#luke finally meeting his dad just to lose him like that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

featherandferns · 2 months

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orange juice (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by noah kahn's incredible music

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of abuse; mentions of bodily harm (vague, non-graphic); sexual content | feel free to message me with questions of detail if any of this concerns you before reading!

word count: 7.5k

blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.

“You know, on my way here, I saw a dead rat.”

A cloud of cigarette smoke dispels into the air.

“It was funny, you know? Cause I felt bad that it was dead, even though it was a rat. I mean, I knew nobody was going to miss it, and that it didn’t have any rat family or friends which would mourn it or anything. But still…It looked like it had been hit by a car, and it was only small so it didn’t look very old, and it seemed so harmless lying there. It probably had a million and one diseases, but just laying there, it seemed harmless. And it felt weird to be sad about this thing dying which would have only maybe caused more damage if it had stayed alive – nibbling through electrical wires and all that.”

JJ takes another drag of his cigarette as he digests the anecdote.

“Anyway. This just made me think of that,” you quietly finish before sinking back into the silence.

“Did you just compare my dad’s funeral to a dead rat?”

You clear your throat. JJ watches in his peripheral as you look down at your feet and fidget your fingers.

“Shit, I guess I did.”

His eyes cut ahead the moment yours seem to flick up.

“Can’t believe that’s the first thing I’ve said to you in years.”

JJ inhales and exhales the nicotine of his cigarette. “Well, I can.”

That makes you laugh. Small and sheltered.

“I weren’t sure that you were going to come,” JJ tells you.

“Could say the same thing to you,” you reply.

Sighing, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He probably should have worn smarter shoes. But then, why would he? Waste of money and space in his truck. Not like his dad was going to see them anyway.

“I only decided yesterday. Practically drove all night.” As if reminding himself of the sleep deprivation, JJ lets out a yawn.

“How is it, being back in Kildare?” you wonder.

JJ shrugs. “Weird. But also not weird at all. I guess I just feel old. I was driving through town and everything looks different.”

“I mean, it has been five years.”

“Jesus,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head. Had it really been that long?

He shoves his hands in his pant pockets and finally finds the nerve to take you in. His eyes scan over you like one might survey potential damage to a car after a close call. He never lets them go below your waist though. As if losing nerve, he flicks them back up to your head and meets your eyes.

“You look well.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya,” you smile.

With that smile – sweet and simple – JJ finds himself being hurled back through time to his teen years. The reminiscing of his youth and the memories that your presence stirs up feels like reflecting on a past life. Something that he almost had, and something that he didn’t exactly lose, but something that changed.

Everything had changed, really. The streets that he used to drive down with his friends, running away from security and darting to and from keggers and house parties, they all had new homes, new paint, new families. Old mom-and-pop shops were now trendy smoothie spots and hippie bars. Empty plots of land that were a good spot to share a joint had now been bought and developed into stylish holiday rentals. None of JJ’s family was left here, not even his cousin. None of his friends were here anymore either. Well, except for you. Is that what you were to him? A friend?

“It was a nice service,” you say.

“Was it?”

For someone like Luke Maybank, ‘nice’ is probably a generous term for a funeral service that’s void of cheery anecdotes and tender memories. It’s a shame that all the memories JJ held in high regard of his father – of the moments that they were bonded and close – often came with the overarching theme of alcohol or drugs. He wasn’t sure there was ever a genuine moment shared between the two. Whatever praise and pride he gathered from his dad was short lived and sparse. When his dad left the island on the boat he stole, JJ never heard from him again. And now he never would.

“Did they ask if you wanted to say anything?”

“What’s there to say? He was a guy and he died in a bender. Short and simple, I guess.”

You nod and go silent once more.

JJ knows that his answer evaded the politeness markers of small talk, but it was true. Luke Maybank was a human who lived on this earth with no mark to be left apart from those which he laid on his own child. The only way that he’d be remembered was in the nightmares that still sometimes have JJ waking up in cold sweats and reaching for the box of cigarettes by his bed.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come,” you say.

“No, it’s not…” JJ shakes his head and offers you a smile, but he knows it looks unnatural. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps everything, if that’s even possible. “I’m glad you came. I’m just tired and…well, you know.”

The funeral of my father.

“Right. Of course.”

He watches you tuck your hair behind your ears and glance towards the graves. He remembers how you used to do that when you were both younger. It was funny to him: you’d go through the fuss of trying your hair back in one way or another, but you’d always leave out a couple of strands. “To frame my face” you’d tell him, and then you’d precede to spend the rest of the day tucking your hair behind your ears. He liked it though. When you’d be concentrating on something, like surfing or fixing something up or writing, you’d lean forward and they’d come lose and hang over your pretty features. He’d want to mess with them; tuck them behind your ears for you. Sometimes he did. He remembers when you’d be on top of him, kissing him senseless, and they’d come lose and tickle his face. Somehow it would make the whole thing more sensual, with his laughs and your giggles.

He feels his face flush as the memories of nights like those creep back into his head. He shouldn’t think of you like that, not after all this time. Not with how things turned out. And especially not at his father’s funeral.

JJ had come over to you once his father was safely tucked away in the ground, six feet under. You’d attended the service at the church, hiding near the back, and then the burial, and as everybody else departed to give JJ ‘a moment’ (whatever the hell that meant), he’d turned to find you stood near a bench, lost in thought.

“It was nice of you to come,” JJ thanks.

“I’m surprised none of the others are here.”

“They don’t know. I sort of kept it close to the chest,” JJ admits. “I’m actually impressed by the turnout.”

You go to laugh and JJ sees you stifle it. It helps him ease up, smile a real smile for a second, as wicked as that sounds.

“People have layers, I guess.”

“Not my dad.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

You meet his gaze again. Your eyes make it clear that you haven’t shed a tear and neither had JJ. He wasn’t sure if maybe that would come later, once the so-called shock had worn off. He doubted it though. And yet, there was a haze of sadness about him. Death is weird as a whole. The death of a parent like JJ’s, even weirder. Maybe it wasn’t just the funeral causing the sadness. Maybe it was you.

JJ makes a move to leave but before he can even shift his foot one whole step, you’re talking.

“Do you wanna come back to mine? We could catch up. I’m sure you’ve been doing all sorts since I last saw you. Maybe have a drink or two, for old times’ sake?”

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. A pause for thought, then, “well, I have orange juice.”

It’s a strange thing to offer in place of a bottle of beer or glass of wine. Most people would say a cup of coffee. But no - orange juice: that’s where your mind went. It makes JJ smile. It seems so on-par for you to offer him that.

“Okay. Sure. Orange juice sounds good.”

“Do you need a moment, before we leave?” you ask, glancing back over your shoulder to the gravesite of JJ’s deceased father.

The dirt atop of his plot is fresh and stark brown against the green grass. JJ stares a second. The groundkeeper is dusting some muck off the gravestone. The funeral director had offered him a fine granite with award winning chiselling, after recognising JJ from the articles of El Dorado and assuming some high-placed budget. JJ had opted for a simple thing though. Cheap and likely to be hard to read within half a decade. It’s what Luke deserved. Probably what he would have invested into JJ, if the roles were reversed.

“No, I don’t. We can go,” JJ says, voice vacant. He looks back to you. “I’ll drive.”

You don’t live in your childhood home anymore. The place that you’ve settled in is a small home in a sweet looking neighbourhood. In fact, it seems the only part of Kildare that feels familiar to JJ. The front garden is quaint but well kept, with trimmed grass and flower beds that clearly garner a lot of attention and care. The fence is in need of a lick of paint: the blue fading and peeling. A sticky note is attached to the door frame of the front door and it makes JJ smile. ‘Doorbell’s fucked – shout “ding dong” really loud’.

“This is a step up,” JJ says.

“Nice, right? My neighbour is a dick though. Always complaining that I leave my driveway light on in the middle of the night. As if I can even afford to that.”

JJ chuckles as he follows you inside. There’s an instant warm smell that hits him. JJ can’t seem to describe it in any other way than that it smells like you. The interior is safe and homely. The wallpaper and wooden floors pair nicely with the throw pillows and crystals and plants and flowers. Fairy lights are strung from end to end. A kitchen, open plan, feeds nicely into a sitting room. A dining table is tucked in the corner which seemingly functions more as a desk: books piled atop with sheets of paper strewn out. There’s a small corridor to the right and the walls are lined with framed pictures which JJ can’t make out from where he’s stood. He assumes it must lead to a bathroom and bedroom. It isn’t unlived in though. There’s a small pile of clothes which need ironing; they’re sat in a basket, next to the TV. Near the backdoor is an arts and crafts project of some kind strewn about on the floor in organised chaos, blocking the exit.

It's still early in the afternoon so you don’t bother flicking on a light, instead opting to soak in the last few hours of daylight before dusk. Kie used to compare you to a cat, basking in the sun and chasing the rays until there was none left to follow.

JJ closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“You can take your shoes off, if you want.”

“Alright,” he mumbles. He toes them off and kicks them to the side, amongst a pile of your own. He notices how there’s nobody else’s shoes there: just yours, and now his.

You pour out two glasses of orange juice and turn around, handing one to him. He takes it, lost in thought. It all feels surreal, stood here with you, after a five-year pause. When you go to the sofa to sit, he assumes he should follow. You sit on opposite ends. A part of him wonders why you haven’t stretched out your legs and dumped your feet in his lap. ‘These stink’, JJ jokes, poking your toes. You wiggle his fingers off. ‘Shut up, no they don’t.’ Force of habit: he always seems to get stuck on that past. Instead, you go to pull one of your legs up onto the sofa, and JJ flicks his eyes around the room another time. He sips his juice.

“So…” You start. “Any news?”

“Well, my dad died, so there’s that.”

You kick out your leg, aiming for his thigh. “Come on now. Be serious.”

“I am; you were at the funeral. Thought you might remember that,” JJ jokes.

Rolling your eyes mirthfully, you have a sip of your juice. The sun paints shapes on the coffee table, weaving through the thin curtains that line your window. It makes your skin glow, healthy and happy. He’s torn between staring at your face and remembering every detail of your features and avoiding you completely.

“When did you move in here? It’s nice.”

“About two years ago. Mom and dad are still at the old place. They’ve rented out my room though, for tourists and stuff.”

“That’s nice of them,” JJ snorts. “How’s your brother? Is he doing good?”

“He is. He’s at college actually. Graduates later this year.”

“The fuck? That’s so trippy,” JJ mumbles, almost to himself.

JJ can remember your brother as nothing more than a preteen, sulking around the house and begging for rides to soccer practice. Now he’s nearly got a whole ass degree. His eyes naturally fixate on the dining-table-come-desk in the corner.

“What do you do for work then?”

“I’m a teacher at Kildare high.”

Of course you are. JJ smiles, eyes still fixated on the table. It seems to prompt you to continue.

“It’s kinda weird sometimes cause some of the old farts still work there,” you say.

“Oh shit. Mr Rumble still there?” JJ asks, perking up a little, meeting your gaze.

You laugh. “Mr Rummel does still work there, yeah. Still likes to bring you up to me, actually.”

“Really? In what way?”

“Just likes to add the odd little ‘you remember when your boyfriend used to steal my stapler’ kinda things.”

JJ’s laugh is different this time. The word ‘boyfriend’ coming out of your mouth has his thoughts short circuiting. You glance down at your juice and swirl it around the cup.

“Anyway, it’s a pretty good gig. I like teaching, and I actually think I’m making a difference to some of these kids lives sometimes, which is sort of strange.”

“I bet you are. You were always good at helping people,” JJ tells you. Your smile turns soft.

“Thanks, JayJ.”

The nickname is like another sucker punch to the chest. JJ takes it like a champ. Washes it down with water; pretends there’s vodka in there somewhere.

“How are the others, then?” you ask. “How are they?”

“Good. Happy. John B and Sarah are expecting a kid soon.”

“Fuck off.”

“No joke,” JJ laughs. He leans back into the sofa, reclining in the soft throw pillows. It’s strange how easily relaxed he is in this new setting. “They’re debating between two names. Esmeralda or Eton.”

“No. Please God, tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish,” JJ snorts. “Not that I got much of a leg to stand on.”

“What do you mean?” you frown. You lean over and place your juice down on the coffee table.

“JJ? Kinda dumb name.” JJ has a sip of his own before mirroring your actions.

“Hardly. ‘John James’ is pretty proper sounding to me.”

“Meh.” JJ shrugs and props an arm up on the back of the sofa.

“What about Kie, and Pope?”

“Kie is on her environmentalist shit. Investing in rebuilding the coral and things. Pope is studying like crazy. Got a good job lined up too.”

“Only Pope would get a degree when he has literal gold in his savings,” you chuckle. “Didn’t you buy a shop too, or something?”

“A little surf shop with John B, yeah,” JJ nods, smiling proud. The surf shop is something that he would always take pride in. What felt like a pipedream was now his nine-to-five. “It’s doing real good, actually. We’re thinking about expanding.”

“Well, that’s good,” you say, nodding. The two of you lock eyes. Your smile holds steady. “I’m happy for you, JJ. Really.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you’re doing good, too.”

And now the polite small talk is over and the catch-up is done. It’s so bizarre seeing someone again after so long. So many things in life have passed – relationships, jobs, fights, conversations, achievements, ailments – but when you finally come to sum it up, it only takes ten minutes. Going through a heartbreak lasts for months, but then a year later and the relationship is summed up in a sentence or two. Time doesn’t only heal, but it also shrinks. It seems to have shrunk whatever used to exist between yourself and JJ too, as you both sit, searching for things to talk about which avoid the dark and ugly. Things which avoid the obvious.

“Do you think you’ll stick around in Kildare for a bit?”

“I don’t know. I ain't really thought about it,” JJ admits. “I weren't even sure if I was gonna go to the funeral.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” you wonder.

He laughs to himself and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. Probably just crash in my truck.”

“You’re loaded as fuck and you’re gonna crash in your truck?” you laugh. It isn’t mean when you say it. Just amused.

“I don’t know. You don’t really get used to having money when you grew up without it. I still feel guilty buying a new pair of boots or something when my old ones ain't coming apart at the soles and shit.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Eminem had a similar thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought me and Eminem were similar,” JJ deadpans.

It seems to strike well with you because you’re cracking up, laughing like he’s just told the best joke you’ve ever heard. He smiles. He always liked making you laugh. You have a horrendous laugh: truly awful. Cats in a bag being bashed against the wall-howling dog parade level of terrible. JJ loved it though. He used to tickle you just to hear it. Watching you now, head titled back, eyes shut and mouth agape, guffawing like a damn hyena…He feels like throwing up.

“Sorry, that…That was good,” you chuckle, wiping your eyes and catching your breath. “You were always good at making me laugh.”

“Fuck knows why,” JJ chuckles.

“Cause you’re funny,” you reply, as if its obvious. “You were always funny.”

It’s strange how the tone of the conversation rises and falls like a mountain range the longer the two of you sit on the sofa.

Your smile turns sombre, like when someone reminisces over a funny memory of their dead pet. Nice at first, amused, and then dampened with the reminder that those times have passed.

“It’s weird, to be honest. You’re so different now but you’re also still JJ.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You glance around the room for a moment, as if you’d find the answer hidden in code on the spine of the books stacked on the windowsill. You look at him again. “Your face looks different.”

“It does?” JJ asks. He lifts a hand and strokes his jaw. He could do with a shave, he supposes. The vanity tries to bite through to ask how, but before he can, you’re talking again.

“You don’t drink,” you add, nodding to the orange juice still sat on the coffee table. “You’re quieter. Less…”

You seem to lose the words and so you gesture with your hands. Explosion.

