malcolm, thank you. Two, including yourself among the ‘decent and right-thinking’ feels like the invention of some fresh new form of fraud by way of imposture unfolding before my eyes, and it’s an honour. And third, that seems to me to be some very selective memory you have there, considering His Honour Judge Highton had some even more colourful words for you after you blew up the entire north wall of the court building breakin’ me out.”

“He might’ve been given to wearing a damn silly mop on his head, but you couldn’t fault him on his vocabulary,” I concede. Before that whole incident I’d honestly thought the wigs were some sort of practical joke the Pilties would play on gullible outsiders, but as it turns out no, if you get sent to jail in the twin cities they add the indignity of makin’ someone wearing a dead badger on their head break the bad news to you. It’s a strange ol’ world out there, alright. In Bilgewater, where people are much more sensible, the justice system basically boils down to the bounty board, or — if you’ve really managed to make a nuisance of yourself — a bunch of captains may call a temporary ceasefire with each other and go get your ass together. I’ve found that the risk of getting on the bad end of an unfair trial is about the same in both places, though of course the Bilgewater one tends to be harder to come back from if carried out to its fullest. I consider myself a bit of an expert in these things.

T.F. makes a thoughtful sound. “To be fair I don’t think anyone had ever given him cause or inspiration for profanity like you did.”

“Aw. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He leans down and kisses the top of my head before he straightens for long enough to work his second foot free as well, standing there in just the sleek silky underpants he somehow seems to have an endless fresh supply of wherever we go. (My money’s on some sinister underground ring of lingerie-oriented tailors across south-eastern Valoran, for the record; when it comes to secret societies the Noxians just can’t help themselves.)

“I do my best. Hang on just one moment, I’ll be right back,” he says and ruffles my hair before he turns around, which I would complain about except that the view is, as previously mentioned, impeccable, and I’m sleepy enough to be magnanimous.

After meticulously folding his trousers and leaving them with the rest of his clothes, T.F. moves over to the table across the room and extinguishes the oil lamp, then whistles under his breath as he produces a card from somewhere — he does this, seemingly from thin air and no matter how little he’s wearing; I prefer not to speculate too much about how, exactly — and lets a little magic into it so it gives off a low glow, only enough to light his way the short walk back across the room, ‘cause in T.F.’s world the stubbing of toes and smacking of shins against unexpected furniture in the dark is somethin’ that happens to other people. That probably says some things about him I’m not ready to go puzzlin’ out at this time of night, and that he wouldn’t want to have anyone go puzzlin’ about too hard in the first place anyway.

When I hold out my hand for him in the dark he smiles and takes it, twining our fingers together, and I use the hold to tug him in and deposit him, in a neat controlled wrestler’s roll held close against me as I lay down, to his side of the bed. He laughs again at that, a surprised delighted sound that edges dangerously close to a giggle but hey, I ain’t no snitch, so who’s gonna testify against him, huh?

The card ends up on the far side of his pillow after the tumble, still giving off a glow, enough to illuminate the bed and lend the shadows around it some warmth. It makes the bed seem a small cozy island, the rest of the world rendered a not-unfriendly ocean of darkness around it.

T.F. looks at me like the world’s most contented castaway, bourgeoning crow’s feet punctuating his smile on either side and fingers still linked with mine. His hair is mussed from the meandering fall onto the bed. If I were only fractionally less about five seconds away from fallin’ asleep, my body might start to get ideas about it. Well, tomorrow is always another day.

With the back of my free hand I brush some of his hair away from his brow, and he cranes into it like a well-pleased cat. Even with the blankets tangled around our feet and the not-quite-right positions we’ve ended up in, having tumbled into place rather than settled ourselves with purpose, everything feels warm and loose and comfortable, like I could fall asleep like this even with the decidedly odd angle my arm is at.

As if sensing that the drowsiness is about to claim me for real, T.F. brings our linked hands up to his face so he can press his lips to my scarred knuckles before he lets go, then reaches to pull the covers over us, taking a moment to tuck the blanket around my shoulder properly before snuggling under it himself, hooking his leg over my thigh as he settles into place. I shift until we fit together, the familiarity of how to rest against each other just right comfortable like an old and well-loved piece of clothing. On a sigh he rests our foreheads together, craning forward the tiny amount needed to brush our mouths together and humming contentedly when I meet him there. It’s a slow kiss, but it lingers, a dry sweet press of lips like one last spark sending the day off down into the gently drifting murk of sleep that’s about to claim me for a few hours.

When it ends — I don’t think either of us was really the first to pull back, at some point the kiss simply, in the way of snowflakes on tongues, melted into something different and less defined with the warmth — there’s a moment when my eyes can still fight against slipping shut. It’s weird, the way you can look at someone every day for years and still not feel like you’ve had your fill. T.F.’s sharp narrow face, his high pointy little cheekbones and mouth still curved with a smile as he watches me back — there’s something to knowing I’m gonna see all that again tomorrow morning that all the damn money on Runeterra couldn’t get you. And take it from me, from what I’ve seen of the world there ain’t a lot of things in this life enough money won’t buy. Stumbling across one of them long before we even knew what we had, by a stroke of little more’n dumb fucking luck… sometimes it feels like the biggest heist we ever pulled.

“Hey, Tobias?” I say, brushing the tip of my nose against his as my eyelids finally give up both the battle and the war and slide closed.

“Hmmm?” he says, cheerfully drowsy as well.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I murmur, because I can’t think of any damn happier thing in the world to say to him.

He wraps his arms around me, his hand stroking meanderingly up and down the scar-crossed span of my back, fingers trailing over my skin with the perfect amount of firmness because he’s taken the time to learn exactly how much pressure it takes to make it comforting. As sleep starts pulling me under to calmer depths I tuck my head under his chin, so my face is pressed to the line of his throat and to his chest. He smells so nice, all warmly real and well-known like my own breathing.

“Tomorrow,” he agrees on a yawn, nuzzling at the top of my head and tightening his arms around me, just for a moment.

I've been trying to write stuff -- literally just anything, no matter how meandering and nonsensical -- to try to break out of a writer's block; it's not really working so far but at least I've got SOMETHING tangible to show for it at the end of the day, so, you know, uh... partial success I guess?? haha

The idea of T.F. having a judge somewhere out there who considers him the One True Nemesis of his career, J. Jonah Jameson style, even though T.F. barely even remembers his name, came from a wonderful conversation with @inversway, and the idea makes me laugh so hard every time I think about it.

ETA: Also put this on AO3, so I have somewhere to put these ficlets that isn't just tumblr! I'm grimly clinging on to this blue hellsite like a obstinate barnacle to the hull of the Titanic, but I do realize it's not the best place to archive uh anything lol

#tf x graves #twistedgraves #league of legends #my writing #been trying to live the philosophy 'it doesn't have to be good; it just has to be SOMETHING'#and from that I have at least learned that I don't necessarily think perfectionism was the main problem anyway lol #every little insight helps I suppose

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tigerkirby215 · 3 years

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5e Olaf, the Beserker build (League of Legends)

(Artwork by Phroilan Gardner. Made for Riot Games.)

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Olaf sounds like ProZD’s Archibald voice. Especially Olaf’s voice lines for using his Q it sounds exactly like ProZD’s “Huah! I think that enemy got the point!” Like I’m not crazy right? Please tell me I’m not the only one who hears this.

Anyways Olaf has been on my To Do List ever since I realized that I haven’t made a single champion whose name starts with the letter O. My desire to make Olaf was only further accentuated by the Sentinels of Light event, even if his inclusion in that event could best be summed up with...

But I won’t ignore Olaf just because the Sentinels of Light event was a flop. He’s still a compelling character that I have actually gotten some requests to make. After all: the dual-axe wielding Barbarian is an iconic image!

I mean, Olaf is probably just going to be 20 levels in Beserker Barbarian so I don’t know why you need me to make a build for that.

GOALS

C'mon, I won't hurt you - We’ll need ways to heal when we harm in the middle of combat.

Death by steel! - Swing axe, throw axe; unga bunga me play Olaf.

The might of Lokfar approaches - I didn’t manage to do so with Mundo but Olaf is going to need to have CC immunity.

RACE

Olaf is a human; feel free to pick a different race like Goliath or even Custom Lineage to justify him being Iceborn but Variant Human is still the best option. Increase your Strength by 1 as well as your Constitution, grab any skill proficiency of your choice as it honestly doesn’t matter much for Olaf (maybe you should’ve been Custom Lineage for Darkvision after all?), and the Primordial language because I’m sure you picked up on the language of the wild.

For your feat you have a choice: Dual Wielder will let you wield two d8 Battleaxes (instead of d6 Handaxes) and also increase your AC by 1 while dual-wielding, but the Fighting Initiate feat will let you grab Two-Weapon Fighting which will let you add your Strength modifier to your second axe’s swing. I persually opted for Dual Wielder as it gives you more benefits overall, and we’ll be getting ways to throw axes without having to hold onto them first.

ABILITY SCORES

15; STRENGTH - I mean, you’re a shirtless Barbarian running around with two axes. You thought this would be a DEX build?

14; CONSTITUTION - The reason you can’t die is because you’re so hardy. Sucks!

13; CHARISMA - Despite Riot’s great attempts at writing you as poorly as possible you do still have some sort of Charisma. Remember that Charisma is force of personality, not necessarily good looks or personal hygiene. Charisma is needed for Intimidation as well as multiclassing.

12; DEXTERITY - You need to be quick on your feet to run at your enemies with reckless abandon.

10; WISDOM - If you were wise you wouldn’t be trying to kill yourself.

8; INTELLIGENCE - You stopped caring about education the moment you were born. Battle is the only thing in your blood!

This build is also quite viable with Point Buy, going for a stat array like 15 / 12 / 14 / 8 / 8 / 14 if you want lower mental stats but higher combat stats.

BACKGROUND

The Uthgardt Tribe Member background from the Sword Coast Adventurer’s Guide is basically the Outlander background but you actually belonged to Freljordian society once. Regardless you do get proficiency in Athletics as well as Survival (”Survival” as in finding food to eat, not as in keeping safe on the battlefield!), a musical instrument or artisan’s tool of your choice (choose whatever you fancy and make your own Olaf, as long as it’s something a warrior would do! I personally opted for Smith’s Tools to sharpen your axes), and a language of your choice (pick whatever language they spoke back in the villages.)

Your background Uthgardt Heritage is the Outlander’s Wanderer feature with extra steps: along with being able to find food and water you are also treated well by nomads and wanderers who have heard of your glorious battles!

(Artwork by Marie Magny and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

THE BUILD

LEVEL 1 - BARBARIAN 1

Starting off as a Barbarian because what else would we be? You get proficiency in two skills from the Barbarian list: Intimidation is an obvious must and Perception will help you find good fights to take!

As a Barbarian you get Unarmored Defense equal to your Dexterity plus your Constitution, which is currently a 13... Well Medium Armor is an option if you want to finally put on a shirt. And of course as a Barbarian you can Rage to deal more damage and resist incoming damage! You can’t cast spells while Raging, but that won’t matter, right? It’s not like I’m about to give you caster levels.

LEVEL 2 - FIGHTER 1

Quickly hopping over to Fighter to further your martial skills. You can grab a Fighting Style like Thrown Weapon Fighting to draw weapons in the same action you make to throw them, and also do +2 damage with thrown weapon attacks. See? Told you we’d be able to throw axes easily!

You also get Second Wind for some not-quite-Lifesteal to keep you in the fight to claim even more glory! Certainly not to stay alive.

LEVEL 3 - FIGHTER 2

Well another Fighter level for Action Surge is certainly worth it, as you can push yourself to destroy your foes!

LEVEL 4 - FIGHTER 3

But we need one more Fighter level to be able to get our axes back after we throw them. Eldritch Knights get Weapon Bond, allowing them to always keep two weapons on hand and never lose them. While bonded with a weapon you can’t be disarmed of them, and you can use a Bonus Action to recall a weapon if it’s not in your hands. My suggestion would be to bond to a Battleaxe and a Handaxe, so you can’t be disarmed of at least one of your main weapons and can also call your thrown axe back to throw it again!

You also get Spellcasting as an Eldritch Knight: You learn two cantrips from the Wizard list, and three spells as well. You may be thinking “wait; didn’t you dump Intelligence?” That is correct, but you don’t need Intelligence to cast Light to see with your dumb human eyes (I mean technically you need Intelligence if you want to cast Light on someone else but it’s probably easier just to light up your axe and throw it at them) or Prestidigitation, which is a better spell for creating bonfires than the actual Create Bonfire spell.

Your leveled spells have to be from either the Evocation or Abjuration schools, but thankfully Absorb Elements and Shield are both from the Abjuration school and also don’t need Intelligence. Protect yourself from damage to have a truly glorious death! Because it’s not like blocking attacks will keep you alive.

You can also learn one spell from any school and uhhhh... Pick your poison between Jump and Longstrider, to make it easier to chase your foes. Are there probably better spells? Yeah, but do they fit Olaf?

(Artwork by Xiao Guang Sun and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 5 - PALADIN 1

Jumping over to Paladin for a few abilities, such as Divine Sense to find some things that will put up a good fight like Fiends, Undead, or... Celestials? I’m sure they hit hard! You can also find a good desecrated (or consecrated) battleground with this ability, as I’m sure there will be good enemies there! You only know of an enemy’s type however, not their name. And if they’re hiding from you this ability won’t make it any easier to find them.

You also get Lay on Hands, which is like lifesteal you can give to allies! You have a pool of hit points equal to your Paladin level times 5, and you can use it to either heal (at a rate of 1 point per hitpoint) or neutralize a poison or disease affecting a target. (5 Lay on Hands health to neutralize one poison or disease.) Dying to natural causes isn’t a glorious death, brother!

LEVEL 6 - PALADIN 2

We’ll also need second level in Paladin to get a Fighting Style, but since Wizards of the Coast hates fun you can’t can’t take Two-Weapon Fighting, and since we’re running around in our birthday suit Defense also isn’t an option. The best official Fighting Style you can take is Blind Fighting (Blessed Warrior is okay too if you want Guidance I guess) but talk to your DM about potentially letting you take Two-Weapon Fighting? It’s not like it’s OP or anything (in all honesty it’s kinda shit.)

Paladins also get... more Spellcasting?! Disgusting! Well this spellcasting is based on your Charisma modifier instead of your Intelligence, which might be why we have it at a 14. But even so you can’t prepare that many spells: Divine Favor will let you empower all your attacks with more damage for some Vicious Strikes, Cure Wounds will again be acting as life-not-quite-steal, and Shield of Faith will let you or an ally absorb more blows, not that you want to live or anything. Also remember to check the Player’s Handbook to see how many spell slots you’d have after mixing two casters together.

But I still think the best course of action for your spell slots is to use them for Divine Smite! Throw caution and magic to the wind to make a Reckless Swing that does extra Radiant damage (depending on the level of the spell slot used.) The Smite deals 2d8 of damage for a first level slot, and an additional d8 of damage for every slot above first. (The simple way to remember this is that you roll a number of d8s equal to the spell slot used plus one.) If the enemy is a Fiend or Undead the damage increases by a d8! The maximum level spell slot you can use for this is a 4th level slot (for 5d8 damage, or 6d8 against a Fiend or Undead), but I doubt we’ll get spell slots that big.

LEVEL 7 - PALADIN 3

We may as well take a third level in Paladin for a Sacred Oath, and you swore an Oath of Glory in battle! Along with Guiding Bolt and Heroism being added to your spell list (as if you can cast spells lmao) you get two Channel Divinity options: Peerless Athlete turns you into... well, a Peerless Athlete with advantage on Athletics and Acrobatics checks. You can also carry, push, drag, and lift twice as much weight as normal, and to top it off the distance of your long and high jumps increases by 10 feet. This boost lasts for 10 minutes which should be more than enough to give it your all in battle!

Alternatively for some more not-quite-lifesteal Inspiring Smite can be activated after you Smite to give yourself or nearby allies within 30 feet temporary hitpoints. The total number of temporary hit points gained by this ability equals 2d8 + your Paladin level, and you can distribute them amongst yourself and your allies however you wish. Technically the most gameplay-accurate way to split the Temp HP would be to take it all yourself but being helpful has its benefits. A battle is truly glorious if fought alongside an army of companions!

You also get Divine Health, because Glory doesn’t die on sick days!

LEVEL 8 - PALADIN 4

It’s about time to take that 4th Paladin level to finally get an Ability Score Improvement: +2 to Strength for stronger axe swings is an obvious choice!

You can also prepare another spell like Bless, which will make it easier for you and your allies to smite your foes and survive their blows! Wait, what was that about surviving?

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 9 - PALADIN 5

Since it’s so close we may as well take the 5th level of Paladin so you can finally make an Extra Attack. That means you have two attacks normally and a third attack with your Bonus Action thanks to Two-Weapon Fighting!

You can also prepare second level Paladin spells now, and the Oath of Glory gives you Enhance Ability and Magic Weapon as spells you can cast. Believe it or not these are actually useful, even with your low spellcasting modifier!

LEVEL 10 - PALADIN 6

The 6th level of Paladin is honestly too good to pass up: even though Aura of Protection is only adding +2 to all your saving throws (since your Charisma is kinda uhhh... not good?) that’s still +2 to all your saves, as well as the saves of your allies within 10 feet. That’s like, two whole Rings of Protection!

Speaking of rings: Warding Bond was added to the Paladin spell list thanks to Tasha’s and it’ll let you take damage for your allies to die in their place! As long as you don’t mind wearing some platnium rings in your beard, at least.

LEVEL 11 - PALADIN 7

What we’re really here for is the 7th level of Glory Paladin. Aura of Alacrity will increase the speed of you and your allies within 5 feet (not 10, because Wizards of the Coast are weird) by 10 feet, so you can charge at your foes with the might of Ragnarok!

LEVEL 12 - PALADIN 8

But we may as well take the 8th level of Paladin for another Ability Score Improvement: cap off your Strength for the deadliest strikes possible.

You can also prepare another spell but it would be wise to wait for...

(Artwork by JoJo So. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 13 - PALADIN 9

9th level Paladins can prepare third level spells like Crusader’s Mantle to give all your nearby allies the Divine Favor buff to rush into battle with you! But the main reason we’re dipping this deep into Paladin is for the two spells from the Oath of Glory: Protection from Energy perhaps isn’t all that fitting, but Haste is insanely useful and powerful. More attacks, more speed, more... armor? Well, it’s no matter. More glorious battle!

LEVEL 14 - PALADIN 10

10th level Paladins won’t be swayed by magic swaying their hearts! Aura of Courage will let you (and your allies within 10 feet) laugh in the face of death as you gain immunity to the Frightened condition!

You can also prepare another spell like Aura of Vitality: you can use it to heal yourself but healing your allies will lead to a far more glorious story to tell of your death.

LEVEL 15 - PALADIN 11

I promise that we’ll go back to Barbarian levels soon but 11th level Paladins get a huge boost to their damage output thanks to Improved Divine Smite. This ability affects all your attacks (not just your Smites despite the name) to give them an extra d8 of Radiant damage. This has obvious synergy with your choice to swing two axes since your Two-Weapon Fighting attack will also get that extra d8 of damage!

LEVEL 16 - PALADIN 12

Okay but let’s quickly grab the 12th level of Paladin first. You can either increase your Constitution for more health and AC, or your Charisma for better saving throws and spellcasting. I personally opted for Charisma but if you value health and AC then Constitution is good too!

Oh and yeah you can prepare more spells, but there aren’t really that many other third level spells I want.

(Artwork by Alvin Lee. Made for Riot Games.)

LEVEL 17 - PALADIN 13

That’s because 13th level Paladins finally get 4th spells which most importantly means Freedom of Movement! There you go you finally have Ragnarok’s CC immunity! You also get Compulsion which sure would be a good spell if you had any Charisma to actually cast it.

But you can also prepare more spells like Aura of Purity so you and your allies can shrug off whatever your foes might throw at you to stop you from reaching them, or Death Ward which you ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT USE ON YOURSELF.

LEVEL 18 - PALADIN 14

Okay but the 14th level of Paladin gives you Cleansing Touch, letting you cleanse spells without spell slots to cast Freedom of Movement. You can use this feature a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier and regain all expended uses at the end of a Long Rest.

You could also perhaps prepare another spell like... Aid? I don’t know really by this point the magic is secondary. We’ll be going back to Barbarian soon anyways.

LEVEL 19 - PALADIN 15

But 15th level Glory Paladins get Glorious Defense, and we can’t pass that up! When you or another creature you can see (technically an enemy if you so desire!) within 10 feet of you is hit by an attack roll, you can use your reaction to grant a bonus to the target’s AC against that attack equal to your Charisma modifier. If the attack misses you can make one weapon attack against the attacker as part of this reaction, provided the attacker is within your weapon’s range. You can do this a number of times equal to your Charisma modifier, and regain all uses at the end of a Long Rest.

LEVEL 20 - PALADIN 16

But since it’s so close one final level in Paladin would be good for one final ASI: again more Constitution means more health and AC, but more Charisma will boost all your Paladin abilities!

Speaking of Paladin abilities you can prepare one more spell before we start taking more Barbarian levels... honestly you can pick your poison as it won’t matter much when your Raging!

...Wait.

WHY NO BARBARIAN LEVELS?

There’s a lot of things that I can’t do as a Barbarian. The most notable option that would be restricted if I went pure Barbarian would be Freedom of Movement, and while crowd control is somewhat rare in D&D being able to ignore it is far more important to Olaf as a character.

There’s also no Barbarian that has lifesteal besides Path of the Beast, and the only Barbarian that can throw its axe easily is Path of Wild Magic. Obviously neither of these fit Olaf.

Ultimately Paladin gave us more of Olaf’s abilities. The only ability that Barbarians have which fit Olaf other than Unarmored Defense and I guess Unarmored Movement would be Feral Instinct. But even the Barbarian subclasses don’t fit Olaf with the only ones which make any sense being maybe Totem Warrior? (Despite Olaf’s title Berserker wouldn’t fit him well, mostly because Berserker is a bad subclass.) But we miss out on so many of Olaf’s actual abilities by making him a Barbarian.

tl;dr Barbarians can’t do magic and Olaf has a ton of abilities that can only be recreated in D&D with magic

FINAL BUILD

PROS

Urge to kill rising... - Two-Weapon Fighting really doesn’t get the respect it deserves by the D&D community. You wouldn’t be able to get three attacks as a level 11 Paladin in any other way, meaning that you can truly capitalize on Improved Divine Smite. Not to mention the general increased DPS of 3 attacks and 3 chances to Smite!

Faster to battle! - It was not my intention but Glory Paladins are surprisingly good team players with a variety of spells and abilities that can keep your team alive and increase their strength in battle.

Obliteration! - You’re fairly hard to kill... oops. But between decently high health, spells to defend yourself, and damn high saving throws no matter how you increase your Charisma you’ll be quite a challenge to eventually take down! Sure your AC might suck... we should probably talk about that.

CONS

The worth of a man can be measured by the length of his beard, and the girth of his belt buckle - Hey remember that one Barbarian level I took pretty much entirely so you could have Unarmored Defense? Yeah honestly it’s gimping you hard, to the point that even Mage Armor would give you more AC. Honestly playing this build as Fighter 4 / Paladin 16 would be far better as you’d get one more ASI at the cost of actually having to wear armor. Hell going full Paladin 20 would give you the Living Legend capstone which is crazy strong, and while the loss of Action Surge would hurt you can grab the Thrown Weapon Fighting Style with a feat. (Or just take Two-Weapon Fighting style with your Variant Human Feat and run around with Hand Axes.)

If you’re really dead-set on going unarmored beg your DM for a Barrier Tattoo: either a Rare one (you’ll still need 14 DEX for something something legally-not-Medium Armor) or a Very Rare one (so you don’t even have to worry about Dexterity.) You can even go the Tahm Kench route and grab Eldritch Adept for Disguise Self to look unarmored if it’s really that important to you.

Well that was a pretty long con to say “Barbarian Olaf bad.” What else is there?

Chop chop! - Who would’ve guessed that dumping both mental stats would make you a dummy? While Aura of Protection saves you to some extent the party won’t be turning to you for any History checks.

Finally, some fun! - You have a rather silly amount of spells relative to your spell slots, and a good number of them are Concentration as well. Throwing all your slots to the wind to Divine Smite with reckless abandon sounds fun but managing both your Concentration and your spell slots will take some effort.

But your choice to go in without armor is just a self-handicap after all: you really want to die, and prove yourself in death! Fight the toughest fights and take down the strongest foes until you finally prove your prophecy wrong and fall before the blade of the mightiest foe! But perhaps you should instead sit down and have a muffin, and think about why you truly want to die die die.

(Artwork made for Riot Games.)

#dnd #dnd 5e #dnd build #dnd guide #dnd barbarian #definitely a Barbarian #not any other class #dnd paladin #League of Legends #League of Legends Olaf #Sentinels of Light #was bad #As if on cue Olaf releases gas from every bodily orifice #Youtube

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luffles424 · 4 years

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Zombie Bites

☼ Pairing: Yoongi x reader

☼ Genre: college!au, f2l, light angst, fluff, smut

☼ Count: 13.2K

☼ Warnings: alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, teasing, biting, marking, messy sex (look you fuck him in zombie makeup, of course its gonna be a little messy), blood? (its fake but like, it’s still there and described)

☼ Summary: Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie?

☼ a/n: Adkjsdfgdf this was supposed to be for Yoongi’s birthday and I’m clearly a little late! But, it’s here! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

You kick the door, hands too full to even attempt shifting things so you could properly knock and if your hands were free enough to knock, then you’d just open the door yourself. You hope at least one of them is home, you really don’t want to have to carry all of this back home. Although you know Taehyung should be home and he lives nearby so you can always go there if this falls through. You know Yoongi should be home though, he doesn’t have classes today, but you can never account for his personal schedule for the studio. Primarily because it doesn’t exist and Yoongi goes when Yoongi feels like. You’re fairly certain Jin has a rehearsal today, but you can’t quite remember. You’re hoping to catch Yoongi anyway. You enjoy practicing on Jin, or any of your friends, their willingness to always let you do whatever to their faces makes you so grateful to have met them.

Yoongi and Jin were the first ones you met. You and Yoongi met in your stagecraft class freshman year. You both were hopelessly lost. Although you suspect Yoongi was more so, given that he is more involved in sound. Jin once told you later how late Yoongi would stay up researching so that he could help you in class and when you would meet to study together. As for you and Jin, you shared a beginner film class, being forced to pair up for a project but finding that you worked remarkably well together, each of your passions melding well.

You discovered they knew each other already when you went to Yoongi’s dorm one night to study and Jin answered the door. From there, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook all slowly joined through shared classes and mutual friends. Now you’re in your senior year with a tight knit group of friends who you’d do anything for and who would do anything for you in return. Like right now, when you desperately need a model to practice on.

And while you love your friends, Yoongi is your favorite to practice on. And that’s only partially because you may or may not be also crushing on your best friend a little bit. But it’s hard not to fall for Yoongi. For all that he acts like a tough guy in all black and leather jackets, he’s the sweetest. He’s brought you food and coffee when you’re spending long hours in the art studio working and you do the same for him. Even his teasing towards you is sweet, it’s only sometimes upsetting because it’s exactly how a guy might tease his younger sister.

But beyond that, Yoongi’s the most patient. Taking the hours they sometimes have to spend in the chair in stride and not shifting in the slightest. Hoseok’s the worst at it, he enjoys talking too much and is animated when he does so. You keep shorter projects for him. Hoseok’s face suits subtle makeup more anyway. You’re really not sure why you want to make Yoongi look beat up. Well you do know why, but you’re choosing not to think about that reason.

It takes a few moments after your knock for the door to be opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Yoongi, which means you’ve woken him up from a nap. He’s going to be a little harder to convince if you just woke him up. It looks like he’s been at the studio all night again. His eyes narrow at you like he knew it was you, before his gaze trails down to the bag of food in one hand and your makeup case in the other.

He groans, but steps back anyway to allow you to enter. You count it as a win that he doesn’t slam the door in your face. Not that it’d do much, all of you have keys to each other’s places. Namjoon just lamented the other week, when he’d once again lost his set of keys, meaning everyone had to get new copies for him, why all of you don’t just live together. Jin suggested the better option was just to not give Namjoon keys.

“I brought lamb skewers.” You pipe up before he has a chance to say anything. He eyes you suspiciously for a moment as you set everything down on the table. You turn to him with a hopeful smile. “Where’s Jin?”

Yoongi ignores you in favor of digging a skewer out to munch on before deeming you worthy of an answer. “Apparently smart enough to not be here when you come by looking for a guinea pig.” He says around a mouthful.

You pout, wringing your hands for extra effect. “Do you guys really find it a bother?” You look down, you know Yoongi doesn’t like seeing you sad. “I can just post some fliers around if you don’t want to do it.”

You hear Yoongi huff then his arm is wrapping around you. It gives you the perfect way to hide your victorious grin. He’s a little too predictable.

“What are we doing today? Please no glitter. Jimin is still shedding it from last week.”

You giggle, moving to open your case and sort through the makeup you brought with you today. “Jimin was the prettiest fairy, thank you very much. And he wanted the glitter for the video. Have you not seen it? It’s… stunning.” You wave the thought off. “But no, no glitter for you. You get this instead.” You turn and hold up a bottle of fake blood. “I need to practice my horror and gore type stuff. We have a short film project in a few weeks and I have never done a full zombie before. Plus it’ll help me round out my portfolio.” You grin conspiratorially with him. “Plus, I figured we could prank the others.”

He lets out a put upon sigh, but you can see the grin he’s trying to hide. You know he’s always down to fuck with the others, the perks of such an artsy school giving you the ability to do so frequently in creative ways. “Okay, fine. What do you need me to do?”

You tug the white shirt you’d bought and hold it out to him. “Put this on first.”

He looks like he has something to say but just shrugs and does as you ask. He tugs his current shirt off and you try your best not to stare. Jimin was shirtless in front of you last week for hours for his fairy makeup and you were completely unphased by it, something you know that many people on campus would boggle at the fact that you had that in front of you and did nothing. Yet Yoongi is just changing his shirt, something you’ve seen plenty of times over the course of your friendship. All of your friends have seen everyone else in the midst of dressing for one thing or another, you’re all comfortable with each other. And with many of your degrees being what they are, you have to be comfortable with people in varying states of dress. But with Yoongi, this time, it’s a little hard to remind yourself that you’re friends and this is for practice. Something about the end of senior year drawing so near makes every moment with Yoongi feel slightly different. A little more charged than before.

Once he’s got the new shirt on, you grab a pair of scissors and the front of his shirt with your other hand so that you can pull it away from his skin.

Yoongi jerks backwards at the sight of the sharp object so close to his chest. “Woah! I thought this was supposed to be fake!”

You roll your eyes, tugging him back towards you. He goes with no resistance, despite his vocal protests. “I’m cutting the shirt, dumby. Not you.”

