#OH I HATE TO SAY IT. AS LIKE. A USUALLY CAREER DRIVEN PERSON BUT.................. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

The total number of visits Tumblr.com received during January 2021 is 327 million.

#OH I HATE TO SAY IT. AS LIKE. A USUALLY CAREER DRIVEN PERSON BUT..................

faisdm · 1 year

Text

J K Rowling will come for you. Like you don't even need to be trans, or from another country or disabled. You can just be an ordinary white English person and she'll hate you because you're from The North, or your town's a bit poor.

This is what she thinks my accent sounds like:

Yes, oh boy! In Career of Evil, Cormoran Strike goes to Barrow-in-Furness, a town in Rowling's own country just a couple of hours direct train from Manchester airport and has the residents all talk like strange Fantasy peasants. This isn't even a good rendition of a South Cumbrian accent. "Teeking?" (yeah, try "Tekkin'" Joanne), "Noo"? (WTF are you just making shit up as you go along? I don't think this is even Scottish never mind Northern English) "Tha" (Holy shit, Joanne this is like... something a farmer from right in the middle of the Lakes from a hundred years ago would say, not a lady in probably her seventies from Barrow). She doesn't even get actual characteristics of South Cumbrian speech right, like how "book" and "look" might sometimes be pronounced with an "ooh" (this is very specifically Barrow and not widespread in Cumbria) or "in the" or "to the" might become "in't'" or "'t't'", or ending sentences with "Eh" or "Iike" a lot, or the standard greeting being "Arreet, mate?" or a common saying being "Ah, be reet!" (It'll be fine!).

Side note: The Crow's Nest is not some dive bar. It's a pretty nice, friendly local pub. Seen above. Then again, this does line up with the whole section of the book and how Rowling describes South Cumbria.

Hilarious things Cormoran Strike, brilliant detective, doesn't notice that he definitely would have driven past here include that Ulverston has a big white lighthouse overlooking the town, but clearly not close enough to the sea to function (It is the birthplace of Stan Laurel, but that's a thing you'd notice if you searched it on google, not a thing you'd notice driving through, which is definitely either the Lighthouse, or in early summer that the town is full of big colourful silk banners - By the way, Ulverston is a lovely place to visit if you're in the Lakes but it's too rainy for a walk. It has lovely independent shops and cafes).

Then there's also a zoo next to the main road from Ulverston to Barrow with...er...pink rhinos. You see, the local soil around Dalton there is very rich in iron ore and is a distinctive pink colour, and so the giraffes and rhinos usually seen in the fields visible from the road tend to look pink. That road also features a rather lovely view of the sea and some beautiful old woodland and passes an excellent seaside nature reserve. You don't leave the Lakes and suddenly it stops being sheep and drystone walls and you're in an industrial hellhole!

The general depiction of Barrow in this book really emphasises the ugliness and industry of the town. How it has a lot of pubs (it does, but they're mostly pretty nice pubs) and how the shops often have gloomy jokes for names (there was a hairdresser called "Curl Up & Dye" for a while), but it never mentions that Barrow is actually a rather beautiful town with a sense of faded grandeur. The town centre is built on a huge scale by people who thought it was going to be the next Liverpool back in the Victorian period, so it has some very large and beautiful buildings and bronze statues. By the way, "Vickerstown" looks like this:

Oh noooo...what a horrible place to live! How do we even cope living in such an unlovely industrial town!?

Oh no, save us, Joanne, save us from this horrible town dominated by the enormous ship building sheds (you can *just about see them* right over there in the distance. This is the town centre, and while the ship building sheds do have some of the largest interior spaces in Europe, Barrow is a well spread out town).

tl;dr: Rowling is just a mean-spirited person, barely capable of seeking common humanity or really seeing the best in anyone different from herself. She's transphobic, she's racist and ignorant, she's classist, she's judgemental about appearances, and she treats even a nice town in the north of her own country like it's some horrible gloomy place just because we talk a little funny and aren't so well off.

30 notes · View notes

bastetwastaken · 2 years

Text

Bad pick-up lines 15: "You must be tired, cause you've been running through my mind all day."

Yugi was never really bothered about fitness. He’d never been good at sports in school, so naturally keeping fit wasn’t really on his list of priorities. Truth be told, he’d always been too short for most team sports anyway.

Now he was in his late twenties, it didn’t look like he was going to grow much more. He’d decided that getting in better shape might be a good idea. Tristan had been training with Joey for months and all he heard about the gym were good things.

He was mainly driven to make a change because his duelling career was taking off, and with being in the spotlight came the comments on his appearance. He didn’t mind so much, but for himself he wanted to at least build some muscle to make himself look a little less childlike.

He decided to join Tristan one evening when he went to the gym to see what the place was like. He insisted on going later when there would be less people there to judge his lack of stamina.

The gym was nice, and although Yugi wasn’t too sure what he was doing, he might have been tempted to say he enjoyed himself. So he decided to commit and sign up.

Tristan couldn��t go at the same time Yugi could most evenings, but that was okay. Yugi just stuck to what he was comfortable doing.

After a few nights of going and not knowing what to do with himself or any of the machines on the floor, he decided to get himself a personal trainer.

His friends agreed that was the best course of action considering how accident prone he could be and Tristan recommended a few of the staff to him who might be free when Yugi was.

Yugi wasn’t ashamed to say that when it came to actually choosing a personal trainer, he based it on looks alone and didn’t really bother looking into how they trained. He figured that going to the gym was enough of a task in itself, and having a good view whilst he tortured himself would help.

His first session with Atem was horrible.

Atem pushed him way beyond the point where Yugi would have stopped had he been there alone. He wouldn’t take no for an answer and he only laughed when Yugi told him to piss off.

As he collected his things from the locker and changed his shoes he reflected on his hour of pure hell. He had hated every second. His arms were sore and he still hadn’t quite caught his breath.

On his way to the door Atem had waved happily at him. “See you tomorrow!” He said cheerily.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” Yugi grumbled as he walked past him.

“Oh?” Atem laughed. “I didn’t have you down as a quitter.” Yugi turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve known me for just over an hour.” He said. “I doubt you know me at all.”

He was in a bad mood and he usually wouldn’t have said anything, but he felt like in that moment, he had to. Atem only smiled at him.

“Maybe not.” He shrugged. “You should come back tomorrow so we can fix that.”

Yugi rolled his eyes then left the gym. He cursed Atem the whole way home in the car and vowed to not bother going back. He didn’t care how attractive Atem was. He was mean.

Unfortunately, he was also right. Yugi was not a quitter. He never had been. So he went back the next night.

Atem wasn’t smug about seeing him again, he just smiled at Yugi and told him what they’d be doing that evening.

As they went through the different exercises Atem joined him. He ran alongside Yugi on the treadmill, lifted weights with him and was generally very nice to him for the whole session. Even though the workout was just as difficult as the first, Yugi felt much better when they finished than he had the day before.

At the end of the first week, Yugi felt great. His habit of going to the gym late meant that he had more time to talk to Atem in between sets, and well. He’d known Atem was his type, but once he’d found out more about him, he’d fallen hard and fast.

Atem had slowly but surely worked his way through each of Yugis defences and learned things about him that his friends didn’t even know. One night after their session they’d been sat on the gym floor. Atem had asked him why he joined the gym, what his goal was.

Yugi ended up telling Atem everything, from his insecurities about his duelling career, to the times when he’d be beaten up at school. How weak and insignificant he’d always felt during those times, and how he’s always wished he could just be stronger.

Atem had sat through it all with a comforting hand on Yugis arm and the patience of a saint.

He’d said something to Yugi that night that had been burned into his memory. He found himself thinking of the words whenever he doubted himself.

“Most people see strength as something physical. It’s not. True strength is about continuing on even when you feel like you can’t go any further. Keeping going when you want to stop. Pushing back when the world is pushing down on you. You might not see your own strength, but I do. You are strong already.”

Since that night Yugi had given everything in their sessions. Whenever Atem had suggested he ran further and faster, lifted more weight, he’d smile and agree.

Two months had passed since that night and Yugi had become good friends with Atem. They saw each other out of the gym, and sometimes they went to see movies and get food.

He noticed the changes in himself, not only physically, but mentally too. He was happier, less stressed and more confident. He didn’t feel the need to hide as much. He owed the changes in himself to Atem. As cheesy as it sounded, he’d never given up on him.

Even though Atem sometimes joked about wishing Yugi was quiet and shy again, he also complimented Yugi on how well he was doing and how far he’d come.

That night when he entered the gym his jaw almost hit the floor.

Atem was waiting for him in his usual spot, but there was one huge difference. He was shirtless.

Yugi was burning up. He’d never seen Atem without his shirt before, and he’d always expected him to be toned, but seeing it was a whole other thing entirely.

“Hi!” Atem said happily. “Sorry about the heat. The air con is broken and I can’t get anyone to come out to fix it until tomorrow.” He gestured to himself. “I’ve had a tough time.”

Yugi nodded and tried his very best to tear his eyes off Atems bare chest. He succeeded eventually, much to his own dismay.