“Calmer. Sadder, but not sad.”

“I can’t tell if these are good things or not,” JJ says, half-joking.

“You look at me different too.”

That makes him pause. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze, steady. The whole room shifts in a moment, from carefree catch-up to tense confrontation.

“Different?”

“Yeah. You look at me different.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” JJ mutters, going to reach for his drink.

“Yes, you do, JJ.”

Your smile is gone now. He can tell, catching it from his peripheral. Suddenly he doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be in Kildare, doesn’t want to be in this house, in this room.

“You could at least acknowledge it, you know?”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s actually more rude to not acknowledge it,” you snip.

“I’m not being rude, I’m just making conversation. You’re the one who’s got me on blast like you’re some God damn therapist,” JJ hits back, meeting your steely stare.

“You feel like you’re on blast?”

“I feel like I’m being observed, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you are being observed, JJ,” you return, voice harsh and cutting like how a blade slices through paper. “Because it’s fucking weird having you back.”

“You’re the one that invited me here.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you say.

JJ takes a breath and closes his eyes. The anger never went away, despite what you’ve just told him, he just got older. Got better at hiding it. Got enough money to try therapy. He takes another moment to breathe through it. Push it down his throat and back into his stomach and let it burn out in the acid.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say. The venom is gone. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

He isn’t sure why – can’t pinpoint a perfect reason behind it – but behind his eyelids, JJ feels tears swell. Feels his lips twitch like a child when they hit their funny bone. His next breath in is shaky.

“JJ?”

“Just…”

His voice cracks and he clears it, shaking his head. He wants to open his eyes but he’s scared he’ll start crying, and he’s not doing that, not right now, not today. It’s not even you. You’d seen him cry before. Held him through it and patched him up; made him smile after the sadness. But he refuses to cry today because he can’t give his dad that satisfaction, even if it’s not about him. Opening his eyes, no tears escape. He reaches for the juice and downs it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he snaps. Then, softer, “please.”

You nod. There’s a quiet. Then, you move to stand and he closes his eyes again because it’s a struggle for you to stand. It’s a struggle. He rubs a hand over his mouth as if trying to shove the welling emotions back inside. There’s the sound of running water in the background as JJ tries to gather himself. The crack-crack-crack of a gas stove turning on and then the clink of metal on metal. You’ve put the kettle on, boiling water. There’s the tinker of porcelain mugs being taken off a stand. He seems to zone in on the peaceful sounds of you making coffee.

When you pour water into the mugs, he remembers the sound of your voice years back. ‘Did you know humans have the ability to hear the difference between hot and cold water being poured?’ ‘Why the fuck do you know that?’ ‘I don’t know. Just thought it was interesting.’

As the teaspoon repeatedly brushes against the inside of the cup as you stir in the instant coffee and milk, JJ finally feels all the emotions even out. As your footsteps make their way back over to him, you flick on the lamp by the front door. JJ opens his eyes to see you place a steaming cup of Joe in front of him on the coffee table. The mug is cute. It’s peach pink and says “I’m drinking tea instead of committing crimes” on the front in an innocent type-writer print.

“Cute mug.”

“Thanks. Thought of you.”

He silently laughs. You sit closer to him this time and your mug sits next to his. There’s no funny quote written across the paint. Then your hand is on his back, barely rubbing him, and it hits JJ that this is the first time you’ve touched him in five years.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” you tell him. “It ain’t my place to say any of that. Especially not today.”

“It’s true, though. That’s the kicker, ain’t it? That it’s true,” JJ replies.

He sighs and leans back, sitting upright once more. Your hand falls away and you clasp it in the other in your lap. He glances down and takes in your side profile. That stupid piece of hair has come lose again, fallen in your face. He distracts his twitching fingers by twisting one of his rings.

“I’m okay, you know,” you tell him. You look up and meet his eyes. Yours are damp with emotion, just like his were moments earlier. “I’m really okay.”

“You almost weren’t though.”

“Is that the problem? That I almost wasn’t?”

“It’s not the problem. You were never a problem.”

“I ain't mean it like that,” you tell him. You shake your head and JJ isn’t entirely sure why. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Am I the reason that you left Kildare?”

A bird calls outside and JJ seems to latch onto it like a lifeline. That question makes him feel stranded and scared. He wasn’t ready for it despite being fully prepared.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I…It ain't that simple.”

“Can you explain it to me, maybe?” you wonder. There’s no wrath to your tone anymore – no vendetta against him. There’s just curiosity and care, and this wonderful tenderness that JJ always associated with you from day one, when you offered him your cap to keep his hair off his face.

“I didn’t like the person I was in Kildare.”

“Okay,” you quietly say.

“I didn’t like how I acted. I didn’t like how reckless I was, and how I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.”

“Like me?”

JJ swallows. He doesn’t tear his eyes from yours though. “Yeah. Like you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, quieter still, nodding.

“After El Dorado, coming back here, everything felt tainted. I just…I needed to escape it. My dad and my past and…And you. I couldn’t face it. I felt like I’d caused some freak accident and had gotten away, and then I'd come back to face the aftermath and I just couldn’t stomach it. I just ran.”

You nod.

“I just ran,” he hears himself repeat. “And I’m not proud of it. Of any of it.”

“Okay.”

“And I wanted to fix things, but I didn’t know how. Every time I thought of coming back to Kildare, or picking up the phone, or going on Instagram and finding you…I just got so fucking scared, like a stupid shithead kid. I was so scared of becoming the guy I was again.”

And, again, you nod. When he doesn’t continue, you fill the space. “How long have you been sober?”

“The minute I left Kildare.”

“Fuck.”

“Cold turkey. It sucked ass. It still does. You don’t miss it any less. I miss the rage too, sometimes. I miss my dad sometimes, too. Miss him beating on me. How fucked up is that? That I miss him beating on me?”

You don’t seem to know what to say to that. You just look down at the coffee mugs and watch how the steam is slowly but surely going away.

“I am sorry. I know that ain't worth anything, but I am sorry.”

“It is worth something.” You clear your throat, voice coming out stronger when you say, “It’s worth everything.”

Your smile comes back, timid and tiny. You meet eyes for the millionth time that night.

“It feels like I’ve been ready for you to come back, for so long, and now you’re actually here and…I don’t even know where to start.” He watches your tongue dart out and wet your lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so good.”

“Disappointed?”

“Massively. I would have got my ass in the gym more if I knew it was a Goddamn competition.”

JJ smiles. “You were always a sore loser.”

“Says you,” you snort.

There’s another peak in the conversation after the long slug of the last dip. It’s so bizarre. So wonderfully bizarre.

“I’m proud of you, for getting sober. Do you feel better for it?”

“Depends.”

“Well, you look better for it,” you say.

“You’re drooling, I think,” JJ teases, reaching a finger out to prod your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you mirthfully bat his hand away. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Well, withdrawal does crazy things,” he quips back.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I miss you too.”

Your lips part a little with that. Miss. You seem to hesitate to hold his gaze then, like it’s too intense. JJ feels as though he can see every emotion flash across your face in a second, like watching a car crash in slow motion. Surprise, shock, joy, anger, then sadness. It’s that sadness that hammers hard when you speak, voice weak.

“You left without saying anything, JJ. For five years. You just left me.”

“Don’t make it sound like that. Like I abandoned you.”

“But you did,” you whisper. The tears are back. You’ve both fallen from the top of the mountain. “You abandoned me.”

“You don’t get it,” JJ replies, voice suddenly thick.

“I was in it with you.”

“You didn’t see it,” JJ forces out. His tears are falling: they didn’t wait this time. “You didn’t see how it looked – how you looked. You looked so fucking fragile and tiny and small and your leg was so bent and twisted and black – it was black – and I thought you were already dead.”

Your breathing is shaky and broken. The two of you sit on your sofa in the sunset, eyes locked, tears streaming, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon. The word ‘dead’ hangs in the air and haunts the room.

“I thought you were dead, and I thought it was because of me.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Why the fuck would I—”

“Because I didn’t die? Do you hate me for it?”

JJ blinks back his bewilderment. He physically shifts back in his seat, as if you just spat in his face. Horrified, he tells you, “Of course I don’t. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because I’m still here, JJ. But you acted like I wasn’t for five years. You didn’t even come see me in the hospital. Didn’t sit with me in the ambulance. Hell, you can’t even look at my leg now! You think I didn’t notice? At the graveyard, and now. You think I can’t see it on your face?”

JJ whispers your name in a tearful plea. Stop.

“I’m still here, JJ. And I invited you back here, and I went to the funeral, because I wanted to see you.”

“To show me what I did?” JJ asks, harsher than needed.

You hold his gaze. “To show you I’m okay.”

He shakes his head, insistent. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t been drinking and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never let you jump off the bike like that. It was fucking reckless and stupid and I would never, ever do it again. It was all my fault.”

“I don’t care who’s fault it was, JJ,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out and traces his cheek and jaw, and he can’t help but lean into your warm touch. There you sit, cradling his face as if he was the victim in this whole thing. It calms him almost immediately. “Nobody forced me on that bike. Nobody forced me to jump, not even you.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“JJ,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes as you shift in your spot, and somehow you end up with your forehead pressed against his. He reaches out one of his hands for the other of yours that rests in your lap and he clenches it, tight. You’re both still crying but they’re silent tears now.

“I forgive you, JJ.”

He shakes his head whilst you nod.

“Yes, I do, I forgive you. I always have. You know why?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

“Because you were dealt the shitest hand I’ve ever known and look who you are. You’re sober, and you're healthy, and you have loving friends and a steady income and a job which you love, and a boathouse, and so much of your life left. And you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t kill me, JJ. You didn’t even lose me.”

“I don’t—”

“We’re more than our mistakes.”

When JJ opens his eyes, you pull back enough to let him meet your gaze. As if you know what he’s about to ask, you smile. That smile…JJ feels like he’s coming home.

“You’re more than your mistakes, JJ.”

The moment his lips slot against yours, tentative and hesitant, like a bird exploring new ground for the first time, he’s home. There’s hardly a moment of reluctance, of confusion and mismatch from the time passed, before you’re kissing him back. The softness of your lips against his and the brush of your tongue. The sigh in your voice and the tilt of your head. It’s so seamless and sweet and safe. JJ feels safe here, with you. He feels like all the shit doesn’t matter. He feels like sober might actually be synonymous with happiness, with you. When he lies you down on the sofa, JJ doesn’t want to leave this room, this house, or Kildare. He wants to stay here, worshipping you, breathing you in until you consume all of his senses, because after five years, nothing has made him feel as alive as this. As you.

Everything is a wonderful illusion of being rushed and well-paced all at once. He revels in the way your skin gives gently beneath the scrape of his teeth. When he sucks at your throat, the skin is so delicate, and this close to you JJ can smell nothing but your perfume. He wants to fucking drown in it.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he pants. You’re gasping too. Fingers sliding through his hair, down his sides, along his face.

“I missed you,” you whine.

And that phrase gets repeated over and over like a mantra or a prayer. He hears himself whispering it against your skin with every button he undoes on your blouse. Basks in the sound of your voice, older and mature but still you, as you say it whilst pushing his dress shirt off his shoulder.

There’s a stalling pause when his fingers finish tracing down your stomach to your pants. You seem to notice it. Your hand comes to his face and thumbs at his cheek. They’re still sticky from dried tears.

“JJ,” you whisper, coaxing his attention back to your face. You’re glowing. You’re happy, you’re healthy, and you’re here. “It’s okay.” Nodding, you repeat. “It’s okay.”

Then, he watches your own fingers land on the button of your pants, slowly undoing it. Then the other and the third until they’re lose. He watches you wriggle out of them, pulling them down, struggling somewhat from the tight position on the sofa. Watches the scars emerge, faint but clear, and how they grow and spread like ivy on the side of a house. They merge with the cellulite and stretch marks. With a random bruise you must’ve gotten from hitting your leg on the table the other day. They’re a part of you – plain and simple. At the knee, there’s the connection for your prosthetic right leg. Once your trousers are off, JJ finds himself reaching out to touch it. This thing that he was partly responsible for, this marvel of medicine, the reason you can walk. He loves it and hates it desperately all at once. Glancing back up to your face, you’re watching him just as carefully as he was watching you. But you’re smiling.

“You’re okay,” JJ finds himself saying quietly. Because you are. You’re here, laying almost bare before him, just like you had years before.

“It’s rude to make a girl wait, JJ,” you tease.

With that, JJ’s smile is blossoming back like the returning of spring flowers following a brutal winter. He leans forward and catches himself above you with his arms, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen in the world. Your left leg rubs at his calf, still covered by his trousers, and you giggle against his mouth.

“Fuck, I missed this,” you say. “I missed you.”

“How much?”

“So much,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What’d you miss?” JJ persists, kissing down your neck.

“Your mouth,” you say through a moan. His hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra. You arch your back enough for him to tug it off.

“My mouth?” he wonders, breathing it against your skin. You’re practically writhing. JJ laughs. “What about my mouth?”

“Don’t be a jackass, JJ,” you mutter.

“You want my mouth?”

“Yes,” you quietly beg.

“You do?” he checks, kissing over your breast, sucking at your nipple. “Where do you want it?”

“You fucking know where,” you sigh, impatience shining through.

He grins at the sudden hitch of your moan as he softly nips at the sensitive skin around your nipple. Then he’s kissing down your stomach until finally his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He slowly, tauntingly, pulls them down. You kick them off at the ankles, a clear act of frustration, and he bites back his laugh.

“What? Here?” JJ plants a kiss to your hipbone. “You want my mouth here? Or…”

Another kiss, to your pelvic bone.

“Here?”

“Fuck you, Maybank.”

“You wanna?”

“I swear to fucking God,” you huff, laughing through the annoyance.

With that, JJ settles himself between your legs and praises you like you deserve to be. The noises you make are downright evil, considering he can do nothing about it and has to hold it together. You taste so familiar on his tongue.

“Fucking missed you,” he groans against you.

When he sucks on your clit, your hands latch into his hair. Your back is arching and you’re gasping and panting and desperate, and JJ feels like a young God. Pulling back, he slips a finger into your hole and it welcomes him so easily. He cusses at how wet you are.

“Come on baby. Come on, I know you’re close.”

The tells of your body haven’t changed since the last time you two were in this position. The way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan when you fall over the edge is so surreal to see after five years apart. He feels you spasms around him and basks in the scratch of your nails against his scalp as you try to ground yourself. He hardly has time to suck his fingers clean before your pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him stupid.

“Fucking missed you,” you repeat against his mouth, making him laugh. “Nobody fucks me as good as you.”

“Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that,” JJ chuckles. “Won’t last.”

“Don’t care,” you say. “Only thing bigger than your ego is your dick.”

JJ can’t help but laugh at that. He loves your giggles in response. And then your hands are shoving at his trousers and the humour is gone, replaced with nothing but raw lust and desperation. There’s nothing performative about it, when the two of you hurry to strip his clothes away as soon as possible. He takes note to get his socks off. You’d always had a weird thing about it, sex in socks, and nothing was going to taint this night. Not after so long.

Being inside you…JJ missed it more than all the alcohol and weed in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling of you clenching around him. The vice of your leg hitched up and over his back as he grips into your thigh, mean and firm, perfecting the angle. The senseless, endless whines falling from your agape mouth, eyes closed tight, lost in the feeling of it. JJ wants nothing to be less than perfect for you, for this. Every stroke, every kiss, every clench of his fingers…it all has to be perfect. He knows when you’re close and he’s more than fucking relieved. It’s taking everything in him not to come. He needs you to fall over the edge first.