He pouts at the name. “Well how should I know that?”

You give him a flat look, does he really think you’d use scissors on him? “You think if I wanted to hurt you that I would lug all of my makeup over here to do it?” You glance at the open container of food, grinning evilly. “Besides, if I really wanted to hurt you, I’d go for your precious skewers.”

Yoongi gasps with horror and you really hope it’s fake horror. With him and Jungkook though, there’s a very real possibility that they would react this way and be completely serious. No one should be that theatrical over some lamb on a stick. “How dare you.”

You pluck a skewer from his protective hold and bite into it. “I said if. You think I’m gonna just get rid of my best model?”

“You’re just saying that so I don’t kick you out.” He grumbles, reluctantly setting the container back down like he’s scared that you’ll do something to it, but not before eating one more.

You murmur a quiet ‘uh huh’, finally making a few cuts to the shirt and ripping them a little more with your hands to make it look more natural. You scrutinize it for a moment, maybe also taking the opportunity to admire the way Yoongi’s chest stretches the fabric and the glimpses of skin you get through the rips. Maybe you should’ve had Yoongi doing more full body stuff for you. You nod your approval to the shirt and pull out a brush and small jar filled with a dark brown powder. Yoongi watches you curiously as you open it and start to add streaks of it to his shirt to dirty it.

“Is this supposed to be dirt?” He questions in disbelief. You nod distractedly as you continue to focus and you miss the face Yoongi makes. “Did you buy that? You know there’s dirt outside right?”

You finish, giving Yoongi an unimpressed look. If he really thought he was about to question how you do your job then maybe you should’ve used the scissors on him. “Do you want to go roll around in the dirt?” Your half tempted to make him go do it if he’s going to be a stickler for realism. You hold back a laugh when he shakes his head quickly, eyes wide cause he knows that you’ll follow through. “Then don’t question my fake dirt, brat.” You tap his nose with the brush, leaving a small splotch behind. You gesture to the stool nearby, the one that’s become the de facto makeup chair here. “Sit please.”

Yoongi does so as you gather up the few things you decide to use for this practice run. You don’t want to go too crazy for practice, especially if this is to be believable. Plus, you don’t have to do just zombie work, you’ve got to do the human too. So this is the perfect time to try that. You begin to work, falling into a companionable silence. Yoongi always stays quiet, eyes tracing your face as you work. Namjoon always questions what you’re using and doing, always wants to learn, even if he’s not particularly good at it. They all question, even Yoongi, but they usually wait until after you’ve finished to ask about something.

You step back, head tilted as you trace over Yoongi’s features, now dirtier, faint bruises adorning his cheek and jaw, along with a scraped cheek and temple and a split lip.

Yoongi speaks up while you inspect your work. “I thought you said zombie?” He looks adorably confused, so at odds with the beaten look he’s currently sporting.

You nod absently, picking the bruise wheel and sponge back up and adding more detailing around his eyes. Yoongi obediently closes his eyes without being told. You could kiss him, he’s the only one you never have to remind to do this, reading you and your movements more than well enough to anticipate what you need him to do. It’s definitely part of why he’s your favorite model. “I did. But I’m doing both the zombies and the human so I need to practice this too. And we have plans tonight and zombie makeup will take too long. I’d practice on Jin but I’m gonna have to do this on him enough for shooting.”

Yoongi peeks an eye open to look at you. “Jin’s working on this too?”

You switch your wheel and sponge out for a brush and the bottle of fake blood, thick enough to make small cuts and drips without spreading out past where you want it. “Yeah. I got the project first.” You pause and roll your eyes, memories of Jin begging you to do his makeup for his audition. There may have been a promise of all the alcohol you could drink, one that you definitely took him up on. “And I’m pretty sure he would’ve gotten the part regardless. But he wanted makeup like this done for his audition. Said he wanted to go in in character already and he wanted them to be able to see how he’d look in the role. That’s why I know I need to practice this. It was good enough for just a simple audition, but it’ll need to be perfect for the shoot.”

You add a few drips of blood to the shirt and step away again. “I’m actually surprised that you don’t know about this already. It’s a big collaboration between a bunch of the departments. I’m pretty sure Tae and Kook are doin camera stuff. And music definitely seems like an important part to include.”

Yoongi shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders so he doesn’t move too much for you. “We usually don’t hear about projects until later. We’re not as needed for earlier parts. If it’s starting soon, we’ll probably be told soon then.”

You close the cap on the blood, admiring your work with a pleased grin. You knew he’d look good a little roughed up. He looks every bit the bad boy he pretends to be, you just need to convince him to wear his leather jacket too. That’ll complete the look. “It’d be cool to work on a project together within our disciplines. I don’t think we’ve done that yet.” You laugh. “Imagine it, our names on the big screen together.” You sigh a little wistfully, it might be the only way your names are up somewhere together.

You miss the curious look Yoongi gives you at your sigh. “Yeah, too bad Jin’s name will be first. And bigger. We’ll just be tucked down at the end where everyone stops paying attention or leaves.”

You nudge his shoulder playfully. “I pay attention.”

He smiles softly at you as you begin to clean up. “I know you do.”

You finish cleaning quickly, you didn’t use that much to begin with and tug your phone out and grin. “Your favorite part. Picture time.”

Yoongi groans, foot kicking out in a show of protest. “Do I at least get to see what you’ve done to me first?”

You roll your eyes at his dramatics but flip the front facing camera on and hand your phone to him. His eyes widen briefly when he finally sees himself. He turns his face, looking at it from different angles, a low ‘wow’ escaping him as he gingerly prods a bruise like it will actually hurt if he touches it. He grins as he hands the phone back.

“Excellent work as always.”

You feel yourself grow warm, hiding your pleased smile behind your phone as you direct Yoongi’s poses so you can get shots to work from for final ideas for the film. You tuck your phone away once you're done.

“Great let’s go. I think everyone else should be at Tae, Jimin and Jungkook’s by now.”

You grab Yoongi’s hand before he can enter the apartment, you can hear the others already inside. He turns to you with a questioning look but you ignore it as you make a few last second adjustments, fixing his hat and brushing the shoulders of his leather jacket before giving a satisfied nod. He ruffles your hair and you swat at his hand as you dart around him to enter.

Your appearance is met with gasps and Jimin is quickly hurrying over, completely ignoring you in favor of Yoongi, hands hovering like he’s scared to hurt him more. “Are you okay?! Oh my god, you shouldn’t be walking, come sit down.”

You bite your lip as Jimin ushers Yoongi to the couch, watching as the others flock to him as well, all throwing questions at him at once. You notice Jin in the kitchen doorway and he smirks at you, clearly knowing exactly what’s going on, but he seems more than willing to keep quiet in favor of whatever your plan is. You don’t know how long to let this go on, but it’s too funny to watch. Yoongi actually looks a little flustered and it makes the scene all the more adorable to watch.

“Who did this!” Jungkook pushes Jimin aside and squishes Yoongi’s cheeks, looking imploringly into his eyes. “Please tell me you remember, I’ll beat them up for you.”

Taehyung swats at his arm. “You’re gonna hurt him more idiot, let go.”

He does so instantly, wide eyes glued to the tacky blood that’s transferred to his hand.

Yoongi chuckles. “If you’re gonna beat them up, my money’s on her winning.” He grins and something about it makes him look cocky and cocky is an oddly good look on him right now and you almost missed what he says completely.

They all look at him, varying degrees of confusion on their faces. “Her?” Namjoon presses.

Yoongi nods and gestures towards you, smirk still in place. “Yeah, she’s the one who did this to me.”

The three youngest look at you warily, Jungkook looks a little like he wants to take back what he said about beating up whoever did that to Yoongi. Namjoon’s eyes narrow, he’s too smart sometimes. “It’s makeup, isn’t it?”

You grin, giving a small shrug. “Guilty as charged.”

Hoseok appears at your side, puppy eyes in full effect. “That’s so mean to do to us. We were worried about him. You know he can’t fight.”

Yoongi protests with a weak hey, batting Jungkook’s hands away as he prods at the makeup with glee now that he knows it’s safe to touch. You feel like they misjudge Yoongi a little. Yoongi could definitely hold his own in a fight if he needed to. You remember very well watching him work with sets during your stagecraft class. You maybe almost ruined a few things by getting distracted watching him work. It’s definitely where your crush began, you’ve always been a sucker for watching a guy work up a sweat.

You smile and pull Hoseok into a hug. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I needed practice and it seemed like a waste that no one else got to see it.”

Hoseok’s arm wraps around your neck as he quickly turns your hug into a headlock, rubbing your head as you squirm. “Hobi, stop!” you giggle, prying ineffectually at his arm. “I give! I give! I’m sorry!”

Hoseok gives one last rub before releasing you, smug smile in place as you pout at him and attempt to fix the mess he’s created of your hair, not that it matters. The boys have seen you after all nighters and hungover, mussed hair is nothing in comparison.

Jin finally pushes himself off the doorway with a clap to grab everyone’s attention. “Right, now that that’s over with, are we ready to celebrate this project?”

Your days quickly grow busy, full of planning meetings and brainstorming sessions. You have little time to practice between classes, the meetings, and research. Although some of the research devolves into group binges of various zombie movies, all of you claiming it’s in the name of preparing for your various upcoming roles. But you know part of it is because you're all getting too busy to hang out as a group and if you can at least claim to be researching for the shoot as well. Hoseok hates the binges the most, he’s never been great with horror but the others have fun with it, picking the movie apart by the different aspects that they’re interested in. You get too wrapped up in inspecting the makeup that you don’t even really realize what most of the plots are or what the others do.

Yoongi offers to watch them all again with you, all in the name of research of course. He does it a couple of times, sacrificing sleep and time to work on other projects to stay up late watching zombie movies on your’s or his couch. He even points out ideas for you and pauses the movie when you start talking about a technique on screen, watching you with a fond smile.

Now you finally have some free time and you’ve been thinking about what you want to practice all week, all the ideas and plans you’ve created after your film viewings. You’ve just got the difficult task of finding out which boy is free and you luck out and find Jin and Hoseok together. Jin groans the second you enter the apartment and he catches sight of your case.

“I’m too pretty to be a zombie,” he whines.

You roll your eyes. You’d normally fight him on it, but with Hoseok here too, you decide to let it slide this once. “That’s fine. I can practice your makeup for the film and see how it will look with a zombie.” You turn to Hoseok with pleading eyes. “As long as I have a zombie.”

Hoseok looks like he wants to protest, glancing at the books in front of him, but he gives in with a sigh rather quickly. “Yeah, I suppose I could use a break.”

You give a small cheer. “Thank you! Dinner’s on me then.” You look over the two of them before deciding to give them the choice. “Who wants to go first?”

Jin jumps up. “Me, if I read anything else about camera techniques I think my brain might melt.”

He quickly settles into the chair, letting you get to work. His makeup is simple, you do much of what you practiced on Yoongi with a few modifications you’d decided on while doing research during the week. Jin and Hoseok chatter with each other while you work, you occasionally add things to the conversation when you happen to catch what’s being talked about, but much of your focus is on your work.

Once finished, you look him over before nodding happily. You pull your phone out to get a few solo shots, something he takes great joy in making difficult for you by posing in over exaggerated ways. You finally shoo him away and Hoseok replaces him and you purse your lips, tugging at his shirt.

“Lose this. I need your neck.”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow, tugging his shirt off. “If you wanted me naked so badly, Y/n, you could’ve just asked. I’m sure we can ask Jin to give us some time alone.” He winks.

You snort, about to respond that you just don’t want to hear him complain about his shirt being ruined but before you can say anything Jin’s answering. “She doesn’t care about you being shirtless. There’s only one of us she would care to have shirtless in front of her.”

Your cheeks heat and you glare at Jin. You never should’ve gone drinking with him and you should’ve known he was doing it just to pry information out of you. Wanted his makeup to look authentic for the audition, my ass. “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”

Hoseok perks up, looking at Jin. “She likes someone? One of us? Who?”

“No one.” You cut in, tugging his chin back so he’s facing you and quickly starting your work on his face. It’s incredibly hard to work around the shiteating grin on Hoseok’s face. You maybe blend some spots a little harder than necessary if the way Hoseok occasionally winces is anything to go by.

“Oh, she does. She told me herself. Rambled on about how nice he smells and how he takes care of her. Waxed poetic about how she wishes she got to see him shirtless more often because she just knows that he looks good shirtless.” He waggles his eyebrows.

You point the brush in your hand menacingly at Jin, you wonder if anyone would believe it was justified. “If you don’t shut up, you won’t have to wear makeup for the shoot.”

Jin looks at the brush, completely nonplussed. “You wouldn’t dare when I live in such close proximity to a certain someone.” He singsongs. “And gosh, I just say such crazy things when I’m studying and sleep deprived, ya know?”

Your eyes widen, heart in your throat. Hoseok looks confused for a moment before you see the lightbulb go off and he grins too. “You like Yoo-”

You slap your hand over his mouth. This is so not happening right now, this is just a bad dream. Fueled by far too many zombie movies this week. You’ll wake up and be in your own bed and Jin and Hoseok won’t be teasing you about liking Yoongi. “Shut up, I don’t like anyone.” You hiss.

You feel his grin so you squeeze his cheeks, shaking him just slightly. “Say it. Say, ‘you don’t like anyone’.”

He’s about to respond and you can just tell by the glint in his eye that he’s not going to repeat what you told him to say, but the sound of the door opening takes everyone’s attention and you look up, blinking owlishly when you see Yoongi enter. He quirks an eyebrow when he sees you squeezing Hoseok’s cheeks and you quickly jerk your hand away. You’d really like to disappear now. It would’ve been bad enough to be here with Jin when Yoongi got home and now he’s got backup with Hoseok. You’re going to die of embarrassment by the end of the night, you just know it.

You quickly busy yourself with getting back to work on Hoseok, absolutely ignoring the delight in his eyes at Yoongi’s sudden appearance.

“Hey Yoongi, what’re you doing home already?” He calls and you wonder if anyone would believe you if you said the brush just slipped and poked him in the eye. It’s happened before.

Yoongi wonders over to the three of you, inspecting your work on Hoseok so far. “Apparently studying at the coffee shop was code for date? And I didn’t know that?” He says offhandedly.

You feel your heart stop. “You went on a date?” You blurt out before you can think better. That was supposed to just be a thought, you didn’t mean to say it out loud. You wish you could take the words back, especially when you see the way Jin’s eyes light up at your slip.

Yoongi nods, turning to look over Jin’s makeup next. He still looks like this conversation isn’t that important to him. “Yeah, Seulgi asked if I wanted to study for our class together at the coffee shop. Apparently I missed the memo that said it was actually a date.”

You swallow, studiously staying focused on Hoseok, tilting his head slightly so you can begin to create a bite mark on his neck. You don’t want to hear anymore of this conversation, you’re already really close to crying. Yoongi says something about needing to shower and meanders away. Hoseok must notice the glassiness of your eyes because he reaches out to give your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You give him a pained smile and continue to work.

Jin’s about to say something but you shake your head. “Don’t. Please.”

He remains quiet, letting you finish Hoseok’s makeup in silence. You’re incredibly grateful. For all that Jin can be a little shit, he still does care about his friends. You finish quickly, getting some solo shots and then getting some reference photos of the two of them together. They take great joy in being over the top once you get the base photos you need, posing and acting out silly scenes in full makeup. You snap pictures the whole time, you don’t need them for reference but they do manage to bring a smile back to your face and make you momentarily forget about Yoongi and his date.

You scroll through the photos, checking them out when you gesture towards the bathroom. “You guys can go wash up and we can go grab something to eat.”

You don’t see the devious grin Jin sends Hoseok. “Hmm, I don’t feel like going out. Let’s just order something. I’ll see if Yoongi wants anything.” You can only watch in horror as Jin calls for Yoongi down the hall. Yoongi reenters, hair still wet and looking cozy in sweats and a tshirt. “Y/n’s buying dinner. You hungry?”

Yoongi glances at you and you busy yourself with cleaning up. “Sure, I’ll always eat if it’s free.” He grins.

“Freeloader.” You grumble, turning to him with your hands on your hips. “You didn’t even do anything.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow challengingly. He looks from Jin to Hoseok and grins, then he tugs his shirt off and nudges Hoseok out of the seat to sit himself in front of you. His grin turns smug. “There, you can do some more practice.”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times, but you’re at a complete loss for words. Your gaze flits over his bare chest before quickly darting away, Jin’s words from earlier coming back to haunt you, only this time with Yoongi’s actual bare chest. You’ve still got nothing to say and you can hear Hoseok and Jin snickering over your dilemma. It’s not like you can tell him no, he’d only get suspicious. Yoongi knows you never turn down a chance to practice, especially if you have something as big as a film shoot coming up.

You take a deep breath, you can do this. You can totally be professional. You’ve worked on a bunch of shirtless people. You’ve worked on Jimin and Jungkook. This is nothing. It’s just Yoongi. You straighten and roll your eyes at him. “Any other time I want to practice and you’re too busy.”

He beams at you, clearly thrilled that he’s won. “Yeah, but you’re buying dinner so...” He shrugs nonchalantly.

You stick your tongue out him and turn back to your makeup case, pulling your tools back out. You start your work, gently tilting Yoongi’s head so you can create a bite mark on his shoulder. His skin is soft and the smell of his body wash is overwhelming this close.

Just as you’re applying the base outline in latex, Jin speaks up. “How’d the date go, Yoongs?”

You jerk to glare at Jin, inadvertently dripping latex down Yoongi’s chest. You blink as it begins to slowly make its way down his chest, glancing up to see Yoongi giving you a worried look. You ignore him, turning back to the mess you made, forcing yourself into work mode and thinking about how you’re going to fix this mess because all you can do is try to fix it to make it seem like you did it on purpose. The only thing you can think to make this work without ripping all the latex off is to turn the bite into a bite that ripped skin off too. With a loose plan in mind, you begin adding more latex to his chest, creating a rough outline for the torn flesh, different scenes from zombie movies flitting through your mind as you use their looks as guidance.

Yoongi surprises you by actually responding to Jin once he decides you’re okay and have begun working again. “It was awkward as fuck because I didn’t know it was a date. I mean, who asks someone on a date under the guise of studying?” he snorts though he’s clearly not amused by the situation.

“A lot of people, Yoongi. A lot,” Jin laughs. “That’s like, the primary way people ask others out if they share a class. It’s all, hey let’s go study and then no studying happens.”

You can see the way Yoongi wants to move in response, the muscles under your fingers twitching and you appreciate that he is at least still restrained physically even if his mouth continues to run. “That’s dumb. I just wanted to study.”

Jin makes a noise of surprise. “What do you mean?”

Yoongi shifts and you sneak a peek at his face, noting the way his cheeks are beginning to turn red. “I just… Well I mean- Look, she’s just not someone I’m interested in that way.” He eventually stutters out, his eyes shifting to you before quickly jerking away to stare at the wall behind you.

You can hear the smugness in Hoseok’s voice when he speaks. “Oh?” he asks, full of faux curiosity. “And just who are you interested in? Do we know her?”

Yoongi splutters. “I- What? I- I’m not interested in anyone right now.” No one seems to believe him, even as much as you don’t want it to be true, that’s the weakest denial you’ve ever heard from him. You are a little curious to who caught his interest. He’s had girlfriends in the time you’ve known him, but you’ve never been able to pin down what they had in common to catch his interest. “Look I’m too busy anyway. I’ve got my classes and now the soundtrack for this to work on. I don’t have time for that.”

You stand up, effectively blocking his view of the others. “You got the soundtrack job?” you ask incredulously. Why hadn’t he told you?

Yoongi smiles sheepishly at you, clearly knowing this was coming. “I found out yesterday. I was actually going to probably come by your place and tell you tonight, but you ended up being here anyway. Surprise?”

You pinch his cheek, you knew he’d be asked to work on the soundtrack.. “That’s so awesome! I knew you’d get it!” You beam, you resist the urge to hug him and ruin the work you’ve done so far. You make sure to get him extra to celebrate later and lean back down to get back to work, adding offhandedly. “You know, if you’d just said that beforehand, I would’ve offered to get you dinner without the need to let me practice on you.”

Yoongi whines. “Not fair.”

You finish the rest of Yoongi’s makeup in relative peace. Jin spends half the time trying to pester Yoongi into spilling who he’s interested in and the other part looking through take out places, loudly sharing his opinion on what sounds best, his obvious attempt to get you to order from where he wants. Yoongi resolutely ignores Jin, keeping quiet and still while you work. Hoseok moved back to work on some of his homework, patiently waiting for you to finish so you could get new pictures of them all together, though you do sneak a picture of him while he’s working but the image of a zombie doing homework shirtless is too funny to pass up.

You put a few last details on and look him over. Frowning, you poke at his unmarred pec. “Have you been working out?” His pec looks fuller than it used to, it would also explain why his shirts have been so stretched across his chest lately.

Yoongi flushes, hands coming up to cover his chest in a bid for modesty, as if you hadn’t just spent 45 minutes staring rather intently at it. “So what if I have? What’s wrong with that? Jungkook works out and I don’t hear you giving him a hard time.”

You blink at the outburst for a moment before doubling over with laughter. That certainly wasn’t the response you were expecting, you were mostly just expecting a yes or no. “Oh my god. Do you even listen? We all lovingly tease Jungkook about his muscles.” You wipe away a tear as you straighten back up. “I literally call him my muscle bunny. No one should be that buff and adorable at the same time.”

“Been working out for someone special Yoongs?” Jin teases and you very much don’t like where this is going. “Someone who has perhaps mentioned that they like guys with some firm pecs?”

You both glare at Jin. You know he’s teasing you for what you said while drunk. You assume he’s also still trying to get Yoongi to spill who he likes. You wonder if she also works out at the gym Yoongi goes to and that’s the reason for his newfound interest in working out. You tug your phone back out swiftly, needing the distraction from that train of thought. “Right so pictures.”

You’re incredibly pleased with how Yoongi’s makeup turned out despite the slightly rocky start and almost disaster. There’s definitely still some parts that you need to practice a little more and places to improve, but for essentially having to wing it, it looks really good.

You get new pictures, where they once again pose for goofy ones, forcing a very reluctant Yoongi to participate though once he sees your delighted smile in response to the silliness, he quickly acquiesced to silly pictures. You wait for Jin and Hoseok to go wash their makeup off, tugging on Yoongi’s arm to keep him from following. He looks at you questioningly.

You give his arm a squeeze, momentarily distracted by the way his muscle flexes at your touch. You shake your head slightly and smile at him. “I’m really proud of you for getting the soundtrack.”

Yoongi smiles back, face soft. “Thanks. I really was gonna tell you today.”

You nod. “I know. I’m always the first to know.” You nudge him towards the bathroom. “Go clean up, I’m ordering for your favorite place.”

Yoongi’s face lights up and giving your hand a squeeze, he hurries off down the hall to clean the makeup off.

You practice as much as you can over the next week, using the pictures you take as reference and taking them to meetings to decide what’s good and what needs changed. Jungkook takes particular joy in having you do gore pieces on him now so that he can go scare the others, primarily Jimin because Jimin never fails to get scared. He tried only one time with Yoongi and Yoongi almost punched him in the face out of instinct so he steers clear of him if he happens to be in makeup.

You open the door to Yoongi and Jin’s apartment, calling out an absent minded ‘hi’ like this is your own apartment and you set your makeup case down before collapsing on the couch. Yoongi appears a moment later from his room, eyebrow raised when he sees you sprawled out.

“Last time I checked, you don’t live here.”

You wave him off dismissively, you’re too tired to do more. “Your’s was closer. Be nice to me.” You pout.

Yoongi eyes you over, noticing your case nearby. “More practice?” He pushes your legs out of the way so he can sit.

You shake your head and stretch, throwing your legs across his lap, a pleased grin forming when he lets you. “No, I was helping Joy with a project. Was bigger than planned. Like I said, you were closer.” You shift to stretch again, muscles aching.

Yoongi grabs your ankle to stop your wiggling. “You’re a menace.”

You look him over thoughtfully. “Hm, you don’t seem to particularly care that I’m here. So clearly you don’t really think that. Besides, if any of us are the menace, it’s Jungkook. He’s been a terror this week. I’ve created a monster.” You gasp and sit up, hand against your forehead dramatically. “I’m Frankenstein. How shall I live knowing what I’ve done? Oh the angst, the guilt. Will Jimin survive my creation?”

Yoongi snorts, shoving you back down and you dissolve into giggles. “You should’ve been an actor. I’m pretty sure you could give Jin a run for his money.”

“I’ll take that as a complement. But really, if Jungkook wasn’t doing camera work for the film, he should’ve tried out for one of the zombie roles. He would’ve done great.”

Yoongi nods in agreement. “He would’ve. But I think he would’ve had too much fun climbing all over Jin for the sake of ‘being in character’.”

You hum, closing your eyes. You’re hungry, not having had time to eat while working. You wonder if Yoongi’s eaten yet. If he was in his room then he most likely was working so he probably hasn’t and you wonder how you can get him to buy you dinner. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult, you’re pretty sure you bought last time it was just the two of you.

He gives your ankle a squeeze to get your attention and you peek an eye open to look at him. “You eaten yet?”

“No?” You squint at him, suspicious, but you delight in the fact that he could practically read your mind. Or maybe he just heard your stomach.

He nods, ignoring your suspicious gaze. “Cool, I’ll order us something.” He tugs his phone out to presumably order food without even waiting for a response.

You nudge him with your foot. “You never offer to buy food. I have to pester you usually.”

Yoongi shrugs and sets his phone down, grinning at you. “If you’d like I can just eat all of the food in front of you instead.”

You sit up quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, cheek squished against his shoulder. “Noo, I’m sorry, don’t do that. Thank you for feeding me Yoongi.”

He chuckles, patting your arm where it's nearly strangling him. “Down girl, it’s just dinner.”

You wink at him. “I usually have to dress up and try a lot harder to get someone to buy me dinner.”

Yoongi flushes, slipping out from under your legs to quickly go to the kitchen. “Do you wanna drink? I think I need a drink.”

You tilt your head as you watch him go. Not that it’s particularly odd for you both to drink when you hang out, but his reaction seemed a little out of place. Maybe the score is giving him trouble, he usually will get a drink if music is being difficult. You hope it’s not from the girl he likes. Ever since Jin brought up her existence, it’s been on your mind, wondering what Yoongi’s type was. Briefly wondering what made you not his type. You’re very glad you’ve been so busy that you haven’t had a lot of time to obsess over those thoughts this week. “What do you have?”

Yoongi looks through the cabinets and fridge. “We have a bottle of cheap wine leftover from I think our last wine night. A bottle of nice wine, that I think is Jin’s and he’d probably kill us if we drink it. Aaand some spiced rum.”

“No Jin would kill you if you drink it. He likes me too much to kill me.” Yoongi gives you a look and you just grin back. He knows you’re right, though it’s not that Jin likes you more, you just have dirt on him. The one downside to his plan to get you drunk and ply you for information was that it also left him vulnerable to you getting your own information. “Rum is fine.”

Yoongi busies himself making you both drinks, coming back and handing you yours. You take a sip, coughing at the surprising burn of alcohol.

You raise an eyebrow as you look at him. “Tryin to get me drunk, Yoongs?” you tease.

He flushes, avoiding your eyes and taking a long sip of his drink. “Just made drinks, everyone’s gotta be a critic.” He grumbles.

You reply is interrupted by a knock on the door and Yoongi shoots to his feet to go answer. You take another drink, much more careful now that you know how strong it is, waiting for Yoongi to return with the food. He lays everything out on the table and it takes you a second to register he ordered from your favorite restaurant. You feel giddy, you haven’t gotten to eat here in a while because most of the others don’t care to go there, you usually have to order it on nights when you’re alone.

“You hate this place!” You look at him with wide eyes.

“No I don’t. It’s a good place.” You frown. There’s more to that you can tell, but Yoongi looks like he’s about to run away so you just let it go. You don’t know what’s caused the sudden shift. Although you suppose Yoongi has never explicitly stated that he hated the place, he’s just never spoken up in favor of it when your friends are gathered together and trying to find a place to eat.

You nudge him until he looks at you and you give him a shy smile. “You’re the best. Thank you.” You really don’t know what you’d do without Yoongi in your life.

Yoongi puts something on TV for you both to watch and you eat in relative silence, only making occasional comments on the show. This is what you love most about spending time with Yoongi. It’s easy, the silence between you doesn’t need to be filled. The two of you content to just enjoy each other’s presence.

Yoongi refills your drinks when they run out and you feel the pleasant buzz spreading through you. Yoongi sprawls out on the floor after he finishes his second glass, a good sign of his tipsiness. You stretch out on the couch on your belly, chin propped on the edge to look down at Yoongi. You poke his stomach and he squirms, batting at your hands when it turns from a poke to tickling.

He rolls over, away from you and catches sight of your case. Leaning up on his elbows, he drags it closer and opens it. He looks through it, pulling different things out to inspect before putting them back. He glances at you.

“You should do my makeup.” He decides.

You snort. “No I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t look good.”

Yoongi turns onto his side, head propped up on his hand as he looks you over thoughtfully. “Nothing you do could ever look bad.” He muses and it seems almost like it’s more to himself rather than to you. His eyes alight with mischief and he rests his free hand on his pec. “Ah, I get it. You are just scared to get so close to such perfect pecs again? You’re just intimidated by them. I mean, I understand, how can you work with perfection?”

You blink at him and burst into giggles, you love drunk Yoongi. “Oh, yeah. You caught me. I’m just trying to protect myself from that. I would never survive, I may just faint.”

Yoongi nods, looking like he isn’t fully catching your sarcasm. Although it isn’t completely sarcastic because you don’t think it would be wise to be near his pecs when you’ve been drinking. “It’s okay, I understand.” He tugs his shirt off, flopping back onto his back once again. “Come on, do it. I bet you can’t do something amazing.” He challenges.

And against your better judgement, you rise to his bait. Him lying pliant and shirtless on floor and taunting you is too strong for you to resist. You climb off the couch, settling next to him and pull your makeup closer. You don’t even know what kind of makeup to do. Your case is a mixed mess right now because you had to clean some of your zombie supplies out for things for Joy’s shoot. You think you have enough supplies to do some minor wounds and decide that you can just take the opportunity to practice and maybe use the opportunity to work mostly on his chest and stomach. You just hope you don’t get too distracted while working, you know he’d be insufferably smug about it.

Plan in mind, you begin working, but you don’t get very far in your work before Yoongi starts squirming. You huff, you should’ve known this was a bad idea, Yoongi always grows restless when he’s been drinking unless he’s cuddled up to someone.

You poke him. “Stop moving.”

Yoongi makes a face at you, he looks like a disgruntled toddler. “I’m not.”

You roll your eyes, but get back to work, chalking it up to him just needing to get comfortable. A few minutes later though and he’s shifting again. You give him a warning look and when he moves again you huff in frustration and throw your leg over his waist so you’re now straddling him, effectively holding him still. He blinks up at you with wide eyes for a moment before they darken.