“Don’t worry about it.” He said with a smile. They made their way over to the lockers so Yugi could change his shoes.

“How are you today then?? Atem asked.

“Great.” Yugi sat down and tried not to stare at Atems perfectly toned stomach which was now inconveniently at eye level. “Yourself?”

“I’ve been better, but it’s nothing a few hours with my favourite client won’t fix.” He winked at Yugi when he looked up.

Atem went on to tell Yugi about what they’d be doing that evening and Yugi found himself zoning out as he stole glances at Atems body in between tying his shoes.

“Come find me when you’re ready then.” Atem said happily as he left Yugi to finish putting his things in the locker.

Yugi took a deep breath before going to find Atem. He was going to have to try extra hard to keep his thoughts in check tonight.

They’d worked their way through the cardio routine they usually did and were moving onto Yugis favourite part. The weights. Atem had shown him that his short stature was actually perfect for power lifting and Yugi found himself enjoying it very much.

Atem yawned as he helped Yugi put the bar back on the supports at the end of his first set of reps. Yugi laughed as he sat up, spinning around on the bench so he could face Atem.

“Am I keeping you up?” He asked.

“Sorry.” Atem laughed and shook his head.

“It’s okay.” Yugi told him. “Late night?”

“Not particularly, I don’t know why but I feel like I haven’t had much sleep.” Atem shrugged.

“That might be my fault actually.” Yugi said quietly. “You must be tired because you’ve been running through my mind all day.”

Atem raised an eyebrow at him and leaned forward, resting his lower arms against the bar which still held the weights. “Where did you expect that line to get you exactly?” He asked.

Yugi smiled and leaned toward Atem, he knew him well enough by now to know he wasn’t offended by what he’d just said. He purposefully looked down at Atems bare chest for a moment.

“On a date with you? I thought it was funny.” Yugi said.

“I never said it wasn’t.” Atem said, biting his lip.

“Regret giving me this confidence yet?” Yugi asked mischeviously, leaning a little closer.

“Not at all.” Atem winked. “It’s nice to see you so sure of yourself. Confidence can be very attractive, and I have to say, it looks very good on you.”

Yugis stomach flipped in excitement as he leaned even closer. Suddenly, kissing Atem seemed like the most logical next step.

A finger pressed against his lip gently and Atem stood up.

“I’m meant to be working.” He said with regret in his voice. “We can’t do that here.”

“Sorry, I got carried away. I was lost in your eyes.” Yugi said, leaning back and laughing.

“God.” Atem groaned and rolled his eyes.

“My name is Yugi.” He said as he laid back against the bench looking up at Atem. “But sure, call me whatever you like.” He winked as he reached up to grip the bar over his head.

“You’re just full of it tonight aren’t you.” Atem laughed.

“You’ll be-“

“Do not finish that sentence.” Atem stopped him. “It’s hot enough in here as it is, I don’t need you making me blush.”

“I bet you look cute when you do.”

Atem sighed but he couldn’t stop smiling.

“Hmm. Yep. Very cute.” Yugi said as he saw the faint colour on Atems cheeks.

“Stop it.” Atem laughed. “Now lift.”

Yugi gave in and finished the rest of his reps in silence, but before he could let go of the bar Atem placed his hands over his.

“You think you’re done? Oh no, another set would do you good I think.” Atem said.

“Atem.” Yugi sighed.

“Very nice, but it won’t get you out of this.” He said as he ran his hands lightly down Yugis arms.

“You’re so mean.” Yugi pouted.

“Aw.” Atem ran a hand over Yugis shoulder and gently brushed his fingers over his cheek before moving away entirely. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Yeah?” Yugi laughed.

“I’ll let you take me on a date if you can do ten more reps.” Atem said.

“Ten?!” Yugi pouted. “But that’s-“

“How much do you want this date?” Atem asked.

Yugi managed eleven more reps.

#puzzleshipping #yugi muto #fanfic #yami yugi #atem #fanfiction #idiots in love #they are idiots #bad pickup lines #bad pick up lines

30 notes · View notes

sagamemes · 3 years

Text

the sheridan tapes 📼 part one. here and under the cut, you can find a little under 120 lines of dialogue from the horror podcast the sheridan tapes, specifically from episodes one to three, edited for roleplay purposes. tw: police, murder, supernatural elements, mentions of apocalyptic scenarios, near death experiences, injuries, vehicular crash, recreational drug and alcohol use.

❝ jesus, [name]. you’re not making this easy, are you? ❞

❝ makes you wonder... do these things follow me because i chase them, or were they always following me? ❞

❝ darkness and complete disorientation does a number on the human brain. ❞

❝ i don't think he was a werewolf. ❞

❝ i’d call it the customer service smile. you know, the one that says ‘ thank you for shopping with us, please die now ’. ❞

❝ i’ve found the more showy the text, the less impressive the actual phenomena. ❞

❝ my job here is kind of… shaky at the moment. ❞

❝ [name] was also engaged in the study of the impossible in his free time. ❞

❝ so it’s just me who drives you up the wall then? ❞

❝ well, you’ll be happy to hear i haven’t been having any fun. no weed, no ghosts. ❞

❝ there hasn’t been a new lead on her case in more than half a year. ❞

❝ so here i am, wrapped up in a blanket, staring at my little fireplace, so bored i actually decided to call my sister for once. ❞

❝ it’s a little town near bandon. very little. nice little mini-market, and that’s about it. ❞

❝ i doubt i’ll sleep much tonight. that’s okay. i just feel like looking at the stars for a while. ❞

❝ it's probably for the best. i am simultaneously exhausted from the drive and absolutely wired from the coffee. ❞

❝ i wonder if there will still be ghosts out there when that happens? when the earth is gone? ❞

❝ glad to hear you’re enjoying yourself, then. ❞

❝ knowing doesn’t make things any easier, but it does make them a little less frightening. ❞

❝ that’s all just a lazy way of saying that the real explanation is too difficult—or too horrible—for them to accept. ❞

❝ it almost killed me, but in the end it settled for putting me in pt for a year while i figured out how to use my hands again. ❞

❝ he muttered something about my time being up. or maybe he said it wasn’t up. ❞

❝ i don’t really care that i didn’t get any writing done today. ❞

❝ nothing. not a single idea worth writing down, no itch i needed to scratch or question i needed to answer. ❞

❝ guess there really is no such thing as bad press. ❞

❝ i have no idea what a writer’s ‘ process ’ usually looks like, but i’m pretty sure it’s not this. ❞

❝ see what i have to deal with? god… siblings, am i right? ❞

❝ what can i say? i have a soft spot for gothic architecture. ❞

❝ computers have never been very good at reconciling paradoxes. ❞

❝ they’re pretty much over funding my little expeditions. ❞

❝ that kind of smile doesn’t normally show that many teeth. ❞

❝ you know, that’s only scary the first few times you do it. ❞

❝ one day, it will be dead. one day all the stars will burn out, go dark and silent. one day, everything will be so dark and so cold that no new stars can ever be born. the old ones will blink out one by one, like candles going out, and then… nothing. silence. darkness. void. ❞

❝ the simplest explanation is almost always the right one. ❞

❝ i don’t remember getting in my van, putting the key in the ignition, or speeding away from that house, but i must have. ❞

❝ no, no, i’m fine, i’m fine, just go bother someone else. ❞

❝ i haven’t eaten, moved, or written anything all day. ❞

❝ but maybe that's just the fact that it is two in the morning and my brain is running mostly on caffeine. ❞

❝ given how good a [job] he is, i know it’s not the first time he’s done it. ❞

❝ i escaped, but i knew that whatever was in that house has just marked me as prey. ❞

❝ calm down. think. you’re just going to confuse yourself. ❞

❝ just wanted to tell you a couple of us are headed out to marvin’s for drinks if you want to come. ❞

❝ one of the most disappointing things about living in america is the lack of genuinely haunted houses. out of all the supposed haunts i’ve visited, maybe one in ten seems like the real deal. ❞

❝ sounds… peaceful. not many distractions, then? ❞

❝ something tells me this tape wasn’t played in court. ❞

❝ one of the neighbours must have called 911. ❞

❝ my infamous accident. it almost killed me. ❞

❝ i just woke up to footsteps in the kitchen. i don’t know who, or what, but there’s someone in here with me! ❞

❝ could you shut the door on your way out, please? ❞

❝ uh, wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. ❞

❝ the fire that i said went out? yeah, it just started burning again. ❞

❝ so i asked him to lie. ❞

❝ it'd really be just a few of us. maybe me and [name] and one or two other tagalongs… ❞

❝ apparently, the press had a lot of questions too. ❞

❝ i’ve driven more than 8 hours and drunk enough bad coffee to give an elephant heart palpitations. i’m sure as hell going to get my money’s worth. ❞

❝ oh sorry, am i bothering you now? what happened to ‘ call anytime you want, [name] ’ or, ‘ you’re always welcome here, [name] ’ ? ❞

❝ i’ve forgotten to charge my phone. again. ❞

❝ i… think i’m going to turn around now. ❞

❝ well sorry if i wanted to have a nice talk with my sister for a change. ❞

❝ will it just be left there forever? our legacy? look upon our works, ye mighty, and despair? ❞