“Do the thing,” you whine. “Do the thing, John.”

With that, JJ remembers five years back, to late nights and later mornings spent rolling in bed with you. He bites into his lip, holding back his shit-eating grin as the memories flood back, and he leans forward to your ear. Gently taking the lobe within his teeth, he croons into the shell of your ear.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”

And finally, you fall apart, taking JJ with you like you always would.

When the high finally passes and the endorphins settle down, the two of you are laying on the sofa, only covered by a throw blanket JJ had dragged down from the back of the sofa. You’ve somehow shuffled so you’re laying mostly atop of him. His arms are locked around your damp stomach like a vice, nose nestled into your hair, just behind your ear, breathing you in with every inhale.

“Will you stay in Kildare, just for a short while? For me?”

JJ wants to laugh but he knows how wrong that would be in this moment. The humour doesn’t come from the question, but from the notion that he’d leave after finally having you back in his life, safe and happy, after five long years.

“Anything,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. Anything for you.

“You look like shit by the way,” JJ says.

His hands are warm in his cargo pant pockets. Head tilted down and gaze steady, he sighs.

“Guess you didn’t have chance to clean up though, right?”

Shockingly, the gravestone says nothing back. Well, says nothing asides form Luke Maybank in barely legible font.

It still feels surreal, that his dad is gone. That they’d never remedy anything, or even attempt to fix their relationship. That JJ wouldn’t be able to face him and show him what he’d become. How he’d risen past it all and grown from the pain and the agony. That he’d taken the shitty hand that he was dealt and turned it into nothing but flushes and full houses. That he hadn’t grown into a petty criminal or a tax-evading lowlife, but a strong, good-willed, well-intentioned man. The thought, bittersweet at heart, makes him smile.

“I’m happy dad. I know you probably hate that, being dead and all, but I am.”

As if on cue, there’s the high pitch giggles from afar that catch JJ’s attention. He glances over to spot you and your wonderful mini-you, sitting on your shoulders, waving at him. He waves back, small and short, smiling.

“I’m glad you never met her,” JJ tells his dad, never tearing his eyes away from the pair of you. You ease her off your shoulders and take her hand, pointing to a small bed of daffodils. “I was so scared I’d be bad at this. I was so scared that I’d be like you.”

She’s so fragile as she picks a flower free from the bunch, holding it by the stem, up to you. You nod and presumably smile in approval.

“But I’ll never be like you. She’ll never know what it feels like to live in fear,” JJ states, firmly. He looks back down to the grave. “I’m not your mistakes, and I’m not mine.”

He lowers to a squat and wipes some of the dirt off the stone, revealing the dates. “Happy birthday, dad. You suck, and I hope you’re finally at peace.”

“Daddy, daddy…”

There’s an insistent tug at his jacket sleeve. JJ smiles and looks down at the best mistake he ever made. Mistake is a strong word. ‘Oops, I think is better’, you’d said when you first showed him the pregnancy test.

“What’s up, bub?”

“I found this flower. Can I give it to papa?”

JJ takes the daffodil and glances to the grave. A brief moment of anger passes over him like the breeze of winter. He doesn’t deserve this. He isn’t your papa. I’m glad he’s dead. But he closes his eyes and breathes. Your hand squeezing gently at his shoulder tells him you’re there. It helps ground him.

“Yeah, bub. I think that’d be nice,” he smiles, handing it back.

She giggles as she puts it on the grass just before the stone. Her laughter is brighter and louder still when JJ scoops her up as he stands, looping her around him until she’s a backpack.

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop.

“Hell yeah!” mini-you copies. JJ laughs.

“Alrighty, lets go.”

As the three of you make the small walk back to the car, you intertwine your fingers with JJ’s, holding his hand tight and secure. JJ takes one last glance back at the gravestone. It all began here, in a way, the re-introduction to a life he thought he’d lost. Perhaps the nicest thing JJ’s dad ever did, the kindest act he ever performed, was dying. Perhaps that was his way of paying him back for all the crap he gave.

“Hey.”

JJ glances down at you.

“You okay?”

He smiles. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Everything is going to be okay.

#JJ #JJ Maybank #JJ x reader #JJ Maybank x reader #jj x oc #jj maybank x oc #outer banks #outerbanks #outer banks jj #outerbanks jj #outer banks jj x reader #outerbanks jj x reader #outer banks fic #outerbanks fic

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bloatedandalone04 · 9 months

Text

Fluff → 💕 | Angst → 💋 | Smut → 🔥

All works are written by me and are not given consent to be reposted anywhere else other than my own account (reblogs are fine)

Dom Hayden Blurb

Social Media Au

Fever Dream 💕

➪the one where you and hayden celebrate his birthday.

Open Invitation 🔥

➪the one where hayden’s day off with you gets interrupted. Done Right 🔥 ➪the one where you and hayden get back to your unfinished business. (part 2 of OI)

Like Fine Wine 💕🔥

➪the one where you can’t resist hayden’s look for his role in ahsoka.

Sweet Spot 🔥

➪the one where hayden goes down on you.

Santa, Baby 💕

➪the one where you and hayden celebrate christmas. Bring in the New Year 💕🔥 ➪the one where you and hayden enter a new year together (part 2 of SB).

The Night has Just Begun 💕🔥

➪the one where you and hayden make a sex tape.

Second Nature 💕

➪the one where hayden is not only protective over you, but the tiny person he helped make with you.

Ride With Me Series 💕🔥💋

➪the one where you and hayden meet and fall in love, despite having a rocky introduction. (racer au)

He’s Got My Name 💕💋

➪the one where everything a.j. does, he does for you. Tattooed On His Arm 💕💋 ➪the one where a.j. finally gets the money for your treatment, but at a cost. (part 2 of HGMN)

The Only One Invited 💕🔥💋

➪the one where you’re with a.j. and ghost, your ex, gets out of prison.

No One Else 💕🔥

➪the one where you throw a housewarming party, and a.j. isn’t fond of all the guys staring at you in his new living room.

Dating Anakin Skywalker would include;

Blurb 1

Cosmic Love 💋

➪the one where you break anakin’s heart after he unknowingly broke yours. Back To You 💕💋 ➪the one where anakin is slipping away and needs you more than ever. (part 2 of CL) The Story of Us 💕💋 ➪the one where things are a a bit different after you and anakin get back together. (part 3 of CL/BTY)

Heartbreak Prince 💕💋🔥

➪the one where you’re a princess and anakin saves you in more ways than one.

Shadows of Your Heart 💕💋

➪the one where anakin makes it up to you after being distant during a mission.

When Faced with Darkness 💋

➪the one where you and anakin reunite years after he turned to the dark side.

Screaming Whispers 💕🔥

➪the one where anakin is a musician and you’re his muse. ➪Something to Write About. (one shot | part of the SW au) add ons; one, two

Wrapped Around Your Finger Series 💕🔥💋

➪the one where you and anakin struggle to find time for each other after his first tour wraps up. (continuation of screaming whispers) Series Playlist

Love Language 💕💋

➪the one where you’re all clay needs to keep himself calm before surgery (and after).

Sound of Your Heart 💕💋

➪the one where you take care of clay after his surgery.

In The Way I Need You Series 💕🔥💋

➪the one where clay needs a babysitter for his son, and you just so happen to be more than willing to take up his offer.

Blurb

If I Love You was a Promise 💕💋

➪the one where james’ brother comes home just when things were falling into place. Don’t Come Back For Me 💋 ➪the one where everything falls apart. (part 2 of IILYWAP) Careless Whisper 💕💋 ➪the one where james struggles with getting used to his life without you, even nearly a year after the break up. (part 3 to IILYWAP/DCBFM)

The Perks 💕🔥

➪the one where you get to experience all the perks that come with being james’ wife and biggest supporter.

Dating Luke Reiter would include;

Right Back to the Start 💕💋🔥

➪the one where luke wakes up to the abandoned city of detroit and doesn’t think twice about looking for the one person that always meant the most to him.

Til Morning Comes 💕💋

➪the one where luke is late for work after spending the night in the sheets with you, but quickly discovers that his attendance is the least of his worries.

Teen Romance 💕💋

➪the one where you try to make sam see just how good he has it, and he almost loses both you and his dad before he finally changes his act.

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swissboyhisch · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST

JAMIE DRYSDALE

Last Call Inspired by "Last Call" by Will Linley.

NIKITA ZADOROV

My Jersey After a little rain comes sun... And thunder. Thunder in the form of a six-foot five Russian defenseman.

That Scar Hurt By The Way In a world where everyone has a soulmate link, you happened to luck out with a pain link.

NATHAN MACKINNON

Lost In Japan Inspired by "Lost In Japan" by Shawn Mendes.

TYLER SEGUIN

Picasso The perfect family... Mum. Dad. And three dogs. With a touch of fluff and uninformed comment.

DYLAN LARKIN

You know I love you right? After bad game, what more could you ask for? Maybe just chinese, Netflix and some good old cuddling.

CONNOR MCDAVID

I’m Your Favourite, Eh? An All-Star Competition and a married couple with a kiddo. What more could you ask for?

I Brought Too Many Sorry Female issues are always a fun time of month. Even worse... running out of pads in a time of need. Luckily someone comes to the rescue, a little too well.

MATTHEW TKACHUK

Surprise Cheerleader Surprises from one party to another during a big Volleyball game.

All-Star Love The NHL All Star weekend is always fun. But bring in a romance… Then that's when it becomes interesting.

GUSTAV NYQUIST

Hey There Delilah Inspired by "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White T's.

NICO HISCHIER

Thanks For The 20 Kiddos Hosting hockey players was normal. Guys that would become brothers. Until him.

Cupid Cousin First game against his old team for your cousin and he wants you there. Luckily some of his ex-teammates are cute.

The Aussie BBQ Experience You finally got to take Nico home to Australia. He got the true experience of an Aussie BBQ.

The Aussie Easter Experience Nico gets to experience an Aussie Easter after being not making the playoffs.

The Aussie Snack Experience As a marketing idea, you get to feature in a video with Nico trying snacks from your home country.

The Aussie Chrissie Experience Since Nico is injured just before Christmas, you head back to Australia for Nico to experience an Aussie Chrissie.

Sorry But I Really Like Her You head to Newark to see your parents new place after avoiding it like the plague. Maybe this time, something with make you want to come back.

We're Not Naked You just wanted some time alone with your partner. Sadly, your brothers are clingy.

Hughes Siblings Acquired (Part 1) Somehow, the New Jersey Devils acquire a player who will fit in well on the team.

Welcome to New Jersey (Part 2) Quinn arrives to New Jersey and has his first training with his brothers and new team.

The Sugar Fix After opening your cafe and bar, a familiar hockey player comes in opening day. Seems like he remembers you too.

JACK HUGHES

Prom Queen Inspired by "Prom Queen" by Molly Kate Kestner.

LUKE HUGHES

Don't Want to Lose You (Part 1) You notice something is wrong with your body. A wrong diagnosis then something you never wanna hear.

Will You Be There When I Wake Up? (Part 2) Two weeks pass and it's time for surgery.

I'd Marry You Tomorrow (Part 3) As a precautionary measure, you follow through with the doctor suggestion to collect eggs. It wasn't as an easy process as you thought.

MACKENZIE BLACKWOOD

Home Inspired by "Home" by Phillip Phillips.

MAT BARZAL

Opening Night For once Mat is your pretty accessory for your big night. Instead of the other way round.

Drunken Mistakes (Part 1) After receiving some bad news, you just wanted to not be alone. After a couple drinks, what most likely is a bad decision, starts to sound too good to miss.

New York Luck (Part 2) After a lovely holiday, your partner breaks up with you and so you turn to your only friend in the city.

CARTER HART

Something In The Orange Inspired by the song "Something In The Orange" by Zach Bryan. Little Miss Klutz Despite you hating your pain link to your soulmate, he had a tendency to look on the brighter side.

BRAYDEN POINT

You’re Not Useless Broken bones and being bed bound can affect you more than physically. Fighting words are thrown between the pair.

STEVEN STAMKOS

WAG Meetings After it's confirmed that the boys will go to playoffs for another season, the WAGs have a meeting to discuss the most exciting part. WAG Jackets.

AUSTON MATTHEWS

My Family A pair of friends reunite with a surprise in store for one of them. Oops, it's a baby.

Bad Day = Cuddles After the worst day you have had in a long time, your boyfriend at home was ready to take care of you.

You're My Favouite A visit to your family goes wrong when Auston meets your Aunt.

MATTHEW KNIES

Halloween Surprise The team's Halloween party seemed like the perfect time to reveal to everyone who you were dating.

MITCH MARNER

God, You’re Amazing A championship game ends up being the best day for multiple people's lives.

Stop Flirting With Marner! A few Leafs spy a figure skater practicing on the ice of the All-Star Arena. After persistent bugging from his friends, one finds himself embarrassing himself to try score a date.

WILLIAM NYLANDER

Flirt With Her Tomorrow A day spent at a stable as a team bonding exercise turns out to be a great place to meet people for some.

Never Letting You Go Again Bumping into exes are always fun. But with a little meddling from a sweet cafe owner who's missed her favourite regulars, some truths are revealed.

ANTHONY BEAUVILLIER

Baking Antics A rainy day means baking and dancing in the kitchen.

Kick Ass Your first time back in a competition and your luck charm definitely helped.

QUINN HUGHES

Support My Girl The final dance concert comes around and you're lucky to have such a supportive family.

SOCIAL MEDIA FIC MASTERLIST

ALL WRITING AND GRAPHICS USED ON THIS POST IS MINE. I CREATED THE VISUALS FOR THIS ON CANVA.

UPDATED: 9/11/23

#swissboyhisch #swissboyhisch masterlist #masterlist #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl smut

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axelsagewrites · 1 year

Text

Modern Jace Headcannons

Masterlist Here

Jace was raised right and anyone who meets him can tell

The boy is just a ball of pure love to anyone who meets him but he’s also incredibly shy

Unlike other shy kids even when he’s with his friends or family he’s just quiet

He hates yelling, hates fighting, hates confrontation

Until someone says shit about Luke or someone else he loves

Rhaynera will never forget the day Jace came home with a black eye only to find out the other guy dislocated his shoulder and Luke could finally walk his high school without fear

Jace is a gentle guy but he will fuck a bitch up

He’s easily the strongest out of all his family

Aegon once tried to challenge him to an arm wrestle and his wrist still hurts from losing so badly while Jace didn’t even blink

His love language is gift giving

Sees a shinny rock on his way home from school? Let’s add this to his mums garden. Finds a cool new game on steam. Sends a code to Luke. Finds anything bug related anywhere ever. Instantly buys it for his auntie

He’s popular in school but has never had a girlfriend

The boy is clueless

Or maybe gay his family cannot tell

Someone could have their tongue down his throat and a wedding ring in their hand and he’d think they were just friendly

The type to get a job in high school for the experience despite being loaded

However also the type to just not show up to work because he slept in

He doesn’t care

But he’s also the first to cover your shift

He’s best friends with Luke but refuses to admit it

He doesn’t fully understand his gaming hobby but he gets a computer to join in anyway

Aegon and Luke are constantly carrying his ass in games but he’s just there for the vibe

And he provides snacks

Jace is a bottomless pit. The boy can eat

He eats everything. Sushi? Check. Chinese? Check. Italian? Check. Kebab? Check. Mexican? Check.