You grin victoriously as he attempts to buck you off. You lose your balance slightly, hand shooting out to rest on his chest to maintain your balance and you giggle when he tries to buck you off again but your grip keeps you upright. He pouts beneath you and you’re about to taunt him further but you’re stopped by the sound of the front door opening. You sit up straight, craning your neck to try and see who’s entered. A moment later, your question is answered when Jin appears, looking just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

Yoongi chooses that moment to try to buck you off again and your hand tightens as you try to maintain your balance. Jin’s brows furrow in confusion and he makes his way around the couch. The second he sees Yoongi beneath you, he’s turning his back on you both with a noise of disgust.

“Yoongi, what the fuck! I thought we agreed a long time ago that there would be no fucking in the living room!” he yells, arms flailing as he speaks.

Your cheeks heat and you quickly look down, realizing what a compromising position you’re in and how it must’ve looked to Jin. You violently shove yourself off Yoongi’s lap, back hitting the edge of the coffee table and causing you to wince.

“We weren’t doing anything,” you protest.

You know Jin is rolling his eyes, not believing you one bit. “Oh please. I know what I saw.”

“I was just practicing some makeup! Yoongi wouldn’t stop squirming. I was just trying to get him to sit still so I could work.” Your defense sounds weak even to your own ears.

Jin pauses and seems to debate something before hesitantly turning to look at you over his shoulder. His gaze goes from you to Yoongi and the half finished work on his chest to your makeup case and then he throws his head back with a groan. He stomps off to his room, muttering something about not being able to deal with both of your oblivious asses.

You frown, watching him go, perplexed by his words. What were you being oblivious about?

Yoongi taps you to get your attention and you turn back to see his smug grin. He glances pointedly to his chest where when you look, you see that you’ve accidentally smeared purple across his pec when you’d pushed yourself off of him.

“That’s not fair! That doesn’t count because that has extenuating circumstances.” You pout.

Yoongi just shakes his head, clearly deciding that this means he has won his little challenge. Not wanting to go down easy, you turn to your case, looking for one of the glitter creams you’d put in there for Joy’s shoot and before Yoongi can react, you smear it across his other pec.

You laugh in glee as Yoongi belatedly tries to move away and fails. You manage to dart your hand out, smearing more glitter across his cheek. He glares at you before tackling you and wrestling the bottle from your hand. He grins down at you in victory from his perch atop your thighs and he quickly dips a finger into the bottle, swiping it across your cheek. You try to fight him off, but it only succeeds in smearing more glitter on both of you.

You’re both breathless from laughter and the room slowly settles around you as you grin at each other. The glitter on Yoongi’s cheek matches the way his eyes shine and you stare at each other, the moment charged, tension thick. You wonder what he’s thinking and almost in answer, his gaze drops to your lips. Then there’s a bang from somewhere else in the apartment and Yoongi twitches, breaking the trance you both were in. He blinks a few times then slowly slides off of you, replacing the cap on the bottle.

“It’s late,” he murmurs.

You nod but remain on the floor. “Bring me my pillow please?” You jut your bottom lip out, hoping to convince him. You don’t want to move but you also don’t want to be uncomfortable.

He rolls his eyes. “Just come sleep in the bed, stupid. It’s not the first time.”

You chew your lip for a moment, you don’t know how to say that this time feels like it’ll be different. So you don’t say anything, letting yourself be pulled to your feet and following Yoongi to his room. He digs some of your sleep clothes out of a drawer and sets them on the bed beside where you’re sat. He leaves and comes back a moment later with some makeup wipes and a damp cloth, gently wiping you clean of makeup.

You’re stunned into silence, watching him as he works to clean you and you idly wonder if this is what it’s like when you’re doing his makeup. It feels scarily intimate and you don’t know if it’s just this moment or if this is how he always feels, that scares you more. You’re always so focused on your work, you’ve never noticed. He’s close enough that it wouldn’t take much to lean up to kiss.

Your heart is in your throat, you could do it. If it went bad, you could always blame the alcohol, but you're positive that he was about to earlier too. You’re snapped out of it by Yoongi straightening back up, giving you a soft smile.

“I’m going to clean up. I’ll be back.”

You feel startlingly sober after he leaves, changing your clothes mechanically. Once changed you slip into his bed, on your side, and try to think about how you’ve done this enough times that you actually have a side on his bed. But you and the guys all share beds often. This is not any different from those times. Except, it does feel different. You feign sleep when Yoongi re-enters and he moves around quietly to not wake you. He brushes a few strands of hair from your face and presses a kiss to your forehead before turning to go to sleep.

You try to keep from being awkward around Yoongi, the memory of his lips against your skin haunts you, but given the circumstances, you think you mostly manage to be mostly normal. At least normal enough that when you beg him to come to your studio to test the bite prosthetic that you’ve been trying to perfect, he agrees to it easily.

But that seems to be the easiest part. Now, with Yoongi in your campus studio alone, no chance of interruptions, the tension is thick in the air. You know you probably need to talk about the other night, there’s no way Yoongi didn’t feel the shift, doesn’t still feel it as your hands move across his chest, neck, his waist. But you both remain silent. You’re reminded of when Yoongi was washing the makeup off of you and how that closeness felt to you and you wonder if he feels that now. You sneak a glance at his face, but it gives nothing away, face relaxed and eyes closed as you work, if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he’d fallen asleep.

You shake yourself out of it, if his eyes are closed, clearly it’s not the same as it was for you. You ignore the sting you feel in your chest at the thought and continue working.

Your hands lightly trace Yoongi’s side as you draw away, scrutinizing his torso. Looking for any last details to tweak or improve. The wound between his ribs and the bite marks, actually more of a chunk ripped out of his side and a bite mark on his neck, look good. Coloring right, depth good, his face looks sunken in the right places, he’s paler than usual, it’s all just missing one thing. You walk to the work bench while he remains in the middle of the studio, eyes now open again with the absence of your hands on him. Looking through the various bottles of red lining the wall, you finally select one, a little runny but the right shade to look like it’s been dried to his skin for a while.

You pause when you get back to him, eyes flicking to his pants then back up to him. “Um, do you care about those pants?”

He glances down, seeming to not have known what jeans he was even wearing. He frowns. “Uh yes actually. These are my favorite.” You try to hide your disappointment, but Yoongi must catch it anyway, because he continues. “But I can just take them off so you can do the blood. Can’t properly test the makeup without all the makeup, right?” He winks and your heart swells that he’s so willing to do so much for you.

You chuckle and step back as he tries to carefully shed his jeans without ruining the makeup covering his chest and stomach. He doesn’t get very far, unable to bend over to push them down very far and too tight to have any hope to just kick off. You bite back a laugh and step forward.

“I can help?” You offer hesitantly. It’s suddenly hitting you that Yoongi is about to be in front of you in just his boxers.

He swallows, clears his throat, before giving a curt nod and looking away, his makeup hiding the ways his cheeks blaze with his thoughts. You kneel, setting the bottle of blood aside and reach up to grab his pants. You hesitate for a moment with your hands in front before moving to the much safer location at his sides, taking hold and gently pulling them down. You do your best to focus on the task and ignore the way his crotch is basically in your face and the fact that you're on your knees in front of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have knelt down to do this, giving the compromising position it’s put you in. You really should’ve thought this whole thing through before telling him to take his pants off.

You instead focus on the ground as you work his pants off. Once off and tossed safely to the side you look back up to him, which turns out to be a mistake. Because on the way up, you don’t miss the unmistakable twitch of his dick in his boxers, but you do miss the way his dark eyes follow your movements, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Your eyes widen and you quickly busy yourself with grabbing the bottle and getting back to your feet all while studiously ignoring Yoongi and the way your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

He clears his throat. “Sorry.”

You want the ground to swallow you up. It’s worse that he’s acknowledging it, you both could’ve just pretended that his dick isn’t half hard and that you most definitely saw the outline of it. You shake your head. “It’s fine, really.”

You open the bottle of blood. You hope if you get to work that Yoongi will stop talking, won’t make this more awkward, give more tension to this situation. Yoongi goes silent as soon as the bottle is open, straightening his back and assuming his usual position and you’re grateful.

You use a dropper to get blood into the wounds, watching the paths the blood tracks down Yoongi’s skin once it overflows, following unti the drops hit his boxers and seep into the fabric. You continue, adding extra splatters and drips, blooding up his face as well. Your eyes trace the tracks left across his body, it’s missing something but you can’t place your finger on what. You step back, tilt your head to the side as you study him. You look from the bottle back to him, hoping it will hit you, but nothing comes.

After a few minutes, Yoongi moves, scratching lightly at the corner of his mouth and accidently smearing some of the blood there. He looks worried when he sees the red painting his finger tip.

“I’m so sorry, it just tickled, I thought I was avoiding it.”

You’re not listening though because the smear on his mouth is the answer you’ve been searching for. The blood you’ve put on is too neat, it looks unnatural. No zombie is going to just stand there and no human being attacked would be so still. They’d fight and squirm and blood would smear. You shake your head quickly when he goes to apologize again and step forward, reaching out and smearing the blood around his mouth a little more, fingers lightly tracing his lips. You only give yourself a small moment to appreciate the feel of them. You work down his body, smearing areas that need it and adding more blood when it seems like somewhere isn’t bloody enough.

Your fingers brush the hem of his boxers and you jerk your hand away, avoiding his eyes and trying to ignore the fact that he’s only gotten harder since you took his pants off. You step back quickly looking over your work again, not letting your gaze drop below his waist. It’s still missing something. You look at the bottle and your bloodied hand and look back at him, trying to piece out what you think is missing. You look at your hand again and get an idea. You pour a little more blood onto it, setting the bottle aside and stepping back to Yoongi. You look him over slowly, trying to figure out the best place for it and your eyes stop on the bite on his neck.

You study the other side of his neck, looking starkly bare next to the gore of the bite and your place your hand gently on his neck, thumb brushing his chin. You can imagine the jerking movement that your placement would have actually been had you been going for his throat and your caress seems all the more strange, so gentle compared to the violence that your makeup appears, to the bloody print you’re leaving behind.

You meet Yoongi’s gaze and are frozen by the heat in his eyes. Your fingers twitch against his skin but you can’t find it in yourself to pull away. You feel like you’ve been staring at Yoongi for an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a handful of moments, before there’s movement, you can’t really tell if it’s you or him who moves first. But then Yoongi’s lips are pressed to your own and you can now fully appreciate their softness.

You can feel the blood smear around your own mouth, taste the bitterness on your lips when you grow bold enough to let your tongue dance along the seam of his lips until he opens up to you and the bitterness of the blood is quickly lost to a taste that is wholly Min Yoongi.

Yoongi groans and pulls you flush against him and you can feel the blood seep into your clothes but you can’t really find it in you to care when he abandons your mouth in favor of trailing his lips across your jaw and down your throat to nip and suck at the skin there, marking you with set of bite marks. .

You moan at the sharp sting, squirming against Yoongi’s hold. He growls, arm wrapping tighter around you as he quickly maneuvers you to the floor, situating himself between your legs to keep you pinned with his hips. You gasp when you feel his hard cock press against you. He makes a noise against your throat and grinds against you a few times. You tangle your hands in his hair, staining the blond strands pink and red and give him a gentle tug. He lifts his head at your urging, looking down at you with hazy, hungry eyes, eyes that are at odds with the makeup surrounding them. You heart stutters in your chest, for a moment it’s easy to forget that Yoongi is human, the makeup and hunger in his eyes make him look ready to absolutely devour you.

Which he does when you pull him in for another kiss, muttering a ‘Yoongi please’ against his lips. He licks into your mouth and you feel wholly consumed by him. He gives you a squeeze before one hand is slipping between the two of you. His hips shift, cock pressing against your thigh so that his fingers can press at your clit through your panties and leggings.

Yoongi groans and bites your bottom lip. “Fuck… You’re already so wet and we haven’t done anything.” He leans back, a teasing smirk in place. “Zombies and blood get you that hot?”

You glare at him, reaching down and into his boxers to wrap your hand around his dick. His mouth drops open and you grin in victory.

“Like you have room to talk.” You begin to pump him slowly.

Yoongi grumbles and kisses you again to keep anymore smart remarks from coming out. He continues to rub you through your legging and you can feel your slick slowly soaking the fabric the more he presses against it. You whine, squirming against his fingers.

He shushes you. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll give you what you want.”

You huff, squeezing him tighter until he gasps. You smirk. “Then give it to me.”

He chuckles, giving you one last peck before he’s pulling away. “I should’ve known you’d be just as mouthy like this as you are any other time.” He sits back on his heels and grabs your leggings and tugs them and your panties off in one go, leaving your bottom half bare aside from the smears of blood.

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’ve thought about how I’d be like this?” You tease.

He pauses and you’re about to question him when he’s diving back down to silence you with a kiss. Had he thought about you like this? His reluctance to give a straight answer makes it seem likely and that sends a thrill through you.

He shoves his underwear down enough to get to his cock, brushing it along your folds. You gasp into the kiss, hands coming up to grab at his sides, one hand meeting the latex of the mark on his side.

He presses in slowly and when he bottoms out he jerks himself away from the kiss to stare down in wonder at where you’re joined, like he can’t believe this is happening. You’re not entirely sure this isn’t just a very weird wet dream. After a moment too long of his inactivity, you whine and squirm again. His eyes snap up to you and the lust in his gaze makes your breath catch in your throat. Yoongi’s features are much sharper with the makeup, more intense. You never thought blood would be a thing, but Yoongi covered in it while towering over you is apparently a thing you are very into.

His lips curl up devilishly and with the combination of makeup, he looks potently lethal right now, like he’s about to absolutely ruin you. You’d let him too. He draws out slowly, smirk still in place, until just the tip remains inside. Then he snaps his hips forward and you cry out. He starts a quick pace and your hands slide around to his back to dig your nails in. You vaguely think that you ripped some of the bite mark up, but Yoongi makes no indication that he felt anything. And you couldn’t care about ruining all your work when you’re doing your best just to hang onto your sanity as Yoongi’s cock drags against your walls in all the best ways.

Yoongi buries his face in your neck, hand slipping between you both once again to rub at your clit. “Come on baby, cum for me. Fuck, cum on my cock, love.”

He punctuates his command with a nip to your neck and you shudder, orgasm swiftly rising. A few more circles of your clit has your back bowing as you cum, pussy convulsing around Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi’s pace stutters slightly from the sudden constriction but as soon as your orgasm begins to subside, he’s grabbing your hips and thrusting harshly into you to chase his own release.

Tears gather in your eyes at the onslaught of overstimulation. “Yoongi… Fuck, please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. “Yoongi…”

He groans and kisses you messily as he gets a handful more thrusts before he’s cuming, flooding your pussy. Your gasp, shuddering at the warmth and his hips twitch at the sound. After a few moments of catching his breath, he carefully pulls out, flopping beside you and gathering you to his chest.

You both lay there in silence. Your mind is blissfully quiet for a while, until Yoongi presses a kiss to the top of your head and suddenly everything feels like too much, ming in overdrive because what was this supposed to mean? You’d been so careful to keep your feelings hidden and you feel too exposed. You need to leave, you need space, you need to think. You jerk up, quickly looking for your leggings. Yoongi sits up slowly, he looks confused and in your rush to find your clothes, you miss the flash of hurt on his face as he watches you.

“Sorry, I forgot we had a meeting for the film tonight. Everyone’s so busy this was the only time we could do it.” You babble out. You know you don’t sound particularly coherent, you can’t even properly stand.

You can’t find your underwear so you give up on them, you need to get out of here or you’re going to cry. You tug your leggings on, ignoring the cool tackiness of the crotch or the way they instantly get soaked further with your and Yoongi’s mixed releases.

Yoongi looks like he wants to say something but remains silent as you gather your things. You pause at the door and chew your lip. You turn and give him a little wave, the best smile you can muster in place as you do. You know it’s not very good, but it’s the best you’ve got.

“I’ll text you after. I’m so sorry I’ve gotta go.” You murmur as you slip out.

Yoongi sits on the floor for a few moments after you leave, cement floor cold against his bare ass. Eventually, he pushes himself up and moves over to the sink to begin cleaning himself up. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and pauses to observe just how much of your work was ruined. The bite mark on his side has been almost completely torn off, only hanging on in a few spots. The makeup and blood has been smeared into one big mess and he’s pretty sure most of it just rubbed off onto you.

Yoongi sighs. You hadn’t even gotten a picture of all this work before it’d gotten ruined and there’s no hope of him getting any picture worth while. He continues his trip to the sink and cleans himself up, completely used to the sting of removing latex from his skin. The methodical cleaning lets his mind wander and he regrets that he let hormones get the best of him in this situation. He’d wanted to ask you out first, maybe a couple of dates before anything physical like this. He’s liked you for so long and this was his chance. He tries not to think of your rushing out as meaning anything other than what you said about your meeting. He’s had his share of strange meeting times.

He finishes and dresses himself, taking it upon himself to clean up the supplies you’d left out in your haste to leave, a fond smile finding its way to his lips as he recounts the many times you’ve lamented your messy studio mates who leave supplies out. Once finished, he shuts the lights off and decides to head home.

He expects his house to be empty when he returns, it’s past midnight at this point and you had said there was a meeting for the film and if you had to go that meant that the actors would be there as well. But to his surprise, Jin is lounging on the couch, watching some drama on Netflix when he enters.

He frowns. “Is the meeting over already?”

Jin gives him a questioning look. “Meeting?” Jin looks him over, takes in the pink skin from where the latex had sat. “Where were you?”

“I was helping Y/n with some final tweaks to the zombie makeup. That didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t know what meeting you’re talking about, Yoongi. There was no meeting tonight.” Jin catches the way Yoongi’s face crumples and sits up, gaze intent on Yoongi. “Why? Who said there was?”

Yoongi ignores him for a moment, goes to the sink to get a drink of water and Jin follows, waiting patiently for Yoongi’s response.

“Y/n said there was. She remembered after we-” He cuts himself off abruptly, cheeks turning crimson.

Jin picks up on it, perking up. “After you...?” he presses. When Yoongi doesn’t immediately speak up, he continues. “Did you finally ask her out like we’ve been telling you to?!” Jin’s about to excitedly continue when Yoongi cuts him off with a soft ‘no’. His face falls. “What happened then?”

“We- “ Yoongi rubs his hands on his face then sighs. “We fucked. In her studio. It just… It’s been building up for so long. But I had such a good plan laid out to ask her out. But... “ He trails off and doesn’t finish.

“Oh, Yoongi.” Jin murmurs, pulling the other into a tight hug. “I promise you this will work out. She likes you too and I’m sure she’s just a little scared about what this means.” Yoongi sniffles and Jin hugs him tighter. “It’ll be okay, Yoongi. Promise.”

You’re incredibly grateful that shooting started the day after your night with Yoongi in your studio. Your thoughts have been a mess. That night seemed like the culmination of something, but when you tried to think of just what it meant, you found yourself terrified of what the answer may be. So you did the safest thing and ran.

Jin tried to talk to you a little bit while filming, but he was still fairly easy to avoid with excuses of needing to touch up the zombies' makeup. You could see the sadness in his eyes and after the first two days he stopped trying to corner you and so you tentatively sought him out during break one day, talking about topics that stayed safely away from Yoongi. You assume Yoongi had told him at least something about that night, but you’re too terrified to ask what he knows.

But now here you were, almost two weeks later and you’ve only seen Yoongi in group settings. It’s the longest you’ve gone without hanging out with just him in almost the whole time you’ve been friends. He looked tired, but when anyone else brought it up to him, he’d wave it off that he was just busy with the film soundtrack. His eyes linger on you and you know he wants to talk to you, but you don’t know if you can handle that just yet. But you resolve that after the film is over and you’ve had time to process, you’ll seek him out. You at least owe him that much.

The premiere is tonight, it’s relatively small, mostly people who worked on it and their friends, plus some other students from the campus who get first chance to see films that will get screened to the public later. Your friends all gathered with you in a row and you can see Yoongi at the other end of them. The film turns out as good as you knew it would and as the credits begin to roll, people begin to filter out. Jin tells you that they’ll meet you in the lobby, they know how much you love to sit through the credits and appreciate everyone who worked so hard to put out a film.

You watch the names as they go by, overwhelming pride when you see your friends' names up there. Then it gets to the soundtrack and you bite your lip. Yoongi did most of the soundtrack, these are his babies and you read through each one and feel so much pride you might burst.

The grin on your face falters a little when you see the last three titles and you jerk to your feet, hands gripping the seat in front of you tightly. They can’t be. But there in black and white, “midnight meeting”, “old friends”, and “so much more to give” scroll by you. They could just be titles, maybe Yoongi didn’t even name them. But you know Yoongi would never send a track out unnamed and he names everything with purpose. Everything he creates has meaning. And there’s only one thing those three together could mean.

As the realization hits you, you gasp, hand covering your mouth and tears welling up in your eyes. This is his way of confessing because you’ve been avoiding him. He knows how you always stay behind to watch the credits.

A chuckle sounds behind you and you startle, turning to see Yoongi still sitting in his seat down the row from you. “I’m glad I chose this way so that no one sees you cry at the end of a zombie movie. They might get the wrong idea,” he teases.

“Yoongi…” you breathe.

He nods towards the screen. “Good idea, huh? Can’t say many people get confessed to through movie credits during the soundtrack part.”

He pushes himself to his feet, moving closer to where you remain frozen, mind still not fully caught up. He looks nervous when he stops in front of you and you haven’t said anything yet.

“I hope I didn’t read everything wrong?” He looks scared.

That snaps you out of your inaction, reaching forward to grab his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. “Fuck, I love you, Yoongi.”

He grins into the kiss, arms wrapping around you. “I love you too,” he murmurs.

Zombie movies might be your new favorite genre.

#bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #btsguild #ksmutclub #kwritersworldnet #magicshopnet #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #suga x reader #bts smut #yoongi smut #suga smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #suga fanfic #bts au #yoongi au

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feckin-zicons · 3 years

Text

Squids, Dancing, and Dirty thoughts... Not necessarily in that order or all at once.

Apparently people like this? I am more confused than Liam is in this chapter. Which you know, makes sense bc this character only exists in my head, but also doesn’t at all bc I have no idea what goes on in there most of the time. Anyway this is for Zayn, Oxford commas, @stanmedusa who pointed out Zayn was also an Oxford comma stan, @redyellowberry, and their anon to started this mess. Also please imagine Zayn with his current blue hair, but also with his long Aladdin hair bc that’s what I’ve been doing and oh holy gods do I need that to happen. Please. Hair gods make it happen I’m begging

Same warnings as ever its 4AM, this is much longer than planned, and I have no interest in editing, making it sound coherent, or good. No, I don’t know about the squids either.

Parts 1&2 here

Liam would like to point out while he's not a stranger to feeling confused, he's still having trouble pinpointing how exactly he got to be Dance Mistress Irina Alinova's personal bitch.

Ever since he accidentally interrupted one of the dance practises while looking for a missing prop for Director Corden, more and more of them started disappearing only to show up in the basement. No one else was interested in facing the Dance Mistresses' wrath, but Liam didn't mind the yelling. As long as Mistress Alinova didn't start throwing things, he figured he was safe enough. After all, it gave him the chance to see the blue haired ballerino again.

Zayn Malik, the god in mortal form, the prima ballerino, the prettiest man Liam had ever seen, who had no idea who Liam even was.

Liam had it bad.

Liam had it so bad.

Liam had it so bad he tripped over thin air, spilled hot coffee over himself, and walked into a door when he thought he saw him at a Costas with Louis. The man he saw wasn't Zayn, thank fuck, but the entire sequence of events did give Louis more ammunition to tease him with. Stupid pretty boys with long blue hair and piercings sent from hell just to ruin Liam's life. Yeah, he was a goner.

Louis dragged out the whole sorry story after Liam texted him about spiking his lunch and laughed himself sick knowing just how much of a mess Liam became around people he was interested in. They still didn't talk about Danielle. Which was a good thing considering the end of that relationship had Liam pretty much swearing off women for the rest of his life. No pussy was worth that mess. Dick though? Liam was willing to take that chance on Zayn, even if asking Harry didn't give him much information.

According to Harry, Zayn had been around for a few years but mostly kept to himself or the other dancers. There was something about him throwing a fit a few weeks before Liam showed up. Upset about being forced to learn the choreography for Winston's show when it was just going to fail on opening night like it always did.

Liam thought he had a point, considering. He didn't know what bananas, ballet, and really bad rapping had to do with King James VI but didn't want to voice that in front of the man playing the gay king. No one dared fire Zayn, considering he kept the whole theatre afloat, but it also didn't make many actors happy with him. Especially not Mizz Wendy Williams, who played Marie Antoinette in the play. Again, Liam had a lot of questions he didn't dare ask out loud. It's not like he was ever good at history, so it was entirely possible the two lived in the same time period. Or it was some sort of allegory that went over his head like the aristocrats wearing banana suits did.

Louis always found his stories about his placement hilarious, but even that one had him wondering if there wasn't some sort of gas leak in their apartment. It wouldn't have been the first time, or the second. Most likely, it was the theatre that was growing some sort of mold that caused insanity if breathed in. Some of the things Liam had been forced to clean in the past few weeks were unspeakable.

But even that probably couldn't explain Zayn Malik. Nothing could explain that sort of beauty and talent. Or those hands... and thighs... and fingers. Ung. Liam would love to get up close and personal with all of him.

Either way, Liam had just been cleaning the mirrors in the practice room, humming along to Brandy and Monica on the radio, wondering if Niall was actually going to come down and help him instead of hiding away like a coward. Again. By the second verse, he'd given up trying not to sing along, not expecting anyone to come by. It was late, the dancer's practise long over, and Winston left screaming over an hour ago. Liam would have done a recce and skipped out on the last half hour if one of the managers wasn't sticking around still. Piers Morgan, an absolute cunt who treated the lads on probation like hardened criminals, and he was the prison warden. Despite, you know, most of the lads on summary probation, and Liam’s arson charge being the most serious crime out of all of them.

Anyway, the last thing he's expecting is for anyone to come in while he's singing about the boy being his, rolling his body to the beat. Which is probably how he ends up tripping over himself when he notices Zayn leaning up against the open door, watching him. Watching him, in bright, tight, teal dance tights (were dance tights usually blue? They should be) that looked nice with his hair and complimented the gold tones of his skin. The skin he could see a lot of. Because he was shirtless. Because he was shirtless and had a lot more tattoos than Liam realized. Tattoos Liam wanted to bite. Not hard enough to make a mark or anything, that would be sacrilegious, but enough to make him make a sound. God, Liam hoped he was a moaner. Not that he thought he had a chance with Zayn or anything, but it would be a shame if Zayn was the type that stayed quiet during sex.

Except he wasn't being quiet now, he was talking. And Liam was staring at him, like an idiot, not paying attention. Because he was an idiot.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, why did this always happen to him?

"Er, what?" Liam asked, desperately hoping he didn't sound as stupid as he felt right then, which was pretty fucking stupid. He probably looked even stupider than he felt and ruined his chances at ever-

"I asked if you were almost done? Was planning on practising more tonight," Zayn answered him.

Zayn, Zayn Fucking Malik, answered him, and he was still staring at him like an idiot. Shit Liam say something.

"Pretty"

Not that you idiot.

"What?" Zayn asked, looking confused and adorable.

Oh god, he was precious. Was that a smile? Was he smiling at him? Liam? Oh no.

"Pretty much, I meant. Pretty much done," Liam replied, wishing the ground would swallow him whole. "Just one more mirror, and I'll be out of your way."

There, those were words, sentences even. Now all he had to do was act normal and finish cleaning. Easy.

"So, Brandy and Monica, right? You like R'n'B then?" Zayn asked him, walking into the room with a heavy dance bag, setting it off to the side.

Liam felt himself flushing as he turned back around to finish cleaning the mirror so Zayn wouldn't see. "Yeah," he answered, trying not to peek at Zayn bending over as he rifled through his belongings.

Those legs, Fuck. Liam wondered what it'd feel like to have them around his-

"I didn't expect that," Zayn said, drawing Liam out of his filthy thoughts, and making him turn back around.

"What?"

"No, I- I didn't mean it in a bad way or anything. I guess I just expected you to listen to more rock?"

Liam was pretty sure he missed half of the conversation somewhere. Was Zayn blushing? He was so pretty. Wow.

"No, I like everything," he replied dumbly. They were still talking about music, right? That would make sense. Why was Zayn talking to him again? God, Liam couldn't handle this. "Do you like it? The music, I mean."

"Yeah, grew up listening to ‘em. My older sister was obsessed with Monica. So... Who's your favourite artist?"

"Artist? Oh uh, I've been listening to a lot of Post Malone? How about you? What do you- who do you listen to?"

"Post Malone's sick, mate. I like most music I guess, but I've been listening to a lot of The Weekend."

"Have you heard his new album?"

"Yeah, it's sick! Do you-" Zayn was cut off by Niall running in out of breath. The bright orange tee that labelled him as one of the community service workers was wet and stained black. Actually.. all of him was soaked and stained black. Was that ink?

"Hey, Payno, are you done yet because we have a situation upstairs," Niall gasped out, hands on his knees, looking like he'd just seen his life flash before his eyes.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"There's a squid stick in the toilet."

"There's a what?"

"A Squid! A giant fucking squid in the toilet!"

Liam blinked in confusion, trying to wrap his head around why there would be a squid anywhere near the theatre let alone one of the toilets. Did Corden want live animals in his show now? Or Winston. It could be either of them.

"Why do you need me?" he asked. "I don't know anything about squids."

Niall sounded like he was at the end of his rope when he replied, "You know something about plumbing at least!"

"Not a lot! Enough to keep the water on at home, but I'm not a plumber."

"Doesn't matter, we need your help, Ashtons gone to find some butter," Niall said, stomping back around, leaving behind a trail of watery black ink. "We'll meet you upstairs when you're done."

"Wait, what do you need butter for?!" Liam called after him but didn't get a reply. Butter? How was butter going to help?

A muffled giggle distracted Liam from his thoughts, and he was abruptly reminded Zayn was still in the room. Zayn, might as well be a god, was in the room, and Liam was just talking about squids in toilets.

Why him?

"I guess I should go see what they need help with?" Liam tried to say without sounding... Well, he wasn't sure what the proper response was in this situation or how to react to it.

Zayn smiled at him, and oh. How was it possible he looked even more attractive now?

Liam thinks Zayn said something about the other lads needing him and it sounding urgent, but really, Liam was in a daze until he also got a face full of ink... From another squid in an entirely different toilet.

What the fuck.

Louis was never going to let him live this down.

Really? Squids???