❝ no matter how far away from home you are, no matter how different the constellations might look from where you’re standing, you can always look up on a clear, dark night and feel like you’re about to fall right into it—the terrifying, endless expanse of nothingness. ❞

❝ i know authors can do some crazy things to get out of writer’s block, but i’ve never heard of one resorting to arson. ❞

❝ why do you always think there’s something wrong? ❞

❝ ours is not to question why, ours is but to digitize and stay the hell out of trouble. ❞

❝ so let’s try walking backwards. just keep an eye on it. ❞

❝ i got lucky. or maybe i was just fast enough to escape. ❞

❝ maybe there are secret passages behind the walls and corridors. ❞

❝ no matter how far i walked, i couldn’t find the way i came in. ❞

❝ well, i /know/ i’ve had worst nights. i just can’t think of any right now. ❞

❝ i do want you to have fun, [name], i just don’t want you to get yourself killed doing it. ❞

❝ i mean, obviously, i do care, that’s the whole reason i made this trip. to get away from the noise and focus. ❞

❝ i might have… forgotten to tell anyone where i was going. ❞

❝ before i get started, there’s just one thing i need to say. i have absolutely no patience for the unexplained, or the things people call ‘ unexplainable ’, ‘ supernatural ’, or ‘ paranormal ’. ❞

❝ i told [name] that i needed to get out, to get inspired. ❞

❝ okay, if someone is messing with me, they’re going to be very sorry, very quickly. ❞

❝ [name] lied his ass off to save yours. ❞

❝ a crash like that does funny things to your head. ❞

❝ i still don’t know how he got there without me noticing. ❞

❝ any plans i had to travel abroad went up in smoke. ❞

❝ i thought of pulling out the bad cop routine. ❞

❝ strange how something so dead can be so beautiful. ❞

❝ it hated me: hated what i do, and more than that, hated who i am. ❞

❝ lots of tall tales. and more than a few ghost stories. ❞

❝ oh good, you’re still here! ❞

❝ reviewers absolutely grilled it: said it was a nonsensical rip off of the dark tower, whatever that means. ❞

❝ i jumped out the window. cut my hands on the glass, but thankfully not bad enough to need stitches ❞

❝ i told her, tonight. ❞

❝ for a minute, i wondered if that would really be so bad. it was a fitting way to go, given my… well, everything. ❞

❝ i suppose that’s a universal constant—maybe the only one. ❞

❝ i never let myself get this turned around. especially not at night. ❞

❝ i don’t know if it’s actually haunted. but if not, then it was sure as hell convincing. ❞

❝ i’m not one of those people who thinks she’s the spawn of satan or something ridiculous like that. ❞

❝ unless i’m prepared to accept that she was murdered by something that crawled out of a funhouse mirror, this isn’t much help with the case, either. ❞

❝ i have to try and work some actual cases the rest of the time. you know, cases that might have some answers i can find. ❞

❝ it's cold, damp, and dark as night. i'm in my element, at least. ❞

❝ your place is waiting for you. ❞

❝ yeah, i’m all good. great… hanging in there, you know? one day at a time. ❞

❝ oh, i see you. you think i’m still scared of [thing], huh? think you can freak me out? ❞

❝ trust me, i’ve had a hell of a day, and you do not want to mess with a pissed off… ❞

❝ and tell my sister i'm sorry. ❞

❝ oh god, it's cold. ❞

❝ the night sky really is beautiful out here. ❞

❝ tell him he shouldn’t have been such a good liar. ❞

❝ i’ve been listening to this for the last two weeks now. ❞

❝ it’s not even that i’m having bad ideas. i’m not having any at all. ❞

❝ can’t get away from the work, no matter what i do. ❞

❝ i made sure i switched off my phone before i came up here, just in case. ❞

❝ god, these things smell of weed. ❞

❝ yeah, well… just wanted to make sure you’re okay, you know? ❞

❝ [name] is dead. that's all there is to it. ❞

❝ no, i need to get out of here. it’s been a long day. ❞

❝ a lot of the art i found was just paintings of a night sky full of stars. ❞

❝ my job is to look the facts dead in the face and find an explanation. one that will hold up in a court of law. ❞

❝ personal and career choices, i guess you’d call them. ❞

❝ damn. i could’ve sworn i felt something strange about this place when i hiked through this morning… or maybe it was a different part. hard to tell this late at night, anyway. ❞

❝ well, let’s just say a middle-aged man-child running out panicked and tearing at his eyes would hardly be a marketable image. ❞

❝ i didn’t mind that i’d be alone—i always expected that to be how i went. ❞

❝ i’m sure that’s on my personnel file by now, as if it could get any more problematic. ❞

#sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #starters #rp starters #* sentences.#* meme.#sheridan

167 notes · View notes

chai-tealattae · 3 years

Text

Pen Pals

soul mate /ˈsōl ˌmāt/

noun; a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.

✒️ Pairing: Taehyung x reader

✒️ Genre: Fluff

✒️ Word Count: 2.4k

✒️ Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This is my first fic pls be nice AKSDK

~~~~~~~~~~~~

You tossed and turned in bed, unable to sleep. Tomorrow was your 21st birthday, the day your soulmate connection would be revealed to you. You’d heard stories from your parents, family friends, and even some of your friends that were a year or two older than you about the different connections. What if you got one that would make it damn near impossible to find them? What if your soulmate was older than you, and already knew, but gave up since you were too young? You sighed and laid flat on your back, staring at the ceiling, giving up on your futile attempts at a decent night's sleep, your mind hot with the different scenarios baking within it.

The next morning, you groaned and begrudgingly swung your legs over the side of your bed, stretching as you opened the curtains, the mid morning sunlight flooding into your room. You cringed slightly at the brightness, your eyes struggling to adjust. Yawning as you walked into your kitchen, deciding on a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Scrolling through your phone as you ate, you smiled as you read the birthday wishes from your friends and family. After replying to as many as you felt like doing, you opened Twitter to see what fresh hell awaited you on your timeline. Surprisingly there wasn't really anything bad being mercilessly tweeted about.

The one thing that caught your eye was the lovely photo on your screen, tweeted a couple hours ago, staring back at you. It was embarrassing how infatuated you were with a certain man by the name of Kim Taehyung. He was the perfect man, in all honesty, by your standards at least. He was devilishly handsome yet charmingly adorable from the tip of his nose down to his toes, the smallest details all adding to the things that caused him to worm his way into your heart.

You smiled as you saved the picture to your camera roll before setting your phone down on the table. Your smile quickly turned into a surprised squeak as you felt an oddly ticklish sensation on your wrist, and you stared down at it in shock. Appearing on your skin before your eyes was writing, but it wasn't just any writing. It was a greeting.

“Hello?”

This must be it, your soulmate bond. You didn’t know anyone personally with this particular bond, but you’d read about it through your countless nights of curiosity and excitement driven research.

You nearly tripped on your own feet as you scrambled to find some kind of writing utensil, eager to respond to the stranger. Not just a stranger. Your soulmate. You felt your heart rate quicken just at that thought. You found a pen on your counter, quickly scribbling a response below their message.

“Hello!” You wrote back. Not 30 seconds later, you felt the tickling sensation again, impatiently tapping your pen on the counter as you awaited their response.

“It’s you! You’re finally getting my notes!” You smiled to yourself, your late night suspicion confirming itself. They were definitely older than you, but hopefully not by much. You’d hate if you left your soulmate waiting for too long for you.

“How long have you been trying?” You wrote, a little smaller this time near the ditch of your elbow, so you wouldn’t take up too much valuable space on your skin. You bit your lip as you felt your skin tingle again, hoping it wasn’t too bad-

“Four years” Four years. Four whole years they’d been writing on themselves with no response. You sighed, feeling awful. Well, at least you knew how old they were. Twenty-five, twenty-six tops, if their birthday was coming up sometime soon.

“I'm sorry you waited so long… today is my 21st birthday” you wrote back, twisting your arm at a slightly awkward angle as you did this. You smiled softly, growing familiar with, and anticipating the feeling as they wrote.

“Happy birthday :)” Was written there. You smiled and wrote your thanks, not really sure how to proceed with finding them. You’d read that there were specific guidelines when it came to the different connections, things you weren’t able to do, since that would make finding your soulmate too easy. Things like their exact location, names, things of that nature. The catch is, you were able to reveal that when you were in the same vicinity. As if trying to find them wouldn’t be hard enough.

Over the next month or so, you’d learned that your soulmate was a man that was born in South Korea (you didn’t know how you’d ever be able to swing a trip there, or vice versa). You learned that he enjoyed drawing, painting, photography, singing and dancing. He was fun to talk to (at least until there wasn't any more space on either of your bodies for more ink). He had a pretty time consuming career from what he told you, but he still liked to draw you pictures to wake up to, or write you little good morning messages. You found yourself becoming incredibly fond of him, even without ever seeing his face.

One day, you found yourself staring at your laptop and phone screens, focusing excruciatingly hard on trying to score tickets to see BTS in your city. After nearly missing the opportunity, and a decent amount of money you’d surely have to pull quite a bit of overtime to make up for, you scored a decent seat for their show in a couple months. Eager to share the news with someone, you wrote on your arm.

“I just got tickets to see BTS!!” You wrote with a shaky hand, your already poor penmanship suffering even more. This would be your first time seeing them, seeing the man you’d had your eyes on for so long.