And he’d eat all that in one day and still be hungry

He cannot cook or bake to save his life though. Its scary. He burned water once and everyone was shocked and impressed

He plays sports at school but its just a hobby for him

Plus, he used to play with his dad Harwin before he died

His first stepdad tried to join in but to no success. His new stepdad Daemon goes to his games hungover but won’t play ball with him

He tries to convince Luke to play with him but no dice

Thankfully Joffrey finally was able to kick a ball and Jace taught him football straight away

Despite Jace legit sounding perfect he is an incredible insecure boy

He constantly feels not good enough and like he has to do more despite his mother’s reassurance

But he’s always felt the need to compete with his uncles his whole life so for him it’s still a struggle

But his mum had them all in therapy from a young age so he’s well-adjusted but craves reassurance

#house of the dragon preference #house of the dragon fluff #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon headcannons #hotd #hotd headcanon #hotd imagine #hotd jace #jace velaryon #jace velaryon imagine #jace velaryon x reader #Jacaerys Velaryon #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fluff #jacaerys velaryon x reader #modern jace velaryon #modern jace hotd #modern Jacaerys Velaryon

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kazoosandfannypacks · 4 months

Note

College au spring break trip and/or Sabine meets Grogu for the WIP ask game, please?

🏫 college au spring break trip

This is one of my AUs that I wish I'd finished— technically, it could qualify as finished, if I want it to have an unhappy ending with loose ends, but who wants that?

This fic, of course, takes place in my OUaT college AU. I haven't worked out every single nitty gritty of this au, but I know a lot about who's roommates with who, who hangs out with who, and a lot of the character dynamics. In this story, Emma and her roommate, Elsa, decided to go on a road trip together for spring break. Unfortunately for Emma, who isn't the biggest fan of huge groups of people, Elsa invited Mary Margaret, who insisted on bringing David, who wanted to bring Robin and Killian, and then Will found out about it and August and Belle and Ruby ended up tagging along too, along with Regina, all crammed in a rental van for a few hours.

When they finally get to the hotel they're staying at, everyone is exhausted, especially Emma and Killian, who, though they don't know each other very well or hang out very often, end up falling asleep together on the couch during a movie night that night.

I don't have too much plot worked out past that, but I've loved playing around with the characters in a modern au, and doing silly little things like implying that Will Scarlet is a tumblr user and that Robin Hood never pays for streaming services and instead just pirates whatever he wants to watch. This is also part of the AU where Will and Belle are exes who tolerate each other but are always being snippy and sarcastic toward each other, and August, despite being rivals with Belle and often bickering with her, cares about Belle more than he lets on, and goes out of his way to be as subtly spiteful and rude to Will as possible.

💚 sabine meets grogu

This one came about from me having a little empty space on my shelf covered in Grogu figurines and putting my Sabine Wren funko pop there, which lead me thinking about how, if Ahsoka had continued to train Sabine, then Grogu and Sabine would've undoubtedly met at some point in the Mandalorian/Book of Boba Fett.

In this story, Sabine isn't with Ahsoka when she meets Grogu the first time, because Ahsoka didn't want Sabine coming along on (or even knowing about) a finding-the-map-that-leads-to-Thrawn-and-Ezra mission, worried that her feelings might get in the way, and if they failed or came upon another dead end (there'd been lots of those in the last decade) she didn't want Sabine to be disappointed and weaken her already-a-little-shaky relationship with the light side of the Force.

However, Sabine does come along with Ahsoka when we see her in the Grogu storyline from BoBF. Grogu, who has been missing his dad Din a lot, is instantly drawn to the Mandalorian Jedi apprentice. Sabine isn't usually the kind of person that children are naturally drawn to, so she's really confused by this tiny green youngling who has been clinging to her shoe since she got here, but as soon as Ahsoka explains Grogu's story, Sabine understands.

But when Sabine learns that Grogu had to decide between his family and his training, she's obviously very ticked off, more upset with the Jedi order than any Mandalorian has ever been, and ends up telling off Luke Skywalker to his face, giving him a very large lecture on the importance of family to a Mandalorian, and how when you have a family, you should do everything you can to hold onto them, because you never know when you're gonna lose them, and how it's just not fair for Grogu to have to decide between the two. Luke, however, quickly realizes that Sabine isn't upset at him, nor is she really upset on Grogu's behalf, as much as she's projecting her own unhandled grief over everyone she's lost onto the situation.

I'm still not sure how this fic will end, but Grogu and Din will be reunited, and I might have Ahsoka tell Sabine about her already-formulated plan that'll bring them closer to finding Ezra than they've been in a long time.

Thanks for the ask!!!

🖊 send me the title of one of my wips and i'll tell you about it!

#once upon a time #captain swan #star wars #sabine wren #grogu #kazzy writes #kazzy answers asks #kazzy's kazootuals #otp: try something new darling

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phoenixkaptain · 1 year

Text

I’m in a lot of pain, so I want to write sad stuff.

I want to write about Obi-Wan spending nearly twenty years watching his best friend’s, his brother’s, his favourite person’s kid and how he realizes, even as he watches, that Luke looks like Anakin and sometimes he acts like Anakin, but Luke isn’t Anakin and will never be Anakin. And Obi-Wan doesn’t want him to be Anakin, but a part of him does, a part of him wants that camaraderie and that easy affection and the boy he spent ten years watching grow to come back to him.

I want to write about Luke and how he loses so many people. He never had his parents, he loses his aunt and uncle, he loses Ben, and when he finally gets to meet his dad, which is the only thing he’s wanted for years (to meet and be like his dad), Anakin dies in his arms. Luke sees his aunt and uncle’s smoldering bodies and watches Obi-Wan die right in front of him and Yoda die right in front of him and Anakin die in his arms. Luke would only have a familial connection to his sister, and then he finds out Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments and it must break a part of him. He spent so long trying to be like his father, to be a Jedi like his father before him, and his attachment to the one person he has left in the world would be enough to take that all away from him.

I want to write about Leia and the crushing realization that the man she’s hated her entire life, the man she has always seen as pure evil and nothing but evil, the man who tortured her and stood by while she had to watch her home explode, is her father. That she has that guy’s DNA, she’s blood relatives with the symbol of evil, in her mind. But, to throw away her father would be to deny that she and Luke are twins. And she depends on Luke as much as Luke depends on her, they’re a duo that’s nigh inseparable even before they know they’re related. But, Luke accepts their father, and Leia doesn’t want to accept their father, and it’s hard to get around that. Leia doesn’t know Anakin as a good person. She knows him as a murderer and a torturer and a kidnapper and the man who cut off her brother’s hand. It’s hard to think of him as anything else.

I want to write about Anakin. Anakin watches his mother die due to actions outside of his control, and he blames himself forever. He’s told by the only person he still trusts that he killed his own wife and their unborn child. Then, he stands there, watching as the child who should be impossible, who cannot possibly have been born, the child he’s spent years and years chasing after, watching his son is die, right in front of him. His son who is a twin. His son who is Vader’s only evidence that he and Padme loved each other. His son who begs him for help and believes that he’s still good even after the Jedi Order and the rest of the galaxy and Anakin’s own Master believe that all the good has died. His son who is stupid and reckless and came onto this ship with half a plan and hope.

I want to write about Yoda and how he watches his whole line fall apart. Dooku betrays the Order. Qui-Gon is killed by the Sith, who have been assumed dead for years. Obi-Wan is left as the only other Jedi Master who still lives, but he’s forced to hide on the desert planet where Qui-Gon died to watch the son of his Padawan who wants him dead. Anakin grew from a nervous but excited little boy into the most feared man in all of the galaxy. Ahsoka left the Order before it fell to pieces, and nobody knows where she is or what happened to her. Then, Obi-Wan dies, but asks Yoda to teach Anakin’s son. A Skywalker who is impatient and rash and angry, just like his father. But, what else can Yoda do? And the more time he spends with him, the more he realizes that Luke isn’t like Anakin. The more he realizes that Luke is strong in ways Anakin was not. Strong in ways none of the Jedi were. And for the first time in over two decades, he feels hope that the galaxy can be saved. That the Jedi Order, his family, can be saved.

Luke Skywalker and the heavy burden placed on his shoulders. To be a Jedi and a General the likes of Anakin Skywalker. Maybe destined to fall and become evil like Darth Vader. He stands at a crossroads where he barely knows what it even means to be a Jedi and he doesn’t want to hurt his father, the man who he’s always aspired to be, but the other path is death and betrayal and pain and destruction and slavery to the Emperor. And Luke forges his own path, even though the Jedi warn against it. He tries to save his father or die trying. He knows Vader might kill him, but he’s willing to bet on the most infinitisimal odds that Anakin is still there, somewhere. Luke saves his father with the power of attachment, with the love that Anakin tried to use to save his mother and Padme and everyone he’s ever loved.

The Skywalkers are so depressing. The Disaster Lineage is depressing. Star Wars is depressing. And I am still in horrible pain

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kalak · 1 year

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There's this folk tale of a woodsman with a heart of gold losing his axe in a pond at the middle of a forest - he's devastated, but a helpful pond spirit comes up from the pond. Holding a golden axe, they ask if the golden axe is his, to which the woodsman says no - the spirit disappears and then reappears with a silver axe and asks if this one's his, to which he says no again. The third time the spirit appears with a regular old axe and the guy finally says that yes, that is his axe, and the spirit rewards his honesty by giving him all three axes.

This but, baby Luke skywalker meets some fae in the dunes and they ask him if 1. Obiwan's his dad 2. Maul's his dad 3. Cody's his dad etc etc and then they finally pull up Vader to which he... doesn't say yes, exactly - baby Luke just makes a face because the vibes say yes but the helmet says no. Still the fae rewards baby Luke and he gets like 10 dads.

You have to understand that the fae is just a troll. They pulled up all these dads in the middle of their day to day lives and now these mortal enemies (bail, vader, maul, obiwan, owen, cody etc etc) have to parent one child and also road trip back to civilization

#Ah fuck why is. Tumblr on laptop so hard to navigate #Look I'm just trying to document my brainworms without seeing andorposting for a month #I will be going insane when that finale drops #Luke skywalker #Dad vader #Star wars headcanons #my ramblings

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knuffled · 2 years

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Unfavored Odds - Chapter One

this is a hunger games au that has languished in my google docs for like six years. fear not, the fic is already done so i will update once a week! if you enjoyed, please reblog because this took a lot of work!

ao3 link

She volunteered, of course. The floorboards of the wooden scaffolding creaked beneath her feet, and the autumn sun cast a harsh glare through the square and offered little warmth. Standing in front of the crowd, the look on her father’s face, helpless and accusatory, stuck out even among the sea of faces. Annabeth clenched her hands at her sides and tried to quell the guilt and disgust churning in the pit of her stomach.

None of the boys volunteered, but Annabeth recognized the name that was drawn: Luke. He walked up to the scaffolding stiffly, his pale eyes colder than normal, without acknowledging her even though they’d known each other since they were children at the Academy. Not that she cared. After all, no one was really friends with anyone else in District 2. In all likelihood, Annabeth would be the one stepping over his corpse if he somehow managed to last that long. She was here to win.

The escort paraded the both of them in front of the crowd, and Annabeth held her head high despite the prick of her father’s gaze. She would be rid of him soon enough, whisked away to the Capitol on the train that gleamed like silver in the sunlight. Still, she found herself dreading their final meeting before she departed. The peacekeepers ushered her to a room by the station and left her alone. The room’s only furnishing was a dirty lightbulb that hung from the ceiling, flickering intermittently. Annabeth leaned against the far wall with an impatient sigh and picked at the dirt beneath her fingernails while she waited. Her stylists would have a field day with them, she thought wryly. There was always dirt or mud stuck between them from all of the time she spent building things with the bricks and blocks laying around in the streets when she wasn’t training. Her father burst into the room minutes later, glasses askew, face creased in disappointment. “You volunteered?” “Yeah.” He stared expectantly at her for a moment, waiting for her to elaborate, before he shook his head. “You always were a difficult child, but this is ridiculous, even for you.” Annabeth set her jaw and resumed picking at her fingernails, drawing an exasperated sigh out of him. “F-Find water first,” he ventured. “Little late to be playing the concerned father, don’t you think?” The way he immediately stiffened at her words gave her a sick rush of satisfaction and had her hiding a smile. “So that’s what this is?” he demanded, eyes glistening. “You’re doing this to punish me?” Annabeth snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I��m doing this for me.” He barked a harsh laugh and said, “Going and getting yourself killed is for your own sake, is it then?” “Thank you for the vote of confidence there, dad,” Annabeth hissed. “Has it ever occurred to you that I might win?” “For fuck’s sake, it’s the Games, Annabeth!” he burst out. “There’s no telling who’ll win! I thought you of all people would know that!” When Annabeth was silent, he withered in front of her and whispered, almost to himself. “That hubris of yours is going to get you killed, just like it did your mother.” Annabeth stepped towards him, livid, but the door shot open again and peacekeepers streamed into the room. Two of them grabbed her arms to force her out of the room, but she shrugged them off angrily and stormed out of the room on her own. If they assumed she wanted more time alone with her father, they were sorely mistaken. Her father started shouting something to her before the peacekeepers slammed the door shut, but Annabeth didn’t bother attention. She doubted it was useful.