#yeah idk #my fic #ballerino au #genuinely have questions for myself #why is it always crack #ngl I'd be interested in seeing Winstons 'historical' play and Corden's musical #if only to know what the hell my own brain is coming up with #the globus theatre is its own warning #lmao #Ziam au #Ziam fic #idiot boys with crushes #Liam is a simp

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ahumansvoid · 4 years

Text

Construction

Go read The Plan to fully understand this (and the Interviews AU to understand that.)

It’s really just a little ficlet following Obi-wan’s brother Owen and Ronan and the start of the construction on the Clone Village on Stewjon.

Also, I think I’m incapable of writing romance.

Characters: Owen - OC, Ronan -OC, unnamed OCs

Words: 2360~

Warnings: None I can think of.

Notes: I mentioned in the Plan that the Stewjon Royal family has ruling names (which the twins share). You can probably get them from context, but just to be clear, list!

Ivy & Illia -> Amara

Ronan & Ryszard -> Audric

Owen -> Alai

Story under the cut

Ronan and Owen had figured out a good place for a village of 3 million, and had set out with the royal construction crew to start building.

While there, Ronan and Owen couldn’t do more than stand around and occasionally give orders. Royal Attire was not suited for construction. And neither prince could stip out of any of the layers. That’d be improper. And they’d be indecent. According to Kierce at least.

Also, according to Kierce, if Kierce has to suffer through wearing 100 pounds of clothing, every other royal has to too.

‘He’s such an asshole.’ Owen thought privately. He’d never say it. Not in front of other people at least. Definitely to Kierce’s face in private.

“I’m… going to go see if the Deldri will kidnap me.” Ronan says, walking off towards the forest. Owen, doesn’t really care. He’s pretty sure the two of them were sent off purely so Kierce didn’t have to deal with them. So if Owen doesn’t have to deal with Ronan, well, he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“What’re you constructing over here?” Owen turns to face the newcomer, a physically dominating man, who gave off a vibe indicating he wouldn’t hurt a bunny.

“A new village.” Owen states with the bored monotone any Royal in makeup was supposed to use. He gets not showing emotion. He also thinks it’s stupid. And has said so many times.

“Oh? Why?”

Well, Kierce didn’t say he couldn’t tell anyone. “New immigrants. Three million of them.”

The newcomer whistles, “They all passed the immigrant test?” Owen fought a smile. Immigration to Stewjon was easy, on paper. The test was easy, the qualifications were easy, the only hard part was the physical test people were put through. To see if they’d be on level with Stewjoni people. About 1% passed. If that.

“They’re Mandalorians.” Technically, at least.

“Oh? There are three million Mandalorians out there?” Owen is really glad he’s been trained to not react to the most ridiculous of situations, because he really wants to laugh. It’s not funny, but it is.

“They’re all identical.” Now, Owen could get into trouble for telling citizens about taking in the clones. But, Kierce would tell them anyways.

“Really?” The man draws, before walking away.

Owen should probably tell Kierce word would spread about the Clones. Owen hears a low rumble and looks up. Rain. ’A storm’ he realizes. Great.

“A storm is rolling in!” Owen calls to the workers, who all stop and look up to verify his words. Or just on instinct. “You do not have to keep working if you do not wish to.” The workers look to eachother before continuing with their work. The message clear, they were not going to stop working because of a little rain and EM. Fair enough. Owen heads to their transport and grabs an umbrella, opening it up and holding it overhead before returning to his previous position. The makeup wasn’t water-soluble, but most people don’t know that and he’d prefer to not be soaking wet when wearing a hundred pounds of clothing. That’s just impractical. Well. Everything about them was impractical. But getting them wet was doubly so.

The rain was just getting started, a low drizzle, when the man returns. Owen doesn’t greet him, if he wishes to speak he will.

“Your workers need any help?”

“They shouldn’t. But you are welcome to ask them. However, if you assist it will be volunteer work. You will not be paid.” They weren’t given a timeline on how soon the houses would need to be finished, but the Royal Construction Crew should be able to get it done by themselves within eight months, barring any extenuating circumstances that’d make their jobs harder.

The man laughs and slaps Owen on the back, causing him to lurch forward minutely as he hadn’t been expecting it. “Buy me a drink and you can call me Toots.” The man says and moves to talk to the Foreman of the Construction Crew. Leaving Owen very confused.

What. The. Fuck?

The only part of his confusion visible would be his blinking, as he was keeping his face as neutral as possible. Because that. That made no sense.

How does someone get that from Owen telling them to talk to the construction crew and he wouldn’t be paid?

To reiterate. What the fuck?

Owen was so confused, he didn’t notice Ronan had returned, until he was standing right next to Owen, a Deldri umbrella held above his head.

“How’s construction going?” Ronan asks, sounding bored and monotone. As he should.

“Fine.” Owen might not have been as bored and monotone as he should have been. He was really confused.

Ronan looks over, and down because he just had to be taller than Owen, “Are you okay?”

Owen didn’t answer until the man left the area, heading back into the nearby village. “No. That man confuses me.”

“He offered to help?”

“No. Well, he did but that’s not confusing,” that was just typical of Stewjoni people really, “He said ‘Buy me a drink and you can call me Toots,’ after I told him that if he helped he’d be a volunteer and not paid.” Now, having been raised to not react to things, Owen could identify when his family was holding back a reaction. The reaction Ronan was holding back right now? Laughter. The fucker. He wasn’t even doing a good job! His shoulders were shaking and his mouth kept twitching up into a smile. “Cover your mouth if you’re going to fail at keeping your face neutral.” Owen scolds, and Ronan does as he says, covering his mouth.

By the time Ronan has his face under control, the man and a few dozen other people have returned, all going to help the construction crew. “Alai, I believe what you encountered, is flirting.” Ronan put the barest of inflection on ‘flirting’ but he did.

The arsehole. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Y- Aren’t you supposed to be the mature one?” Owen really wanted to laugh, Ronan barely managed to make that sound monotone.

“Says who.”

“You’re five years older.”

“Age means nothing.” It really doesn’t. Ace was by far the least mature of them all and he was the second eldest.

“Mm, Amara.” Which was also a good point. Illia was wonderful. Ivy would drop kick someone off the roof without any prompting.

“Yes. Age truly means nothing. And that was not flirting.”

“It was.”

“Flirting is refined.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Audric.”

Ronan gets the message through the Monotone and says something other than ‘no’.“Normal people flirting is not refined. It’s offering someone a drink and calling them toots.”

“If anything, that was a sex invitation.” For some reason, Ronan was trying not to laugh again. He was succeeding far better now, but his shoulders were still shaking slightly.

“Probably. But a,” Ronan clears his throat, “sex invitation is still flirting.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Do you really want to start that again?”

“No.”

“It was flirting. Now you can either go buy him a drink or say no.”

“You cannot honestly think I’d buy him a drink. It goes against everything we’ve been taught. Every protocol.” Owen was keeping his voice as monotone and bored as possible, putting the barest of inflection on certain words. No matter how much he wanted to go for a drink, it was not the way.

Ronan scoffs, barely, before speaking, “Like you’ve never fucked someone in Royal robes.” Owen looked to his brother, looked him up and down, and took a step away.

“You had those dry cleaned after, right?”

Ronan rolls his eyes, and ‘Wow, isn’t he breaking rules today?’Owen thinks blithely. “I did not have sex in the robes. I flirted in them and had sex out of them. There’s no harm in it.”

“There’s a lot of harm in it. And I’m telling Atlas when we get back so he can lecture you on it. Just because dad’s dead doesn’t mean you can escape lectures on propriety.”

“You’re a terrible brother.”

“Yes.”

The delve into silence for a while, watching their people work as rain poured. Owen turned his attention to the EM rods that kept them safe. They did nothing for their electronics, they didn’t even stop the EM from reaching the people, but they kept the Gravopir from attacking the people in the settlements. And during a storm they looked so pretty. Electricity dancing from one pole to the other. Kierce had tried to explain how they worked to him once, Owen couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“You could ask him to a drink out of the royal robes.” Ronan suggests, breaking their nice silence.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re still thinking about him.”

“And how would you know that?” Owen wasn’t. He was looking at the EM rods. Which were not anywhere near that man. He was on the ground shirtless working on the bones of a house. Looking stupidly hot and wet and-

Oh.

“Because you are looking as far from him as possible. Despite the EM rods by him giving a far prettier show than the ones you’re looking at.”

Which. Wasn’t incorrect. The ones by the man were prettier.

“I don’t even know him.” He doesn’t! He is enamoured purely based on the man’s physique. It’s a wonderful physique but still. That’s not right.

“That’s what the drink is for.”

“I wouldn’t know where he would be for a drink.”

“Velvet Grass on Mirkrow. That’s where almost everyone here hangs out.” That. That gives Owen pause. He slowly turns to look at Ronan.

“How do you know that?”

“... Look I hang out in some places. And I’m not saying anymore until I can run away.”

“Okay.” Owen wouldn’t push. Not now.

“Do we really need to oversee construction? This seems pointless.” Owen agreed. They weren’t really doing anything.

But, “It’s about propriety. Or something. Atlas wants us overseeing.” Owen almost sighed. But he didn’t. Them being here really was pointless. Neither made anymore comments as the Foreman came over.

“I don’t want to disagree with the King, but you two don’t have to stay out here. You’re more likely to get a cold than us, given your clothing.”

Which, was not how colds work. But it was a nice offer. And before Owen could decline as they were to, Ronan accepted it, “Thank you, Foreman Jenning. We’ll return to the Palace.”

Fucker. Owen didn’t let his displeasure be known until the Foreman had left and Ronan was half dragging him to their horses. “Atlas-”

“It is wet. We are wearing a ridiculous amount of clothing. I want to get dry and warm.” Which were all fair points, and Ronan was already on his horse. Owen sighs and mounts his own.

“You’re explaining everything to Atlas.”

“Fine.”

----

Atlas had been moderately unhappy. He was more unhappy they had ridden home in a storm than leaving the construction early. Then he became annoyed and royally pissed when Owen told him about Ronan flirting and having sex as a public prince. And then Ronan told on Ryszard having sex in the robes which had led to those two being dragged off for a propriety lecture.And Bard calling Ronan a traitor. And Ronan calling Bard an oversharer.

After that, Owen had returned to his own room and pulled off his many layers and gotten half dressed in sleep wear when someone knocked on his door. He glanced through the peephole to see it was Ace, and let him and surprisingly Illia and Ivy into his room.

“Can I help you?”

“Ronan said you were going on a date.” Ivy states, sitting down on his bed.

“I’m not.” And even if he was it didn’t explain the girls being in his room. Ace? Sure, he gets way too involved in everyone’s love lives. Ivy? She doesn’t have a romantic bone in her body. Illia? Romantic, but honestly doesn’t care about their love lives.

“Ronan said a guy asked you out to drinks.” Ace states, going through Owen’s closet. Which was not good.

“He said ‘Buy me a drink and you can call me toots.’” Owen informs, sighing as Illia starts removing his makeup. “Why are you involved in this?”

“Ace asked nicely. And Ivy is going with you.” Which meant Illia got some peace and Owen would be responsible for making sure she didn’t kill anyone. Valid reason for Illia to be helping out.

“Of course.” Owen mutters as Illia finishes up removing the heavy make up.

“Put these on.” Ace says, thrusting a couple articles of clothing into Owens arms.

“This isn’t a date.” Owen protests, but starts getting dressed. Everyone here had seen him naked, and they invaded his room. If they don’t like it, they could leave. They didn’t.

“It’s drinks. At the very least, you can relax.” Ace states, before shaking his head and going back into Owen’s closet. He pulls out a new shirt and hands it over, “Switch.” Owen does and hands the old shirt back to Ace who nods.

Owen looks at himself in the mirror and sighs. He looks so… not himself. He didn’t even know he owned these clothes. Everything he wore was normally so layered. To have something so thin and fitted was, weird. Illia comes up behind him and starts to comb through his hair, slowly turning it brown with every run through. Eventually, his ginger hair was brown, with a reddish tint in some places.

Ivy gets off his bed and stretches, “Alright! To the Velvet Grass Pub on Mirkrow!”

Owen pulls on a pair of boots Ace hands him. Not his royal ones. And follows Ivy out a servant’s entrance that wasn’t actually a servant’s entrance as the servants didn’t have access to it. Owen sighs, this was a bad idea. But he really can’t argue with his older siblings. He’s tried. It fails 100% of the time.

So, awkwardly getting drunk and keeping Ivy from getting into fights it is.

What a fun way to spend the night.

#my writing #Interviews AU #Keeping Up With Stewjon #Because I might post more slice of life stewjon fics #star wars #OCs #OCs everywhere #Also #That subplot came out of nowhere #Owen as a single twin doesn't get out much #because he's always the royal twin #Unlike the others who can go be a civilian at their choosing #So he's new to non-diplomatic flirting

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zach-the-fox · 4 years

Text

Furiends Episode 6: Research and Capture

The two girls and fox boy regroup with their friends as they stand on the outside of the chain-link fence surrounding a large, two-story building situated in the forest. Streaks of cracks line the concrete structure. Plants grow through the broken pavement around the uninhabited facility.

Niji glances at the property and scans around the area. “Look at this place! What a total dump! Probably a home for rats.”

“I don’t find it bad,” says Navy. “I actually quite like it. And I adore rats. They are just so cute!”

Eren turns to the warthog. “Um, Emmy. Why did you tell us to come here? What’s going on?”

“Zach saw an article in the paper that there was some strange figure residing here,” Emmy answers. “And we suspect it’s the demon Carly, Navy, and I summoned.”

“What?!” Navy runs up to her. “You found our child?! Is he here?!”

“Maybe. We won’t know unless we go in and check it out.”

“You want to explore an abandoned laboratory?!” Silus exclaims. “Are you crazy?!”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Carly adds. “Then Emmy brought up a point with Team Rescuers. I don’t want to get in trouble… My mother would kill me…”

“If we’re going to find this demon, we should be quick,” suggests Zach. “There’s a chance Team Rescuers might show up and search this area, given all of the cries from Heroto.”

“Right, let’s not waste anymore time,” Emmy utters. “Let’s get in there and find our demon. Now, how will we get over this fence?”

“I can lift you guys over,” Silus says. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to get in, though.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Niji spurts, staring down the opposite direction. The gang all see where he’s looking: A slight tear in the metal fence forms a little hole for those to sneak inside. “We can just crawl in through there.”

“Good thinking, Niji!” Emmy walks down to the opening with the others. One-by-one, they get on their paws and knees to crawl passed the metal chains-links. Silus, being the last one in, gets stuck under with his shirt caught in the edges. Eren and Zach help pull him out of the ditch, ripping his apparel and creating a streak in his shirt, showing his bare chest.

“Oh,” utters Eren, blushing with shock. “My… When we’re done here, we must go to the bedroom.” Silus chuckles. The gang then make their way toward the two, shattered glass doors of the concrete structure.

Carly steps up and attempts to open them by pulling, then pushing. “They don’t budge… Guess we can’t go in…”

Navy grabs a metal pipe laying nearby and swings it at the glass, breaking it into pieces and clearing the way. “You were saying?” The friends then climb through the open spaces in the doors, entering inside. “Okay, now what?”

“I say we split up,” Emmy orders. “We’ll cover more ground that way.” The others hesitate, then they agree before splitting into groups. Niji goes with Emmy and Zach as they head up the stairs while Carly stays with the blue jay, deer, and newt on the ground level.

“I don’t feel very comfy about this place,” Carly comments, paws huddled together as she stays close with her friends.

“Come on, Carls.” Navy puts her wing around the cat. “It’s not so bad. I’ve been watching urban exploration videos Snootube and it’s pretty fascinating to see old structures hollowed out. The vide is quite nice.”

“Maybe for you, but me, not so much.” Carly narrows one eye and puts her paw on her chin. “Though, it wouldn’t be bad to maybe draw some of my characters in the same situation.”

“You’ll have plenty of time when we get back,” Eren tells her. “Right now, we should help Emmy find the demon.”

“By the way, what does he look like?” asks Silus, searching around. “Do you have a description of him?”

“I don’t know,” Navy goes. “He was a fireball when we summoned him at my apartment. I didn’t get a good look at him.”

“Well,” Carly starts. “Zach looked at the article in the paper, and he said it’s a giant, furry, black creature. So, look for something furry and big, I guess.”

“And maybe glowing eyes,” adds Navy. “Demons usually have glowing eyes that pierce through the dark.” Carly gulps, wearing the face of fear with wide eyes.

Upstairs, the boys and warthog enter a big room littered with barrels and tables of broken beakers and equipment.

“Interesting place,” Niji utters, passing the large machines to get closer to Emmy. “Why would people abandon a laboratory and leave some of their things behind?”

“Obviously, something must’ve happened to force the scientists to leave,” Emmy answers. “What that might’ve been, I don’t really know.”

“I know, though…” Zach places his paw on the wall and leans on it. “Ten years ago, when I was eight, we went on a class field trip to this place… We were to learn about the wonders of science and technology for our outing… The whole group and I were in one room when something knocked glass beakers and test tubes over and spilled on the table, causing it to react with the other chemicals; my tail. The entire facility was in chaos… We had to evacuate and exit the building when a giant explosion ripped a hole in the place. The government deemed the laboratory unsafe and shut it down. Our trip only had begun that day, too, but it ended quickly. My classmates all hated me for that and refused to talk to me.” He puts his paws on his head. “It’s all coming back to me… All the kids calling me flawed fox and how awful I just am…”

Emmy walks up to the fox. “Hey… It was only an accident. You didn’t mean to knock over all of that stuff and destroy the whole place. Mistakes happen… We can’t erase them…”

“Funny you say that, Emmy… Considering you’re talking to one…”

“You’re not a mistake, Zach. So, what if Team Rescuers and Heroto doesn’t like you? Their opinion doesn’t matter, anyway. Ours does! And we all like you.”

As the warthog comforts the fox, the rainbow-haired wolf motions toward the pile of barrels situated in the corner. “Weird how scientists would abandon a lab and not take their chemicals with them.” He leans down and squints his eyes to read the label on one of them. “Danger. Handle with care. Avoid contact with skin and fur.” Niji tilts his head. “I wonder what’s so dangerous that they don’t want people touching.” He grabs the lid of one barrel and pulls it off the top. Looking inside, his eyes glisten and his mouth forms a small ‘o’ when staring at the colorful liquid settling in the container. “Oooh, rainbow! Ahhh!”

Emmy takes her hoof back from the fox’s stomach, and turns around. “All right, let’s get back to- Niji, what are you doing?”

“Look, guys!” Niji shouts, holding the rim of the barrel and lifting it up. “Rainbow liquid! It’s so pretty!”

The warthog ambles over to the wolf. “Niji, we shouldn’t be messing around with any of these strange chemicals. They could be dangerous.”

“I’m not messing with chemicals. I’m just looking at it.”

“Listen, we shouldn’t-” As she reaches for him, Niji moves away, holding the metal container in his grasp still. “Come on, Niji. Don’t be difficult.” Her hooves grab the other half of the rim. “Put it down!”

“No! My rainbow! Mine!”

“Niji, stop! I swear, you’re going to-” Emmy yanks hard with her might, which causes the force to pull her back and hit into a stack of metal barrels. “Cause an accident…” The containers tip over and fall to the ground, dumping their colorful contents out all over the warthog before flowing toward the wolf and fox. The three friends are knocked off their feet and swept away by the wave of rainbow fluids.

Back downstairs, the others stop in place as they hear the sloshing sounds above, as well as rushing liquid and their friends screaming.

“What’s going on up there?!” Carly spurts. “What’s happening?”

“Emmy, Zach, and Niji must be in trouble,” answers Eren. “Maybe they found the demon!”

“We should help them, then!” Silus shouts. He leads the three animals toward the staircase, only to stop after a few steps. They freeze to see rainbow liquid rushing down the stairs, carrying their three friends in it as it surges toward them. “Oh crud!”

“Yipe!” Carly turns and runs down the other way. The others are quick to follow, but the chemical flow swoops them off their feet and carries them into the room at the very end, piling the gang into a corner before settling. The friends remain sitting/lying in the puddles for a little bit, soaked by the rainbow water, then they each stand up, one-by-one, shaking off the remnants of the fluids.

“What the hell were you guys doing up there?!” Navy exclaims, looking at the warthog, wolf, and fox. “And what is all of this?!”

“Some sort of rainbow water,” explains Niji. “I don’t see why it’s dangerous, though.”

“Aw man!” Carly shakes off her paws. “Now I’m going to need a shower! Thanks a lot, Niji!” Niji frowns as he looks at her.

Zach, on the other hand, forms a smile on his face while he remains seated in the chemical. “For once, I’m actually quite happy it wasn’t me this time.”

“That was definitely something,” Silus adds, standing tall. He notices the deer staring and blushing at him. “Um, Babe, are you okay?” His husband remains silent, then he sees the others noticing his bare torso, slim and slightly muscular. “Where’s my shirt?” He then sees his apparel drifting in the liquid. Silus leans down to pick it up, only to see it soaked and ripped further. “Well, there goes my good shirt… No point wearing this anymore…”

“Eren, I am jealous,” Zach comments, staring at the shirtless newt. “Now, I really wish I had my own “Silus”. He’s so hot and handsome without his shirt.”

“Really?” asks Carly. “Didn’t take you to be the gay type, Zach. I always thought you were mostly into girls.”

“Bisexual,” he corrects her. “I’m bisexual. I am into anyone regardless of gender.”

“Well, after being completely soaked in rainbow, I still don’t see where Emmy’s demon is,” Niji utters. “In fact, I don’t think he’s even here. We should call it a day.” Everyone’s ears twitch upon hearing the sound of muffled voices outside and branches breaking. “What was that?”

“Someone’s here!” mutters Navy. “Could it be Team Rescuers and the authorities?!”

“Let’s get out of here, then,” Emmy states. The gang all bolt for the door where they came in, but soon halt in place to see shadows appear by the entrance. “Great, now what?”

“There’s an opening in the wall we passed to get in the chemical room,” Zach expresses. “We can go out that way!” He and the others scramble up the stairs and down the hallway to the giant, gaping hole in the wall. Silus picks up Eren with his hands and places him on his back, then he slides down the side. Zach does the same thing, carrying Emmy on his back. Niji falls off after running out. Silus puts Eren down quickly to catch the wolf.

“You’ve got to be joking!” yells Carly. “I’m not jumping down from here!”

“You’re a cat!” Navy tells her. “You’ll land on your feet perfectly!”

The cat turns to her. “What?!” The bird shoves her off before jumping herself and flapping her wings to slow her fall. Carly lands in the bushes nearby, which have cushioned her fall. Navy goes over and helps her up. “Never do that again!” The friends then scurry off, vacating the area and then disappearing into the brushes as a shadow looms over their route.

***

The seven animals make their way through the forest and back into town, dripping wet with the rainbow liquid still soaking their bodies.

“Ugh, that went horribly,” Carly comments. “Not only were we walking around a creepy laboratory, but we also got soaked in some chemical…”

“I’ll need about ten baths a day just to get it out,” Silus adds.

“I’m kind of used to it,” Zach butts in. “I’ve been covered in way worse.” Navy asks him what he means. “Oh, mud, ketchup, tar, sewage water, coal dust… Yeah, the list keeps on going…”

“Aside from being soaked in that rainbow water, I thought it was kind of pretty,” remarks Niji. “The colors and all…”

“Well, the whole “search and capture” mission was all but a fail,” Emmy implies. “I was hoping we’d find that demon…”

“Hey…” Eren puts a paw on her shoulder. “We may not have found anything other than colored chemicals, but at least we all hung out together. That’s all that matters.” He smiles.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to head home immediately,” says Navy. “A little shower and freshening up is what I need.” The others agree before parting. Eren turns to Silus, still staring at his exposed torso.

Silus takes notice of him. “Like the view, Darling?” Nothing comes out of Eren’s mouth. The newt then scoops him up in his arms and carries him. “I guess we’ll be in the bath together, tonight.” He starts walking with the deer in his clutches. “Come along, Zach.”

“Just a minute,” Zach tells them. “I’ll meet you at the house.” As the two boys head off, the fox steps toward the warthog, who remains still and lets out a sigh. “You okay, Emmy?”

Emmy pivots to him. “Huh? Oh, I’m fine… I’m just disappointed… I wasn’t just hoping to catch the demon to stop Team Rescuers from finding him, but I was also really excited I’d get to see the very thing I summoned. I really wanted to get close to him if I could.”

“W-what? Why would you want to be close with a demon? What’s wrong with us?”

“It’s really more of a “not-being-single” thing… Zach, there’s nothing wrong with you guys as my friends. It’s just sometimes, I’m just so sick of being lonely… and I feel like no one wants to date a short, weird warthog like me…”

“I understand…” Zach places a paw on her back. “I’m sorry things didn’t go as planned for you. I don’t know why anybody wouldn’t want to date you, though. You’re not a bad person; you’re a sweet, talented young lady who’s different like me. If anything, I’d say you’re someone I’m glad I’m close with.”

Emmy shifts her head back at him, tears streaming from her eyes with a smile. “You know what, the whole demon hunt doesn’t matter. I don’t need a demon date when I have you and the others. I’m just glad I get to hang out with everyone.” She throws herself forward to hug the fox. Zach smiles as he squeezes her in his arms. When they part, she looks up at him. “Thank you, Zach… Um, I should get back home before my mom and jerk of a stepdad get worried, and wash these chemicals off. Don’t want them getting concerned.”

“Can I walk with you?” Emmy asks him why. “Can’t friends walk together and enjoy each other’s company? Also, I have a feeling Silus and Eren are going to occupy the bathroom for a while, considering they are quite “dirty”.”

Emmy chuckles slightly. “I guess it’s okay.” She walks down the sidewalk with the fox alongside her as they head into further in town. From afar, a pair of glowing eyes pierce through the foliage and watch the friends as they amble away. @emmy-the-absolute-goof @carlycmarathecat @ask-choro-mama @rainbow-strike @pink-unicorn-blood

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365daysofmchart · 5 years

Text

Reflecting on McHart: 3x01

Long time no see! But just thought I’d make some little (as it turns out) incredibly lengthy remarks about McHart-related things that stood out to me in the season 3 premiere of The Good Fight! May or may not do more of these throughout the season--let me know if you’re feelin’ it. Obviously 3x01 spoilers below!

1. Them holding hands, (and her leg slung over him which we couldn’t really see in the scene but did in the promo) and THAT CHIN GRAB, and him indulging her, oh my! (BUT WHY WOULD HE TEMPT FATE LIKE THAT SAYING “WHAT COULD GO WRONG?” DAMN IT, KURT!)

2. I had been planning to make a clever remark about how I had so been looking forward to seeing what a home/bedroom that was truly both of theirs would look like... and then (once seeing it in the promo/promo pics) that apparently it looks exactly like a Diane bedroom, lol (which is sweet in it’s own right too, I suppose, him just letting her run with it... or perhaps her insisting they do it together but then she vetos like 95% of his ideas so then he just gives up). But then I saw the gun case with more than a dozen firearms in it so actually a Diane/Kurt bedroom seems to be a Diane bedroom with an abundance of guns. ...Which honestly kind of surprises me, especially given that they’re not really locked away. Wondering how those negotiations went between the two of them. ...Are the guns in the bedroom going to become relevant in a later episode??? So many questions.

But anyway, further on their bedroom, THAT THING IS FREAKING MASSIVE. I know that they want it to function as sort of a catch-all space for the season so that they can get away with shooting every single McHart home scene in that one space and so it has to serve a lot of functions, but good lord, I think an entire apartment could fit in there? And HOW MUCH SEATING DO THEY NEED? They’ve got enough for--no exaggeration--more than ten in there. That’s insane. Are they planning to have a freaking soiree in there??? HA! ...It is gorgeous though, props to Beth!

3. The domesticity of their morning! He’s shaving (with a shaving brush OF COURSE and probably a straight razor) in a towel in the bathroom and her unpacking his stuff as they talk (or holler, rather) back and forth, just kind of hanging out while doing their own things to get ready for the day. THEY’RE MARRIED. My heart! 4. Diane’s increased knowledge of his guns and his preferences despite the fact that he has probably like 50 of them. How much time does he spend talking about guns and she sits there and lets him and listens, probably mostly because she just loves watching him in his element... and also because THEY’RE MARRIED and idk, I guess you do stuff like listening to your spouse talk about things you’re maybe not totally into when you’re married?

5. He called her (at work vs. her cell) while she was on her way to work, after she had just left him, but we never find out why. WHY???

6.HER HELPING HIM PACK. Ans it’s because she “saw airplane tickets on our account.” On “OUR ACCOUNT.” Something tells me they hadn’t merged much of anything before (including their lives), but they have now and it warms my heart!

7. I actually love the way they handled the hairs/her suspicions.To start with, I think it’s natural that after everything, even if they have moved forward and are starting over, even if she has worked though everything and trusts him, I think it’s perfectly realistic that certain feelings might creep up given certain circumstances. Of course exploring this in the show could’ve easily gotten into “drama for the sake of drama” territory and been incredibly messy and destructive, but it wasn’t.

She wasn’t looking for reasons to be jealous, wasn’t looking to catch him in a trap--they honestly were “just there.” She then handled it so well, asking him reasonable questions, went on with her day, then maturely confronted him about it at home that night. (And honestly, I don’t think she actually thought he cheated, just that he was hiding something perhaps a little less than seemly that had to do with one of his “Fox blonds.”) And then when she does approach him about it, she starts by telling him she loves him! She’s diving into this situation knowing it could be messy/hurtful but wants to preface with an “I love you” cause they are so IN THIS. Oh, also, ya know, he was being dishonest with her/lying to her, so her suspicions were totally valid. ...And on that note, DID KURT REALLY NOT LEARN HIS LESSON ON BEING HONEST WITH HER?!?!? Like he’s the most honest guy with literally e-ver-y-one else... but his wife. I think it just comes from loving her and not wanting to upset/hurt/lose her, but COME ON, MAN.

8. “I’m being paid. I don’t have a job, I’m hiring myself out...” “They pay me, Diane; it’s money. I’m not doing it because I like them!” “I’m being paid! I’m working!” That. Job. Though. His excuses are such a cop out because they obviously don’t need the money by any means. But I think it really speaks to Kurt and his pride--he loves his wife dearly, loves her strength, will always support her and is genuinely okay with her being the primary breadwinner. ...But he also still feels the need to pull his weight--to have a purpose and to contribute something financially. To “be a man.” (But again, as much as he may feel the need to play a traditional male gender role, he also has zero expectations that Diane do the same!) Because he could always volunteer in some way, take on smaller jobs, wait for the right long-term, paying position... but he’s taken that one. Because pride (which apparently trumps integrity? LOL!). (Throwback to season 2 of TGW!) Oh, Kurt... BUT ALSO SHE SEEMS TO GET THAT, because yes, she’s definitely upset about it and judges him for it, but she doesn’t even begin to try to talk him out of it, just, “Nope, you’re right. You have to do what you have to do.” She knows it’s important to him and respects that it’s something he feels he has to do! (They’ve come so far from 5x06!) As he respects that she has to do what she has to do. Like she just walks out on some kind of vague mission and he just stands there, a little confused, but like, “...Okay? Well, you do you, I guess. I’ll be here.”