~~~~~

Taehyung smiled when he felt you were writing or perhaps drawing something for him. He loved reading your short messages about your day, getting to know you. Over the past months he was growing more and more impatient, half tempted to fly to the States and wing it. His heart nearly thudded out of his chest when he read what you wrote.

“I just got tickets to see BTS!!”

Holy shit. This was good. This was great, actually. Now he knew you were a fan. Jimin looked over when he saw the stupid grin plastered on his bandmate’s face.

“What is it, Taehyung-ah?” He asked. Taehyung didn’t answer verbally, just angled his arm so Jimin could see what you wrote. He broke into his own smile. “Oh this is good! Maybe you're closer to meeting her than you thought.” He said, patting the younger man’s back. Taehyung smiled with a nod, you being the only thing occupying his mind at the moment.

~~~~~

It was the day of your concert and you could barely contain your excitement. You barely slept the night before, knowing you would be exhausted, but couldn't find it in yourself to care all too much. You’d been waiting for what seemed like forever for this day, and weren't going to let anything, not even your lack of sleep, ruin it for you.

The day seemed to drag even longer than usual, before you figured it was a good time to start getting ready. You got dressed in an outfit that you purchased specifically for this event, a more affordable version of the Dior outfits Rap Line sported during their performances of Tear, and you put on your TaTa headband as the final touch. You know, so everyone knew specifically who you were there for. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, smiling and letting out an excited squeak as you grabbed everything you would need, before you made your way to the venue.

The venue was absolutely packed. There was no way you’d be able to even get any merch without missing half the concert standing in that line. You sighed quietly to yourself and went to your seat, busying yourself with syncing your lightstick so it would light up with everyone else's. You looked around from your seat, in awe about how many people were here. Crazy how many people could fit into one space.

While you waited for the concert to start, you decided to write him a message about how excited you were, and that you would keep him updated throughout the show. You decided to draw a small heart on your hand, in the space between your pointer finger and thumb, just because. You smiled when you saw his words appear on your arm.

“Have fun <3”

Oh, you would. You would have the time of your life. Little did you know, in more ways than one.

~~~~

Taehyung knew you had to be here somewhere. You just had to be. He ran a hand through his perfectly groomed hair, effectively rendering his stylist’s hard work useless. He couldn’t help it. Not when he knew his soulmate was in this building. His mind started to race. What if you didn’t want to be with him? What if you liked one of the other members better than him? What if you couldn’t deal with his lifestyle? He was pacing now, and everyone but him seemed to notice.