Annabeth and irritation were old foes, and she’d been on the losing side of most of their battles. The stylists prepping her for the tribute parade made her fear she was in for yet another defeat. Three of them fretted over her - a tall, skeletal woman missing her eyebrows, a grim faced man with fingernails filed to points, and a petite woman painted gold from head to toe - clucking their tongues in disapproval every other second. Annabeth did her best to keep from crying out or complaining as they stripped her naked, waxed off any body hair, and viciously scrubbed every inch of her skin. They trimmed her nails, brushed her hair, and even probed the inside of her mouth. The only thing that stayed her tongue was that she knew how important it was to woo potential sponsors. After what felt like an eternity, they swathed her in a bath robe and carted her off to see her main stylist, leaving her in a plain room that looked like a gray cube. The air was sterile and cold enough to make to her suppress a shiver. A minute later, a brunette woman carrying a silver box stepped into the room. Annabeth gaped at the sight of her - she was undoubtedly the most beautiful person she had ever seen in her life. She offered a hand to Annabeth and smiled. “You must be Annabeth. I’m Silena, your head stylist.” “N-Nice to meet you,” Annabeth stammered. “Likewise,” Silena said brightly. “I’m going to have to ask you to remove your robe now.” Annabeth tried and failed to keep her insecurity at bay as she slipped off her robe and watched Silena circle around her, examining her naked body from every angle. Her expression was almost clinical, like Annabeth was a particularly interesting specimen she was studying under a microscope. Although Silena didn’t survey her for long, it felt like an eternity to Annabeth. “Wonderful!” Silena said, clapping her hands together. “The outfit is going to fit you like a glove!” She turned to rummage inside the box she’d brought with her and produced a thick, flowing purple robe. She helped her into the robe, and Annabeth reveled in the luxurious feel of the fabric against her skin and how well it fit. On the train ride, Annabeth had imagined her outfit was going to be a rock or something equally ridiculous to represent District 2’s masonry, but Silena had approached representing the district from the peacekeeping angle. To complete the outfit, Silena fitted her with a gold circlet and matching bangles before she stepped back to admire her handiwork. “You look amazing! Come, have a look in the mirror,” Silena beamed, leading her by the hand. When she looked in the mirror, Annabeth couldn’t quite make sense of her reflection. “I- I look like a queen.” A smile played on Silena’s lips. “That’s the angle we’ll play. You’re going to ignore the crowd during the chariot ride. They’re beneath you, undeserving of your attention. Imagine you’re President Snow’s grand-daughter if that would help.” “No, I should be okay. Ignoring people is one of my strong suits,” Annabeth joked. “Then there’s nothing to worry about,” Silena said, laughing. “I’ll see you again to outfit you before the interviews. I’ve got something special planned for that, too.” Annabeth offered her a small smile and quietly said, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” “You ought to smile more, Annabeth! You have a beautiful smile!” Silena said earnestly. Annabeth’s face prickled, but Silena moved on quickly to offering more advice about how to present herself aboard the chariot. A peacekeeper came shortly after to take her to the parade. Annabeth felt a wave of excitement wash over her and said her goodbyes to Silena. Finally, she would get a look at the other tributes and what exactly she was up against. The peacekeeper left her at the chariot assigned for District 2, and Luke was already waiting there leaning against it, dressed in matching attire. He gave her a lazy once over and clucked his tongue in approval, making Annabeth roll her eyes. There was still time before the ceremony, so she decided to survey the other tributes. As she walked, she made a mental note of any tributes that caught her eye, but for the most part they were a motley crew. The ones who stuck out where a hulking, dark-skinned boy from District 3 with a prosthetic leg; a tall, muscular girl with ruddy hair from District 7 who looked like she could snap a person in half with her bare hands; a dark-haired girl with steel in her eyes from District 9; and a crafty-looking boy with golden hair from District 1. Satisfied, Annabeth turned to make her way back to her chariot when she bumped into someone. A strong hand looped around her waist, instantly breaking her fall, and a dark-haired boy with sea-green eyes looked down at her with a smile, skin bronzed from years under the sun. “Whoa, easy there.” Annabeth knocked his hand off her waist, eyes narrowed, and stood upright. “Watch where you’re going.” He raised an eyebrow. “A simple thank you would’ve sufficed, you know?” “You want me to thank you for bumping into me?” Annabeth asked, snorting. The boy held his hands up in surrender and said, “Alright, my mistake, your majesty.” Annabeth’s temper threatened to flare, but his tone was playful and lacked any bite. She decided to ignore him and head back to her chariot, but he fell in step with her. When she frowned at him, he raised an eyebrow. “What? My chariot is also this way.” Annabeth rolled her eyes and walked faster, hoping he would get the hint, but he stopped at the chariot for District 4. That got her to pause a moment and make a mental note of him despite her poor first impression of him. She reached her chariot just as the horns began to sound. Luke had already climbed aboard and made no attempt to help her, not that she needed it. As the chariot lurched forward, Annabeth steadied herself and took a deep breath. Silena’s final words of advice echoed in her ears: “Remember, you’re a goddess. Mortals are beneath you. Don’t pay them any attention. Just look straight ahead. You’re strong and beautiful, and they are unworthy.” Annabeth drew herself up to full height and tried to conjure an imperious look on her face as the chariot drew in front of the crowd. Their arrival received a fanfare of applause and cheering, and she had to will herself not to smile despite the adulation, especially since the other tributes didn’t elicit nearly as warm a welcome. However, a short while later the crowd roared so loudly that Annabeth couldn’t help looking for the source of the commotion. She pursed her lips at the sight of the dark-haired boy from District 4, waving and smiling warmly at the audience. Luke’s eyes were on her, so she quickly faced forward again and set her jaw. There was something about the boy from four that just rubbed her the wrong way.

“You both did well,” Chiron, their mentor, told them on the elevator ride up to their rooms. Annabeth and Luke stood on either side of him, still dressed in their chariot outfits. As draining as the tribute parade had been, Annabeth found herself admiring the training building - it was even more impressive than she had imagined it would be. The building was tall enough to afford a full view of the Capitol, something she fully intended to take advantage of thanks to the fact that their rooms were on one of the top floors. “Starting tomorrow, you’ll head to the training center to prepare for the games. Start making note of strong, potential allies,” Chiron said. “Districts 1 and 2 have always had close bonds, and their mentor claims that their tributes this year are particularly special. One of them, Will, is an impressive archer or so I’m told. He might be a worthy ally for you both to consider.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “The both of us?” Annabeth’s jaw clenched at his tone. “He’s right. I’m not sure I want to be allies with him either.” “Glad we’re on the same page,” Luke said, eyes flashing. Chiron sighed and said, “It’s fine if you don’t want to work together, but remember that trust is one of the most precious commodities in the arena. Allying with someone from your district tends to be a safer bet.” Luke shrugged and looked away from Chiron. The elevator doors opened to their apartment shortly after, and Annabeth stomped off to her room without bothering to say goodnight. She had better things to do than trading words with Luke, and if Chiron had any advice it could wait till morning. She stripped off her clothes and helped herself to another shower. Afterwards, she changed into some pajamas provided in her room and slipped into bed. Given how exhausted she was, Annabeth assumed she would fall asleep immediately, but she found herself laying awake, staring up at the ceiling for what felt like hours. Eventually, she resigned herself to the fact that she wouldn’t be getting any sleep and decided to take the elevator up to the roof. The doors opened into the brisk night air, and Annabeth felt light-headed as she looked down at the Capitol. But, she soon realized she wasn’t alone. There was someone sitting near the edge of the roof, hugging his knees to his chest. Before she could decide whether to leave or not, he noticed her and said, “Doth my eyes deceive me or is that the royal highness herself?” Annabeth wanted to groan. Of all the people, it just had to be the annoying prick from District 4. He must have sensed her irritation because he laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I couldn’t help myself,” he said. “Honestly, though, can you really blame me? Your stylists sure gave you one hell of a costume.” It was the unmasked admiration in his voice that kept her from leaving. She walked over to him cautiously and said, but his eyes seemed to glow luminescent in the darkness, watching her with an earnestness that made her uncomfortable. Now that she got a better look at him, of course the fucker was annoyingly attractive too. “You had me beat, if the uproar you caused is anything to go by,” Annabeth said mildly. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but Annabeth thought she saw him blush a little. He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “I don’t know about that, but thank you.” He looked back up at her when she remained silent. “You can sit down, you know? I don’t bite.” Annabeth weighed her options before deciding that it wasn’t all that bad to sit down. She’d just have to endure him, she supposed. “I’m Percy, by the way.” Silence. “This is the part where you tell me your name.” “What’s the point?” Annabeth said, shrugging. “Not like it matters.” Percy studied her a moment. “You’re pretty bad at making friends, huh?” “What makes you think I want to be your friend?” Annabeth asked, raising an eyebrow. “Ouch,” Percy said, putting a hand over his heart. “You’re wounding me.” “You’re pretty talented at being annoying, huh?” Annabeth said, mimicking him. She expected him get angry, but he surprised her by laughing instead. “Well, it’s good to know you’ve got a sense of humor at least, District 2,” Percy said, a hint of approval in his voice. Annabeth rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself to brace against a gust of cold wind that blew over them. “I’m not here to make friends - I’m here to win,” Annabeth said firmly. “And, in case you didn’t know, winning means killing each other.” “Sure,” Percy shrugged. “But I don’t want to kill anyone if I can help it.” “Then do me a favor and let me kill you so you can die with a clean conscience,” Annabeth snapped. “There’s no place for moral authority in the arena.” At this, Percy laughed and stood up to leave. “Maybe you’re right, District 2. Maybe you’re right.” She was relieved that he was leaving, but she still felt unbelievably irritated. Her first impression of him had proved right: he definitely rubbed her the wrong way. And yet, Annabeth found herself calling out to him before he stepped into the elevator. “Annabeth!” she shouted. “My name’s Annabeth!” Although he didn’t respond, Annabeth swore she saw him hide a smile as the doors closed shut.

Percy smiled at her the next day at the training facility, even going so far as to wave to her. Annabeth wanted to bury her face in embarrassment when Luke gave her a sidelong glance, smirking. “That your boyfriend?” Luke whispered. Before Annabeth could come up with a smart retort, the head trainer addressed the group. “My name is Atala, and I’m the head trainer here. My job is to teach you all how to survive the games. We only have three days so spend your time wisely. It could mean the difference between life and death.” Atala walked them through the different stations at the facility and highlighted the importance of learning basic survival skills instead of relying on combat prowess alone. She warned the starvation and dehydration were more formidable foes than any of their fellow tributes, but Annabeth could tell that for most of the tributes, her words fell on deaf ears. Sparring with a trainer was allowed, but direct combat between tributes was prohibited. Annabeth didn’t learn anything from her spiel - years in the Academy had seen to that - so she yearned for Atala to shut up so she could finally start training. Once Atala finally stopped talking, Annabeth paused and watched the other tributes scatter. There was a lot to learn about her fellow tributes by observing where they went first. As expected, the other Careers headed straight for the weapons. The ruddy-haired girl from District 7 joined them and hefted a spear in her hand with practiced ease, and the boy from District 3 hobbled over to one of the survival stations. “Scouting out the competition I see. Very clever.” Annabeth turned to find Percy standing next to her, an exaggeratedly serious look on his face. She kept her face carefully neutral and shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied. “I was spaced out for a bit.” Annabeth headed towards one of the survival stations and suppressed a groan when Percy followed her. “I’m not sure I believe you,” Percy said, smiling. She shot him a sidelong glance. “Yeah? What makes you say that?” Percy shrugged. “Instinct.” Annabeth couldn’t help the scoff that escaped her. “Instinct, huh? Very convincing.” “Yes, instinct,” Percy repeated, a little sharply. “See, in District 4, when you’re out on the ocean, you learn a thing or two about instinct. Out there, when things go wrong, it’s not reason or knowledge that saves you: it’s gut instinct and sheer dumb luck.” Annabeth only half-listened to his explanation and followed an instructor’s method for making a proper fire. Over the course of the day, she visited almost all of the survival stations, learning about how to hunt, how to make shelter, and how to identify edible plants, roots, and fungi. Through it all, Percy never left her side or stopped talking. She wanted to tell him to fuck off all day, but she wasn’t blind. She’d noticed the knots of muscle in his forearms as he lit a fire with some flint, the definition in his calves and his broad shoulders as he made a make-shift tent. Being from District 4, he was still a Career. Having an ally like him would benefit her a great deal - if only he wasn’t so fucking annoying. Chalk it down to a character flaw, Annabeth was too proud to ask someone like him to be her ally. As they worked on making different knots at one of the stations, Percy glanced at her and said, “Not much of a talker, are you?” “How did you deduce that?” Annabeth muttered. “Instinct?” When Percy just laughed in response, Annabeth huffed and blew a lock of hair out of her face. “Don’t you have anyone else to annoy?” “How can you say that after we had such a nice time on the roof last night?” Percy asked with mock-indignation. One of the other tributes at their station looked at them with an upturned eyebrow, making Annabeth turn beet red. “Oh my god, shut up! You’re giving people the wrong idea!” she whisper-yelled. “And while we’re at it, you can stop following me around too. I thought I told you last night - I’m not interested in making friends. You might not be taking this seriously, but this isn’t a game to me.” “But it’s called the Hunger Games,” Percy protested. Annabeth pressed a hand to her forehead and groaned. “Holy shit, you are completely insufferable.” “I’ve been called worse,” Percy said, grinning. “Besides, I do it out of love.” Annabeth paused and turned to him, brow furrowed, but he had already left the station, whistling to himself. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? For a brief moment, she considered going after him to get him to explain himself, but that was a god-awful idea. She tried to focus on finishing her knot and continued to struggle with it for a few minutes until she gave up. With a sigh, she glanced over at Percy’s station out of curiosity and groaned when she saw there was a perfect knot lying there.

To his credit, Percy did listen to her and leave her alone for the remaining two days of training, and yet Annabeth found her eyes straying his way whenever she wasn’t paying attention. Once she caught herself, frustration would well up inside her and she would try to refocus on training. She was going to be fighting to the death in a matter of days - she couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about some stupid boy. On the final day, Annabeth finally made her way over to spar with a trainer. There was still a line but it was far smaller than the prior days when the Careers had monopolized them to show off their strength. She had kept a close eye on all the other tributes’s sparring sessions, and truth be told, Annabeth was rattled by what she saw. Will, the tribute Chiron had mentioned, was an archer that could hit a moving target through the eye from thirty yards away. Clarisse, the muscular, ruddy-haired girl, used a spear to mop the floor with one of the trainers. Beckendorf, from District 3, had the most raw strength out of all of the other tributes. His one weakness was his impaired mobility due to his prosthetic leg, but Annabeth could tell he could kill anyone he got his hands on. She was so preoccupied thinking about this that she almost missed watching the tribute ahead of her in line, who managed to beat the trainer within seconds. Annabeth immediately made a mental of the dark-haired, stoic girl from District 9 as she walked out of the ring, a sword in hand. Annabeth didn’t understand how she would have such skill with one considering District 9 was known primarily for harvesting grain. The trainer called her to step in the ring, and Annabeth shook her head to refocus. She surveyed the available weapons and picked up two daggers before she faced the trainer. Although the trainer put up a fight, Annabeth had been training since she was old enough to lift a knife, so it wasn’t long before she got the better of the trainer and forced him to yield. She stepped out of the ring and wiped off the sweat on her brow with the back of her hand. She put the knives away, acutely aware of the attention the other tributes were giving her now, and hid a smile. There was a chance she’d just revealed herself as a potential threat to eliminate in the eyes of the other tributes, but she couldn’t help that. Better to seem strong than weak. Annabeth leaned against a wall for a while to catch her breath and found herself looking for Percy. He was sitting alone at the camouflage station, so she made her way over to him. He still hadn’t stepped into the ring even once to show off his sparring skills. “You do know today’s your last day to spar, right?” If he was surprised to see her, he didn’t show it. Instead, he shrugged and continued painting his skin dark green. “I’m more of a lover than a fighter.” “Be serious, Percy,” Annabeth snapped, unable to help herself. The smile slid off his face and he finally turned to look up at her. “I’m not interested. Besides, why do you even care in the first place?” Annabeth recoiled and stammered, “I- I was just making sure you knew. That’s all.” Percy gave her a weak smile. “Thanks, but I’m well aware.” He turned back to his painting, and Annabeth stomped away, fuming. Why was she wasting her time on that prick? Fuck him. He could go to hell for all she cared. Her interaction with him hung a cloud over her for the rest of the day and made her training fruitless and frustrating, which only made her angrier. The other tributes seemed to sense this and gave her a wide berth, but towards the end of the day, the pair from District 1 approached her while she trained alone with her knives. Annabeth watched them warily and stopped training. “Can I help you?” “We want to form an alliance,” Will said. “Luke’s already agreed to join. Pearl and I think the four of us would make for a strong team.” For a moment, Annabeth’s thoughts strayed towards Percy. Had some part of her hoped he would’ve asked her for an alliance instead? She derailed that train of the thought real fast and mustered a smile. “Sure, I don’t need any convincing,” Annabeth said. Pearl smiled and clapped her hands together. “Great! Let’s meet to go over strategy before the interviews then.” After they were gone, Annabeth resumed her training, a cocktail of emotions brewing in her stomach. She didn’t trust them at all, but it was a little comforting to know she had some allies now. Of course, she would have preferred not to work with Luke, but it was far safer to be on his side than against it. If they proved to be trustworthy, Annabeth would stick with them for as long as it suited her, but at the first sign of trouble she would have no qualms about stabbing any of them in the back.