9. THEIR TEASING, I LOVE IT SO MUUUUUCH. Honestly it’s been so long since we’ve seen them relaxed and playful together that it almost felt out of character for Diane for a hot minute and then I thought back and was like, “oh yeah, never mind, this is just what they’re like together when they’re not being put through the wringer by the writers!” Gasp! ...But like oh my God, they’re so freaking cute and yes please I’ll take more wise-cracking-sarcastic-sasshole Diane EVERY EPISODE, PLEASE!!! And let’s be honest, Kurt loves it. He looks at her with heart eyes and that little smirk that he can’t quite master because he’s just so in love with her even especially when she teases him. But then “Come on, come on. A little hug, please.” Like it’s not even a kiss or sexual in any way, she’s just missed him and just wants to embrace him for a moment. And given their history in regards to physical intimacy and that we can be quite certain that their sex life is still plenty vibrant, I think that a hug actually means more than tearing into each other, you know? They’ve always had that physical draw, the hug is more a product of an emotional one. (THOUGH I WOULD HAVE ZERO COMPLAINTS ABOUT THEM TEARING INTO EACH OTHER) And then, from the slightest wince she knows something is wrong and presses him on it!

10. The entirety of the “They shot you!” scene was pure GOLD. Every line, every delivery. And then her concern followed by her frantic ire and demand to know who did it, and his trying to calm her but then getting riled himself... UGH. I love it. All of it. Every bit of it. But especially... (And some lines I’ve highlighted at the bottom!)

11. Idk, but I just really love when he shows her the ointment? It just feels SO [OLD?] MARRIED COUPLE. Like, “Yeah, I did go to the hospital and they gave me this stuff to put on it, see? Here it is. Do you want to look at it?” (And her just automatically taking it from his hand!) Honestly I clearly can’t adequately put words to why this in particular stands out to me, but it just gets me every freaking time.

12. Moment of appreciation for their bathroom (the one room that’s actually lit properly, lol) and alllll of her products and their matching toothbrushes in the middle, then that lil red car on his side (’cause they have sides, guys!). Dying to see their bedroom reasonably well lit at some point during the season (we hope) to see more of these little details! (...Also why are their towels hanging in their washroom area where it would appear that there is only a toilet???)

13. “You’re not fit to kiss my husband’s feet--a truthful man, uncomplaining, never passing the buck, never punching unless he’s punched. When did he become the exception?” After everything, after it all, after the lies and the hurt, she still believes that this man is the greatest man to walk this earth. Perhaps she now knows that he’s not perfect... but I think she believes he’s the closest any man will get. She just loves him SO. DAMN. MUCH. And then just gently resting her arm over his waist while careful to keep her distance from his wound cause she just wants needs that connection... I CAN’T WITH THEMMMMM.

14. Also, ummm... can we please get shirtless Kurt in 3 scenes in every episode??? 15. Diane uttered like 2 “husband”s, 2 “wife”s, and one “married” in this single episode... clearly the writers are as committed to defining them as MARRIED AF as we are.

And just a few other lines that stood out to me:

“I’m happy. ...Am I ridiculous?” “You like narrating your life.”

“But mean it.”

“...And it reeked of cologne, or mousse, or something, and I know that you’d rather die than use girly products...”

“...Then which of you Fox blonds is it?” (”Fox” did not sound like “Fox” upon my first watch/listen, haha!)

“You call him Eric?” “Oh, God...”

“DIANE, you’re scaring me!”

“My God, my poor husband. What have they done to you?”

“That’s why they delayed the trip, they SHOT you!”

“I can do the ointment.” “No you can’t!”

“The most important person in my life...”

Alright, as per usual I got ENTIRELY carried away, but anyway there ya go. Hope at least one of you gets amusement out of it, lol! And feel free to comment/"Ask” your own thoughts!

Happy “More McHart is only 25 hours away!” -E

#McHart #diane x kurt #diane lockhart #kurt mcveigh #The Good Fight #I LOVE MY MARRIED AF SHIP #it took so long and we went through so much but my got is it good right now!#also though why am I like thissssss #why do I always get SO carried away I hate myself #it was just supposed to be little blurbs!#I mean good God I barely even finished in time before the new episode!#anyway more married babes sooooon #thanks for putting up with me everyone!#reflecting on mchart

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fallen029 · 5 years

Note

I say chapter 2 for the Miraxus Vampire AU!! Your imaginations are just the best ^^

Part I

It was a rough adjustment to say the least, going from the freedom of a young man in his twenties with no attachment other than his homegrown business, to the chains of being the only normal person in a household full of abnormality.

Which was putting it lightly.

He was the only one who wasn’t a vampire, like the Strauss siblings, a slave to said vampires, like poor Evergreen and Freed, or a complete and utter moron who Laxus was pretty sure had no hangups over all had gone on, like stupid Bickslow. No, Bickslow was riding high as the house ‘jester’ and kitten father and it was all just so aggravating that sometimes Laxus thought about it.

He could do it.

Kill them.

Really, the only one he wanted to take out with the main one. Mirajane. The Mistress. She was the one that caused all of this. He wondered too if maybe vampires were, like, ants or bees. If he killed their queen, would all the others die? Is that how it worked? Sure, it would be horrible to recognize his own dealings in the death of his two friends, Freed and Ever, but at the same time…

Those…things weren’t Evergreen and Freed any longer. He had to keep reminding himself of this fact. It was the truth. Their bodies were just vessels and what happened to them from this point out had no bearing on the souls that had long since departed.

It would be retribution, if anything. Justice. An end to any suffering they might still be facing, trapped within themselves. How could he just sit there and do nothing? Huh? When he was the only one with the opportunity to bring it all to an end?

And yet, as dawn rose each morning, dragging the sun willingly along the sky, he found himself not focusing on how to distract Freed long enough to sneak down into the cellar, where he’d find them all, slumbering the day away, where he could easily drive stakes through each of their hearts.

It would be a blessing, even, he was pretty sure, to the three of them. Was it not a curse? Their immortality? That’s what she told him, once, when this all first began. That he was lucky to bear the brunt of mortality.

Then why not just end things?

He figured this had to do with the whole damnation aspect. If that was an aspect. Bickslow insisted it was. But even still, Laxus would find hellfire far more preferable to feasting on the blood of the innocent. Still, he couldn’t imagine that Bickslow was enjoying himself as much as he let on either. They were all just surviving with what they’d been giving. Selfishly, sure, fine, but each day (or night) that they continued to draw breath was a win, no matter how dirty the tactics.

Where did that leave him, anyways? Laxus saw himself as an unwilling participant in all of this, but he never left. Or when he did, it was merely to do what had to be done. Gather supplies, assure the locals. That sort of things. He always came back. He wasn’t charmed or imprinted on or any of that weird stuff a vampire might do to have a hold over someone. No. He was just…

Going along with all of it.

Fear at first, maybe, had a play in everything, but now he felt little of it. Or at least it wasn’t overpowering his senses. Mirajane had been right. Repulsion fled with repetition and he found himself falling into the daily schedule of the Strauss mansion with little hesitance. In a certain kind of way, it wasn’t so different from his daily life before that. Manual labor, renovating a decaying mansion in the hot summer.

What a long one of those it would be.

“Oi, boss, I think one of my little kittens here is sick. Peppe. Look at ‘im. Does this look like a normal kitten to you?”

“Bickslow,” the man growled as he stood out in the yard, cutting at the shrubbery, “I’m busy.”

“Just look at ‘im, boss. He looks pale.”

“It’s a white fucking cat, Bickslow.”

“Kitten.”

“Bick-”

“Go on then, you bastard,” the acrobat was growling suddenly and when Laxus glanced over his shoulder, he saw the man nursing a bleeding thumb. The kitten apparently didn’t like being swung around for the blond to see and had either bit or scratched the other man. Tossing him to the ground, Bickslow glared after the feline before looking to Laxus once more. “Kids are so ungrateful. Say, that’s actually what I was wondering about.”

“I don’t give a shit about your cats, man.”

“Kittens.” Still, Bickslow was quick to follow as Laxus, finished with the bush before him, was stalking off across the yard to the other. “To bad for your woman, you know. Is she still a woman? Your vampire then, eh? Can’t see ya all hot and bothered like this. Shirtless. Working hard under the sweltering sun.”

“If you’re coming on to me, I’m not interested.”

“Nah, not me. No way. I’m a single father now, man. That’s a lot of work.”

“I thought you and Lisanna were taking care of the kittens together?”

“The woman only comes around at night! All day, I toil over my precious babies and she just-”

“You know, man, I’m really fucking busy right now, so-”

“I have a question,” Bickslow insisted as they came to a stop before another overgrown shrub. “Okay, look, listen to this. I’ve been wondering ‘cause it keeps me up at night, yeah? Well, among other things-”

“Bickslow-”

“Can vampires reproduce?”

“What? Why are you ask-”

“And if they can, does it gotta be with something else undead? Or can you and the, uh, Mrs. Boss, uh… I’s talkin’ to Freed about it and we were very concerned. Well, I was concerned. He just sorta sat there and went on and on about all his chores he had to do, but… How can something undead give life to something not? And man, it would suck for you, ya know? Is it your kid or one of the thousand of other guys, she, uh, gets favors from, right? I mean-”

“Would you shut up?” And he dropped the clippers then, Laxus did, as he turned on the man with blazing eyes and Bickslow threw up his hands in defense, nearly falling back over his own feet as he tried to scramble away. “I’m fucking working you absolute-”

“So I’m a prisoner here and I ain’t even got free speech?” Bickslow was running across the yard then, away from him. “Well, prisoner in name only. But I got rights, boss! You’ll see! I’ll bring this up to the kid tonight. You just wait!”

But Laxus didn’t think of the man again that night. Or anything, really, as he found yard work to not even be a good distraction from his roaring thoughts.

They seemed to have some sort of internal clocks that told them when to rise from their shadowy depths, the Strauss siblings did. As sundown changed just slightly with each passing day, he wondered how exactly their bodies knew so well. Perhaps they were just that in tune with the earth?

Regardless, he typically found himself waiting for the Mistress on the couch in her bedroom, where Freed would follow her after the pair made sure her brother was alright and her sister was content, to pour her wine and listen to any daily chores she had until the next sundown.

Laxus would only sit there patiently, usually, for this to occur as he looked everywhere other than his former friend. To see the man now, mindless and void, really gave the blond an ache deep in his heart.

One night after Freed had pour her a glass of wine and bowed his way out of the room, Mirajane only went to look longingly out the window as Laxus couldn’t do anything other than stare at her deeply.

“I’m not in the mood tonight, my love,” she offered simply, mistaking the gaze for hunger. “For anything.”

“I just have a, uh, question.” Laxus had never stuttered, really, before he came to the mansion, but he found his words falling over themselves frequently around the woman. Coughing slightly into his hand, he added, “That’s all.”

“Ask until you are content.” She didn’t even glance over at him as he rose to his feet. Instead, eyes falling down into her glass, she whispered, “I will answer to the best of my ability.”

Nodding, he took a step closer before, with hesitation, finding his feet firmly planted where they were currently. “I was just curious… How is it that…”

“I said you can ask, Laxus.” She still wouldn’t look at him. She seemed distracted, honestly. Worried. “Not stammer at me.”

“Right. I just… You can’t get, like, pregnant or some shit like that, can you?”

“What?” That did get her gaze, but the look was one of displeasure. Rolling her eyes so deeply he thought perhaps she’d gone into a trance, the woman finally retorted, “What an idiotic question. Of course not. Who would think such a thing?”

Bickslow.

Still, the man merely said, “I was just making sure, is all. Contraception is kind of a normal thing now. I figure it wasn’t back when you were…when…well-”

“You are beginning to bore me, Laxus.” Her gaze was out the window again. “Please try and avoid such an occurrence.”

Frozen for a moment, he shook his head some as he felt his feet get life again. Advancing on the woman, he stared out the window as well. In the pale moonlight, he saw just as she did, Bickslow doing twirls and jumps for a not visible Lisanna.

“They both enjoy one another,” she offered softly, “at least. It’s been a long time since Lisanna has had someone to play with. He’s a bit…off, but I am pleased with the jester’s dedication.”

“Yeah,” Laxus whispered as she turned then, from the window and him, walking across the room to refill her glass, “dedication.”

“You’re always the one that gets to go away somewhere fun,” Lisanna griped to her sister early one evening as the Mistress had them all gather in the living area. Even Evergreen and the brother, Elfman, were there. One a brute of a man, the still quite muscular man merely sat where he’d been helped, on the couch, not able to raise his eyes as his sister’s bickered. “You don’t trust us to do anything anymore. I wasn’t the one that got hurt. Elf was-”

“Silence.” She never raised her voice, Mirajane did, but she had a way of getting the attention of others regardless. As Freed stood at her side and the others sat around on the furniture, Mirajane only addressed them all with a dark gaze. “I have important business to attend to. I except there to be no problems, here at home, while I am gone. You stay out of the sight of the villagers, Lisanna, Elfman, and you both keep up appearances, Freed, Laxus. When I return-”

“Laxus?” Lisanna frowned over at him and even stuck her tongue out. “How come he’s staying? Take him with you. I hate when he just looms around the house all day.”

“You,” the man complained with a glare right back (though he was apprehensive over the brother and downright terrified of Mirajane, Lisanna felt more like the petulant children he dealt with down at the group home), “sleep all day. I sleep at night. Why is that a problem?’

“It’s annoying.” She could only shrug. “Doesn’t feel natural.”

“You know-”

“You all behave like children.” With a roll of her eyes, Mirajane looked to Freed. “I expect you to keep things in order while I am away. I will return before the end of the week. Should anything occur, you know how to get in contact with me, yes?”

“I,” Lisanna complained again, “know what to do if anything goes wrong, Mira. Me. Not them. I’m the whole reason any of them are here!”

“Will you be gone that long?” Elfman finally spoke, voice soft as he raised his eyes some. “Big sis?”

It was with a soft sigh that she went to push her brother’s white locks away from his eyes, staring down at him as Evergreen sat beside, looking void and disinterested.

“Never,” Mirajane assured her younger brother.

Laxus didn’t understand why he got left behind, but decided to make the most of it. Working all day, sleeping all night. Like he used to. Rather than sleeping in shifts between doing the housework, going to town, and dealing with the Strauss siblings in the evening.

He had his own room, separate from Mirajane’s, which he was free to use when she wasn’t up to bother with him. Or when she wished to be alone, as she did, some nights. The bed wasn’t as comfortable and the room was much smaller, barren, but it suited him and his attitude towards his situation.

One night, sleep was a bit difficult because he could hear Elfman wailing, loudly, in his downstairs quarters, over something or other, and Bickslow was jumping all about the house with his cats. And Freed seemed to have been instructed to wander about, between Mira’s siblings, checking up on them. Laxus could hear his slow, methodical steps as he went up and down the stairs periodically, doing as he’d been told.

Sleep was just hard to come by.

Laxus laid with his headphones in, listening to music, and kind of just wished Mirajane would return soon. She seemed to bring balance to the house. Without the Mistress around, everything felt disconnected. No one was really the head of the house and they were all just miserable people, trapped in a mansion together, bringing the misery onto one another.

Just what, the golden haired man found himself fearing frequently, could Mirajane be dealing with anyways? She seemed rather worried over something. Did it have to do with him? And Bickslow? Or maybe Elfman’s…accident? Something like that?

Who was she even going to speak with?

And how many others were there? Like them? Int he world? Were the Strauss siblings oddities or a shadowy norm?

Maybe there was a council, he worried then, of vampires. A hierarchy? Just where did the woman fall on that? She seemed rather high and mighty, towards her siblings, who fell in line under her, but did that have to do with birth order? Or some sort of chain of command?

Why did it bother him so much? The idea that the woman, Mirajane, his…Mistress wasn’t at the top? Because it did. The idea that there were more powerful, more commanding vampires out there than her really bothered him. And not just because the implication of darkness and evil that had towards the world at large.

It didn’t make much sense to the man at first. What was happening. He’d drifted off some uncomfortably and was a bit dazed as he heard the soft footsteps that certainly weren’t the pensive, watchful Freed or the excitable Bickslow. No. They were different.

“Lisanna?” he whispered softly as she slipped into his room. Frowning as he rubbed at his eyes, he asked, “Is everything alright? Is someone here? I’ll go take care of-”

“No one’s here.” She shut the door softly behind her, coming forwards. “It’s my home, is it not? Can I not choose where to be inside of it?”

“What?” She was being too confusing for him to be so groggy. “Did you need something or not?”

Btu she was staring at him as the moonlight wafted through his room and it was so bizarre because part of him knew exactly why she’d come, but another part of him refused to acknowledge it.

“Lisanna? Hey, kid, I think I lost one of the kittens again and I’m really worried about him. Have I mentioned to you that he don’t look too good? Lisanna?”

She made a face, over her shoulder, before looking at Laxus again and oh shit, he was so fucked.

But not that night, as she slipped back out of the room to go deal with her personal jester. Laxus just sat up in bed for a full minute, shocked, dazed, and filled with dread.

What was he supposed to do now?

The height of summer was upon them and it was a scorcher out. Laxus decided, without Mirajane there to dictate just what he did with his days, that he would go into town. Not the dumb village though. A real town. To get away from the mansion for a bit.

Maybe…maybe even write his grandfather?

But he couldn’t. He thought about it, honest, he did, and even located the location to do so, but he just…

What could he say? After so long? The last his grandfather had heard from him was when he first started renting out that little shopfront, hopeful for the future. He’d always meant to write the man again. To go back again, honestly. With extra cash. To see who was still around and who’d gotten homes. Maybe even offer a job to some of them. Maybe. The kids. The ones that were grown by that point.

It just never came together.

Laxus had found a new family there, for a bit, in his little team. Evergreen and Bickslow could get on his nerves like no other, but they reminded him a lot of the kids in that way. And Freed, well, he could be a bit of a hassle as well, what with his near constant insistence of doing the right thing and being an upstanding citizen and all that. He was a lot like his grandfather.

But now that family was shattered and factored and it would never come all together again. It couldn’t. The Strauss siblings made certain of that.

There was a slight fear, as well, or at least a consideration he’d kind of pushed away before, but…

The Mistress had made it quite common knowledge between the two of them that all things come to an end. Though she implied he would age, she didn’t necessarily indicate that this would lead to a natural end in their relationship. The opposite, even. She told him that she would be the one to end him.

When the time came.

Now with Lisanna clearly wanting…from him, well, he had a bad feeling that things were going to go south much faster than Mirajane had anticipated.

Laxus caught a drink alone at a bar and plotted this all out in his head.

Lisanna hadn’t been too coy, sneaking into his room so late at night, and that meant that she wanted… But Laxus didn’t want…well… It was weird. Wtiht he Mistress. He felt such a strong, undeniable attraction for her. Was it the power? The fact that she could completely fuck his entire shit up with a snap of his fingers?

Or just her in general?

Then there was her younger sister. Lisanna. There was nothing wrong with her. At all. She was just…not Mirajane. Yes. And Mira had told him, even, that she had no interest in men. That she was keeping Bickslow more as a pet than anything else. And that seemed to hold up as true, over a month out. Bickslow was entertaining to her and nothing more.

He’d thought this meant that Mira was right. That Lisanna just wasn’t looking for the same thing that she was. But apparently not.

It didn’t matter how many beers Laxus downed. He couldn’t wash away the feeling that this was going to end poorly for him. Imagine it. Having a super hot girlfriend who goes away for the week and then bam! Her sister is throwing herself at you. You know if you go for it, your girlfriend will eventually find out about it, and ‘end’ you, like she threatened, but if you don’t…

Well…

Then you’ll get your blood sucked out in a violent manner by her equally as scary and powerful little sister.

Imagine it.

Laxus could.

It’s why he decided not to go home that night.

“Where were ya last night, boss?” Bickslow yawned to the man in the middle of the afternoon when Laxus arrived back at the place. He hesitated some, when he found the guy waiting for him on the front porch, but Bickslow had something else on his mind than true worry over his friend. “My kitty ain’t well! It’s-”

“Shut the fuck up, Bickslow. Moron.”

Freed seemed interested in Laxus absence, but made little mention in it other than informing him he should not be gone, at night, when the Mistress is about.

“Well, she ain’t, is she, Freed?” he grumbled some to the mostly vacant stare of the man he once considered his best friend.

Still, he took heed of this and decided to be around that night, just in case the woman showed back up.

He didn’t sleep in his room though. No. He slept in Mirajane’s, with the door locked, completely sealed off from the others. He was answering no knocks or inquiries. Just going to put his headphones in and zone out from the entire world. If this bothered Mira, should she arrive home that night, so be it.

It wasn’t like she’d kill him over it.

But she might if she found him in bed with her sister.

No. Things were just best if Laxus kept to himself and avoided Lisanna all together until Mira got back and then…then…

Well, he wasn’t sure then what. A few days removed, he wasn’t even certain he’d read Lisanna’s intentions correctly. It was late and he was tired and maybe…maybe his ego was just getting in the way of logical thought. Yes. Maybe. Possibly.

Lisanna was just messing around. Or did want something. Probably to find Bickslow. Yeah. She was looking for him and then there he was and that was that.

Right?

Right.

Obviously.

The sleep was still uncomfortable, but he found it much preferable to the worried one he’d had the previous two nights.

There was a certain sense you got, unilaterally, when you felt someone’s eyes upon you. It wasn’t even supernatural. Just a sense people got, a feeling. It had nothing to do with the powers that the Strauss siblings possessed.

And yet, it felt enhanced, somehow, when it came to them. His blood would run cold, if he was walking around the property at the exact post-dusk moment they came out of their cellar. Could literally feel the Mistress’ eyes across the sprawling property. Knew when they were on him. When they spied him, out late at night, in a storm, trying to track down damn kittens as she watched from her window.

He found Lisanna had the same power.

His snores turned to slight, chilly shakes as he peeked his eyes open and found her there, in the bedroom with him. He was confused for a moment and then only glared.

“How did you get in?” he griped, softly, whispered, really. He didn’t want Freed or Bickslow poking around. None of this could get back to Mirajane. Not an ounce of it.

Lisanna was standing there, at the foot of the bed, just staring. She didn’t do pensive or alluring as well as her sister, but still, as she nodded over to the forever open window, Laxus wanted to ram a palm into his face.

Of course.

Fucking vampires.

That explained his cold, anyways, as he shivered some in the night air that was being let in.

“You should never lock her door, anyways,” Lisanna told him before her eyes and gaze turned to something more…devious. “Unless, of course, you plan to put it to good use.”

She literally jumped into bed with him and Laxus didn’t know what to do. At all. He’d never had a problem such as this (as he fell more into the Strauss web, he found that was true of most things) and wasn’t sure what to do as the woman literally moved to grab his face and fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Lisanna.” He turned his head when she tried to kiss him. “Kid. What are you doing? Me and your sister-”

“Mira can’t have everything. And I’m not a kid.”

“Okay, okay, you’re not a kid, but fuck, we can’t-”

“Why not? Huh?” She was still holding onto his face and Laxus didn’t know how petrified his face looked in that moment, but all of him was feeling it. Lisanna had clearly lost it and either she was going to fucking have her way with him (super nope) or she was going to fucking kill him, he just knew it. All that month of figuring things out with Mirajane had just be some sort of cosmic gift. Here, you can dabble in your darkest of fantasies before they’re ripped from you. Just like your jugular will be, in your bitter final moments.

It felt fitting, to have that happen. You fuck a vampire, you get fucked up by a vampire.

Yeah, it was hard not to find justice in this outcome.

“It’s because of her isn’t it. My sister. You’re in love with my sister, aren’t you?”

“W-Well, I don’t use labels and-”

She growled some, Lisanna did, and her nails felt like claws as, in the moonlight, he was forced to stare into her eyes.

“Mirajane treats me like a fucking child and I’m not. I can do whatever I want.”

“Look, I fullheartedly support you in this endeavor and all, but I’m not just whatever, okay? Now would you please-”

“You’re going to do as I want, Laxus. I’m just as strong as her. What? You think just because I didn’t turn Bickslow, I can’t turn anyone? I can. I will. If I want you, I’ll have you.”

“Your sister-”

“Isn’t here.”

“Yeah, but… You’re not a kid, Lisanna, fine, yeah, you’re what? A billion years old?” He felt more panic for some reason, in this moment, than he had when he was chained to the chair, all those weeks back. “But to someone like me, you’re still-”

“I was twenty-two when I died. That is not a kid.”

“Yeah, but still. I’m, uh, into, you know, a different kind of-”

“I don’t care what you’re into.” And besides, she seemed to already be over the whole sleeping together thing. No. Now her eyes fell only to his neck. “I’m going to turn you into my slave. My servant. That’ll teach her. I’ll make her favorite little plaything mine and then she’ll know. She’ll- Ow!”

She nails left long, bleeding scratches on his face when Laxus finally found it within himself to shove her away. He could somehow reconcile all the other stuff, but turning him would mean effectively ending his life. Remove any chance at battling back. No.

He would never allow that to happen. Not even through the Mistress.

“Lisanna?” Someone was trying the door then. Freed. “I must gain entry to assure you safety. Please, if you can-”

“Fuck off, Freed,” Laxus growled as he’d merely tossed Lisanna to the side, on the bed. She was hardly hurt, honestly, more surprised, and as that faded from her gaze, he knew he was about to be in for a battle. “Don’t ya gotta follow my command too?”

Nope.

“I will locate a key.”

Shit.

Jumping out of bed as Lisanna tried to pounce on him again, Laxus bashful, at first, to be in only his boxers around what was kind of, fine, okay, his girlfriend’s little sister, but then he remembered why this was the case and, well, embarrassment went out that perpetually open window a long time ago.

“You’ll pay for that.” Lisanna’s voice was low and Laxus considered then that this could have been all over a long time ago if Lisanna would just charm him. She clearly had no interest in the will of him, the flesh, like Mira had proclaimed to, so it made little sense for her not to just go that route.

Unless…

“You’re not as strong as your sister.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I am. I-”

“You don’t possess the same powers as her, do you?” He was standing there, defensively, one hand held out in front of him, as if to stop her should she advance further. He wasn’t so certain she couldn’t immediately overpower him though (Bickslow insisted vampires had immense strength) and did this more out of a reflex. A false sense of control. As Lisanna glared from the bed, he almost felt like he had the upper hand. “Mira’s, like, what? You and your brother’s commander? Or something? Is that it? I’ve never even seen the two of you hunt on your own. Mira goes out and hunts for herself and then brings the two of you back small animals to feast on. I’ve seen it. I’ve helped Freed clear the animal traps. You and your brother aren’t powerful and don’t need real, human, blood. Or at least as much blood as she does. Is that it? Or does she keep you powerless that way?”

“You have no idea,” Lisanna told him darkly, “what you’re talking about.”

Well, honestly, she was right. But still, he held fast.

“You can’t do all she can and make you so jealous, doesn’t it?” He felt embolden by distance. “I get it, okay? But fucking me…or eating me…or anything dealing with me, won’t make her take you seriously. It’ll just get me kicked out of her. Or worse. So rebel some other way, alright? That doesn’t involve-”

The sound of a key in the ancient lock stopped them and Laxus glared over at it. Freed though, who merely blinked at them, was not even close to the worst thing behind it though.

“Boss, you fucking snake!”

Bickslow tackled him, full on, to the ground and you know what? Laxus had had a lot of rage recently, since the whole thing began, and yeah, as they began to fight, he let some of it go. He was more powerful than the other man and was beating him handily as Lisanna only sat by yelling at them and Freed seemed uncertain of what directive he should take next.

There was no end in sight, honestly, and Laxus might have killed Bickslow that night, he was so charged up from his nearly two month long ordeal at that part, and you know what? Yeah, Bickslow did share some blame in the whole thing. Yes, he was essentially doing as Laxus, just going along to get along, but fuck if it didn’t feel much more like the other guy was betraying him. Them. The whole human race, honestly.

Being around the darkness for so long had muddled Laxus’ sense of right from wrong and whatever happened that night, he;d more than convinced himself wasn’t his fault. Anything that happened from that point forth wasn’t his fault. He was a pawn filled with freewill, but uncertain how to wield it any longer, and this was just the inevitable outcome.

She entered through her window, transforming ins uch a blink of an eye that it would have appeared, were anyone watching something other than Laxus’ pounding his close friend into the ground, as if she came from thin air.

“What,” stopped all motion in the room as she merely stood there, blue eyes not so bright in that moment, “is going on?”

Bickslow was bruised and bloodied, but as Laxus found no words before the woman, the jester did.

“Laxus tried to sleep with Lisanna!”

“The fuck I did.” He got off Bickslow then, eyes dark as he glared over at the youngest Strauss. “She tried to…have her way with me! And then these two burst in-”

“They’re mortals!” Lisanna fell onto the defensive easily. “I can do whatever I wish with them. You don’t get dibs, Mira, on someone you won’t even turn. You-”

“Out.” She really just hit an ungodly octave, the woman did. Breathing harshly through her nose, her eyes fell to Laxus. “Except you.”

Freed had to assist Bickslow in even getting up and he was upset, the other man was, about…about…fuck if Laxus knew, but as Lisanna only sent him a dirty look for some reason, he decided he didn’t care. About any of them.

“Mira,” he tried, but she huffed as the others left, moving passed him and over to her dresser instead. Waiting there was a bottle of her specified brand and, as always, a clean wineglass.

“The only good thing out of the lot of you,” she complained as she poured it for herself, “is Freed.”

“She came onto me. I-”

“If you cannot control them, Laxus, then why should I leave you in charge?”

“Control- She’s a fucking vampire! You’re all fucking vampires! God, why are you all just acting like this is normal shenanigans? It ain’t! Your fucking sister just tried to…to…rape me, fuck, I guess, and then kill me when I didn’t comply. But you’re mad at me?”

She had her back to him and merely took a long sip from her glass before replying, “I’m not mad at anyone. I’m annoyed.”

“I’d really appreciate it, Mira, if you were at least a bit mad at your sister over all this.”

“Lisanna is acting out. Lashing out. It’s normal.”

“Stop calling all of this normal. That’s literally what I just said. Are you not listening to me?”

“I expect,” was all he got back in response, “you to handle yourself while I am gone. I do not want to arrive home to messes.”

“I didn’t try and fuck your sister, Mira. She wanted to fuck me. Are you not the least bit concerned about that? You know, I’ve had to adjust a lot, a whole fucking lot, for your family, and you’re yelling at me because no one said that I would have to be fucking both of you. Is that the game now? I have to fuck your sister too? If that’s what you want, Mira, then-”

“Stop yelling.”