“Taehyung-ah, relax. I’m sure everything will work out fine.” Namjoon smiled reassuringly. Taehyung nodded and let out a breath, sitting down. They were called to start getting into position, and Taehyung knew he had to do it, now or he wouldn’t have time, and you would slip through his fingers. He pulled out his pen, writing one word on his forearm in larger than usual letters. He put his pen in his pocket, heading to where his microphone and earpieces were waiting for him, hoping you would see his message.

~~~~~

When the concert started, you could barely focus on anything else other than the men on stage in front of you. You felt the familiar tickle on your arm that your soulmate had written you, though you ignored it for the time being. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of Taehyung, witnessing his incredible stage presence and the massive amount of fan service he was giving was mesmerising, to say the least.

When time for the intermission came around, and the VCRs played on the big screens, you took a moment to see what your soulmate wrote to you. You gasped when you saw the big, capital letters spread along the length of your forearm.

“TAEHYUNG”

There was no way. Absolutely no fucking way. Kim Taehyung was not your soulmate. You had to have been some sort of saint in your previous life to deserve such treatment from the universe. You stared at your arm for a few more seconds in complete disbelief, before taking your pen out of your pocket, writing your name under his on your arm. A minute later, you felt him writing, and you anxiously chewed at your lip as you awaited his response.

“Where are you?”

You hurriedly scribbled your section and seat number, your brain barely able to process what was happening.

Within 5 minutes, there was a man approaching you, asking you to confirm your name. When you did, he told you to come with him, you did without asking any questions. The man led you backstage, and you looked around, frantically trying to find the familiar face in the crowd of stage hands.

When your eyes finally met his, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Was it anxiety? Excitement? A spicy mixture of both? You couldn’t really tell, but there were some things you needed to see. His long legs effortlessly closed the distance between you, until you were standing toe to toe. You looked up at him and he looked down at you, neither of you truly believing you were here at this moment. You studied his face for a moment, then without a word, you took his hands, inspecting them. There it was. You brought your hand up and compared, the tiny heart you drew on your hand matching the one on his. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the messages you’d written to each other throughout the day.

“Y/N…” He said quietly, only loud enough that you could hear. “I finally found you. You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”

“I can’t believe it’s you.” You said as you looked up at him, tears beginning to form in the corners of your eyes. He smiled and brought his hand to gently cup your cheek, his thumb lightly brushing against your cheekbone.

“Are you disappointed?” He asked with a chuckle, his tone teasing. You shook your head, letting out a quiet laugh.

“Not even a little bit.” You reassured him, smiling softly. He gave you a toothy grin before leaning down and closing the small space between you, and you couldn’t help but melt when his lips finally met yours. The kiss was soft and careful, as if he was testing the waters. When you pushed slightly against his lips, he deepened the kiss just a little more.

He was the first to pull away, seemingly remembering his surroundings, and you caught the faintest tint of pink creep onto his face. It was almost time for him to go back on stage, and he rested his forehead against yours for a moment, his eyes locked with yours as he intertwined your fingers with his.

“Wait for me? I plan to talk to you for hours, now that I can finally hear your voice.” He said, and you nodded without hesitation. He smiled widely before pressing a kiss to your forehead, jogging off to wherever it was he was needed. You sat on the couch that was there for the members beside the stage, running a hand through your hair. Never in your wildest dreams did you think something like this could happen. Not to you, at least. You felt him writing again, and this time, you paid full attention to the words appearing along your arm.

“I love you.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you read those 3 words, pulling out your pen and writing your response.

“I love you too.” You wrote, carefully, easily readable. Never had you meant something more in your life. You couldn’t wait for him to come back to you, for him to execute his plan. After what felt like a very long time, you couldn’t wait to finally begin your life with the man you happily called your soulmate.

#taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung x you #taehyung #Kim taehyung #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fanfiction #bts fic #BTS v #bts #bts fanfic #taehyung fic #kth oneshot #kth #soulmate!au #soulmate!taehyung #taehyung au #bts au

125 notes · View notes

princess-of-riviaa · 4 years

Text

Nothing to Prove

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Everyone and their mother is convinced Captain America is a righteous man, but you’re determined to find his dark side.

Author’s Note: I’ve had ideas for a Steve Rogers floating around in my head since I started writing fics on tumblr about a month ago. I’m so happy I finally got around to writing one, though I am definitely willing (and eager) to write more for Captain America, so if you have any ideas feel free to shoot me a request!

Warning(s): NSFW, dom!Steve Rogers, rough sex, choking, blowjob, overstimulation, it’s pretty long so buckle up

You couldn’t stand Steve Rogers. Captain America you were fine with. Captain America wasn’t a person; Captain America was an idea, a moral code that some people spent their entire lives trying to follow. But Steve Rogers... the people expected the man underneath the suit to be just as holy as the Nazi-killing hero. What pissed you off was that he let them believe he was just as perfect as the Captain. He let the world make him out to be more than a man. He let the world believe he was nothing more than a justice-driven protector of Earth. That was what pissed you off. The fact that he’d worked so hard to convince the world that he was more than human--and that he’d done such a good job at that he’d even convinced himself, too. The world didn’t believe Steve Rogers had a dark side. Steve Rogers didn’t believe it, either.

But your entire career was built on exploiting the darkness in every human soul, and you were good enough at your job that you knew it existed in even the most innocent-seeming people. There was a dark side to Steve, a monster he kept hidden under the surface, and you were going to unleash it.

...

You found Steve in the conference room. He sat behind the desk, too busy flipping through notebooks and writing things down to notice you enter the room.

Your hips swayed as you neared him, bringing the open bottle of cheap wine to your mouth as you did so. You took a big gulp of the bitter liquid before setting it down on the long conference table, the sound of its clatter finally making Steve look up at you.

“I thought you went home,” was all he bothered to say to you.

Steve liked you just as much as you liked him. Which is to say, you hardly tolerated each other’s presence. But Steve, always the gentleman, was determined to kill you with kindness. You could see his disdain for you every time he looked at you. You would have stayed away from him--you didn’t need everyone in the world to like you, especially not the superficial Captain America--but there was something about him that called to you. Whether it was the way his eyes flashed with a hint of something dark just before he looked away from you, or the way his voice didn’t waver when he was barking orders and making his authority clear, or the way you could always feel his eyes on your body when you wore your favorite tight dresses...

You stopped when you were halfway to him, several feet of conference table still between you. Your hip rested against the edge of it as you said, “This table, the wood it’s made of... it’s very strong. Very... durable.”

You smiled to yourself as you caught his eyes lock on your finger dragging an invisible mark into the wood of the table. “I’ve never noticed.”

“Really?” You raised a disbelieving brow. “So you’ve never thought about how hard you’d have to fuck a woman into it before it broke underneath you?”

The captain froze. Watching him come undone was the best part of your day. Sometimes you couldn’t even make it past breakfast before you made a not-so-discreet innuendo and watched him choke on his coffee. He acted like an innocent, blushing virgin in public... You wanted to see if he was just as shy when you were on your knees, his cock between your wet lips.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you dared now.

He cleared his throat and returned his attention to the notebook in front of him. “I have work to do--”

You rolled your eyes. “You always have work to do.”

“That’s what happens when you have a job,” he retorted. “People have to work in order for society to function, though you wouldn’t know much about that, would you?”

It was late. He’d clearly had a long day. Usually he wouldn’t let his tongue loose so easily. But you didn’t mind it. Actually, if you were being honest with yourself, his attitude turned you on. Captain America had claws. You wanted to know what it was like to feel them inside of you.

You took a seat on the edge of the table. “Oh, I help society function. Believe me. My women are usually the only ones willing to fuck the crude billionaires that ensure the monopolized markets of our country are functioning. We do the dirty work so everyone else can benefit from it. Do you really think there’d be someone making your coffee on Monday morning if they didn’t have a woman giving them a blowjob on the weekends?”

He flipped the page of his notebook, pretending to ignore you.

“But you’re smart,” you admitted. Though you hated him, you couldn’t deny that he had some attributes. His knowledge of how the world worked was one of them. “You already knew that. You just like to hear me say filthy things.”

He clicked the pen in his hands, clearly growing agitated.

“You do, I can tell,” you giggled. “I see it when you think no one’s looking--that look you get in your eye, like you want to claim someone. Usually me, because you hate it when people talk back to you and I’m the only one who dares. I can see that urge you get to just throw me over the nearest surface and fuck some sense into me, the way you have to clench your hands to keep from choking me and reminding me who’s really in control--the way you’re doing now--”

“Y/N!” He protested, shooting to his feet. His hands were, in fact, clenched at his sides. You licked your lips as you took in the sight of that vein bulging out of his neck. You wanted to taste it.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you said, his anger having no affect on you.

He neared you in three long strides, ready to strike. But he merely shoved a finger towards the door and spat, “Get. Out.”

“I’ll let you fuck me,” you offered. “I have to admit I kind of want you to. I’m curious to see how well Captain America can take a woman, especially since the world is convinced you’re a virgin.”

The distance between you closed. He didn’t touch you, didn’t even brush his skin against yours, but suddenly all that was between you was clothes and an aching heat. His eyes scanned your face, your mouths inches apart. You had to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. You could tell he liked it, towering over you like this, and you felt yourself grow wet.

“You can have your way with me,” you whispered. “Do whatever dark and twisted things you long to do at night when you’re jerking yourself off and imagining it’s my mouth around you instead of your hand.”

Your hand reached out for him before you were even aware of it. Suddenly his growing erection was pressed into the palm of your hand. He tensed at your touch but didn’t push you away.

“Look at you, already hard at just the thought of touching me.” You continued to palm him over his pants as you spoke. “I wonder--did the serum make your cock bigger too?” You giggled as a thought occurred to you. “Will I even be able to fit my mouth around you?”

He was frozen, afraid to even blink.

Your voice softened, becoming a tempting siren as you said, “It’s okay to want this, Steve. To want me.”

Hearing his name set him off. Suddenly you were pressed against the wall, your arms pinned above your head as Steve breathed down on you, his eyes dark with lust and desire and need. The quick action made you gasp, but that wasn’t the only reason you were forgetting to breathe. The leash on his monster was finally coming loose.

“You want this,” he growled. “You want me to fuck you.”

“I’ll admit it if you will,” you said, a dark smile tugging at your mouth. “I want you as bad as you want me, Steve.”