Annabeth loved the dress Silena had made for the interviews, which said a lot considering she wasn’t exactly one for fashion. She’d always prioritized function over form, but even she couldn’t deny the allure of the slinky, matte-gray dress Silena slipped her into that gave off the illusion of flowing marble as she moved. Silena had forced Annabeth to indulge her by having her twirl in front of a mirror until she was satisfied. Still, even with the dress, Annabeth still found it hard to calm her nerves. Chiron had met with her beforehand to discuss their approach and asked, “Do you have any ideas?” “I know it’s important to attract sponsors, but I can only really be myself. Anything else would be too easy to see through. I’d rather them hate me than think I’m a fraud,” Annabeth said. “Well, you’re a fiery person with a strong personality and a quick wit. That might be enough to endear yourself to the Capitol. A vibrant personality will be a good change of pace. The common interview tropes are to be ingratiating or aloof, so I think we should play up your strength of will,” Chiron suggested. That was fine by her, but she still couldn’t help doubting whether that was sufficient to win over the hearts and minds of the Capitol and the sponsors. But, in the end, there was nothing she could do to change that. Like she’d told Chiron, if she couldn’t do it being herself, she sure as hell wouldn’t do it pretending to be someone else. Annabeth steeled herself as Will returned from his interview. He gave her a curt nod and said, “You’re up, Annabeth.” Annabeth took a deep breath and walked out onto the stage. The spotlights momentarily blinded her before she remembered to smile. The audience seemed like it because they cheered in response, so she went with the flow and waved, which made them cheer louder. All the idolatry went straight to her head, so by the time she sat across from Caesar Flickerman, Annabeth didn’t have to make an effort to smile anymore. Caesar turned his chair to face the audience and said, “Alright, alright, everyone calm down! I’m as excited to get to know Annabeth as you are, but we only have so much time so let’s get started!” Once they quieted, he turned back to her and beamed. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you, Annabeth. I have to say: your dress? Stunning. Why don’t you stand and show everyone?” Annabeth’s face burned, but she stood up and twirled for the audience at Caesar’s encouragement. The crowd seemed to eat it up, and Annabeth’s face hurt from smiling so hard. She really hadn’t expected them to like her so much. It felt like Silena’s outfits were doing most of the heavy lifting though, so she reminded herself not to get carried away. She had to use this time to prove she was likable on her own. “So, Annabeth Chase, the girl from District 2,” Caesar began. “How is it being at the Capitol, among so many people who adore you?” “Incredible. Even better than I’ve imagined.” “Better than you imagined?” Caesar prompted. Annabeth nodded and said, “I’ve been dreaming of this for as long as I could remember, being here to compete for the Games. It’s what I’ve been training for my whole life.” “Is it safe to say you’re a fan then? After all, you did volunteer.” “Definitely,” Annabeth said. “Competing in the Games is a huge honor. I’ve been biding my time until I felt ready, until I was sure I would win. And make no mistake Caesar, I am here to win.” Caesar smiled and addressed the audience. “We love the confidence, don’t we folks?” The crowd cheered, and Caesar moved on to saying, “And it’s not unfounded, I might add. We’ve all seen the Gamemakers’s scores released today: you scored a nine, Annabeth! That’s impressive! You must be pleased.” “Honestly, I’ve been wondering what I should have done differently to get those last three points.” That got a laugh out of Caesar and the crowd. “Well, I’m sure you’ll make the Gamemakers regret undervaluing you once you get in the arena.” “I intend to,” Annabeth said, smiling. “And we will all be rooting for you every step of the way,” Caesar said before he stood up and showcased her. “Ladies and gentleman, Annabeth Chase!” The crowd erupted in applause for one final time, and Annabeth exited the stage, her heart racing. Once she returned, Chiron gave her a nod of approval and clapped her shoulder. Satisfied, Annabeth sat down beside him to view the remaining interviews and paid special attention to how the other tributes conducted themselves. When Percy went on stage, the crowd cheered loudest of all for him, marking him a clear favorite. It took Caesar longer to calm them down before he sat down with Percy. “I’ve been dying to speak with you, Percy. You are already a crowd favorite here at the Capitol, and you scored an eleven from the Gamemakers. Off to a good start, don’t you think?” Caesar asked. “Yeah, I can’t say I expected this at all,” Percy said, oddly subdued. “How are you enjoying the Capitol so far?” “It’s lovely, but I’m already homesick,” Percy said politely. “Being so far from the sea is hard on me.” “You know, I’m glad you mentioned that. I hear that you are something of a hero back home in your district,” Caesar said. Percy mustered a weak smile. “I wouldn’t know about that.” “Come on, you’re just being modest!” Caesar said. “In case you didn’t know, folks, Percy here dove into the ocean, in the middle of a storm, to save a friend who fell off a boat.” That elicited a few gasps from the audience, but Percy squirmed in his seat. Though he was doing well to hide it, Annabeth could see his discomfort plain as day. She found it strange though. For someone who wouldn’t shut up, he was doing a horrid job trying to keep the conversation going with Caesar. It wasn’t that he was trying to play up the aloofness angle either, at least not from what she could see. “And am I to understand that this is the same friend whose place you volunteered to take at the reaping? Grover, is it?” Caesar asked. When Percy nodded, Caesar said, “You two must be very close if you were willing to take his place.” “Yeah, he’s my best friend,” Percy said tightly. “How touching,” Caesar said softly. “I also understand that you’re close with your mother. Was she upset that you volunteered when you spoke after the reaping?” Percy shook his head. “She said that I did the right thing, that she was proud of me.” “And is that all she said?” Caesar prompted. For a few seconds, Percy was silent and Annabeth wondered if he would answer. But just as his time was almost up, he looked up with glossy eyes and said, “She just made me promise not to forget who I was in the arena.” Caesar looked puzzled by that, but he said, “Well, I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully in the Games. Won’t he folks?” The crowd cheered for him a final time, and Percy simply nodded to them and left the stage. Despite how unsociable Percy had presented himself, as she thought about it more, Annabeth couldn’t deny that he’d played his part cunningly. As the favorite, he didn’t have to do much to win over the crowd. The best thing he could’ve done was to show some humanity to seem more relatable, and he had done just that. The other interviews were nothing special, and Annabeth left early by herself and headed straight for the roof. As she rode the elevator, she reflected on the other tributes’s training scores. Beckendorf and Luke had also scored nine points like herself. Reyna, the girl from District 9, and Clarisse managed to earn ten points, confirming Annabeth’s impression that they were special. Will was the only other person to score an eleven alongside Percy. All the other tributes had scored below eight points. Annabeth stepped out of the elevator with a sigh and looked out at the city below. The rushing wind tousled her hair, reminding her this was maybe her last moment of real freedom. Tomorrow, the Games would begin and she would have to fight twenty three other tributes who all wanted her dead. The elevator doors opened again, and Percy walked out. When he saw her, he froze and made to turn back before he reconsidered and sat far away from her, facing the opposite direction. Annabeth worried her lip and tried not to look his way. She’d expected him to chatter on and on without shutting up, like last time. The silence unnerved her. Eventually, she found herself turning around to face him. “That was some interview.” Percy glanced at her over his shoulder. “Is that a hint of admiration I hear?” “Don’t rub it, Jackson. You’re already the favorite to win,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes. When Percy didn’t respond to that, Annabeth cleared her throat and said, “I, uh, had no idea that you volunteered.” “Grover would’ve never survived the Games,” Percy said tightly. “He has trouble walking you see. When they called his name at the reaping, I knew I had to do step in. I couldn’t just send him to his death like that.” Annabeth was silent at that. Competing in the Games was an honor, not something to be dreaded the way Percy made it sound. Still, his tone kept her from voicing her opinion. Percy cocked his head to the side and mused aloud, “You know, I thought you’d be more upset about people thinking I’m the favorite.” Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Why should that upset me?” “Because you’re all ‘I’m-Gonna-Win-The-Games’ and stuff,” Percy said, mimicking her voice. “Okay, first of all, I don’t sound like that,” Annabeth said, frowning. “And second, it’ll take more than that to upset me.” “But you’re so grumpy all the time.” “And who’s fault is that?” Annabeth demanded. Percy raised his palms in surrender. “Hey, I listened to you and left you alone. You’re the one who keeps talking to me.” Annabeth flushed with embarrassment and looked away. He was right, of course. Honestly, she had no clue why she kept pestering him. She cleared her throat and tried to change the topic. “The Games start tomorrow, Jackson. You’d best be prepared.” “Or you’ll stab me with one of those knives of yours, huh?” “Damn straight.” Percy bit back a smile and looked up at the stars. “You know, that doesn’t sound like a bad way to go.” Annabeth didn’t know how to respond to that, but his words sent a strange warmth blossoming in her stomach. She hugged her knees to her chest and looked up at the night sky, trying to burn the stars into her memory. After all, tonight might be the last time she ever got to look at them in peace.

#knuffled fic #percabeth #percabeth fic #hunger games au #percy jackson #annabeth chase #tumblr is eating the formatting so read on ao3 pls #let me have my italics tumblr #annabeth gets to be a snarky bitch in this fic :)#as a treat

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theydjarin · 2 years

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Some fluffy modern Han/Luke /pining!Din to brighten ur day, from a silly little AU about skysolo going to Disney and meeting single dad Din that @mykingdomforasong set the stage for, also heavily inspired by this

Han is clearly nervous, Din notices idly, accepting his phone with a secret mission to record video instead of taking pictures, the Millennium Falcon looming in the background. He doesn’t quite know why until he sees Han slip a tidy box from his pocket, holding it behind his back. They pose for a few fake pictures together before finally turning towards each other, Han clenching the box hard in his hand.

“Luke, baby…” he hears Han say as he backs up and drops to one knee.

“Oh my god,” Luke says. “Are you serious?” He sounds simultaneously overjoyed and annoyed, somehow, and Han notices too.

“Am I – kid, what do you mean, ‘am I serious,’ are you serious right now?!” But Luke isn’t listening, he’s running to his bag, and pulling out– oh.

“Oh my god,” Han groans when he sees the box Luke holds in his hands, a grin threatening to engulf his entire face. “Baby.”

“Han,” Luke said, pulling Han’s face towards his chest, cradling his head close. Han holds him close for a minute, still one one knee, then gets up and pulls Luke into his arms.

He starts to complain: “I can’t believe you would upstage me li–” but Han doesn’t get another word out before Luke is pulling him into a kiss, and they fall together, whispering sweet words between breaths.

Din just watches, a rueful smile tugging on his face. They seem happy. And he’s happy for them. At least… 80% happy for them. It is unbelievably cute.

Still, he’s at least a little bit thankful for Grogu losing patience.

“Can we go on Splash Mountain now?!”

They break apart, laughing through their joyful tears. “Yeah, kiddo,” Luke says. “We can go on Splash Mountain now.”

Luke collects his belongings, and Han comes over to them to grab his phone. He presses a quick kiss to the side of Din’s head and pulls him into a fierce hug. “Thank you,” he says.

Din’s eyes dart towards Luke, who is looking at them with a soft smile. Luke ducks his head when he notices Din looking, and Din’s heart lurches like it’s going through hyperspace. He doesn’t know what to expect from these two, but he knows he’d follow them wherever they went. Well: Splash Mountain, to start.

#don't worry din theyll take u back to their hotel room shdfhsdhfsdh #skysolo #skymandolo #my fic #my stuff

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trashquisitor-shirozora · 1 year

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#10 and #13 for the storm, the suns, the stars (either as a whole series or individually) also i hope youre having a nice day/night!!

Aw nonnie, thanks for asking! Could've had a less technologically challenging night but that's why you make a little buffer for yourself when starting NaNo - gotta make sure you have enough words to cover your ass for when Life happens or the grind gets you down.

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

Oh this is definitely a "whole series" kind of response. You ever experience the kind of restlessness where you're just BURSTING at the seams to do SOMETHING but you can't figure out what any of it is? So you're just stewing in this storm (lol) of energy with nowhere to go and you think you might know why but you're not sure you want to go down that road again but maybe just maybe this could be the start of something new. Anyway I tell everyone that after I finally came down from the absolutely insane high of the Mando Show Season 2 finale, my first coherent thought was, "So Grogu has two dads now?"

I read a few of the early dinluke fics (somehow avoided all of the Early Big Fics because I just wanted a nibble, I wanted to see if I Liked liked this ship and wanted to stick around instead of like... breezing in and out like I did with OFMD) and figured out that oh, I want to write this, I want to write them, they crossed paths because of Grogu and he is the axis of it all, but there is something to a member of the Mandalorian diaspora meeting (one of) the last of the Jedi. Their cultures and heritages are hanging by threads after what the Empire did to them, they are survivors, this is so interesting there is some good fucking Potential here what the fuck.

But The Storm came to me as a real ass Shower Thought. Start where Din gets left off - dude with no ship, no baby, and a laser Excalibur who is desperate for a ship and to get the fuck away from Destiny and also Bo-Katan. Send him back to his old stomping grounds to get a new ride by working with/for Greef and is given a job to bring back a bounty hunter. When Din finally catches up with the bounty hunter, they're on Some Planet with Ruins and Luke is also there minding his own business but collided with Din's business collecting a bounty and the bounty hunter's business doing his own bounty hunting. It was a real straightforward premise and a way for me to kinda dip my toes into dinluke, The Mandalorian, and the much MUCH bigger and older and scarier Star Wars fandom.

This particular ship had potential and I concocted a particular story to test drive the ship, and then I started writing it. This really was supposed to be a kind of a one-off, a "let's see what happens" kind of thing. Same attitude as with the FFXIV fic I was writing at the time. But. You know how people say they never wrote or drew what they've been writing or drawing with dinluke? (Like, the way people started churning out absolutely INSANE quality OFMD art, like a sheer avalanche of joy that seized fandom spaces for a month) I know what they mean. Because this particular ship and this particular story/series was supposed tobe a one-off but now it has my whole soul.

I was always intrigued, enamored with Din Djarin but writing The Storm made me realize I really fucking love this character. The Storm gave me this quiet yet incredibly intense and emotionally charged space to explore Din's mindset after losing his ship, giving up Grogu, and gaining the Darksaber. And here was a Jedi, one of only two Din knows, who helps Din deal with all these fractures in his life and who's struggling on his own to recover and restore everything the Empire destroyed. This was so much more than I bargained for, and when the story was over I wanted more. I wanted them to reunite and for Din to reunite with a Grogu. I wanted to see how Din and Luke's relationship progresses because I never read enough stories that continued a relationship, and I wanted the setting to be the opposite of being trapped inside an ancient temple ruin on a planet with finicky storm systems. So Tatooine it was, where we got to see familiar faces and Din learned more about who Luke is under the Jedi and Rebel hero exterior.

I wanted to tell the same story for Din, for Din to reveal more about himself to Luke, which was how I started writing The Stars. I also wanted to write about his inevitable collision with Bo Katan and other Mandalorians, and the future of their people. I wanted to really get into the idea of "the personal is political", about Din's feelings about the creed and his obligations to his people no matter how much he Does Not Want This, and if he'll ever have a softer landing and ending. I don't know if I can pull it off but good fucking lord, dinluke really made me want to map out and tell this story because they're just so. good. at telling this kind of story. It's insane. I don't get it.

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

For the longest time I watched AhnoldT101's Star Wars Galaxy Of Heroes streams and he started playing this song in the background. Everyone noticed because it was so good? It was so catchy? It was the kind of music I craved ever since I watched Tron Legacy? And he finally told everyone what that song was. The song was "Dangerous Dreams" by Lebrock.

And now you know where the name of the series came from.

I listened to this song and a lot of rain/thunderstorm ASMRs while writing The Storm to put myself in the mood. Actually, I listened to "Dangerous Dreams" in a nonstop loop for days, it was so bad.

The playlist I posted for The Suns is the playlist I listened to while writing that fic. When I was done, I arranged the songs in order because I'm Pretentious AF.

I have a writing mix for The Stars that is a lot of synthwave/retrowave, trailer music, and some genres of music that I don't know the name for but have a very epic fantasy feel to them. I'm sure most of the songs will be reused for the official ficmix when I get around to it.