“Is no one going to fucking acknowledge how hard I’m working? Constantly? To figure this shit out? Then your sister just throws herself at me, your brother has been sobbing for days, you’ve been gone, Freed is fucking weird, I don’t even get to see Ever, and Bickslow, fucking Bickslow, won’t shut up about his cats and then comes in here and attacks me for what? Huh? For possibly sleeping with someone who he’s not? What kind of sense does that make? And, by the way, your sister clawed the fuck out of my face. Thanks for asking.”

Mira turned to face him then, fully, lowering her drink down to her side. “My sister doesn’t…want you, Laxus. This will pass. She’s just jealous and threatened. She’s putting you in your place. You denied her. It’s done.”

“I don’t feel like it-”

“Hush.”

“She’s fucking-”

“Hush.”

His lips shut and his jaw felt locked as the woman only went to the bedroom door. Calling for Freed once it was opened, she requested a wet rag and stood there until it was presented to her. Laxus was confused, but she merely locked the door once more before coming over to him.

“Wash yourself. You are covered in both your and his blood,” she said, handing it off to the man who accepted it numbly. “And do not come into my chambers again, if I am not present. And do not look so betrayed. I will speak with Lisanna as well.”

The house met with an uneasy silence then and, as he ran the rag over himself, Laxus was aware of the distraction in the woman. It was written all over her face.

“Why did you go away?”

“A meeting.”

“With…what? Like a meeting between…vampires?” His fears (or was it more of a desire) were coming true. “You all get together and what? Discuss your favorite blood type?”

“I see you’re coming off your anger well.”

“Your sister tried to-”

“But she did not.” She brought the cup to her lips once more after adding, “Get in bed, my love.”

He didn’t want to, not really, but had already pressed his luck with one of the siblings that day. There was a serious doubt it would hold true twice.

When he wasn’t joined, Laxus only snorted, staring over at her. “You must have something major going on, in your little abomination world, huh?”

That did it.

Softly, into her cup, the woman giggled, airy and light.

“You,” she informed him simply, “have no idea.”

Needless to say, the next morning was awkward for Laxus and Bickslow. The acrobats face was all black and blue and his lip was split and oh, wow, there was something a lot more pressing going on.

After avoiding one another for most of the day (if they were honest with themselves, they both mostly slept til noon anyways), it was nearing the time for the siblings to come out of their cellar when it happened. Bickslow found Laxus sitting under a tree outside, listening to his music. In his arms, once more, he clutched one of his little kittens.

“He’s,” the seith told him and he looked more distraught then he did when he thought the boss was bonin’ Lisanna, “sick.”

Laxus could tell. Part of him felt bad for the little guy, who was breathing shallowly and was probably infected with who knew what, considering the conditions under which he was living. This presented another huge problem, of course, that wouldn’t be addressed in that very moment, but as Laxus tried to figure out how he’d delicately break it to Bickslow that, considering the rinky dink village had no vet, they’d probably have to break the kitten’s neck out of pity, he also realized the other kittens were no doubt infected with the illness as well.

“What’s wrong?”

Lisanna was the first into the house, finding the two men sitting down on the entryway floor, the little kitten laid on a towel there as Bickslow gently stroked at his tummy, hoping to soothe any of his pains.

“We’re, uh, wain’ for ya, is all, I guess,” he whispered softly. “Boss is gonna have to…well… You gotta say goodbye to ‘im, kid.”

Her eyes widened, Lisanna did, and she looked tearful as her brother only came to stare down as well. Laxus didn’t feel too comfortable around the other guy yet and thought about ditching out then, giving Lisanna and Bickslow a moment alone with their kitten (and psyching himself up to, you know, kill a defenseless creature; tall talk from a vampire fucker, but that was different), but just as he was rising to his feet, the muscular man was bending down.

“What- Elfman!” Lisanna hit him as he moved to grab the tiny cat in his massive hands. “What are you- No! Mira! Stop him!”

She was the last in the house, Freed faithfully by her side, and frowned at the scene before her. But it was too late for the cat as her brother was already bringing his fangs down into the beast. Bickslow couldn’t help it. He’d been the best sorta prisioner, sort of hire entertainment possible, but this was just too dark for him.

“What the fuck, bro?” he yelled, but Elfman only stood to his feet after retracting his fangs from the neck of the feline.

In all the commotion of the room, they heard a faint, “Meow.”

“I turned him.” Elfman sniffled some as he moved to set the kitten down. “He’ll, uh, never grow up. He’ll be a baby forever. But he won’t die now, Lisanna.”

She was sill down on her knees, wiping at her eyes, but did blink some.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” she whispered softly to herself as the kitten ran off, no doubt to find it’s siblings. “I’m so stupid.”

“You are not.” Mira was walking on then, Freed following. ‘But we are going to have a conversation. Now.”

“Hey, man, with the kid busy,” Bickslow began as Lisanna groaned some, but followed faithfully after her sister, “Elfman, buddy, pal, you think you could, uh, you know…turn all my other kittens?”

“They’d never grow up,” the other man pointed out. “And they would have to come down to the cellar each morning, with us. And they will only drink-”

“Hey, man, as a single father, I’d love to get rid of them for twelve hours a day.”

With the evening’s big hullabaloo already solved, Laxus felt a bit lost in the shuffle. Instead of seeking out Evergreen in Elfman’s absence (who he imagined would be much like Freed; a useless shell that merely made him sad), he went back outside, to the tree he’d sat beneath before, and put his headphones back in.

But he felt it, all the same, when the evening wind picked up, and Laxus didn’t have to stare up at the specific window to know she was there, watching him, glass in hand. Waiting. Thinking. Lurking.

As he leaned back into the tree, ignoring the urge to to her, up in her room, to be with her, he merely shut his eyes and tried to drift away. Pretend he was back home. In his tiny apartment he and Freed shared, just listening to music and thinking about this strange dream he’d been having lately.

A nightmare, really, it was.

#Miraxus #Request #Vampire #AU #Fairy Tail #Fanfiction

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

Text

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 4

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Read on Ao3)

At 10am on Wednesday morning, Dan wakes on AmazingPhil’s sofa. A whirring noise causes him to stir, dragging him out of an unconscious bliss of ignorance to his surroundings. As he props himself up on his elbows, Dan looks around his immediate vicinity, confused. The rush of realisation is quick to strike him, and his arms jellify; he flops back down onto the cushions with a ‘thwump’.

Eyes wide, Dan pulls the colourful, zig-zag patterned blanket over his bare chest. Last night, removing his shirt had seemed logical. Now, he’s painfully aware of the exposed chest and abdomen on show. He’s seen plenty of photos of Phil topless. The comparison between their muscle definition is laughable.

Dan rolls onto his side, scanning the floor for his shirt. He spots it at once, and lunges, pulling it towards him. As soon as he brings it to his nose, the stench of beer, vodka and sweat overwhelms him. He frowns in revulsion, wondering what to do.

Is it worse to confront Phil fucking Lester first thing in the morning while shirtless, or stinking of a hell-shift? Before Dan can decide, Phil strolls into the room, holding two mugs in his hands.

Phil is also shirtless, Dan notes, to his dismay. At least he’s wearing tracksuit bottoms.

“You’re awake!” Phil says, smiling at him. He walks over, placing one of the mugs down onto the coffee table. Dan stares at it; it’s Hello Kitty shaped. “Sorry if the coffee machine woke you up. I can’t function in the mornings without caffeine.”

“Oh, n-no, that’s…” Dan swallows, gazing up into Phil’s eyes. He’s wearing his glasses, and his hair is a bird’s nest. There are the faint etchings of paling pink cover creases across one of his cheeks. “Fine,” Dan breathes.

“I made you a cup,” Phil points out, gesturing to the Hello Kitty mug. “I don’t know how you like it, so I just made it the same as mine, soy milk and two sugars. I hope that’s okay.”

Dan nods, and tries a smile. He doesn’t have sugar in his coffee normally, but he’s hardly going to complain. He should drink it, he thinks, it will probably clear the exhausted fog from his mind.

Phil has moved to sit in the armchair to the right of the sofa. He sips his coffee, legs spread wide as he slumps down into it. He’s gazing intently at his phone. Dan seizes the opportunity, lunging for the Hello Kitty mug while Phil isn’t looking, so that he won’t see the flash of exposed skin peeking out from beneath the quilt.

Dan swallows down a vaguely disgusting gulp. Then another.

“Um, thank you for letting me stay here,” Dan says once he’s sat up a little, the blanket pulled up beneath his armpits. “I must’ve been really tired.”

Phil puts his phone down, smiling over the rim of his cup. “Hey, it’s no problem at all. I just hope it wasn’t too uncomfy on the sofa.”

Dan wants to laugh at that. The sofa is an enormous, deep purple, corner-style affair, with seemingly hundreds of plump, unnecessary cushions, and quite possibly the softest springs Dan has ever encountered. It’s so big that Dan, at six foot, can stretch out fully with room to spare.

He directs his smirk into Hello Kitty’s hollow head. “Not at all,” he says politely.

“So, what can I get you?” Phil asks brightly, sitting up in his chair. “Breakfast? Clean clothes? A shower?”

Dan has to admit, the lure of being clean is tempting. Not to mention the chance to sneak a peek at more of Phil’s flat.

“A shower would be amazing,” Dan says, wincing a little; he hates feeling like a burden.

“They do call me AmazingPhil for a reason.”

Dan laughs. “I thought you nicknamed yourself that because you wanted to be first in the alphabet for everything.”

The comment slips out before Dan can think it through. It’s an instinctual reflex, to reel off his AmazingPhil knowledge to anyone that will listen to him ramble on about the guy. In hindsight, Phil himself is probably not the person to ramble to.

A silence hangs in the air for a minute, during which time Dan tries to persuade any entity listening to allow the enormous sofa to swallow him up whole. Then, Phil laughs, a little awkwardly.

“Yeah, but I’m still amazing,” he says, and Dan relaxes, a little. “The shower’s down the hall, I’ll show you.”

Phil drains his coffee and jumps to his feet. He looks at Dan expectantly, and Dan realises he’s going to have to emerge, shirtless, from beneath the blanket, in order to follow him. Cringing already, Dan opts for a slow reveal, looking steadfastly away from Phil, cheeks burning. He stands, arms crossed over his chest, and waits for Phil to lead the way.

As Dan follows him through the flat, Phil chatters about something Dan can barely listen to, insecurity overwhelming him completely. He stops outside a door and pushes it open, then turns to Dan.

“Just use anything in there,” Phil tells him. “Towels, shampoo, shower gel. Maybe not the toothbrush?” Phil laughs. “But then again I’ll probably never know if you did.”

He winks, sending Dan’s stomach crashing to the floor, and then leaves Dan to it. Unsurprisingly, Phil’s shower is one of those alien spacecraft types, with a touch screen panel to operate it, different pressure settings, and a built in radio. Dan accidentally turns the radio on as he’s attempting to figure it out, and Phil’s Spotify playlist ‘Shower Time’ comes on. The first song is ‘My Heart Will Go On’. Dan laughs at this, manages to switch it off, and eventually gets the shower to a relatively normal temperature.

Phil’s shampoo is melon flavoured, and his body wash is something called ‘s’mores ‘n’ mores’. Dan’s not used to smelling so sweet, but he appreciates the pleasant, syrupy aromas as he massages the various substances into his skin and hair. As he’s scrubbing himself, his mind wanders, and the thought drifts into his brain that he’s currently standing in the same spot Phil does every morning. Every day, Phil Lester steps into this very shower cubicle, naked as Dan stands now, and rubs the same gels across his body.

Dan quickly loses concentration, and slips, yelping as he struggles not to fall on his bare ass. He manages to stay upright by clinging onto the faucet. As he regains his balance, there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh, are you okay, Dan?”

Flushing, Dan pokes his head out of the cubicle. “Y-yeah, I’m fine! Sorry, I slipped.”

There’s an unmistakable chuckle. “Okay. I thought I’d throw your clothes in the wash if you want? You can borrow something of mine in the meantime.”

Dan chews his lip, deliberating. While he really doesn’t want to go through the whole debacle of borrowing more clothes from Phil, it’s a mildly horrifying thought to step out of the shower and pull on his smelly, damp work shirt.

He resolves that this will be the very last time. “That’d be great actually, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Phil says cheerily, and then, somehow, the bathroom door is opening.

Dan squeaks, ducking back into the cubicle. The glass is opaque with steam, but Dan can’t help feeling ridiculously exposed nonetheless. He can hear Phil walking across the tiled bathroom floor, humming away as if it’s perfectly normal.

“I’ll just grab them,” Phil is saying. Dan just presses himself against the one wall that isn’t glass, watching Phil’s blurry outline move through the room towards the sink where Dan’s clothes are. “I’ve left you a t-shirt and some jogging bottoms on the side.”

“Thanks,” Dan says meekly, heart hammering.

Just before he leaves, Phil seems to pause. “It smells really good in here.”

“Yeah,” Dan says. The thunder of the shower against the floor is deafening. “You’ve got good taste in shampoo.”

There’s another pause, and then Phil is moving closer to the glass. Dan wants to hide, to curl up away from him; Phil almost definitely can’t see any defining features of Dan’s body, but still, it’s mortifying to think that Phil Lester, the literal model, might be able to see any of his unshapely, naked form. A hand, or what looks like a hand, reaches out towards the glass.

Rivulets of water trickling over his stricken face, Dan watches as Phil’s finger trails through the condensation, drawing a smiley face.

“There’s more coffee when you’re done,” Phil says softly, and then he’s gone, closing the door behind him.

Dressed in Phil’s clothes, sitting on Phil’s sofa, drinking Phil’s coffee. Perhaps he never woke up, Dan can’t help but think.

“...but that’s my mum for you, she’s obsessed with RuPaul’s Drag Race,” Phil finishes. Dan’s only half-listening, distracted as he is by the way the Sunnydale High t-shirt Phil gave him clings to his damp skin.

He’s seen Phil wearing this t-shirt in various photos in the past. It’s always looked slightly too small for him, the sleeves straining around his thick arm muscles, the hem riding just a smidge too high on his abdomen. It hangs loose over Dan’s concave stomach, and his poor excuse for a chest. His arms thread like noodles through the same sleeves.

“She really tried to get you to audition?”

Phil laughs, his signature tongue-poke laugh. “Yeah, I’m not sure she really gets the concept of the show… but she loves it anyway.”

“It’s cute that she’s supportive,” Dan says. Phil laughs, nodding.

“She means well.” Phil sighs, draining the last of his coffee. “Another cup?”

Dan nods, though he knows he should refuse. Phil stands from the sofa, and for some reason Dan stands too, following Phil towards the kitchen at one end of the spacious, open plan room. As they walk, Dan takes the opportunity to peer around at his surroundings. Phil’s flat is gorgeous, with lots of wide spaces and natural light, though it’s sparsely decorated. There are still boxes of stuff laying around, as he has only been here for a couple of months. Inside them, Dan spots a variety of colourful decorations, some of which he recognises from Phil’s old place; he used to film Instagram stories in his last flat a lot, so Dan can easily pick out the Tetris lamp Phil used to have on his mantelpiece, and the framed Studio Ghibli posters he had mounted on his bedroom walls.

As Phil pours them more coffee, Dan leans against the breakfast bar, watching him. It’s only as Phil places a second mug before him that Dan remembers something.

He steps backwards before he can stop himself, cheeks flaming. At first, Phil seems surprised, but his expression quickly melts into a smirk. He leans casually against the breakfast bar, sipping coffee with an amused expression.

“Everything ok?”

Fighting the urge to splutter and embarrass himself further, Dan just shrugs his shoulders. “Thought I recognised this spot,” he mutters.

A couple of weeks ago, Phil had posted a particularly risqué photo. Dan remembers it well, for obvious reasons, as Phil had been completely naked. He’d covered the more intimate parts of his body with artfully arranged bed sheets, but it had been a memorable image nonetheless. In the photo, Phil had been sprawled out on a breakfast bar, his chest covered with berries and other fruits, as well as an array of croissants, cornflakes, and other breakfast foods. The caption, if Dan remembers correctly, had been: ‘I’ll even make you breakfast after…’.

In the hours after receiving that notification, Dan had found himself rather… occupied.

“I promise I’ve cleaned it since,” Phil says knowingly, a glimmer in his eye.

Dan just avoids his gaze, cheeks burning.

“Who took the photo?” Dan reaches for his coffee with shaky fingers, careful not to touch the surface of the marble top lest he combust on the spot.

Phil is quiet for a moment, taking another sip. “Charlie.”

Dan forces himself not to grimace at the news. “Oh.”

“We often take each other’s photos if we hang out,” Phil says, shrugging. “We have to post things about three times a day, more or less. So, we hang out, and snap each other doing some random stuff. It’s just easier to have someone else do it for you, especially if they know your angles.”

Dan nods, pretending to understand. In reality, he doesn’t quite see how having Charlie there to take photos as they ‘hang out’ equates to Phil posing stark naked on a countertop covered in delicious food. Maybe he’s missing something, but to him, that seems a little different to simply ‘hanging out’.

“Y’know, I should… probably get going soon,” Dan says, feeling very awkward all of a sudden.

The image of Phil, reclining on this very surface, has suddenly become tainted somehow. He kind of wishes he’d never asked who took the photo.

Bizarrely, Phil’s face drops into one of sincere disappointment at Dan’s news. “Really? But your clothes aren’t dry yet.”

“Right,” Dan says, fidgeting. “Um…”

He’s not sure what to do. He feels he’s overstayed his welcome already, but he doesn’t want to run off in Phil’s clothes again.

“Do you have work later?”

“No,” Dan admits. “It’s my day off, actually.”

“So stay!” Phil beams. “I mean… you don’t have to,” he laughs, seeming awkward. “I don’t want to keep you prisoner. But I have Mario Kart, and DVD’s, and nothing to do all day… we can order pizza and hang out? At least until your clothes are ready.” Phil twirls the cup in his hands. “Y’know, if you want.”

There’s a tug in Dan’s chest, and he almost groans. Life is tempting him, cruelly. He looks around himself, trying to decide. The bare walls and unpacked items suddenly seem a little sad. He wonders if, since moving down to the coast from Manchester, Phil has had the chance to make any friends.

“Sure,” Dan blurts, his heart pushing the words from his mouth before his brain can regulate them. “But uh… I will wreck you at Mario Kart. Just a warning.”

“Oh, really?” Phil smirks, leaning towards Dan across the breakfast bar. His bicep muscles flex, subtly, throwing the image of him sprawled, naked and seductive, right here, back into Dan’s exhausted brain. “Well, I guess we’ll have to see about that.”

Dan ends up staying all day. He stresses that he doesn’t want to impose on Phil, but if anything Phil seems keen for Dan to remain right where he is, so he does. They order Dominos, they drink copious amounts of Ribena, and Dan, as promised, destroys Phil over and over again at Mario Kart.

At six in the evening, Phil finally admits defeat. “Okay, okay, I submit! I throw my flag down at your feet, Dan. You are the King of Mario Kart.”

“Damn straight.”

“I hope not.”

Dan looks at Phil, blushing faintly. “What?”

“Wouldn’t be great to work at a gay bar if you’re weren’t gay, I imagine,” Phil explains, winking. He stands from the pile of cushions they’d placed on the floor next to his sofa, gathering the pizza boxes.

“Oh.” Dan nods to himself. “Right, yeah, I guess that’d be pretty sucky.”

Phil shoots him a dazzling smile, then takes all the boxes to the kitchen. “So how’d you get so good at Mario Kart?”

Dan opens his mouth, about to explain that it’s simply a matter of holing oneself up in one’s room and playing the game for hours at a time, without breaks, until one’s eyes are bleeding, and one’s butt has lost all feeling.

Before he can get these words out however, the buzzer sounds. Phil’s face instantly drops, and he throws a vaguely worried frown towards it.

He looks over at Dan, apologetic. “Hang on.”

Dan just smiles, sipping Ribena. He watches Phil cross the room to the door, where the buzzer is.

“Hello?” Phil says into it.

“It’s me, let me up.”

The voice is indistinct, and Dan can’t quite hear properly. Phil, on the other hand, seems to recognise it at once. He sighs, turning to glance over his shoulder briefly, at Dan.

After a moment, he presses a button, albeit reluctantly. He turns back to Dan, grimacing. “It’s Charlie,” he says. “Sorry. He has a tendency to drop by unannounced.”

“Oh,” Dan says, his heart sinking. He glances down at himself, cheeks growing warm. “Should I… change?”

Phil’s brow creases. “Why would you need to-”

There’s a knock at the door, interrupting Phil’s sentence. Phil goes to open it, and Dan tries to brace himself for yet another awkward, probably unpleasant conversation with Charlie Hickory.

“Ugh, it’s fucking pouring out there,” are Charlie’s first words as he pushes past Phil into the flat. “Seventy euros this hair wax cost me in Milan, and it’s ruined by a splash of-”

He stops short, halfway through unwinding the scarf from around his neck. His eyes are fixed on Dan, who has remained, rigid and unmoving, on the floor beside Phil’s sofa, mug in hand.

“Hi,” Dan offers.

“The fuck is he doing here?” Charlie mutters, whipping off his scarf and throwing it onto the couch.

“Charlie, for God’s sake, could you at least pretend to be nice?” Phil asks in an unusually cross voice.

Charlie rolls his eyes. He flops down onto the sofa, lengthways, and kicks off his shoes. They land beside Dan, nearly knocking into his shoulder.

“Fine,” Charlie says. “Dan, is it? Hi. What are you doing in Phil’s flat?” Charlie’s eyes narrow, and he sits up, squinting at Dan. “And in his fucking clothes.”

Charlie’s head whips round to face Phil, who is stood, awkwardly, in the middle of the room.

“Did you fuck him?”

“Charlie, for Christ’s sake-”

“No,” Dan says, quickly. “No, he didn’t- we didn’t-” he pauses, trying to gather himself. “I just stayed here. On the sofa. And Phil washed my work clothes. So I’m borrowing his for a bit.”

Charlie settles back down into the sofa cushions. “Figures. Any excuse to whip his top off for a randomer.”

“I was just heading off, actually,” Dan says, deciding he’s had enough.

“You don’t have to,” Phil pipes up, meekly, though from his awkward stance, it’s clear he thinks it’s probably for the best as well.

“No, really,” Dan insists. “I need to go home at some point, luxurious as this little one night holiday from reality has been.”

Phil nods sadly, sending Dan a small smile. Dan stands, wobbling slightly; it’s been a while since he moved from this spot. He makes his way over to Phil, very aware that he’s being watched closely. He hands his half-empty mug back to Phil, returning the smile.

“Thanks for all the coffee and pizza,” Dan says. “And for letting me stay on your sofa.”

“Anytime,” Phil says, making Charlie mutter something under his breath. “It was really fun. Even though you wiped the floor with me at Mario Kart.”

“Hah, yeah… well, if you ever fancy your luck at a rematch.”

“Might have to hold you to that.”

“So,” Dan says, shifting from foot to foot. Phil just stares at him, obviously not getting why Dan isn’t already moving towards the door. “Um… my clothes?”

“Oh!” Phil exclaims, practically jumping on the spot. “Sorry, I totally forgot. I’ll be right back.”

Dan wants to grab hold of him, to wrap his arms around Phil’s waist and beg him not to leave the room, to leave him alone with the man he possibly would least want to be alone with on the planet, but he doesn’t get a chance. Not that he would ever deem himself worthy of locking his arms around Phil Lester.

Slowly, Dan swivels back towards Charlie, who is regarding him with one eye open, an arm behind his head. Dan scrambles for something to say, but as usual, Charlie gets there first.

“He’s out of your league, you know.”

“Oh, um, I’m not trying to…”

“Not trying to… worm your way into his life? Parade around in front of him in his clothes and make him lust over your non-existent little ass?”

Dan shuts his mouth, already fuming.

“Look, Dan,” Charlie sighs, smirking as his eyes close. “Phil’s the kind of guy who just… can’t say no to a puppy-dog face, y’know? A heart of gold and all that. He’ll crawl down into the gutters to help someone he feels sorry for. But that’s why he needs me, to stop him from lowering himself too far into the muck.”

“How noble of you,” Dan says, voice grating. “Must be hard for you to reach into the gutter for Phil’s hand. Wouldn’t want you to mess up your seventy euro quiff.”

Charlie’s eyes narrow, and he opens his mouth to retort, but at that moment, Phil wanders back in, a pile of clothes in his hands. Fury still coursing through his veins, Dan stalks over to Phil and takes the load from him, too angry to stay here a minute longer. He grabs his shoes and jacket, his quick movements obviously startling Phil, who just watches with wide eyes.

“I’ll bring your clothes back to the bar, Phil,” Dan says through gritted teeth. “Come get them whenever. See you.”

He yanks open Phil’s door and steps out into the hall, not bothering to put on his shoes and jacket. He slams it shut behind him, marching to the elevator. It’s not until the doors slide shut behind him, sealing him away from the scene, that Dan allows himself to breathe.

To: Phil From: Dan hey. im really sorry for storming out tht was so rude. i had a great time and thanks sm for having me. if u decide to talk to me ever again, i’ll be at the bar. x

Dan hits send before he can think his way out of it, then strips off Phil’s clothes, and crawls into bed. It’s only eight-thirty, but Dan has had enough of today already. There’s something about Charlie. The guy knows exactly how to piss him off.

He reaches for his charger, about to plug his phone in, when it buzzes in his hand. He takes a deep breath before looking, not sure he’s going to like the response.

To: Dan From: Phil hey dw about it!! im sorry if i did something to upset u. or if anyone else did something… xx

Dan sighs, head flopping back against the pillows. Charlie was right about one thing; Phil truly does have a heart of gold, it would seem. Just then, another text pops through.

To: Dan From: Phil i had a really great time too! i’ll totally be coming in to the bar soon :) maybe tomorrow? xx

A slice of panic swoops through Dan’s chest; he sits upright.

To: Phil From: Dan oh, maybe not tomorrow… theres an event on every fourth thursday x

To: Dan From: Phil im intrigued… what sort of event? more bingo? xx

To: Phil From: Dan it’s a charity auction x

To: Dan From: Phil what’s up for auction? xx

To: Phil From: Dan it’s a ‘servant’ auction. so people sign up, then others bid for them lol x

To: Dan From: Phil Sounds fun! I’ll be there xx

Oh, God. Dan chews his lip, trying to picture this. On one hand, Phil is probably open minded enough to enjoy this stupid charity event and all the ridiculousness that goes along with it. On the other, he’ll have to watch Dan auctioning off the scantily clad idiots that sign themselves up for it.

To: Phil From: Dan haha… ok. just prepare urself. its a lot. x

To: Dan From: Phil i have a question though. xx

To: Phil From: Dan yes? x

To: Dan From: Phil where do i sign up? ;) xx

(Part Five!)

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #dan and phil #bartender au

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taaroko · 6 years

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Post-IW MCU Rewatch: Thor: The Dark World

Yay more Thor! (Yes I know this is widely considered to be the worst of the MCU movies and I DO NOT CARE. *hugs entire population of Asgard possessively*)

This prologue is ridiculous. I don’t know if it’s Anthony Hopkins’s inflection or if it’s just a step too far in the high fantasy direction, but it does make me cringe a bit. More showing, less telling! The prologues in the LotR movies were way more interesting than this.

The Dark Elf language also makes me cringe. I am very aware that it’s preposterous to assume that people from different planets speak English, but what’s most important to me is that actors cannot deliver nuanced performances when they are speaking gibberish. At least when it’s real languages, someone can coach them on inflection and stuff, but they really hamstrung Christopher Eccleston by making him say these silly-sounding lines.

Malekith has no imagination if the only thing he could think to do with the Reality Stone was turn stuff into dark matter.

“Benevolent god” indeed. Sending the Chitauri to slaughter people doesn’t really fit that description, sweetie.

Seriously Anthony Hopkins’s delivery is really weird in some places.

Odin is now three for three on children who showed scary genocidal tendencies, so I think there’s a lot of bitterness and feelings of failure behind what he says to Loki. Also Loki’s not showing any remorse at all, even though now would be a great time to explain that he was tortured and manipulated by Thanos. They’re both getting defensive and lashing out instead of engaging in meaningful communication.

Hi Sif! Hi Volstagg! HI THOR! He has such good entrances. Hi Fandral and Hogun! (Even if this is Zachary Levi Fandral with his stupid wig.)

The weapons the raiders are using are really interesting.

Hey I wonder if this Kronan knows Korg.

I love Thor’s smile when all the raiders laugh at his “I accept your surrender.”

*dreamy sigh* Asgard.

HUGIN AND MUNIN! And one actually lands on Odin’s arm! That’s awesome.

Odin ships Thor/Sif. (Me too, Odin.)

Obligatory shirtless Thor scene!

Volstagg and his family! *wibble*

Oh Sif. Rejected. (But Thor’s pretty nice about it.)

Jane is really quite socially awkward, isn’t she? Why did she go on this date?

It says something about how bad of a driver Jane is (hitting Thor, nearly driving off the road) that she would trust Darcy to drive her around (I guess Darcy’s record is slightly better, having only hit Thor once, while they were in the middle of a dust cloud).

“Why’re you calling me?” “I didn’t want to shout.”

Portals! Whee! (Honstly the portal shenanigans are one of the big reasons I love this movie. This crap is so much fun.)

I love the way Darcy wiggles her hand when she says “Gimme your shoe.”

Okay so the Dark Elves are set to wake up if the Aether gets activated? Headcanon time. Judging from all the creepy red lights in their ships, I think they used the Aether to make most of their tech, much like Schmidt did with the Tesseract. So yeah, if the Aether gets activated, their tech would react. That works.

Heimdall’s new armor has an orange stone in the breastplate. I thought he was gonna turn out to be the one who had the Soul Stone, and that it was the source of his infinite sight. ...I’m pretty sure I still like that better than what we ended up with in canon. Also, I only noticed this the other day, but Heimdall’s helmet is shaped the same as Hofund’s hilt, and that’s awesome.

Heee, I love Thor and Heimdall’s chat. I definitely believe that Thor would describe Heimdall as his best friend.

Whoops! Continuity error. Jane should not be in her Asgardian outfit yet. I guess they decided to move this bit to this part of the movie instead of later, but didn’t reshoot it.

Did Thor make this storm or is that just London being London? He does make it stop, I guess.

Sorry guys, Thor already has that dark strand of stuff in his hair; it’s not a Loki memorial braid.

Thor and Darcy’s interactions are always gold.

You sliced off part of that car!

Oh, question answered from before. You CAN see space rushing past from inside the Bifrost. Sweet.

Hi Eir! The Soul Forge is so cool.

Jane takes Odin’s rudeness pretty well. But dang, Odin. I know you ship Thor/Sif, but being mean to the competition is an elementary mistake.

That book is freaking awesome. It’s like the Book of Kells, except the images move and it’s in runes.

Dangit I don’t want the bad guys to be the ones who touch foreheads to show affection!

I really don’t like this look for Frigga. That one-boob breastplate is really weird.