He gripped both of your wrists in his left hand. With his right, he squeezed your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to get your attention. “Don’t say my name, whore.”

Only once he let go of your throat could you say, “What do you prefer? Daddy? Sir?”

His cock hardened, the weight of him pressing into your stomach.

You smiled. “Sir it is.”

His grip on your throat tightened and you moaned in the pleasurable pain that rippled through your body. His knee pressed against your legs and you parted them, basking in the slight pressure his thick thigh gave to your core. You were already wet. Your juices soaked through your underwear and onto his jeans. He growled when he felt your heat on him.

“You’re such a little whore,” he said into your ear. “Getting off on me being rough with you.”

“You get off on it just as much,” you retorted, and then gasped when he began moving his leg up and down over your heat. The pressure he applied wasn’t nearly enough and you found your hips bucking up against him, needing more of him. “You like me desperate for you.”

“I’m going to fuck you against this wall,” he promised, “and then we’re never going to speak of it again.”

Before you could respond, he yanked your underwear down your legs so fast that they tore, falling to pieces at your feet. He let go of your throat and wrists just long enough to unbuckle his pants. The thick bulge of his cock was barely contained by his jeans, aching to be released. Aching to be inside of you. He didn’t even bother to take his pants fully off, but rather shoved them down to his knees, just enough for his cock to jump out.

Holy shit. He was huge. You’d been a hooker for six years now; you’d lost count of how many dicks you’d seen in your life. But Steve’s was easily one of the biggest. You eyed the thick vein on the underside and noted how red the tip was, already leaking precrum. Your throat hurt just looking at it.

“On your knees,” Steve ordered.

You didn’t have to be told twice. You kneeled in front of him and wrapped your hand around his shaft. “Yes, sir.” His thick vein pulsed in your hand, making his cock twitch. You watched him grow impatient and just as he opened his mouth to bark another order at you, you gave a little kitten lick to his tip, teasing him. The salty taste of his precum hit your tongue instantly. This was what Steve tasted like. You were surprised that you wanted to taste more of him.

You licked him expertly, paying attention to the certain movements of your tongue that made him release a wicked moan. You attempted to deep throat him a couple times, but even when you’d only swallowed half he was hitting the back of your throat. You had an excellent gag reflex when it came to sucking dick, so you didn’t choke too hard--

Until he grabbed a fistful of your hair and shoved his entire length into your mouth. You struggled to breathe around him and found yourself gagging. Still, he didn’t pull out of your mouth, not even to help you breathe. Tears streamed down your face after just a couple seconds. He began fucking into your mouth so quickly that all you could do was sit there with an open mouth, letting him use your hole to fill his need.

Just as quickly as he’d started, he pulled out of your mouth. You blinked up at him. He took in the sight of you--tear-stained cheeks and his precum dripping down the sides of your mouth. There was a look in his eyes that men had given you before: a look that said they were claiming you as theirs. Usually the look disgusted you. You belonged to no one but yourself, and certainly not a man who just thought of you as a fucktoy. But when the pure and righteous Captain America looked at you like that... you found yourself wanting him to claim you.

“Get up,” he ordered, his tone as dark as the look on your face.

You rose to your feet. A second later he had your legs wrapped around his waist and your back pressed into the wall. His dick was pressed against your clit. Just the feeling of his skin on yours made your thighs clench. Your body responded so intensely to him. It was a drug.

“Fuck me,” you whispered, seconds before he entered you. You both moaned like wild animals as he filled you, your walls already so tight around his thick length.

He held you up by your ass, his fingers digging into your skin as he began to move too slowly inside of you. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his blonde locks, and basked in how blissful his cock made you feel.

“Faster, Steve!” you begged.

He adjusted you in his arms so that he was holding you up with just his left arm. His other hand wrapped around your throat. His cock jumped inside of you as he adjusted his weight, hitting a spot that made you literally scream.

“What did you just say?!” he spat.

You blinked up at him. The way he was fucking into you was making you delirious. You struggled to remember what you’d just said. “Faster, sir. Please. Fuck me faster.”

He gave you what you wanted instantly. His cock moved in and out of you so fast that your eyes rolled back and you leaned against the wall, taking whatever he would give you. The room was filled the sounds of his balls hitting your thighs, every thrust making the sounds louder. You were so wet that your pussy made a whorish squelching every time he fucked back into you.

Your body was on fire. Heat settled in the deepest parts of you, letting you know your orgasm was close.

“You gonna cum, you little whore?” His voice just sent the heat through your body even faster. “Gonna cum around my cock?”

And just like that your walls were tightening around him. Your orgasm rolled through you with a shudder and a groan. His cock pulsed inside of you, making your orgasm feel never-ending. His thrusts didn’t stop, didn’t even slow, and your stomach clenched again, already preparing for orgasm number two.

You weren’t used to this feeling. Most men who fucked you only cared about their own pleasure, and they never knew how to work a woman’s body to an orgasm, so your clients usually left you feeling empty. Rare where the days when your clients brought you (or you allowed yourself) to reach an orgasm. Nonexistent were the days when it happened more than once.

So now, as Steve continued fucking into you relentlessly, his super-soldier body showing no signs of stopping anytime soon, you felt a bit overwhelmed. He wrapped his arm tighter against your waist, pulling you against him. Your breasts bounced up and down with every thrust and they brushed against his chest with each movement. He watched them bounce against him. Then he got an idea.

With one quick movement you were set on top of the conference table. Steve never pulled out of you as he moved you two, didn’t even stop his movements. You lied down against the table, enjoying the new angle of his cock inside of you. He brought his hands to your chest and began kneading your breasts. He applied just enough pressure to make you moan like the whore he wanted you to be. Your eyes squeezed shut as you took in the pleasure burning up your body, turning your mind to mush. The next thing you knew something hot and wet and tight was on your breast, licking your nipple, sucking at it--

You came with a scream, your back arching off the table. Your vision went back for one, two, three seconds, and all you knew was Steve’s mouth on your breast and his cock buried deep inside of you. His body shivered above you as your walls clenched around him. He let out a groan and you could tell he was close.

“Come for me, sir,” you managed to get out in your blissed-out haze. “I want your cum inside of me.” You didn’t know where the words came from. That was one of the few things you never, ever said to your clients. The last thing you wanted to deal with was an unwanted pregnancy... but once the words were out, you couldn’t take them back. The thought of him filling you up with his cum only pushed him closer to the edge.

He gripped your hip with one hand, pulling you even closer to him. He barely had to buck his hips now to move inside of you, though his movements were still wild and feverish. His other hand reached between your legs. His thumb moved over your clit in quick circles and instantly your body was shuddering with overstimulation.

Heat spread through your core and chest again. Another orgasm? You’d never cum three times in a row, especially not in a matter of minutes. You squeezed your eyes shut and hot, quick tears poured down your face. There was so much intensity, so much heat in every inch of your body that you didn’t know how to handle it. It was a miracle you could remember how to breathe.

You clutched onto his forearm, still attached to your hip, and cried out as he pounded into you even faster, though you thought that was impossible. He moved so fast that it was impossible to tell where he ended and you began.

“Oh, fuck!” You cried out as you came around him, your soul practically lifting out of your body.

Your walls clenched around Steve’s cock just once before he was coming inside of you too. Heat poured through you as your vision blurred and you lost all sense of time. He thrust into you three, four more times before he was completely satisfied, his body relaxing against yours. He rested his head on your chest, his hair tickling your breasts, and you absentmindedly ran your fingers through his locks as you both struggled to catch your breath and come down from your highs.

You’d never been fucked like that before.

You wanted to do it again. Not now--you were probably too incoherent to even ask for him to go again--but later. This couldn’t be the last time he fucked you. Not if it felt like that every time.

“I forgot to warn you,” you said when you were back in your right mind enough to speak again, “I’m addictive.”

He rose to his feet and pulled out of you. You resisted the urge to whine at the loss of his warmth, but your cheeks flushed as you felt his cum pool out of you, down your legs and onto the table.

“Fucking me one time won’t be enough,” you said. It wasn’t you being an arrogant bitch. It was the truth. You’d never struggled to get clients because of it, and nine times out of ten they came back to you within the week, begging for more.

Steve just looked at you, trying to play it cool. But you could see it in his eyes--the fear that, just this once, he’d have to agree with you. One time was nowhere near enough.

#steve rogers #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #captain america #captain america smut #captain america fic #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #marvel #marveledit

2K notes · View notes

jarofstyles · 4 years

Text

Dirty Business - Latte

A/N: This story. We are really proud of. It’s a spin on business man!harry x spoiled brat y/n. The character development and everything about it just made us so happy and we hope you enjoy :)

send us feedback and requests here

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: cheating, a hints of angst

word count: 9.5k

It had been one year since Harry had moved to New York and he still couldn’t get over how dirty it could be. He groaned when he saw it begin to get sunny outside, not because he didn’t want sun— no. Because it would make the humidity terrible. A muggy New York wasn’t enjoyable to many. Though, above it all, he did like it. He had a comfortable apartment with tuning water and head and air conditioning. A cat. A toaster and working appliances. A nice bed and couch, even a tv. He had done well for himself and the pay upgrade at his new level had been immaculate. Hell, he had even gotten a girlfriend! But it just felt a bit... lacking.

He was working hard to get closer and closer to head spots. Harry has been given a pretty good role now, going out to discuss and make deals with potential clients and brands to partner with their locations. He was a people person. His boss, he loved him. He wasn’t sure why, but his work effort and apparently his accent made people here take him more seriously than they had previously. He did well bringing in deals and sweet talking clients to better deals for their end. He saved and made them money. He sighed, resting his hand on his face as he looked over a proposal. Investments were good and always changing, which helped. Just like the city. He needed some sort of excitement. He just didn’t expect to get it so soon. The knock at his door had his sitting up, placing the paper down. His reading glasses were pulled off, making out his boss and seemingly someone behind him.

“Styles! My boy... I want to introduce you to my little girl!”

Y/N had it all growing up. Clothes, makeup, electronics, events, trips, you name it. She did what she wanted when she wanted, always on top of the latest trends. She always had an interest in fashion which her mother was all for seeing as she herself was a designer. Some call her a spoiled brat, and maybe she was, but she was a business woman none the less. She always got what she wanted one way or another, weaseling her way into fashion week when she was 15 to befriend all the designers, so much so that they sent her free things to this day! Now at the ripe age of 22, Y/N had her own boutique showcasing her designs for special order. She did quite well for herself, seeing as she didn’t really need to worry about money. It was all sort of just finding outlets for her creativity so she wouldn’t lose her mind.