JFC I did not mean to write so much but I sure do appreciate the opportunity to exercise my brain for the inevitable mad NaNo writing sprints.

Play ask games, win ask prizes!

#shirozora awkwardly responds to asks #dinluke #series: dangerous dreams #story: the storm #story: the suns #story: the stars #I JUST ALWAYS HAVE A LOT OF WORDS ABOUT THIS SHIP OKAY I'M SORRY I AM ALWAYS READY TO BARF WORDS #I LOVE THIS SHIP SO MUCH IT'S SO BAD I HAVE IT SO BAD FOR THEM JFC

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sunkissed-zegras · 15 days

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✧.*NHL MASTERLIST !

♡ fluff ✪ angst ✧ suggestive

𝐀𝐔'𝐒

⇨ delicate | jack hughes x singer!fem!oc

⇨ jump then fall | single!dad adam fantilli x nanny!oc au

⇨ zegras' have more fun | zegras!sister au, luke/jack hughes x fem!oc

𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦 𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬

⇨ trevor zegras¹¹

soft launch ♡ instagram!au | y/n soft launches her and trev's relationship. |

friends (with benefits) ✪♡✧ | trevor had always hated your guts. you never knew what for, maybe it was your close friendship with his best friend, or maybe it was because he was jealous of you. that was until, he kissed you, of course. |

sloppy kisses ✧ | request: "CONSENSUAL recording with Trevor because they’re long distance? 🩶 " |

⇨ jamie drysdale⁶

butterflies ♡ | no one has ever made you feel the way jamie did. every day, jamie convinces you more and more that he loves you in different ways. |

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐭𝐬

⇨ adam fantilli¹¹

lets compare hands! ✧ | adam fantilli with a size kink |

⇨ kent johnson⁹¹

𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐣𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬

⇨ jack hughes⁸⁶

everyone wants you, but i don't like a gold rush ✪✧ | y/n had always been in love with jack since she was a kid, but he had always chosen everyone else but her. |

in losing grip, on sinking ships, you showed up just in time ♡ | when you and jack had parted ways, somehow you both knew you'd meet again somehow. |

⇨ luke hughes⁴³

betty ✪ | a small incident at luke's draft party causes a whole lot of drama you never expected to happen. |

worst (best) first "date" [requested] ♡ | request: kind of have a specific request 🫣 im an ohio state fan so it also kinda pains me that i love luke hughes since i hate umich 😭 my request is reader being an osu student and long term devils fan, so when she goes to a devils game in columbus her friends dare her to make a sign for luke during warm ups that says something along the lines of “can i trade you a hat for a puck?” so when luke gives her a puck, she throws him an ohio state hat w her phone number on it. and he finds it really funny and actually ends up messaging her (and then you can end it how you want. fluff, smut, wtv) thank you <33 |

stress reduction [requested] ✧ | request: "shower s-x with luke hughes help" |

⇨ nico hischier¹³

olive theory ♡ | you and nico have only been dating for 6 months but both of you are convinced you've found the one, and a certain theory proves you right. |

𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬

⇨ quinn hughes⁴³

you are in love ♡ | 3 times that quinn wanted to tell you he loved you, and the 1 time he finally did. |

cowboy like me ✪ | you and quinn were destined to fail from the beginning. |

the big C [requested] ✧ | "quinn hughes x equipment manager reader smut? maybe it’s the start of the season so the reader is helping him get all his gear fitted and situated and she’s calling him “cap” and “captain” and he ends up feeling some type of way" |

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐬

⇨ andrei svechnikov³⁷

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nysocboy · 5 months

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Young Rock, Episode 2.8: Dwayne hits the big time, with lots of locker room beefcake

Young Rock is a fictional autobiographical series about the childhood of Dwayne Johnson, the Rock, bookended by his presidential bid in 2033 (the U.S. could do worse: Dwayne is a gay ally), Miles Burris (Titus in The Righteous Gemstones) plays Hunter Hearst Hemsley, a flamboyant blond wrestler. He is probably a parody of Gorgeous George (1915-1963), who riled up the audience by pretending to be gay. I'll review his first appearance, in Episode 2.8.

Scene 1: Johnson Family Ranch, 2033, three days before the election. Dwayne's bromantic partner, Randall Park, and his staff are waiting in the kitchen. The doctor comes out of his room and says "I don't think he's going to make it...to his campaign event tonight!" (Har-har). He's got food poisoning from bad clam chowder. "And he's asking for his boyf...best buddy."

Scene 2: Dwayne tells his boyf...best buddy Randall that he's going to the event anyway. When you face a challenge, you meet it head-on, like he did in 1996 when he got a call... flashback....the WWF is taping in Corpus Christi, and they want him for a "dark match" (before the main match, to get the crowd revved up). His first professional wrestling gig! He just needs to quit his job at the gym and borrow some wrestling gear.

Scene 3: Dwayne (Uli Latukefu) arrives in Corpus Christi, and is picked up by his opponent, Steve Lombardi (Scott Colton), The Brooklyn Brawler, a 32-year veteran who broke his dad into wrestling years ago. So this guy is over 50 and still wrestling? The arena is sold out -- 15,000 fans.

Scene 4: Back in 2033, bromantic partner Randall asks if Dwayne was scared. "No -- I was where I wanted to be."

Next Dwayne meets the man in charge of his match, ex-wrestler Michael P.S.Hayes (Brad Burroughs). The PS stands for "Purely Sexy." His advice: "Follow the Brawler's lead, and keep it simple. You got six minutes. "But how do you want me to go over (lose the match)?" Hayes and Brawler both laugh: "Kid, we flew you here to win."

Dwayne is shocked. Winning is unheard-of for your first match! He wants to call his parents, but there's no time. Anyway, they're getting the scoop on a WWF chatroom on America Online (if you remember AOL, you're getting brochures from the AARP).

Scene 5: Locker room. While dressing (or undressing), Dwayne is greeted by The Iron Sheik (Brett Azar), a retired "heel" (bad guy) who has moved into heel management. He promises to call Dwayne's parents. during the match to give them updates. Gee, these wrestlers are a big happy family.

Dwayne also meets Stone Cold Steve Austin (Luke Hawx) who will one day revolutionalize wrestling, but now is stuck in a non-speaking persona; Downtown Bruno (Ryan Pinkston, below), The Undertaker, Mantaur, and Mankind (Brock Dunstan), his future tag-team partner. Mankind thinks that winning his first match is a bad idea, since if he wins and the crowd doesn't like him, he'll be finished as a wrestler.

Finally, a long-haired blond in a fancy suit, carrying a cane (he "looked like he was late for a fox hunt"), introduces himself as Hunter Hearst Hemsley, or Triple-H ( Miles Burris). He will become world champion 14 times, one of the Rock's most important heels, and off-stage, one of his closest friends.They spar with each other, but without using any feminine-slurs. Ok, so not a parody of Gorgeous George after all, a real wrestler. He built his persona as rich-snob rather than feminine-gay.

Scene 6: Showtime! Everyone gives Dwayne encouragement: "It doesn't matter if you wrestle for ten years or ten minutes. You make this moment happen!" He walks out, waves to the crowd, ignores the heckler who asks "Who the hell are you?" The Brooklyn Brawler comes out, threatens the crowd, and gets booed. "Six minutes to change the course of my life," Dwayne thinks. Of course he's going to win, but he has to do it in a way that excites the fans.

They wrestle; Dwayne actually throws the Brawler into a somersault! I thought it was impressive, but the crowd jeers. Back stage, Triple-H laughs. Hey, are you still playing a character, or are you actually a bully? The Iron Sheik suggests Dwayne show his legs, get some sexiness going on.

When the Brawler starts pulverizing Dwayne, the crowd is silent. Uh-oh, they're supposed to sympathize. "What do we do now?" Dwayne asks, panicking. "Just sell it for awhile. If the crowd cares about you, they'll respond."

So Dwayne plays at being in pain, and the love of the underdog kicks in. The crowd starts encourage him to fight. As if strengthened by their encouragement, Dwayne bounces back and uses amazing acrobatic moves to finish off the Brawler. Everyone backstage is ecstatic. The kid has showmanship!

Scene 7: Back in 2033, Randall wants to talk about his first stage experience: in college he starred in an all-Asian version of The Hudsucker Proxy. This puts Dwayne to sleep, so Randall says "Sweet dreams, Big Prince," and leans over to kiss him. Dwayne wakes up, and he backs off. I take it you're hoping to move the bromance into boyfriend territory? The end.

Beefcake: Lots. Half the episode takes place in the locker room, with those muscle studs walking around in those skimpy little wrestling tights.

Heterosexism: None. Young Dwayne has a brief telephone conversation with someone who may be his girlfriend. Only one insult about someone's lack of sexual practice. No homophobic slurs.

Gay Characters: None that I know of. There are wikipedia pages for 48 "openly" gay professional wrestlers, but none of the guys in this episodes.

Gay Subtexts: Deliberate, with Randall Park being in love with Dwayne.

The Inside Scoop: The inside look at pro wrestling was interesting, and the pop-ups useful in figuring out who these guys were. Dwayne is a little too quick to tell us the moral of the story, but after all he is supposed to be sharing his wisdom.

My Grade: A-

#Young Rock #Miles Burris #God Squad #Ryan Pinkston #Randall Park #Dwayne Johnson

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rafescoke · 3 years

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Older ; Rafe Cameron

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Maybe falling in love with a Maybank wouldn’t be too bad.

Warnings: Mentions of sexual abuse!, alcohol, getting intoxicated, sexual harassment, swearing, sweet Rafe Cameron

A/N: I don’t think this is my best fic, but let me know if I should continue this mini series!! thank you so much for 500+ followers, ily <33

p.s; you know the drill.. send requests!

(Y/N) wondered if a boy like him would ever like a girl like her.

It’s the soft touches against her skin, you see, that got her all worked up at work. She had a bad day at school, getting in a fight with her brother over not washing the dishes piling up in the sink, and there he was;

In his blue plaid shirt, his hair messily parted and that beautiful smile of his. He laughed at something the girl in front of him had said, and (Y/N) felt a pang of hurt across her heart.

“Go. Table 7.”

“What? I’m on my break!” She huffed, picking up her half-eaten sandwich and motioning it to the manager. “I have 10 minutes left.”

“We’re short of staff today,” he grunted, trying to balance the tray and an iPad on both hands. “Please.”

“Do I get more pay this month?”

“I’ll think about it,” he grumbled, and handed her the tray as she wrapped the sandwich again. “Oh, can you tell your brother that he’s fired? He didn’t come for his shift again today.”

“Not my problem,” she mumbled, taking the tray into her hands before proceeding to the diners. Her eyes swept over the many tables, and stopped at the seventh table from the front.

Fuck.

She swallowed her saliva, trying to contain her nervousness as she walked towards the table. She hoped against hope he wouldn’t notice her and continue to talk to whoever she was in front of him, but she wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey,” Rafe said softly, looking up to her. (Y/N) smiled weakly, not wanting to pull any attention towards her and hurried up to serve them.

“Hey, um-” the girl before him stopped her, and (Y/N) turned to look at her with her usual server smile. She hates it. “The pasta’s cold, can I get a new one?”

“Come on, Dee, it’s not that big of a deal,” Rafe said, but (Y/N) tried her hardest to maintain the smile. She couldn’t care less about her pasta, and she wouldn’t even bat an eye if an animal had crawled into her meal.

“I’ll reheat it for you,” she smiled fakely, picking up the plate before walking back towards the kitchen. Her smile completely disappeared when she pushed through the door separating the dining area and the kitchen, and proceeded to the cook.

“Another bitch?”

“Another bitch,” she sighed, and watched as the cook laughed and placed the pasta in the microwave. “You know, John, I really wish I don’t have to work in a restaurant.”

“It gives money, so I ain’t complaining much,” he mumbled, fiddling with the buttons on the stove. “But you’re still so young, mija. Don’t stress yourself too much. Where’s the brother?”

“JJ? I don’t know. He didn’t even come to school today. I wish he’s a better brother.”

“He is,” he shrugged, watching the timer counted down to signal the end of the reheating process. “He’s just ain’t showing it. They’ll appear.”

“What’ll appear?”

“The love.”

(Y/N) laughed, flatting her tray against the metal surface to let the cook placed the reheated pasta. “There’s no such thing as love, John. It’s all made up for little girls to believe.”

“Are you not a little girl?”

(Y/N) smiled, muttered a ‘thank you’ before proceeding to table number 7. She took a deep breath and forced herself to form the most politest smile ever, and placed the pasta in front of the girl, or Dee, or whatever Rafe was calling her.

“Thanks,” she muttered, not looking at her, but (Y/N) couldn’t help but noticed the side glance Rafe had given her during their brief meeting, but she didn’t want to dwell so much on that thought, not when she needed to make an amount of money to help put food for her family.

“You’re back late.”

“Sorry dad, I was working,” she sighed, placing her house keys on the table. “Have you eaten?”

Luke swatted his hands, motioning that he’s content. (Y/N) sighed a breath of relief, not feeling like making him anything and was just asking out of politeness.

“Your pants are a little bit tight today.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks and closed her eyes, the sudden wave of fear engulfing her. She bit her lips before turning to her father, “It’s the only pair I have left. The others are still in the laundry bag.”

“Hmm,” Luke hummed, his eyes still intently glued on the television screen. (Y/N) heard the soaring of a football game, and prayed it was his team that had won the match so that he wouldn’t be as cross.

“I’m going to my room, okay?”

“Wait-”

Her chest was heaving heavily now, being so afraid of her own father that she could feel her tears starting to form. She forced a weak smile, “Yeah?”

She didn’t realise how he had gotten up from his previous seat in front of the television, being so caught up with the warnings inside her head. He leaned onto her, smelling her scent, and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You’re not out with any boys, are you?”

“No,” she whispered, and she gripped onto the hem of her work top. “Dad, can I please go?”

“Why are you so scared?” He continued, his pointer grazing against her ear to her cheeks. “I’m your dad, remember?”

“Dad?”

Luke pulled away from her and walked towards the television again when a certain blonde boy appeared from the front door, his eyebrows furrowed. JJ’s eyes followed his father’s movement, and ended at the sight of his sister.

The tightness in his body softened as he took a step closer to her, “You’re okay?”

“Yeah,” she mumbled, wiping the hot tears away from her face and giving him a weak smile. “I’m just going to stay in my room, okay?”

“Okay,” JJ said, watching as she walked slowly towards the back of the house. He glanced at his father, silent as ever, and muttered something under his breath before making his way to his room as well.

JJ Maybank hates Luke Maybank more than anything else in the world, but he also loves him more than anything else in the world. He had wished for nothing else other than his father actually being a father figure for (Y/N), if not him. He could see how much she needed Luke to become some kind of a guardian.

Every time there was a PTA meeting, it had been John to come and see her teachers. John had joked a lot of times before, saying how he’s going to adopt her one day, and when JJ was just 14, he used to get so overprotective of his sister that he would pull a face and gesture some kind of a rude word at him.

But if that's what it takes for her to finally be safe, he’s willing to lose her.

“Hey,” JJ knocked on her door softly, and he waited quietly to hear her shuffle of movements. He waited a few more seconds, and when heard the lock unlocking, forced himself a smile.

“Do you want to go to the bonfire party tonight?” He asked, raising his eyebrows to motion how serious he was. JJ never liked bringing (Y/N) to see the other pogues, and he had tried to assure himself that it was because of how she’s a year younger, but he couldn’t deny the real truth;

(Y/N) knew about his huge crush towards Kie, and the last time she hang out with them resulted into him having to tackle her down before she could say anything to the girl.