The emotion in Loki’s scene with Frigga’s projection is so great. He wants to sever ties with Odin (or he thinks he does) but he can’t do that without severing ties with Frigga too, and you can see how much it hurts him to say anything that would hurt her. Which he plainly instantly regrets. And it’s the last thing he ever says to her.

Yessss more romantic exposition from Thor.

Hahaha, Jane is so much more shy around Frigga than Odin.

Man the way the Kursed dude kills people is really messed up.

Loki you would not be smiling at this dude if you knew he was going to do much more than cause a bit of mischief.

Thor jumping and grabbing Mjolnir is such a cool shot.

“It’s only because I’ve worried over you that you have survived.” Based on how Odin behaves as soon as she’s dead, that is extremely accurate.

Heimdall is so awesome. Oh, and I love the way the Dark Elves’ ships look almost like they’re made of dragon hide or something. Dragon hide or lava rock. Fantastic design. Fantastic movements.

This movie has so much more of Asgard in it than the first one, which is awesome. Even if it’s mostly getting pummeled by Dark Elves.

Those black hole grenades are freaking terrifying.

Yeah...if Loki hadn’t given that tip about the stairs to the left, the Kursed dude wouldn’t have arrived in time to help Malekith before Frigga finished him off, or before Thor and Odin arrived. :/

Frigga’s funeral is beautiful. The music, however, has been somewhat retroactively ruined by that play in Ragnarok. (Which I adore.)

Even if Loki doesn’t know how much his actions specifically contributed to Frigga’s death, I think he regrets helping the Kursed dude.

Hi Stan!

Dang, Asgardian law is crazy strict if Thor and the Warriors Three are casually talking about being killed by Einherjar if they screw up this plan.

This is so sad, because Loki actually doesn’t betray Thor at any point during this mission. He makes up for it by being incessantly irritating (which is the best stuff in the movie), but he sticks to the plan the whole time. The only one he betrays in this whole movie is Odin.

Okay the dagger/handcuffs trick by Thor is funny and all, but it really doesn’t hold up if you think about it. You’d definitely notice the difference between being handed a dagger and having thick cuffs put on.

Sif is very good at not letting her jealousy show too clearly. And her sword is awesome. Her and Volstagg’s threats to Loki are pretty great.

Peak annoying little brother stuff right here, when they’re in the Dark Elf blade ship. My favorite is “Oh dear. Is she dead?”

So Thor has the “face squashed against glass motif,” and I think Loki has a falling motif. Into the abyss in the first one, out of the ship in this one, and through whatever dimension Doctor Strange trapped him in in Ragnarok.

The flying longboats are so cool.

I love how much Loki likes it whenever Thor gets the better of him with sneakiness. He’s so used to Thor just smashing his way through stuff, so any subtlety he uses (especially when it’s successful against him) is fantastic in his book.

“Ta-dah.”

“What I could do with the power that flows through those veins.” I would love to see what Loki could do with the Aether. He’s already a master of illusions, and the Reality Stone would multiply that by about a thousand. It’d be awesome. And yet he sent it off to Knowhere instead of keeping it (or giving it to Thanos). Just like he kept the Tesseract safe in Asgard’s vault the entire time he was pretending to be Odin. If Loki had really done everything he did in Avengers of his own free will while in his right mind, he would not have gone to such lengths to keep multiple Infinity Stones away from Thanos. Heck, he might even have been the one to commission Stormbreaker from Eitri. I suppose he didn’t use the Stones himself because he knows as well as Thor does how deadly they can be to the wielder, or maybe he knew they’d draw Thanos to him like a beacon.

Thor thinks Loki wants to hurt him because he’s talking about Jane’s mortality, but Loki thinks Thor only cares about Jane and not the fact that their mother just died. They’re so bad at understanding each other.

The bittersweet smiles they exchange after “She wouldn’t want us to fight.”/“Well, she wouldn’t exactly be shocked.” are so painful to watch. They both desperately miss the days before any of this happened, when they were simply brothers, and I think they realize that about each other in this moment. But it’s not enough to fix everything, which is why Thor says “I wish I could trust you” and Loki says “Trust my rage.”

Ian is such a dope.

If a flock of starlings burst up through the ground at my feet like that, I would be scarred for life.

Thor’s plan is awesome. I totally fell for it in the theater. I thought Loki had double-crossed him and chopped his hand off, but they were working together the whole time. I kinda don’t think they let Jane in on it, though. Is the lack of blood on Thor’s arm stump a mistake or a hint that it’s a trick? *rewinds and squints* Ooh, no, it’s because the dagger has a glowy energy field on it! Insta-cauterization! Anyway, this would’ve been the perfect time for Loki to betray Thor for real if he’d wanted to, but he plays along. In part, I think, because he was so impressed with the plan.

Hey guys, even when Loki’s pretending to be a traitor, he doesn’t call himself Laufeyson. STOP CALLING HIM LAUFEYSON IN YOUR TAGS. Also his knife-fighting is awesome.

The Kursed dude’s eyeballs getting sucked out of their sockets was NOT a necessary detail to include.

“You fool, you didn’t listen!” What does Thor mean? What did Loki not listen to? Did Thor tell him that he was only supposed to protect Jane, not him?

Okay so I’m really not sure what the deal is with Loki’s fake death here. I have a couple different theories.

Theory 1: Loki really did get stabbed and really did believe he was dying. After Thor and Jane left to seek shelter from Thor’s uncontrollable grief storm, Loki reverted to his true form (because, dying) and that actually saved his life because Kursed blood isn’t as deadly to the Jotnar as it is to the Aesir, or his vital organs aren’t in the same place anymore, or something. So he was able to heal himself and take advantage of the situation.

Theory 2: Loki never intended to betray Thor, but he always intended to fake his death, both as a way of escaping prison and of avoiding Thanos’s retribution. So as soon as he finished off those four Dark Elves, he turned one of their corpses into a copy of himself and puppeteered it over to stab the Kursed dude and get theatrically killed. It would explain why the Loki who gets stabbed only has a Dark Elf sword and a black hole grenade on him.

I lean more towards theory 1 because I don’t really like the idea that Loki would trick Thor into thinking he was dead the day after their mother died, and also because when they filmed it, they actually meant for this to be Loki’s real death scene, and they only changed it later because test audiences didn’t believe Loki was dead. However, if I put aside my emotions, I have to admit that theory 2 makes more logical sense.

Would Malekith have found the Aether sooner if it hadn’t gotten into Jane? The movie implies pretty strongly that Malekith woke up because the Aether was out of its hiding place.

Mjolnir on the coat hook is such a great gag.

The elevator in Malekith’s ship looks like a spinal column, which is some fantastic design.

Thor’s battle trash talk is always delightful.

PORTAL SHENANIGANS. YESSSSSS.

Poor Mjolnir. It’s trying so hard to get back to Thor. I like to think that when it shatters the glass of that building on its way back up, it’s doing so in frustration.

Hi Jotunheim!

So apparently this isn’t remotely how you get to Greenwich from Charing Cross. Whoops. Maybe that girl was just really flustered at being addressed by Thor and gave him crap directions?

Jane really likes trying to throw herself between an unconscious Thor and a thing that she thinks might kill him.

POETRY. Malekith tried to destroy the Asgardian army by dropping his fleet on them. Now he gets killed by his own ship falling on him.

How’d Loki know about Thor’s line to Odin “There will never be a wiser king than you”?

“I can assure you, it will be absolutely safe here in my collection.” LIAR.

It’s so cool that Chris’s wife is the one who played Jane in the end credits scene. I’m not sure how they failed to do this kiss scene with Natalie in the first place, but whatever.

Every time Thor’s about to show up somewhere in this movie, there’s thunder. :D

Okay so the biggest problems with Thor: The Dark World are that Malekith is the dullest villain in the entire MCU and that Thor kinda doesn’t have a character arc. In a movie where half of his family dies (as far as he knows). How is that even possible? Despite the beautiful funeral, Frigga’s death was really kind of glossed over, and then Loki seemingly dies too, but even though those are very powerful scenes while we’re in them, they don’t leave much of an impact on the rest of the movie. You don’t really feel those losses in the way Thor fights Malekith. Thor should’ve been struggling to stick to the plan instead of just whaling on Malekith blindly with Mjolnir. He should’ve had some breakdown with Jane there to witness it and comfort him. Instead he’s the one comforting Jane when she blames herself for all the loss he’s suffered? No no no. He should’ve either been very emotional, very bent on revenge, or smiling and joking through the pain like he does in Ragnarok and Infinity War. This stoicism is not effective, and it probably contributes to so many people’s (mistaken) belief that, prior to Ragnarok, Thor was a boring character. And Malekith’s side of the battle would’ve been better if it had been personal for him too. He could’ve been more upset at the death of his buddy Algrim, or maybe he had family members who were killed by Bor, which is why he’s so keen on killing members of Asgard’s royal family now. It would’ve been so easy to make this an emotionally intense fight. Instead, it’s merely fun because portal shenanigans. *shrug*

Despite not having much of an arc, Thor is still wonderful. He’s funny, he’s more thoughtful and wise than he’s ever been, he’s gallant, he’s romantic, and he’s getting better and better at working as part of a team and finding solutions besides smashing stuff. Also he makes the best entrances, has awesome armor, and is mesmerizing to watch in battle. I adore him.

Other stuff this movie has going for it. So much more Asgard screentime, even if they cut a few scenes I wish they’d left in. The music is still great. Everything looks gorgeous, and the Dark Elves at least have interesting technology and costumes. No Dutch angles. Plenty of screentime for Heimdall. Every single second of Thor and Loki’s scenes together, being obnoxious bros to each other but still working as a very effective team (heralding all the excellent contentious Brodinson stuff to come in Ragnarok).

#thor the dark world #mcu marathon #thor #loki #infinity war spoilers #kinda

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not-a-perfect-metaphor · 6 years

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One Summer Day (weecest) pt.1

This is a 4-part story, with parts 1 & 2 being posted right now, one after the other, and the last 2 parts being posted soon. Sam is 16, and the story as a whole is VERY explicit, but parts 1 and 2 work as a stand-alone if you only enjoy moderately explicit weecest, so...yeah! Tagged with “one summer day” if you ever need to search for parts.

Off we ride!

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One Summer Day, pt.1

The sand was hot and scratchy against Sam’s back as he stared up into the part of the sky where dark-blue turns to lighter-blue, squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun and tapping his heel to the beat of the song playing too loudly through his headphones.

Dean suddenly loomed over him, shadowing out the light as he bent to a crouch next to Sam with the curl of one of his charming smiles playing around the corners of his mouth, saying something that Sam couldn’t hear and looking like sheer God silhouetted against the sun, all bare muscle and jaw-line and flashing eyes that always made Sam feel a bit like collapsing at the center.

Sam tugged his headphones out of one ear, propping himself up onto his elbows and grinning at his big brother in return, his mouth too-dry in that way it usually was these days when Dean was so solidly in his personal space, and of course this afternoon he was shirtless, too...which was just…

Not fair.

“Wha-what was that?” Sam finally asked, remembering that Dean was still waiting for him to respond to something, “I didn’t, uh, headphones-“

He gestured toward the CD player resting on his bare stomach, and Dean chuckled, grabbing the freed earbud and holding it up to listen while Sam protested in annoyance.

“Huh, looks like I rubbed off on you, after all, Sammy,” he murmured, bobbing his head playfully to The Unforgiven II before tossing the bud back onto Sam’s chest and tousling his hair, “Come on. I met some people. They invited us over for the afternoon, and since Dad won’t be back until tonight, I figured why not, right?”

Sam threw him a small frown at this news, averting his eyes and fumbling aimlessly with the tie on his shorts, his stomach clenching up in what had become an all-too familiar way during the past couple of years.

“What people?” he asked, sounding more sullen than he would have liked and quickly adding, “I mean…whoever they are, they invited you, not me, so it doesn’t really matter, anyway. Why don’t you just go? I’ll walk back to the motel later.”

Dean scoffed at that, rolling his eyes and easing himself down into a cross-legged sit, glancing over his shoulder and signaling something to someone before turning back to Sam.

“Hey, they invited both of us,” he said softly, tacking on another one of his dazzling smiles and pressing the back of his hand to Sam’s heated forehead, “Wouldn’t it be nice to get out ‘a this damn sun somewhere besides that grimy motel room? There’s air-conditioning!”

He winked, flip-flopping Sam’s stomach, heaving himself to his feet again and reaching for Sam’s hand after brushing the loose sand from the backs of his thighs.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. You’ll like ‘em!”

Sam pretended to sigh in exasperation, despite having immediately known that he was going to go with his brother, gathering his player and his sunglasses together under one arm before accepting Dean’s haul to a stand and narrowing his eyes at the small crowd of people waving excitedly at Dean from about fifty yards away.

“Yeah, yeah…I guess. Alright, let’s go.”

—————————

“You want a toke?” Mandy asked, pulling a loosely-rolled joint from her shorts pocket and giving it a little shake in Dean’s direction.

Dean quickly glanced at Sam, nervous and unsure, and Sam huffed in real frustration this time, crossing his arms indignantly over his chest.

“Jesus! I’m sixteen, not ten,” he shot back with another eye roll, drawing a tinkling little laugh from one of the other girls on the porch and causing Dean to throw up his arms in defeat before plucking the joint from Mandy’s fingers.

“Christ, ‘course you are, touchy touchy. I mean, uh, what-you…you want some?”

Sam mulled it over for a few seconds, finally deciding that saying no might directly clash with his declaration about not being a kid anymore and giving Dean a little nod, shifting his weight in his chair and feeling anxious about it despite the fact that Dean had smoked for the first time long before sixteen.

“I’ll help him,” Hannah chimed in, hopping up from her rocker and practically skipping across the porch, “He’s a cutie, huh? Good genes, boys. How old you say you were again, cutie?”

Sam coughed, resenting nearly everything Hannah had said (nearly), but before he could reply either way, Dean stepped in front of Hannah dauntingly, widening his stance and bringing one hand down to rest pointedly on her shoulder.

“Sixteen,” he said loudly, overemphasizing both syllables and reddening Sam’s face with embarrassment, “So hands off. Besides, I’LL help him. He’s my brother.”

Sam groaned, palming his face and kicking out at the backs of Dean’s legs with the toe of his sneaker.

“Oh my god!” he protested, half-wanting to disappear and half focusing still on the fact that Hannah, presumably at least an eighteen year old very attractive girl had called him cute, “Dean! I don’t need anyone’s help. It’s not rocket science…jesus.”

Dean laughed at that, patting down over Hannah’s shoulder, now, to ease any tension that might have briefly arisen and giving his head a little shake.

“Suppose you ain’t wrong about that,” he quipped, flicking at his lighter and inhaling a deep drag off the joint, tapping his heel while he held in the smoke before finally breathing it out in Sam’s direction, perfectly O-ing with his mouth to the “oooh”s and “aaah”s of the four girls and privately winking once again at Sam, extending the joint between two fingers and tossing his lighter into Sam’s lap, “your turn, hurry up though and you won’t have to re-light it.”

“I know how to do it, Dean,” Sam lied through another mild glare, too fuzzy from Dean’s second ‘just-for-him’ wink in an hour to really care too much about anything else and sucking in a heavy lungful of harsh smoke that he coughed out immediately in violent fits and starts, much to Dean’s obvious delight.

“Don’t even think it!” Sam warned ominously as soon as he could breathe again, but Dean just crinkled his face into another low chuckle, grabbing the joint delicately from Sam’s fingers and walking it over to Mandy without a word of teasing.

As soon as he was back, though, he leaned down slightly, shielding his mouth with the back of one hand and sprawling against the wall while the girls passed the joint between them through high-pitched giggles.

“I would have been pissed anyway if you’d smoked with someone else for the first time,” he murmured, heating up Sam’s blood in his veins and quickening his pulse while Hannah shrieked out a laugh at something on the other side of the porch, “So…yeah, I dunno-“

He trailed off, his gaze landing on Mandy as she sauntered back in their direction, wriggling her hips provocatively with each step in a way that made Sam suddenly want to hit her.

“Yoo-hoo, no secret telling, boys!” she chimed, sidling in right next to Dean and offering him the joint again, her other hand snaking eagerly around his shoulders, “How you feeling, Sam, huh? Fun, isn’t it?”

She had her head turned toward him, smiling warmly, and he forced himself to smile back, wondering if she could still tell anyway how much he hated her and finding it very difficult to care as a thick, happy, dulling fog crept in around the edges of his mind, brightening all the colors and slowing down his thoughts to an inching crawl that somehow still felt like a lot more than usual happening all at once inside his head.

Well this was…interesting.

Fuck.

It was going to be a very…very interesting afternoon.

——————————

“What’cha lookin’ at?”

Sam startled from his reverie, glancing up from his spot on the couch to lock eyes with Dean, who was SO close…so close…

How had he gotten that close?

“Wha…I…nothing, the, uh, nothing,” Sam stammered, giving his head a little shake and trying to keep his gaze in the appropriate place as it kept trying, instantly and insistently, to pull down to Dean’s mouth.

Dean grinned brightly, sliding in swiftly next to Sam so thoroughly that their legs were pressed flush together from calf to thigh, his arm looping around Sam’s shoulders and his foot actually weaving over to twine together with Sam’s at the ankle in a way he hadn’t done for at least two years.

Sam wondered if Dean even realized he had done it.

“You’re totally hammered, huh?” Dean teased, his face less than two inches away, nudging with his hip and catching Sam’s breath in his throat alarmingly as he tried desperately to remember any tiny segment of the English language.

Settling for just a weak nod and a laugh that sounded far too…something, Sam mentally willed his pulse to quiet, suddenly terrified that…parts of him…might get overexcited in his highly inebriated state and hastily grabbing a throw pillow to shove unceremoniously over his lap, raising Dean’s eyebrows sky-high.

Goddammit…

He hadn’t even considered what covering his crotch with a pillow would connotate.

Fucking weed.

“I…was…”

He broke off, utterly panicked, his forehead sheening over with a light sweat and his thoughts freezing in place uselessly until Dean offered a tentative-

“The girls, huh?” lowering his voice to a barely audible whisper and fixing Sam with an unreadable expression that Sam would have to interpret later, because right now, a response was needed to save this moment from rapidly spiraling out of control.

He tried to laugh again, swallowing thickly afterward and clearing his staticky, dry throat two-too-many times before finally managing to say, “mhm, ye-yeah, uh-huh,” while Dean continued to intently watch him to a degree that seemed unusual.

Was it?

Damn it…he was too high to even keep the question in his head, let alone answer it.

“One in particular?” Dean pressed, glancing around the room swiftly before honing back in on Sam, his thigh seeming to press even more solidly close and his fingers playing with the sleeve of Sam’s t-shirt in a way that drew all of Sam’s nerves together into a tight bundle directly under the touch.

As if on cue, Hannah chose that moment of all moments to pad over to them across the room with Mandy linked to her elbow, and Sam was certain that Dean would ease away from him…would put at least a small crack of space between their bodies, but…he didn’t.

Smiling casually up at the girls and then back down at Sam, he gestured for them to sit, leaning back into the cushion behind him and continuing to twirl the fabric of Sam’s shirt, his fingertips actually pushing slightly beneath the cotton to brush against the bare skin of Sam’s upper arm.

Sam forced air into his lungs, shivering uncontrollably in a way that absolutely couldn’t have gone unnoticed, but Dean just continued talking smoothly to Mandy and didn’t even skip a beat, now blatantly petting at Sam’s skin while asking the girls what kind of music they had, and Sam just…floundered silently…wondering almost hysterically at this point if maybe he was losing his mind.

“Sound good, Sammy?” Dean purred in his direction, about…fuck…something? and Sam, to his horror, couldn’t even seem to muster out a half-assed response this time, just gaping dumbly at Dean like he’d suddenly gone deaf (which he might as well have) and opening his lips around a nonexistent word, his expression somewhere, he knew, between confused and aroused…and glued to his face no matter how intently he tried to scrub it away.

Dean amazingly still didn’t falter, remaining seemingly unphased and segwaying effortlessly back into exchanging light words with both girls despite their curious, stolen glances at Sam…which only further cemented the fact that Dean not acknowledging his sudden inability to function was…weird. It was weird.

But what the hell did it mean?

“-got the hots for my brother, huh? I guess I can live with it.”

Sam bridled, having at least picked up on that particular snippet of the conversation, and Hannah giggled, actually giggled, turning to wink at him behind Dean’s back and spinning more heavy fog through his head like numbing, tingling cotton candy while Dean continued to coo out suggestive little flirts on his behalf.

What was happening??

Suddenly, before Sam could get through even half of one single thought, Dean was moving his arm, pushing between their bodies and behind Sam to curl around his waist, hauling him in toward the center of the couch like he did things like that every day and cocking his head in Hannah’s direction.

“Made you some room over there, babe.”

Sam’s chest constricted around too many confusing neurons firing up all at once in his brain, realizing with certainty now that Dean was trying to set him up with Hannah…right here, right now, and it made no sense, it made fucking negative sense, because this was Dean, and he wouldn’t-…he never-

“Well hi there, cutie.”

Hannah squeezed in on his left, keening toward him immediately with a hazy-eyed smile and draping a warm hand over the back of his neck.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest? Feeling a bit over the moon, so to speak, huh? Mandy’s got the good stuff, that’s for sure.”

She inched even closer while Sam struggled to process, a big part of him urging his logical mind to just shut up and go with it but the other part of him turning his head toward Dean again, who was…who was...fucking god...palming down Mandy’s chest and side-glancing Sam with an expression that made Sam instantaneously hard…achingly hard, his muscles nearly seizing around the unfathomable hottness of being flush against his brother while he was…while he was…while they were-

Jesus…fuck.

“Go ahead, Sammy,” Dean murmured, his voice low and practically dripping with sex, dragging Sam’s stomach nearly into his throat and pulsing his cock painfully under his shorts, “the other two girls just left, have a little fun, yeah?”

Sam actually groaned out loud, trying too late to swallow it down, his arms pricking wildly with goosebumps as he watched Dean’s eyelids flutter undeniably at the sound.

How they had transitioned from Dean practically locking him in an untouchable box and throwing away the key as far as Hannah was concerned to…to this…was utterly beyond all reason, but Sam stopped even trying to work through it all when Hannah moved up against him with a sexy little moan to kiss his neck, sliding him further into Dean and searing him white hot all the way through to his core.

“Fuck,” he managed to grit out, pawing at Hannah’s back and bucking the pillow from his lap to the floor, “fucking…fuck-“

Hannah made pretty little sounds at Sam’s sudden responsiveness, pressing into him from everywhere and sliding her lips up his jaw-line to finally connect with his mouth, her fingers trailing down his arms and one of her thighs moving to drape across his lap, rubbing against the outline of his cock and dragging a deep, rough sound from his chest that he barely even recognized as his own voice.

Sliding his gaze sideways again while Hannah shifted her weight to half-straddle his lap, his breath hitched almost violently to see that Dean was watching him, blatantly, over Mandy’s head…watching him with blown pupils and heavy lids, his mouth actually curled into a silent growl that spiked immediate daggers of lust through Sam’s insides, his cock leaking and straining through a dizzying rush of blood and his teeth clenching around a frantic groan that seemed to drag up and out from his center...primal and hungry and utterly beyond his control to hold back.

There was a sudden flurry of noise from upstairs that Sam could only barely focus on, still reaching for Hannah, reveling in it, trying to touch her everywhere while sneaking glances at Dean, but Mandy was…hushing them, now, practically leaping from Dean’s lap to grab Hannah by her shoulders and signaling in a haze of panic to Dean.

“Shit! It’s my Dad. He’s home early,” she half-mouthed, half-whispered, jerking her head toward the back door leading up to the porch and scrambling to straighten her shirt while Hannah giggled silently.

“You guys gotta go, out that way, c’mon, hurry up, just-shut it, Hannah! Seriously Dean, I can’t get in more trouble and my dad’ll kick your ass if he finds you down here.”

Dean just stared, open-mouthed, for a long moment, presumably trying to re-access the rest of his brain before finally understanding what was being asked of him and jumping up, hiking Sam to a stand by the front of his shirt and herding him toward the door before tossing a loopy grin behind him in Mandy’s direction.

“To be continued,” he murmured, pushing Sam by the small of his back and steering him breathlessly up the stairs and onto the porch.

“Let’s make a run for it, Sammy, come on!”

#weecest #fan fic #fanfic #ficlet #wincest #sam and dean #dean and sam #sam/dean #dean/sam #young sam winchester #young dean winchester #first time #one summer day

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coldphoenix · 6 years

Text

Art trade - Ice Cream

Author’s note:- So this is my half of a trade with @friskyhellspawn. Sorry it took so long to write! I shouldn’t have asked for a trade at the weekend lol ^_^’ My bad. Also it’s longer than I said… I got the idea and it ended up being long, and with the beach setting and the chasing it reminded me of that song Summer Nights from Grease so I decided to turn it into a songfic with that XD I hope it’s okay! I haven’t written a beach fic like this before so um… I hope it isn’t a fail lol. Thank you for trading with me! Yamii belongs to @friskyhellspawn. They drew Frikiza for me here! I love her thank you!! ❤ ❤ ❤

xxxxx

Summer lovin’, had me a blast Summer lovin’, happened so fast I met a girl crazy for me Met a boy cute as can be Summer days drifting away To, uh oh, those summer nights

Yamii bounced along the beach, parading his adorable body for all to see. He loved the summer time! He loved showing off how attractive he was. His feet sank into the soft warm sand as he walked back from his dip in the sea. His skin glistened under the bright sun, droplets of water sparkling upon him like glitter. He looked so good right now!

He made his way over to his towel and lay down across it, closing his eyes to soak in the sun’s rays. He was lying on his front, his tail waving slowly above him, drawing the attention of any suitors who might want to take a closer look at him. Yamii was in the mood for making new friends.

Which was just as well. On the other side of the beach, on top of the deserted cliffs that were far too dangerous for anyone to climb, Cell was standing. He cast his eyes over the beach, watching the hundreds of humans that were enjoying themselves on such a beautifully sunny day. Honestly… Cell was tempted to eat them. He was programmed to absorb weaker life forms, and seeing so many vulnerable and exposed like this made his mouth water and his stinger itch. … But he wouldn’t. He’d told himself. He’d been born with knowledge, programmed into him when he was just a couple of cells in a tube. He knew about beaches, and holidays, and sun and sand… and he knew that people enjoyed it. Now he’d come to see why. He wanted to… experiment. Before he destroyed all life on Earth, he had a small desire to find out what the humans found so great about it. Why exactly did they want their lives to go on? … This seemed like a good place to start. He was going to… mingle. Make friends. Have fun. … Get a holiday romance. That was a thing, wasn’t it? There was a movie he knew about… Cell wasn’t sure if it was something he’d seen since being alive, or if it was knowledge he’d inherited from one of his donors, but there was a movie about summer romance, and a song… Humans met on beaches, didn’t they? They got boyfriends and girlfriends, and they went off and did… whatever boyfriends and girlfriends did. Cell wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go that far, but spending time with someone and not eating them… People did it, right? So while he was experimenting, Cell had decided he would give it a try. There must be something appealing about it. So he put on his sunglasses, and straightened out his shirt. He’d tried to dress the part… He was wearing shorts and a floral patterned shirt. He knew he should probably have the shirt open, but… his body wasn’t like most people’s. He didn’t want to scare his new friends away. It would be much more fun to make them feel safe, and then scare them afterwards. He just hoped his head and wings didn’t put people off… But at the back of his mind, Cell had decided that if someone really took his fancy, he would kidnap them and whatever happened would be up to him. Okay… Well, time to do this. Cell jumped down off the high cliffs, and effortlessly landed on the beach below. A few people noticed him and gasped, immediately running over to see if he was unharmed. How sweet…

Well-a, well-a, well-a, uh! Tell me more, tell me more Did you get very far? Tell me more, tell me more Like does he have a car?

Yamii frowned slightly at the distant sound of screaming. What was all that commotion? It was ruining his mood! He sat up, and looked towards the sound… then he gasped. Who… was that? In the distance, surrounded by people that were trying to examine him, there was… the dreamiest guy! Eeeeeee, that was him! That was Yamii’s new friend! Yamii’s tail started wagging excitedly, his squishy buttocks bouncing off his towel as he struggled to contain himself. He was so handsome it was unbelievable! What was he? He wasn’t a human! Humans really weren’t Yamii’s thing – they were okay, but this guy! This guy was Yamii’s thing! Aaaaaaaa, he wanted him he wanted him he wanted him! Okay, okay, play it cool. Yamii took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, and looked over at the man of his dreams. The humans were fussing over him… Why? Couldn’t they tell he wasn’t interested? He was batting them away and shrugging them off; he looked annoyed. “Leave him alone.” Yamii hissed under his breath. Okay… he had to figure this out. He couldn’t come across too keen – eep! Yamii’s eyes widened and he looked away when the man looked towards him. Yamii hoped he hadn’t been caught staring… He wanted to be chased. His body was a temple, and nobody was getting in for free! No matter how hot they were. He lay back down and resumed sunbathing, pretending not to be interested. This was so exciting…

She swam by me, she got a cramp He ran by me, got my suit damp I saved her life, she nearly drowned He showed off splashing around Summer sun, something’s begun But, uh oh, those summer nights

Over by the cliffs, Cell ignored the humans that were trying to see if he was unharmed. They were annoying him so much he wanted to absorb them just to shut them up! But… he didn’t. Luckily, something distracted him. A most remarkable specimen… Who was he…? In the distance, Cell could see… an icejin, it looked like. Cell recognised the species; they were the same creatures that had contributed to his design. What was an icejin doing here…? Cell was interested. Maybe this could be his experiment… “I know you feel fine, but you should go to a hospital.” One of the humans commented. “Your feet might be damaged under your shoes!” “These aren’t shoes, they’re my feet.” Cell growled, and wandered off towards the icejin. Stupid humans…

Well-a, well-a, well-a, uh! Tell me more, tell me more Was it love at first sight? Tell me more, tell me more Did she put up a fight?

Okay, so how did people do this? Cell watched the icejin from a distance, wondering how to begin. Did they just walk up and ask, or…? Was he supposed to impress him first…? Cell looked around, observing the human couples. Most of the men were shirtless or had their shirts open, and some women were looking at their bodies… So it was a good idea to show off? Hmm… Cell had been reluctant to unbutton his shirt in case he freaked the humans out, but… an icejin wouldn’t be scared, would they? … Well if they got scared, that would just make them more fun to play with. Cell couldn’t lose!

Took her bowling in the arcade We went strolling; drank lemonade We made out under the dock We stayed out ‘til ten o’clock Summer fling don’t mean a thing But, uh oh, those summer nights

Yamii looked up to glance at Cell. Eee, he was taking off his shirt! Wow… he sure was buff. He could probably do some serious damage with those arms… aaaaaa! Yamii’s tail started wagging furiously, and he ended up sitting on it to keep it under control. He hoped Cell hadn’t noticed him going crazy; he still wanted to play hard to get. Yamii yawned and stretched out, showing off his toned body.