Her father of course was disappointed that her mother couldn’t give him a son to take over the business, but pushed Y/N to take over the business once he retired. It really wasn’t happening though. It just wasn’t her thing, dealing with annoying workers who simply wouldn’t listen to her. Sounded like a nightmare, no wonder her dad was so grey. Since she didn’t want to take over the business her father had come up with another plan. Tried pairing her off with his loser interns, or potential replacements in hopes to keep his claws in the company.

She had heard so much about Harry Styles. God, her dad couldn’t be farther up his ass! Apparently he was English and smart, saved them lots of money, he was extremely well mannered. Things her dad said to butter her up usually. Of course, coming in to meet him, she wasn’t expected to see that. Her eyes instantly locked with his, only tearing away so she could scan up and down his body. She wanted him. He was perfect! Every single hair placed on his head, down to his ring clad hands, and to his work shoes. Y/N wasn’t expecting this, but god was she happy to see him.

“Hi Harry, it’s so nice to finally meet you.” She hummed, turning up the charm.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you as well, Y/N.” Harry stood from his desk and rounded it to be polite, reaching his hand out. His smile was genuine, but his mind was nervous. His boss had often brought up Y/N in passing and said how he wanted her to marry someone from the company so he could know he was a good man, wanted him to meet her so badly, and now was that chance. It wasn’t that she wasn’t attractive— because fuck, that would be a lie. She was beautiful. Silky hair and glossy lips, chest on display and legs for days. Perfect hips and probably thighs, she was an absolute catch. But she was trouble. He could see it in her eyes and her cat like smile. She wanted something. He could see her mood shift from exasperated with her father for making her come, to interested. Which he wasn’t sure was dangerous or not.

“Your father has told me a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” He murmured, trying to take his hand but failing when her grip tightened for a moment before actually letting go. He felt uneasy. She was looking at him like a cat that looked at a mouse— but he hid it easily.

“All good things I hope.” Y/N cooed, letting a little giggle as their hands separated. “I’ve heard lots about you as well, Daddy says you’re doing wonders for the company.” She smirked, knowing her father wouldn’t be too pleased with her letting Harry in on something but then again, she was playing the game. Y/N wanted Harry to know she had the power to make things happen for him but just as easily take them away. “I’m sure you’re very busy, but you should give me your number and we can do lunch sometime? I’d love to hear all about what your plans for the company are.” Y/N was kissing ass. God, she was practically oozing out desire. She was phrasing things so he couldn’t say no. She wanted to spend more time with him and she would, especially without her father so she could actually pull some moves. Her father had clearly gotten the hint that she liked Harry, smiling to himself.

“Think that’s a wonderful idea sweetheart. It would be good for you, Harry could teach you a lot of things.” He nodded and Y/N’s smirk only deepened, “I’m sure he could...” She hummed, licking over her lips.

Harry could tell she was cornering him. Especially with the look she was giving him. She was quite a smooth talker and he could tell that just by looking at her that he was going to be in trouble. It made him feel a bit panicky inside.

“Um... sure, yeah. I’d be happy to tell you about business.” He said clearly. Y/N looked like she didn’t care though, a laugh coming from her when he handed her his phone. The lock screen was his girlfriend, Caroline. She was a very sweet girl. Truthfully, she was a tiny bit too pushy when it comes to moving along. They’d been together for 6 months and she was trying to get them to move in together but he wasn’t ready yet. She was great but he still felt.. a bit flighty. She wasn’t exactly what he wanted but she was a lovely girl. He did like her quite a bit despite it all.

Y/N has typed in her number and the rest of her information onto his phone and texted herself his contact. She was going to make sure she had everything that she needed. She locked his phone and tapped the screen again seeing the photo of him and some girl. She was pretty, but she was alright.

“Who’s this?” Y/N asked, looking over the photo for a minute before he answered. “Awe, isn’t that sweet.” She replied, her tone fake as all hell. She wanted him. That girl would be gone, she definitely wasn’t the type of girl who was going to give a man like Harry what he needed. Oh no. If he was the one inheriting her father’s company then he surely would be with someone just as driven, attractive, and interesting. Herself, she mostly meant herself and only herself. “I’ll see you soon then?” She raised a brow, already going to check her schedule. “I can do tomorrow at 12:30 if that’s good with you?” Y/N wasn’t asking, she was telling him the plan. “I’ll text you to address.” She smiled before he had the chance to answer. “It was lovely meeting you, Harry.” She smiled, going up to him and kissing his cheek. “Bye.” Y/N giggled and with that she made her way back to her father giving him a kiss on the cheek and a quick ‘bye daddy’ making eye contact with Harry and winking before leaving his office.

Harry knew that women like Y/N wouldn’t let go easily. He knew that. It was just hard when he had the bit of internal want there too. He knew that he was bad for that, yes. He had a girlfriend. But the same way Y/N was drawn to him, he felt it. Which is exactly why he was going to push it all the way down. If it was at a bar and she was someone random? He would try it, but this was his boss's daughter. Every single red flag was there. Everyone. He worked so hard to get to where he was and he knew that this could single handedly destroy everything he worked for. If he was late for a date or got the wrong chocolates she could potentially kiss his career goodbye. He didn’t like this. His stomach hurt with nerves, feeling like he was going to be cornered into a wall and he hated it. He hated feeling nervous and worried because a woman like Y/N didn’t give up. She had the world handed to her and knew how to get what she wanted.

Y/N was excited though, finally one of her father’s prospects were actually promising! She couldn’t believe it, he’d actually chosen well not only for the job at hand but for her as well.

“Daddy, I like him.” Y/N spoke on the phone to her father while she was getting her weekly mani pedi. “I need you to make sure you keep him around, okay? I’ll be in the office more... just— please make it happen?” She pleaded, knowing that as far as her father was in the loop she’d be okay.

Later that day she had texted Harry the address to the restaurant that wasn’t too far from the building he worked at. It would be perfect for when they’d walk because together and Y/N would meet with her father to discuss what she could do for him. She wanted it to be perfect, wanted to get inside that beautiful head of his and hopefully get him to fall in love with her. She knew that she often came off as a crazy psycho bitch, but she could be nice and funny and sweet when she wanted. It just wasn’t something she wanted to do. People go nowhere being nice in her world, she learned that the hard way.

----

There was no way he was going to ignore the brunch. Not after his boss had called him and said to take it easy today and take his time getting back to the office, wishing him well for the brunch. She had her father in the loop. She knew her power. He had put on normal work clothes, sunglasses on his head as he made his way in. Apparently she got a private table which made both fear and excitement rise in his head. He squashed the later down, making his way with square shoulders to her. He could be polite. Tell her business things. But he wasn’t going to develop into personal matters. He had a feeling that’s what she wanted but was hoping she may genuinely just be curious.

“Hello, Y/N. I apologize I’m a minute late, the hostess wasn’t at the front and I couldn’t see you back here.” It was a back patio, beautifully decorated with vines and flowers and had a beautiful brick. It was great. Too bad he felt on edge. She looked gorgeous, but he had the feeling it was hard for her not to.

Y/N smiled when she saw him, admiring his choice of outfit. Did he always look this good? She hoped so. So clean and professional even when not wearing a single item of designer. That’s what Y/N called fashion, being able to pull off a look. They’d look great together. She could already see it all now, just how many events they’d go to. The dream.

“No worries, Harry, I’m glad you could make it.” She cooed, “hope you don’t mind being out here... don’t really like being in there when it’s too crowded.” Y/N explained though it really was an attempt to just get him alone and really get to know him with ease, to not have to talk over anyone in a restaurant or have prying eyes. “Daddy said to put everything on his tab so, feel free to order as you please.” She told him, “he’s really excited to see me get out more, wants me to know more about the business... thinks you’ll be a good influence on me.” Y/N could tell he was nervous though, smirking to herself as she sipped on her mimosa. “Why are you nervous?”

“Hm? Oh, I have a big meeting with a client later.” He did, but he wasn’t nervous. She made him uncomfortable in the oddest way but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “The bigger accounts are a bit harder to navigate but it’ll be alright.” He paused when the waitress came over, seemingly pleased at Harry's presence. He knew he was decent looking. He was just polite, ordering water and a plate of French toast. He wasn’t drinking around her. No fucking way. “So what about the business were you interested in particularly?” He folded his hands in front of him. Was it an excuse to get him to come and see her? Most likely. Y/N was clever and quick and he knew that she thrives off of that and the fact that she thinks she’s going to get him. Her acrylic nails looked sharp.

Y/N smirked, knowing full well he was lying but she was going to let it go for his sake. He of course knew she was aware though, it made her feel a bit more smug. She was completely relaxed, just watching him as he spoke and sat all stiff in the chair. She wanted him to feel comfortable around her, but that would take a while. She needed to break him in.

“You.” She flirted, taking a sip of her drink once again. Y/N wanted to know about the business if it involved him of course. He couldn’t exactly walk out either, her father would be very disappointed. “What? Does that come as a surprise to you?” She asked, genuinely amused. He was a good guy. He wasn’t even trying anything, he was pushing back even! Where on earth did her father find him? “Tell me about how you ended up over here in New York.” She started off small, deciding that she would ask the things she wanted to know that were less personal before she started convincing him about how he should break up with his girlfriend because he could do so much better.

God damn it. He truly was a cornered puppy. He couldn’t very well leave because he wasn’t going to let her father pay the tab. He was a gentleman in all aspects and even if he didn’t want to be here, he would stay and make it clear he couldn’t do anything with her.

“That’s very nice of you.” He cleared his throat. “I can’t say I can get too personal however, I ended up here because I excelled in the London branch. Your father was impressed with my work and made it so I was transferred here.” He explained. “It was a nice change of scenery. New York is something else. Plus, I’d like to continue to grow in the company through the years and I’d have to be at the main branch to do so.” Y/N looked like she was eating every bit of information and that made him second guess what he was saying. Why was she so interested in him out of all people? He had nowhere near the money her father did. Wasn’t a big profile. He was a boring business guy with a fondness for cats, vintage things, and his guitar. Y/N furrowed her brows at his comment about how he couldn’t get too personal.

“Why not? I’m your boss's daughter, not your boss, Harry. There’s nothing wrong with making a friend, hmm?” She decided that that was the best way to get him to agree. Have him understand that though she was interested in him as far more than a friend, she wanted to get to know him. “Do you miss London?” She asked genuinely, “Feel like New York’s so different, doesn’t give you the same level of comfort.” Y/N shrugged, “sometimes wish we just moved over there instead but.. Daddy loves it here.” She sighed before asking her follow up question. “Do you travel a lot?” She wanted to make sure she covered all the bases, wanted to know what he was into and what he did in his free time. Y/N might seem like a bit of a snob but she could appreciate the little things. Maybe it was the perk of being raised by nannies? They gave that touch of humble that her parents never really handed down to her.