“Is Kie not coming or something?” (Y/N) made a face, but JJ could see the happy glint in her eyes.

“Can you drop that topic already?” He sighed, “Are you coming or not?”

“Um-” she glanced at something behind her back, sighed, and nodded slowly. “Okay. I guess I could use some time off schoolwork.”

“Don’t stress too much about school,” JJ shrugged, “You’re still 17.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Can you go, now? And oh, you’re fired by the way.”

“They love me, they’ll hire me again,” JJ shrugged, and gave her another comforting smile before making his way back to his room. “You know you can always tal-”

“No, I don’t know,” she groaned playfully, closing the door against his face as JJ laughed. His heart soared, and he swore he would do anything in his will to protect his sister from their father, heartbreak, or whatever.

. . .

“I missed you!” Kie exclaimed, pulling her into a hug and giving her a kiss on her cheeks. “God, you’re taller than me now.”

(Y/N) glanced at her brother, to which he was motioning his thumb against his neck, trying to tell her that he would kill her if she says anything to the girl. (Y/N) laughed, “I missed you too, Kie.”

(Y/N) situated herself beside Pope, watching as he flicked through his Chemistry text book, and scribbled something a note on one of the pages.

“Isotopes has the same number of protons but different number of neutrons,” (Y/N) mumbled, pointing to false knowledge he’ve written. Pope looked at her, amazed, and let out the loudest laugh ever that JJ had to scream from the front for him to shut up.

“Shit, (Y/N),” he continued to laugh, erasing his mistake and jotting down the correct information. “And you’re younger. Do you hear that JJ?”

“What?” JJ yelled back, his eyes focusing on the road.

“Maybe you should be as clever as your sister,” Pope laughed, and Kie gave him a high-five from the front seat. He turned to look at her again, “Where’d you learn that?”

“JJ’s text book.”

Pope laughed, his head shaking at the thought of JJ sleeping while his sister sneaked into his room to steal his text book. He finally understood the reason why he was always in detention for not bringing his book.

“Stay close, and don’t wander away,” JJ warned, staring straight into her eyes. She laughed at his tone, but her smile disappeared when he pulled her again.

“I mean it, (Y/N).”

“Are you seriously turning into dad, now?”

“Don’t mention his name,” he sighed, fixing his hair and walking before him with his friends. “Just stay close, okay?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, already seeing how boring her night was going to be; trying to understand the inside jokes between JJ and his friends, not being allowed to drink any alcohol and is going to be constantly asked to fix her ribbed top so not much of her skin is exposed.

She sighed, following her brother, but as soon as they got further away she felt the need to just hang out, maybe searching for her friends and getting a drink for herself. She was never a fan of alcohol, so JJ really didn’t have to worry about her getting drunk.

“You’re (Y/N), right?”

(Y/N) looked up to a pair of gorgeous green eyes, and she felt her heart sink. She looked away, not expecting her best friend’s boyfriend, and sighed.

“What do you need, Carter? I’m looking for Emily too.”

“Oh, she’s not coming,” he shrugged, standing beside her. She felt the sudden warmth and scooted further, not wanting to allow any attention towards her. “Something about a stomach ache.”

“Why aren’t you resting with her?” She pulled a look, crossing her arms. She didn’t want to talk to him or even look at him, but he didn’t seem to get that note.

“And pass up this year’s bonfire party? Nah,” he sipped on his red cup, and leaned against her. She could feel his lips beside her ear now, “Wanna get a drink?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Come on,” he expressed, throwing his arms up into the air in fake exasperation. “It’s a party. You cannot enjoy a party without being drunk.”

“Hm,” she shrugged, still not interested. She thought about what else she could say to get him away from her. “Worth trying, I guess.”

“You are damn impossible to please, Maybank,” Carter laughed, showing his pearly white teeth. (Y/N) smiled at this, taking the statement into a compliment, and made to walk away. He grabbed her wrist before she could get away, and she sighed in annoyance.

“One drink,” he smiled. “And I’ll leave you alone.”

(Y/N) thought about this, long and hard, and the sudden thought of wanting to be free for once entered her mind. She gave him a small nod.

“One drink.”

“One drink,” he confirmed, and pulled her to the drinks section. (Y/N) waited for him to get her a drink, her eyes swarming over the sea of people dancing, some talking, some already kissing and some just standing. This was her third bonfire party in Obx, and the party didn’t get any boring.

“Here you go,” Carter appeared, placing the red cup into her hands. “Let’s chug it down together. Are you ready? 1, 2, 3!”

(Y/N) scrunched up her face at the strong taste of vodka, feeling her throat burning. It felt good though, especially when you are in need to forget some hesvy things in your mind.

“What do you say?” Carter smiled, “Want more?”

“I’ll try more,” she laughed, giving him the cup as he muttered ‘I told you so’ and came back with another cup. They counted together again, and (Y/N) never felt better after drinking an intoxicating drink.

She didn’t remember why she never liked alcohol, but at that moment, she felt like drinking her money and family issues away. She didn’t even realise when Carter had placed his arms around her, telling her humourless jokes that she laughed at anyways.

“Wanna go to my car?”

“Huh?” She looked at him, half-smiling and half-frowning. She was at her 7th cup now, but being a lightweight person, she felt like she was on her 30th cup. “What for?”

“Driving around town,” he smiled, standing up and offering his hand. “Wanna drive around with me?”

“Just you?” She mumbled, closing her eyes. She could feel his arms around her, trying to help her walk, but she didn’t have enough energy to push him away. If anything, she was glad he had brought her away from the loud music that made her dizzy.

“Where’s the car?” (Y/N) whined, feeling her arms hurting from the rough grip by Carter. She could hear the crunch of twigs under her feet, and when she finally had an ounce of power to see her surroundings, she saw the empty car park near the beach.

“Carter, I don’t feel so good,” she said, trying to push him away. The grip around her tightened, and she had never felt so panicked as she was at that time. She tried to calm down, still looking for anyone who can help her, but the parking lot was deserted.

“Carter, I can walk,” she tried again, but he didn’t let go. She understood the whole situation clearly now, and wished she had stayed with JJ and his friends instead of wandering around by herself.

“Hey, hey, hey.”

Carter stopped walking, cursing while he turned to look at the voice behind him. (Y/N) grunted, feeling her arms bruising, and she couldn’t even glance up to see who it was that saved her. She could feel her eyesight getting darker as she leaned on Carter for some type of balance.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your business,” Carter groaned, still holding her by his side. “Don’t you have anything to do? Like golf, or something.”

“Nah,” the voice replied, and (Y/N) perked up at the way his voice sounded. It was all so familiar to her. . .

“Look, Cameron, just go, okay? I’m not in your business, so stay out of mine,” Carter huffed, walking backwards slowly. “And she’s with me, right, (Y/N), you’re with me?”

“Let her go, man,” Rafe sighed, “I’m making it easy for you. Let her go.”

“Come on, I’m not letting you take her with you,” he shrugged, “Rafe. I swear. You don’t want to mess with me.”

“Aren’t you a little bit too old for her?” Rafe raised a brow, “Aren’t you my age, or something?”

“Fuck!” Carter yelled, and (Y/N) gasped from the sudden pain coursing through her veins at the jerk. “Go and fuck off.”

“You’re not leaving me a choice, man,” Rafe said, and before anyone could process, Carter was down to the ground, yelling at Rafe for him to stop as he kept throwing punches after punches, his forehead creasing and his knuckles ripping.

(Y/N) groaned from the ground, unable to get up, and she swore he had drugged her. She was never this weak, not even when she was sick, and she hated how she couldn’t even lift a finger.

“Don’t fucking touch her again!” Rafe yelled, spitting on the groaning boy as he grunted against the pain, his knuckles all bruised up and bloody.

“Hey, you’re okay?” Rafe asked, helping her to her feet. (Y/N) nodded, still so weak, and wrapped her hands around his arms as he watched her limped.

“You know what? Let me carry you,” he sighed, looking at the previous space where he had had a fight with Carter. He was nowhere to be seen now, and Rafe didn’t think he could fight him off for the second time, not when he’s tired.

“I can walk,” she mumbled, trying to push him off, but even a second after he let her go she tripped onto the road, and grunted at her burning knees. “My knees, oh my god, I’m in so much pain!”

“Let me carry you,” he sighed again, squatting to her level. She looked so sad, pouting her lips and her eyebrows all scrunched down. She shook her head when he tried to hold her, crossing her arms.

“(Y/N), let me carry you.”

“I don’t even know you!” She spat, her eyes glassy and her cheeks red. Rafe didn’t know she would be like this when she was drunk, but he couldn’t deny the amusement he was feeling.

“Of course you know me,” he tried again, slowly wrapping his fingers around her wrist. “It’s Rafe.”

“I don’t know any Rafe.”

“It’s Rafael Cameron,” Rafe rolled his eyes, cringing at the sound of his full name. He never liked the name, saying how it made him look like some type of a knight in 1823, but it was one of the only memories left of his real mother.

“I know a Rafael,” she nodded. “But he don’t look like you.”

“(Y/N), let’s just go before some creep decides to kidnap you,” he pulled her up, to which she obliged at the sound of ‘kidnapping’. “I’ll send you to your house, okay?”

“No!” She pulled him close, hugging him tightly that he was too stunned to react. His arms weren’t even touching her, stopping midway, and he only hugged her back when she cried.

“He’s gonna be mad at me,” she whimpered, tugging on his collar. “And he’s going to beat me up and-”

“Wait, wait, who?” He pulled her off, watching as she looked at him with those eyes again. Rafe furrowed his eyebrows, his chest heaving. “Does JJ do-”

“Not JJ,” she cried, and pulled him towards a random car. “Can I please just stay with you until the next morning? Please.”

“Are you sure?” Rafe looked around, and he thought about Dee who was waiting for him at the party. He shook his head at the thought, not wanting to put her first. “We can stay somewhere else?”

(Y/N) nodded frantically, and Rafe thought about the truth behind all of her words. She was never this miserable, looking all happy when he sees her at the restaurant, taking orders with that goddamn smile and laughing at the unfunny jokes old men would give her just for some tips.

Without him knowing, the restaurant by the bay became one of his top favourite restaurants, but it wasn’t because of the food. Rafe never really liked their steaks, always preferring the one closer to the country club, but he was willing to put aside his cravings for that one certain waitress.

“Okay,” he nodded, leading her to the jeep parked a few cars away. She looked so tired, her hair messily tucked behind her ears, her makeup smudged, and Rafe felt a sudden wave of relief for being there in the parking lot to grab his phone in the car.

The drive was silent, and Rafe even thought that she had gone to sleep. When he looked at her from the corners of his eyes, he was surprised to see her silently staring at the dark view outside, unmoving.

He parked outside of the hotel he usually goes to when he’s in need for some alone time, checking the time on his phone before helping her out. She didn’t say a word to him, keeping her head down, only inching closer when they were on their way up to their room.

(Y/N) never been to a fancy hotel like this, only staying in a small hotel in Spain with her aunt 4 summers ago, so she was quite bewildered when she looked around the room. She bit her lips, staring at the one queen bed, and turned to look at him.

“Are we sharing a bed?”

“Oh, no, we don’t have to,” Rafe quickly said, trying to calm her down. “I think you should sleep it off. I’ll stay on the sofa.”

“Okay, thanks.”

But she couldn’t close her eyes. Every time she tried to sleep it off, she would think about Luke with his hands around her face, forcing her to look up to his eyes and whispering sweet-nothings into her ear. JJ never knew about this, and (Y/N) never wanted to tell him out of fear and disappointment, so she had been keeping the secret for a really long time.

“Rafe?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks for bringing me here.”

“It’s nothing,” he huffed, and (Y/N) heard him shift. The sound of a pillow hitting the floor blared throughout the dark room, and (Y/N) felt bad about letting him sleep on the sofa, especially when he was the one who had brought her to the hotel.

“You can stay in the bed with me.”

“Really? I can’t do that.”

“Why?” She asked, because she really didn’t mind sharing a bed with Rafe Cameron. It wasn’t like she was going to attack him.

“Just because.”

“Is it because you don’t like me?” She asked, and she heard an amused laugh coming from the sofa.

“Trust me, you’re wrong on that one,” he replied simply, and (Y/N) had to think of what he said again.

Wrong?

“Is it because I’m a minor?”

“We’re only 2 years apart.”

“So what’s the problem?” She pressed, because she couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just sleep on the same bed as her. They didn’t have to be all pushed up to each other. . .

“Because,” he sighed, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of stuff.”

“Rafe, I don’t understand,” she closed her eyes, her mind woozy from the back and forth fight with the boy.

Rafe sighed again, licking his lips before standing up from the sofa. “Okay, but I’m not a creep, okay?”

“So it is because I’m a minor,” she nodded to herself, and she felt a sudden wave of disappointment. If only she was a year older.

“Whatever,” he breathed, trying to get the best position under the covers. He felt her fingers and quickly pulled his hand away, his heart beating.

“You’re weird.”

“I just said I’m scared,” he shrugged, and finally settled comfortably. He felt so much better now, not having to pull his legs together and crossed his arms just to fit on the sofa.

“What if I do want you to sleep with me on the bed?”

“Shut up,” he groaned.

“No, Rafe, what if I do want you-”

“Shut up before I make you.”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, and she thought of the many times she had repeated this exact line in a movie and how she had romanticised her own scenario to that line. She never thought of Rafe Cameron as the protagonist, only imagining Timotheé Chalamet and no one else.

“You’re still drunk, okay?” He suddenly said, and (Y/N) bit her lips at his exasperated tone. “I don’t want to take advantage of you. I’m not Carter.”

“Okay,” she said softly, “I didn’t ask for you to fuck me, though.”

“Really? You’re begging for it right now.”

“I just want you to get comfortable.”

“Hm.”

“You’re full of yourself.”

“Yeah? You should see the eyes you give me at the restaurant,” he replied simply, and he could feel himself thinking of her slightly narrowed eyes, looking straight at him.

He shifted his position, placing a pillow against his front.

“Why didn’t you act on it?”

“Oh god, we’re still on this?” He grunted, “Go to sleep.”

“Why wouldn’t you want to fuck me?”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and before she could think about anything else to say to him next, he had pulled her shoulders so that she could look at him.

She squinted against the darkness, using the moonlight as a source of light to stare into his beautiful blue orbs.

“I would fuck you, but I won’t do it when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“You are, because-” he grazed his thumb against her bottom lip, and she had to hold her breath. “You’re not this open to me when you’re sober.”

“Isn’t it more fun, though? To fuck when you’re drunk?”

“I’d only do that if you’re my girlfriend.”

“So can I be your girlfriend?”

“I’ll think about it tomorrow,” he smiled, and pushed her back to face the ceiling. “Now sleep.”

“What if I want to become your girlfriend now?”

“JJ will kill me.”

“Can you kill him back?”

“(Y/N),” Rafe sighed, being so tired of going back and worth with her on this. Of course he wanted to touch her, more than anything else in the world, but he couldn’t do it when she was in a state like this. “Go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Good girl.”

“Okay.”

He waited a few more minutes, ready to answer any remarks, but what came after was only her soft snores. He sighed in relief, leaning on his arms as he stared at her. He watched as her chest heaved peacefully, feeling all kinds of emotions at once, and he finally realised the truth;

This time he wasn’t playing; Rafe Cameron would never bring a girl to a fancy hotel for nothing other than sex, but here he was; refusing her teasings, and keeping her safe. It finally hit him; he would bring (Y/N) anywhere if that’s the only way to keep her smile.

He shut his eyes, making a mental note to make fun of her drunk state in the morning.

#Part 2

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