Tell me more, tell me more But you don’t gotta brag Tell me more, tell me more ’Cause he sounds like a drag

Cell’s eyes fell upon Yamii’s frame, and he couldn’t help but admire it. What a lovely slender body he had… those hips were extraordinarily wide, though. And for some reason, Cell found them fascinating… Uhh, what was happening…? Cell’s cheeks felt hot. This wasn’t… attraction, was it…? … What was he supposed to do now…?

He got friendly holding my hand Well, she got friendly down in the sand He was sweet, just turned eighteen Well, she was good, you know what I mean Summer heat, boy and girl meet But, uh oh, those summer nights

Yamii glanced at Cell, and for a brief moment they met eyes. Yes! Ooo, he had really nice eyes! Yamii could see from here! Okay… okay! Flirt flirt flirt flirt! Yamii smiled at Cell, and winked at him. Cell looked… surprised. Huh. What was with this guy? Hadn’t he ever been flirted with before? With his face, that was hard to believe. But, Yamii didn’t want to overdo it. So he offered a flirtatious smirk and lay back down on his front, putting his large squishy butt in full view of Cell. His tail waved over it slowly, and Yamii tried not to scream in excitement when he felt Cell’s eyes on him. Eeeeeeeeee!

Tell me more, tell me more How much dough did he spend? Tell me more, tell me more Could she get me a friend?

Cell tilted his head slightly as he watched Yamii’s tail. What did that mean…? Why did that icejin wink at him and then lie back down? That seemed like contradictory behaviour… was that what ‘mixed signals’ meant? Was this icejin toying with him…? He’d better not be toying with him! Maybe he was doing that ‘playing hard to get’ thing. … So what was Cell supposed to do? Should he pretend to not be interested as well…? … Alright, fine! Cell wasn’t about to go chasing after someone anyway, even if they did make him feel… attraction. He lay down and closed his eyes, and tried to sunbathe, waiting for Yamii’s curiosity to grow stronger than his.

It turned colder, that’s where it ends So I told her we'd still be friends

Yamii sighed. This was getting boring. Why wasn’t this idiot making a move? Maybe he hadn’t seen enough. Or maybe he was shy? Nah… he didn’t seem shy. Yamii huffed impatiently, and sat up. He avoided looking at Cell, and instead allowed his eyes to wander along the beach, while he thought of what to do next. Oh, ice cream! There was an ice cream truck there – perfect! Yamii loved ice cream, and it was an excuse to walk and strut his stuff in front of Mr. Handsome. Yes! Yamii stood up, and made his way down the beach, giving it his best sexy walk. He strolled straight past Cell, so close that Cell could reach out and touch him. He let his tail wave behind him as he walked, and when he got past Cell he ‘accidentally’ clipped the top of Cell’s head with his tail, and pretended not to notice. Cell frowned, and sat up. He looked around to see what had just touched him, and he noticed Yamii walking, and his tail swaying… Had he clipped Cell? Hm… What did that mean? Did he know he’d done it…? … He must have known. How could he not notice hitting someone? It was a sign, wasn’t it? A sort of signal or something? … Hmm…

Then we made our true love vow Wonder what she’s doin’ now

Yamii approached the ice cream van, and bought himself a mint and chocolate chip flavour ice cream. He liked this flavour… but honestly, he’d picked this one because it looked like Cell. It was tasty, and a prop! Yamii walked a few feet, before stopping to eat. He made sure he was facing Cell’s direction, but not looking at him. Then he planted his tongue on the ice cream, and gave it a long, slow lick. Now if this didn’t get Cell’s attention, Cell really was dense. Which would be too bad…

Summer dreams ripped at the seams But, oh, those summer nights

A shadow overcame him, and Yamii looked up… and he let out a small squeal. Cell was standing there, towering over him. Eeeeee! “Hi.” Cell uttered. “H-Hi.” Yamii chirped, silently ordering himself to calm down even though his tail was already wagging. “I uh… saw you looking at me.” Cell uttered, his cheeks darkening. Was that a normal thing to say…? “You clipped my head, right?” “Oh.” Yamii looked away, and smirked. “It was your head? Sorry. I thought it was a rock. I guess there isn’t much difference.”

Cell frowned, angered by his comment. A rock? What was that supposed to mean? Was this little runt trying to say Cell was dense? Was this part of playing hard to get? Insulting the person you’re interested in? It was stupid. “Look. I came here to experiment with relationships. Do you want to do that or not?” Cell demanded. “Hm.” Yamii took another lick of his ice cream and grinned teasingly, his foot excitedly tapping into the soft sand. “Well… I don’t know.” He smirked playfully. “I mean… I’m still eating my ice cream.”

His eyes widened slightly when Cell placed his hand on top of Yamii’s, and pulled the ice cream up towards himself as he lowered his head… then he slurped up the entire thing. Yamii’s jaw dropped a little as he watched Cell lick the ice cream off his lips, slowly and eagerly. Then he narrow his violet eyes at Yamii… and he smirked. “Problem solved.” He said. “So can we cut to the chase now?” “Yes!” Yamii screamed, at a pitch that made Cell flinch slightly. Bouncing up and down, Yamii couldn’t even hope to contain his excitement anymore. Aaaaaaa, this was the best summer ever!

Tell me more, tell me more

#yamii #cell #icejin #oc #art trade #myfics #dragonball z #songfic

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romioneflufffest · 7 years

Text

Between The Wines

Title: Between The Wines

Author: @lydias-martin

Prompt: Firewhiskey + Common room at midnight

Description: Au in which Ron and Hermione get to go to the Slug Club’s Christmas party together.

Rating: Teen (N/A: shout out to @diva-gonzo for taking care of the story and for her amazing beta work!)

Walking through the spacious hallway of the last atrium of the castle, Hermione hears her own heels hitting on the hard the floor as every steps echoes behind her and only partly reflects her distress.

Her dress is short, shorter than most she had been wearing lately anyway; the rayon blend of the sleeves covers just the upper part of her arms, and despite the neckline follows perfectly the curves of her collarbones, her back’s left bare and exposed to the winter piercing breeze.

Robot-like, she turns on the left, then another left, walking straight as she heads to the Quidditch field in her so not appropriate outfit for a match. She pretends to think that’s the reason why her heart is beating so out of her chest at every footstep she leaves behind. Except it’s maintained that pace for a hour or eight by now, since she woke up that morning, but that’s not the point.

Nor is the fact that Harry and Ginny had been both freed from their team’s Quidditch training and been able to meet their date in normal circumstances, to arrive at the ridiculous party on time and with someone who wasn’t even close to make them jump on their seat at the very first eye contact.

She doesn’t even bother that her date is apparently no influential enough person to Professor Slughorn, which means he wasn’t exonerated from his athletic duties but even less from the party dinner.. For that, he can be justified, at least. It was too bad that she had a bad habit of being punctual and not fashionably late.

But the point is that Ron Bilius Weasley, her date, was in fact not dating her, but her roommate Lavender, who’s now probably locked in their own bedroom leafing through some sort of jinxes magazine to conjure her in her sleep, or consult her divination bowl to try to check them out.

And Hermione really really wishes, with all her heart and soul, that this awareness didn’t make her lips tug up a little.

Her heels tap on the stone, her heart follows with a beat. Her heart skips a beat at the anticipation, her feet double the speed for the excitement. Her mind is screaming that it’s a bad idea. Her body wants to freeze, her heart pushes it forward. Her heels crush the ground harder, her heart pounds louder. And with that singsong in her head, Hermione finds herself in front of the changing room door that suddenly swings open and she’s assaulted by a red and golden crowd of sweaty boys, many back in their uniforms, some others still in the familiar team suit, none with ginger hair above.

She hears some greeting her, calling her name and she says hi on response without actually spotting their faces, too focused on finding Ron.

“Caref– oh, Hermione, hey!” She almost stumbles on a tall brunette girl, coming from side where the girl’s changing room is located. When she looks up she sees the radiant face of Katie Bell, smiling kindly down at her.

“Katie, hi!” She greets her.

“What are you doing here? You look gorgeous by the way.”

“Thank you,” she feels her ears flush slightly, not much at her compliment but for what’s coming next. “I’m… er, looking for Ron. Is he still inside?”

Katie’s attempt to repress a smirk is not even convincing. “I think he’s changing, he’s been in there for a while. You can stay here and wait for him if you like.”

“Thank you.” She smiles wholeheartedly, before waving her goodbye.

Hermione waits for a while outside, toying with her wand and playing hundred of different speeches in her mind to talk about once at the party, and somehow this manages to keep her brain busy for a good eleven minutes, before a loud thump coming from the change room draws her attention.

Worried, she stretches her hand towards the wooden door already when it suddenly flings open in front of her to reveal Ron, standing tall before her in his beige trousers… and bare torso. Her jaw clicks open so ridiculously fast she’s positive she might have broken it

“Her– hermione!”

“Ron!”

They call each other in unison, one stuttering and flushing as soon as he meets her eyes, the other with hoarse voice as if she hadn’t used it for ages.

“Uhm, hi!” They say at the same time again, before laughing shyly and Hermione feels the tension slowly fading away already.

“Hey.” He beams at her, now scanning her figure as If he had just seen her for the first time for months and Hermione can’t help but holding her breath at the way his eyes flicker on her curves, lingering on her exposed neck and with so much awe to have her melted in a minute.

They keep staring at each other’s bodies almost mesmerized, cradled in a heavy silent that however is nothing but awkward, as if they were born to look at each other.

The first and only time Hermione has seen him half naked was over a year ago, while he was playing Quidditch with Harry and Ginny in their field at the Burrow, shirtless and sweaty and looking absolutely fetching. That was probably the time she realized she wanted so much more with him; before that moment, the wildest dream she’d had of him was about them snogging, maybe in places where they shouldn’t be allowed to do stuff like that, like the library, in an empty class or in one of those secret passages for Hogsmeade. But after that? She did learn the meaning of ‘wild dreams’.

And now, standing right before him, so close that if she only stretched a hand forward she’d be able to feel his skin against hers, Hermione can’t help her appreciating look as her eyes linger the curve of his adonis belt, the smooth skin of his abdomen where light rectangular curves shape his abs, partly covered by tempting ginger hair on his lower abdomen, hiding down to the edge of his pants.

“You look… amazing.” His voice makes her lift her eyes again, swallowing hard as they meet his.

“Th– thanks.” She stutters; nodding to his naked torso she says, “well you look…” she really doesn’t know how to continue the sentence.

He smiles at her loss of words. “Yeah I forgot my bag on the benches, and my vest is in there so er… I was going to take it.”

“Oh, sure.” She makes him room and he quickly goes past her, leaving a contrail of his shampoo that smells like her amortentia and her brain goes blank for another moment.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Yeah hurry up, Ronald.” She scolds him, more to regain composure than for annoyance. When he comes back he has his vest on, allowing her to relax and quit thinking of his abdominal hair and it takes him only five more minutes to finish changing, and lock his equipment locker with a spell.

They barely talk throughout all the way up to the room where the dinner is supposed to take place. Strangely enough, Ron doesn’t complain about the disparity of treatment between him and his sister and Harry’s; whether because he doesn’t feel like speak ill of them knowing it’s not their fault, or because skipping a part of that party can’t be but a blessing, she can’t tell.

“Blimey, I’m starving.” He mutters as they approach to the entrance of the hall.

Hermione chuckles. “That’s a new one.”

He pinches her softly at the deadpan which causes her to let out a loud gasp, making him laugh at once. She would normally yell at him in other circumstances, with her wand dangerously inches away from his ribs holding a threat – of spells or tickle doesn’t matter, being both incredibly efficient on him – and she is about to do the same when the air suddenly stops in her lungs at the feeling of his hand on her bare back, so unexpected to make her gasp. He gently leads her indoors and starts tracing slow circles with his thumb against her skin to comfort her, maybe confusing her wide eyes for a symptom of social anxiety.

(Which she doesn’t have, by the way. Nope. Not this girl.)

By the time they cross the entryway, a slightly tipsy Ginny has her arms flung around her neck already, giggling a ‘hi’ and greeting her brother with a pat. Hermione reacts pulling her in a quick hug, giving Ron a weak smile as he makes his way to the table, mouthing her to wait for her up there.

She watches him taking seat next to Harry, where she presumes Ginny was before. She spots Harry approaching her, which makes her close her mouth immediately.

“Hey!” Harry appears from behind Ginny and greets her with a kiss on her cheek, nonchalantly resting his hand on Ginny’s shoulder as support. Hermione pretends not to catch the flushing spots forming on the redhead’s neck as she speaks to Harry.

“How’s the dinner going?”

“Er, the usual: ignoring Slughorn’s remarks on my scar, or the ‘you got your mother’s eyes’ speech; looking away from Mclaggen who has had the same homicidal look the entire dinner.”

Hermione turns around towards the point of the table Harry just nodded to, and she finds indeed a very infuriated Cormac staring at the trio with his eyes so narrowed Hermione wonders if he can even see a thing like that. Beside him, a pretty brunette girl has one arm mischievously stretched around his back, the other hiding under the table as she whispers something at the young man’s ear with a grin on her mouth.

Hermione reddens at once for some reason and turns away.

“Yeah, I think that’s my fault actually.” Harry winces.

“Only ‘cause you picked Ron over him as keeper of the team?” Hermione hisses in surprise.

“Well, Ron’s like my brother…”

“But that’s nothing to do with his skills! He’s better than Cormac, period.”

“Right?” Harry intercedes, watching Hermione with a scolding look that she gets immediately and that makes her find the floor suddenly more interesting.

Once the dinner is over and the charmed orchestra of instruments playing in a corner starts turning up the volume, a couple of students – two slytherins of the fifth year Hermione doesn’t recognize at all – opens the dances, forced by a very tipsy Slughorn pushing the young man in the middle of the ballroom and whom inevitably drags a girl behind him, their cheeks red just like the professor although for two distinct and opposite reasons.

But by the time the couple had made the first turn around the room, half of the guests had joined them, including Luna, who Hermione spots her kindly declining an offer of a pretty brunette boy to dance with him, swirling away from him to make her way across the crowd. Hermione can’t decide what’s the most comic in the situation, whether the boy’s expression – a mix of incredulity and defeat – or Luna’s solitary dance with pirouettes around the dance floor.

Gradually the chairs around them empty and the four of them are left alone in a comfortable silence with a half-empty bottle of Butterbeer resting in the middle of the table.

When Ron yawns for the second time in a raw, Harry follows suit and Hermione keeps toying with the hem of her dress as if in another dimension, she suddenly hears Ginny emit an exasperated sigh and without warning she’s leaning forward.

“Okay, we need to do something. I can’t stand your faces anymore.” She urges.

“Unfortunately, this is the one your mother gave me.” Ron replies sarcastically, and Hermione has to stop every atom of hers to answer back with her own opinion about his face.

“This is supposed to be a party and we’re wasting it!”

“Yeah, not to be an arse but I didn’t sign up for this. Even though, “ he adds then with a pout, “I don’t know if the alternative would’ve been better.”

She knows what the alternative was. And it included a dark blonde girl and a very wide sofa which would end up being used for a third only and in no comfortable positions. “Let’s play a game,” Hermione exclaims suddenly, trying to shoo the picture of Ron and Lavender’s bodies tangled together.

The attention is immediately drawn to her and, satisfied with that, she stretches forward to grab the butterbeer bottle, a mischievous look glittering in her eyes. After having checked that no one was watching them, Hermione takes her wand, points it at the bottle and mumbles a spell. The liquid slowly turns darker, the bright golden shade of before becomes amber, the smell coming out from it disperses around them and when she looks up to check her friends’ faces, she finds them all staring at the new drink with some sort of intrigued expression, hypnotized by his familiar orange sparkles and its piercing scent. Harry grins. “firewhiskey?”

Hermione nods, reflecting his own smirk.

“And the game is…?” Ginny asks tentatively.

“Truth or dare.” Hermione states, for some reason looking directly at Ron as she speaks. “And every dare is a shot.”

After that, it’s all a long and very quick slope towards an imaginary ban that she hopes she won’t be the first one to break through. A climax she’s not interested to find out. And yet, it’s Hermione the one to push the bottle that reads ‘Butterbeer’ but smells like grappa towards Ron when he chooses dare for first.

That’s the song that goes on all night long.

“Truth or dare?” “Truth.” “Would you use Grimmauld Place to throw a random party?” “Hell yes.”

“Truth or dare?” “Truth. “Have you ever hooked up with someone while your parents were at home?” “What? No, Ronald! Not even with my parents out, if we’re making a point…”

“Truth or dare?” “Truth.” “Does mum know you’re dating Dean?” “…no.”

“Truth or dare?” “Dare.”

Everyone blinks, but stay silent. With narrowed eyes, Hermione slowly passes the bottle to Ron.

The others, unlike her, don’t seem too bothered by his answer, and neither would Hermione, if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s been giving that same reply every damn time. For five times in a row. Five times avoiding her eyes for some reason, five times swallowing down a copious glass of firewhiskey and licking his lips right after in a way that, for five times, made Hermione rub her thighs together as the heat pools over her body.

His cheeks had turned already into a bright shade of red by the time Ron sips the last drop of alcohol from his shot glass, finishing all that was left in the bottle as well.

He’s not even that drunk, Hermione thinks, watching his eyes still wide awake and sparkling, although his movements had gone slower and for a while now he’d started laughing at Ginny’s jokes. ‘So unrealistic, honestly,’ Hermione thinks

When she spots him taking out the wand from his jacket, eyes fixed on a bottle of cherry syrup in front of them, Hermione gets his intentions at once.

“Oh no.” She urges, putting a hand on his still holding his wand to stop him. “I don’t think so. You’ve had enough by now.”

“Oh come on.” He complains, but he had let go already, the wand rested harmlessly on the table. Beside his hand. That Hermione’s still grabbing.

The thought of removing her hand had just crossed her mind when Ron’s suddenly turns around beneath hers, entwining their fingers in a way that Hermione can’t help to notice how right it feels, and gets up.

“So let’s dance.”

She’s forced to get up as well, pulled towards him by the hand. “What?!”

“Let’s dance.” He repeats, shrugging. As if it was such a totally normal occurrence for them, to have a moment. As if it made so much sense for a compromised boy to dance with his supposed best friend.

Right. Friend.

Against her willing, she lets go of his hand. “You can’t, Ron.”

“What? Why not?” He says, completely oblivious and tilting his head.

Is he being serious?! He’s acting like he completely forgot to have a girlfriend, who besides, happens to be Hermione’s good friend and roommate.

“Ron, I think Lavander–”

She doesn’t get to finish the sentence.

He tugs her to him, cutting her off as he makes his way through the crowd, and still with her hand in his, he drags her behind him and stops only when he reaches the centre of the dancefloor. Even among all those people around them dancing and swinging their hips at the notes of what Hermione identifies as a reggae song, she can still feel Harry’s eyes drilling holes in the back of her head while staring at her probably in shock, or Ginny’s playful smirk as she watch them facing each other with flushed faces.

In her attempt to tune them out, Hermione totally misses Ron’s hand sliding away from hers, only to come to place on her waist and, as he does so, she’s automatically pulled closer to his body and she can’t help the gasp at his sudden vicinity.

“So,” he begins, a little uncertain on his feet for the lack of balance, “what were you thinkin’?”

“I uhm…” She literally can’t remember because all she can think about right now is the feeling of Ron’s flat hand on her side, so large, so warm, and concrete against her covered skin to make her feel safe by the only act of touching her.

“I think you know what I was thinking.”

Yes. That’s the more eloquent, mature, cunning thing she’s able to come up with. God, why does her IQ has to plummet whenever he’s so close?

Ron grins. “I was thinking that you owed me a dance.”

“Excuse me? You were dancing with someone else for what I recall.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you happened to be taken already.”

“I never heard an invitation coming from your mouth, though.”

“I did ask you.” Ron mutters.

“Oh yes, you mean when you realized I’m a girl?” She replies in a high-pitched tone.

“When I realized you were beautiful.”

Her feet stop moving, and she sees Ron do the same, although he doesn’t seem to look really well, now slightly pale - if either for his confession or for the alcohol she’s not sure. The music slowly ebbs away in her head, replaced by those six words played on repeat as a new favorite song she’s already got addicted to. He doesn’t meet her eyes, deciding to stare at their joined hands raised at one side instead, with his cheeks flushed just as much as hers and glassy eyes.

“What?” She breathes out.

But the moment he opens his mouth to speak, Hermione sees Ron’s body stumbling away and at his place, a tall blondish boy, unfortunately familiar, appears before her with a sneer. She really doesn’t have the time nor the willing to process Cormac’s stupid entrance, because in a minute she’s stretched forward, arms flung around Ron’s waist to support him as she manages to save him from smashing his face on the ground.

“Are you insane? You could’ve hurt him!” She helps Ron straighten as he massages the part where Mclaggen hit him.

“My apologies.” Nothing in his tone sounds apologetic.

“What do you want?” Hermione asks him sharply.

“A dance?”

She lets out a scornful laugh. “Forget about it.”

“Oh come on, it’s just a dance!”

“Cormac, I said no!”

“I know you thought about inviting me, so where’s the problem now?”

“Well I obviously changed my mind. You’re not very intuitive, are you?”

“I am and I can catch a sign when I see one, Granger.”

“Let go.”

“God, you’re so pathetic.”

One moment Ron’s yelling at Cormac in front of her; a moment later Ron has fallen on the floor, pummeling Cormac in the ribs..

The people around them split apart with a gasp, making room to the two wizards fighting on the ground. Initially, Ron’s the one prevailing, as he traps Cormac between him and the cold pavement, but then someone or something among the crowd distracts the ginger which gives Cormac an opportunity to react and roll on one side, so that now he’s towering over Ron who now struggles to fight back for the lack of reflexes.

“Ron!” Hermione shouts, frozen on her place.

But Cormac’s arm had raised already, a threatening fist clenched above his head and read to hit his goal when–

“MCLAGGEN. WEASLEY.”

Despite the sea of people, Slughorn’s figure is not really one that blends in easily and he austere tone reflects just right his large measures when he yells the boys’ names.

They stop fighting and look up at the old man; Hermione’s gaze follows theirs as well just to find the professor’s face red for anger, eyes wide and darting flames at those who clearly ruined his famous party.

“Out.”

***

“Glacius.”

The towel in her hand turns to a solid block of ice at once, and Hermione quickly wraps it in a soft tea cloth before her hands have the time to freeze at the contact with it.

Ron’s face contorts in a snarl of pain that he tried to mask with a weak smile as she places the cloth at the side of his head, right where it smashed on the ground when McLaggen pushed him.

“Sorry.” Hermione winces, as if she could feel his pain on her own skin.

“‘S okay.” Ron trails off, leaning his head on the couch and closing his eyes in the process. The common room is deserted, fortunately. The curfew was about half hour ago, so there’s no way someone would break in the room at that hour, and the best part of the students had already left for Christmas holidays, so it was no surprise that even the few people who remained were in bed, considered the hour.

After the fight, Harry and Hermione had helped Ron to stand on his feet and carried him to the tower. They had waited for him to gain back his balance and full senses –despite not having passed out for good he was still half-drunk, half-hungover – and eventually they decided it was quite useless for both of them to stick with him, and since Hermione first period happened to be free the following day, they agreed on her to remain with Ron.

Logical reasons a part, Harry’s acting skills never have been the best so when he starts fake-yawning from nothing and in a quite compulsive way, so unrealistic, Hermione doesn’t miss his knowing look, how his eyes (not sleepy at all, despite what he wanted to make her believe) landed on their joined hands, beaming. She hadn’t realized she never let go of his hand.

“Still hurts?” She murmurs, carefully moving the frozen cloth on his head for a better angle.

“Not so much now.” But his eyes are still shut, as to focus on controlling the ache and not to flinch.

When he opens them, their eyes lock in an instant, and Hermione suddenly finds it difficult to keep her breathing regular when he glances at her like that. His head is tilted slightly forward, resting on the couch, so that she has to lean a little to reach for the wound. And their faces are so close… his eyes weary on hers as if he was taking her in, contemplating her.

“Did you uhm… enjoy the party?” She hears herself say, internally cursing for the dumb question because really Hermione? He just got into a fight!

“Before I was completely pissed on firewhiskey and got my arse kicked? Sure.”

She bursts into a laughter, seeing Ron smile as well at the sound of it. “You’re a great dancer, anyway.”

“Large families involve numerous weddings and dance classes with your big bros, you know.”

“That sounds fun.”

“Until you break a toe per year, it is.” She laughs again and rests her side on the couch, getting only a few inches closer.

“What about you? Did you like the party?” He then asks.

“Yeah. It was nice after all.” She pauses for a while. “You didn’t have to punch him, you know.”

Ron’s eyes go wide. “You’re saying he didn’t deserve it?”

“No, I mean …you didn’t have to. Just that.” And somehow she can’t hold his gaze anymore and looks down on her lap.

He’s silent, probably considering the right words to say. “He’s a git.”

“I know…you could’ve just ignored him.”

“He was harassing you! He called you a pathetic! How I was gonna ignore that?” His tone slightly raises.

When she lifts her eyes to look up at him, she finds him gazing at her with an indignant expression, as if he had received all those offends himself.

“I really appreciated that, Ron.” She smiles and he smiles back at her and her heart is beating so fast at this point she thinks she could wake up the whole tower.

“You–” he clears his throat, looks away from her and suddenly his eyes are sad. “You really thought about inviting him?”

“No! Well, yes. But just because… you know, I asked you before you started dating Lavander and–”

“And what?”

“I didn’t think you would’ve come with me.” She blurts out. God she’d kept that inside since forever.

Ron’s expression is indecipherable at start. But then he grins, taking her hand away from his head and putting it on his lap instead, lingering a little when her knuckles brush his cheek. The iced garment forgotten on the couch, her hand between his as he draws circles on it with his thumbs and despite it’s not even close to the things she dreamt about his hands, the contact makes shiver, warming her up at once.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Hermione.”

She chuckles. “Next time I’ll try harder.”

“Oh, next time uhm?” He smirks playfully. “Take it back.”

“No.” She tried to refrain a laugh.

“Take it back!” He insists with a smile.

“Nope.” Hermione states amused, marking the ‘p’ with her lips.

Then he moves forward so quickly she doesn’t expect him to, unprepared seeing his lack of reflexes due to the firewhiskey, when his hands reach for her ribs and find her ticklish point that of course he knows.

“Ron–” she’s cut off by her own laughters, tears forming at the corners of her eyes already, “Ron, stop!”

“Admit you don’t want to get rid of me.” He says between laughters, still teasing her on her sides.

“Okay okay!” She urges, breathless. “Okay, you win.”

He stops. “So it’s true?”

“You know it is.” She rolls her eyes in attempt to sound annoyed but her tone is too soft, her eyes to happy and cheek too flushed to get it bought.

Then something else clicks on her.

“No lies between them, right?”

His look gets suspicious.”Of course.”

She nods, her heart hammering in her chest as she tries to formulate the question she’s been dying to ask all night.

“Why you never picked the truth when we were playing?”

Ron blinks once, twice, then again one last time before pursuing his lips in a way she’d find incredibly cute if she wasn’t so curious and slightly anxious. Is he hiding something from them? From her? Is he afraid of something they might have asked him? Hermione hates not to know. And especially about him.

“I …don’t feel comfortable to talk about my personal stuff.” His change of tone makes her regret about her question, but he looks calm and doesn’t seem bothered, which soothe her a little

“You’re uncomfortable with us?”

“I’m uncomfortable with the game in general, Hermione.”

“What does this even mean?”

“I mean, if I have to tell you guys something personal I can just talk to you at any time and not necessarily with an audience or so!”

“Well, you haven’t talked much about your ‘personal stuff’ lately, not to me at least.” She really wishes that hadn’t come out so harsh, her voice is painful and she’s regretting to have started this conversation in first place but she has to know.

“Okay, what do you want to know?” Ron exiles, slightly exasperated.

“What?” She’s gaping now.

“Tell me what do you want to know from me.” He’s offering her answers, opening himself like a book for her despite she has no right to know anything of him. It’s like a mutual agreement they set about two years ago by now, when he got mental because of Viktor and she understood she just couldn’t talk to him about certain things. Then Ginny and her became closer and it wasn’t so much of a burden to not be able to talk about her most private life to Ron.

She never really found herself in need to know such things from him. Not ever, until now. She has to know. Because now he has a girlfriend, he’s maybe doing things she only got a hint of when she dated Viktor, he’s kissing her and spending time with her and she doesn’t know.

He has a girlfriend and yet, his fingers are tangled with hers as he keep staring right into her eyes in wait for a question.

“So you’re gonna answer?”

“Just ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

“What? That’s unfair.”

“That’s the game.” He shrugs again and gives her a soft smile to encourage her to go on. Right, that’s the game that she started and almost put the boy she’s in love with in trouble for it, and now she’s getting in one as well if she plays her cards wrong.

But she has to know.

She swallows hard, forcing her eyes to hold his look. “Okay,” she whispers, before clearing her throat nervously. “Are you… are you in love?”

Ron’s eyes widen, his cheeks suddenly flushing. “What?! That’s the question?”

“I– yes, Ronald. That’s my question.” Man, could it be any hotter in that room.

“Why do you even want to know?”

“We never talk about relationships?” She suggests.

“Am I supposed to talk about my relationships with you?”

Hermione pretends not have heard the plural and rolls her eyes at his annoyance. “‘Cause I’m your friend, you idiot!”

And then something happens. His glance, so intense and fierce and playful of seconds ago, suddenly turns sadder. His reds cheeks get their usual pale color back, and his whole expression flat, as if it just turned into stone. It’s sad first, then defeated, and finally devoid of emotions, all in less than a minute.

“Right.” He breathes out, his voice low. And she is so confused now.

His eyes lock on hers with so much intensity she feels pulled forward by his just look on her. His breathing is regular and she finds herself sync her own with his.

With his hand still covering hers and fingers brushing softly her palm, he answers her question. “Yes. I’m in love.”

Hermione’s heart falls so heavily she thinks or might get to the bottom of the tower. She doesn’t understand while Ron’s smiling like that now because she feels so bad, she wants to throw up and he’s smiling at her?

She’s lost contact with the world, except for the feeling of Ron’s fingertips drawing abstract figures on her hand, the only comfort of the situation. She focuses on that, closing her eyes at the sensation and tries to tune the rest of her awful feelings out.

A silent gasp escapes from her lips. Her heart comes back to live again and her upcoming tears suddenly feel like ones of joy at the discovery. They’re not abstract figures. He’s drawing the same exact one over and over again. A letter.

“Are you?” She whispers looking back at him, the pounding in her chest making it hard to breath properly.

One single letter.

“I am.” He smiles tenderly.

#Romione #Ron and Hermione #romioneflufffest #Fic #submission

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