“I think you’ll find a lot of success here though. Everyone loves you. Daddy’s always going on about how much you do for the company... don’t think you have much competition if you’re worried about not getting the promotion.” Y/N said honestly, “don’t think he trusts anyone else and to be honest, I wouldn’t either.”

“I do miss London, yes. Especially the food.” He was trying to keep the conversation in neutral territory. This was harder than he had originally thought, but thankfully she was talking about work and that he could talk about. “Thank you, I’m glad you both have confidence in me.” He let himself smile, happy to be in on that. “I want it but I do think I have a ways to go. I want to properly work for my promotions, learn the bases so that when I get there I can be the most knowledgeable.” That wasn’t a secret. Harry absorbed information like a sponge. “I do love working for this company. It’s where I’ve wanted to be for a long time and to see it shaping up is amazing. I wouldn’t risk it for anything.” A little comment he hoped she caught. “It’s nice to be able to get my mum a good Christmas gift too.” He said for a moment, forgetting she couldn’t relate to being broke.

Ah, he was one of those. She should have expected it, but something about him seemed too good to be true. He just kept getting better and better with every moment of speaking to him and she was growing more and more frustrated because well. One, he had a girlfriend who definitely didn’t realize the incredible man she had on her hands and two, that he wasn’t asking her anything about herself. Did he not want to know? Of course he did. Y/N caught his comment but chose to ignore it. She didn’t think of it as a risk, it was more of an investment.

“That’s always a nice feeling.” Y/N smiled at his comment about his mom, thanking the waitress as she brought out some appetizers. “As far as that goes, I don’t really think you have /anything/ to worry about.” She made it sure he too would understand her point. “So New York’s been treating you well then... how long have you and....” She pointed to his phone waiting for him to give her a name. “Caroline— how long have you and Caroline been together?” Y/N wanted to dirt, if he wasn’t going to give it to her himself she’d have to pull it out of him herself.”

He took her words into consideration. The thing was— he didn’t know her. He was going to be as nice as he could be until she started pushing buttons but she had the self destruct right in the palm of her dainty hand. He was worried about that.

“Oh— yes, Caroline.” He smiled. “She’s lovely. Met her through some friends. We’ve been together for about 6 months.” He did like her but there was no passion and excitement behind his words. Fondness, sure. But that was about it. “New York has been treating me well. I like it. I don’t love the smells but, such is life.” He sighed, shrugging his shoulder before taking a bite. “Have you lived here your entire life?” He didn’t know that. He knew that she had a pony that her dad bought her because he had told him the story before, so he wasn’t sure where she lived. Where the damn pony was, but it was a tame question. Safe.

Y/N could tell just from the way he talked about her that she wasn’t what he wanted long term. If he really liked this girl, he’d be on the edge of his seat with fire burning in his eyes as he told her about how amazing she was. Instead he was sitting there, looking at Y/N with pupils dilated.

“So you like her, but she’s not what you really want huh?” She stated simply, chuckling at his stunned expression. “Sorry, am I wrong? Dunno, feel like after six months someone’s a bit more than lovely.” Y/N knew she was pressing a button but she wouldn’t be pushing it if she knew she was wrong. “Or, you’re just being choice with your words... cause it’s me, don’t want me knowing too much. I get it.” She was reading him like a book. “Don’t ever underestimate me, save yourself the effort and the nerves.” And just like that she was already on to answering his question. “In New York? Yes, in the city no. My childhood home is in the Hamptons, but we all moved into the city when I graduated highschool.” Y/N explained, “it’s... nice? I live on my own on the upper east side, run my own boutique and help my parents out where I can. I’ve got lots to do, but yeah... wish I had more fun things to do.”

He didn’t want to be a play toy for an heiress. Yes, maybe she was correct about Caroline but he wasn’t about to dump her because she thinks he should. At least, that’s what her talk sounded like. He hated that she could read him.

“Oh. That sounds nice, having your own boutique. I’m sure there’s plenty of fun things to do if you look hard enough. I’ve been focusing on work lately but I know there’s plenty of things out there if you look elsewhere.” No. He wasn’t giving in to her even though he knew that’s what she wanted. Y/N was going to try and wear him down, but he was hoping he could start early with ignoring the obvious digs. “Is the boutique what you’d like to do? Or do you have other career options you’d want to look at?” He asked, trying to keep his actual curiosities at bay. There were lots he wanted to know but this was one of them. A safe one.

The fact that he even ignored her little dig said enough. The point of that was more for him to know that she could read him and that he shouldn’t try and hide from her because it only made things more obvious. Maybe it was her being hyper aware, having learnt all the tricks people used to get close to her or better yet fuck with her heart.

“I mean it’s amazing, it really is. I love designing and getting actual pieces out for people to wear and buy... try to make sizing as inclusive as I possibly can because I know there is a market for high end plus size clothing.” Y/N explained, “I guess it’s more of myself wanting to branch out. I like doing lots of things, but can’t seem to separate my own work from my parents.” She chuckled, deciding to be a little vulnerable and she wasn’t that girl. “Maybe it’s a bit cheesy, but ultimately what I want is a family.” Y/N knew it might be a bit much but if she wanted him to understand her, if she wanted him to be a friend and not just some guy who works for her dad, she had to show him who she was. Not that she ever hid anything anyway. “Really just want to be a mom and spend all the time in the world I can with them... I have the privilege of not needing to worry about financial stability so.. yeah.”

He was surprised that she was being seemingly vulnerable with him. This... this type of Y/N? He could like. He could be friends with. When it didn’t seem like there was an ulterior motive, he could definitely be more comfortable.

“That isn’t cheesy. It’s something that’s very nice, Y/N. I do want a family one day so I can understand it as well.” He didn’t want her to think wanting to be a mother was bad or cheesy. It was admirable. His mum worked hard and raised both himself and his sister while their father worked an office job. They’d never been rich or even super comfortable, but they’d made ends meet. “I think going in a fashion route is good. Especially expanding in sizes if you see a niche in the market for it.” He praised that decision. He was in an investment firm. “It will be difficult to do that with affluent parents however, your work will surely speak for itself in the fashion industry if you want to continue down that path.” He had faith this woman could get nearly everything she wanted, but he could understand being frustrated by her parents' influence.

“I’m glad you think so.” Y/N smiled, feeling herself get all warm and fuzzy inside because no only was he being extremely sweet and kind, but supportive? He had officially ticked every possible box Y/N had for someone she wanted to date and marry. The poor man didn’t realize that he had just signed himself off to being hers without knowing. She’d stop at nothing for him. “What do you do when you’re not investing then? Hmm?” She asked, taking a bite of her eggs Benedict. Y/N felt like since she was more vulnerable he could be too, maybe he’d show her a side to him she didn’t know about, a side that she could possibly relate to. It was so strange, having a man not giving into her despite her attempts. She’d never had this happen before but it made her want him more. Y/N could only hope that he could see past the exterior of her and realize that she was the perfect candidate. She was exciting, young, had money, offered him job security, and most importantly incredible sex. All with time though, she’d get him to crack.

“I play guitar. I have a kitten, he’s growing up fast. Um... I watch documentaries quite a bit.” He admitted. Harry wishes he didn’t have to be so careful but he could still see too much interest in her eyes and he was nervous about her wanting more than just a simple friendship or work relationship. One slip up with her could cost him his job and life here. He’d have to start from scratch at a new company. It wasn’t what the man wanted at all. “I collect records? So I listen to those. I do a lot of research on my own time. Uh, go to bars with friends though I’m not much of a bar hopper.” This wasn’t anything he didn’t want anyone to know, so why did he feel so odd telling her? He didn’t want to unfairly judge Y/N, because so far she had been nice. Pushy, but nice.

“Really?” Y/N’s eyes had properly lit up and she put her fork and knife down. “Do you have pictures? Can I see him? What’s his name?” Y/N was so excited, it would probably be embarrassing to most but she only ever was this soft with animals and babies. “Oh my goodness!” She cooed at the photo, “I have to meet him!” Again, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement. “My mom never let me have pets growing up because of the furniture and now I travel too much... I would hate to leave a little angel all alone or even have them go elsewhere...” Y/N sighed, picking up her utensils again and felt herself get all giddy inside. Harry really was perfect. “That’s cool! So you’re like a proper vintage guy then?” She raised a brow, already thinking of all the cool things she could get her hands on for him. Even if they weren’t dating Y/N would probably do it anyway just because she was so damn fond of him. He was being so incredibly sweet, on a lunch date with her because he wanted to keep his job. It sort of made her sad, but she’d never admit it to him. Y/N wished he didn’t have a girlfriend and that she met him elsewhere so that there wouldn’t be this massive problem. Wished that it was different so that he’d want her and treat her nice. She was still very determined to get him. She knew she would.

He could see a bit of Y/N he was positive other people didn’t. Or, he thought so. There was a lot of softness in there that she definitely hid. He wondered why but had to remind himself that it wasn’t his problem. It hurt to think like that because Y/N was so sweet right now but he was protecting himself. Being kind was a given but he needed to set boundaries if she tried to push past them. He didn’t miss the fact she said she was definitely going to meet his kitten. When the brunch ended, Harry put his cash on the table.

“I’m sorry, I’m going to be late. I will walk you to your car though?” He wasn’t sure if she had a car or if she walked, whatever it was. He wasn’t sure how to go about this. His head needed a break so he could refocus.

“Oh, that’s fine. Don’t worry about that though, I’m actually meant to be headed back to the office to meet my father anyway. He wants me to help with some things, but thank you for the offer that’s really sweet.” Y/N smiled softly at him, not forgetting to thank him for paying for the meal though he really, really didn’t have to at all. That just made it more of a date. As they walked out Y/N hummed, placing her sunglasses over her eyes as they began walking down the street towards the office. She stayed relatively quiet on their way there, just minding her own business. It wasn’t awkward silence though, perfectly comfortable even up to when they got to her father’s floor. “Thank you so much for coming, I had a really nice time.” Y/N smiled warmly at him, genuinely meaning it this time and he could definitely tell. “We’ll do this again.” She hummed, again kissing his cheek before bidding him a goodbye and heading towards her father's office. Y/N was persistent.

----

He couldn’t get her to back off. Every week, Harry has a new gift from her. A rare record. Gourmet cat treats for Oliver. A vintage Rolling Stones tee shirt. It was driving him crazy. He had told her over and over that it wasn’t appropriate to give him gifts and yet, every week he ended up with her placing one on his desk. Nearly every day though, she would be at the office and would spend an hour lounging in his office. When she would get too flirty Harry would shut it down with a simple reminder that she was being inappropriate. To which she would laugh and roll her eyes.

Today though, he was probably going to lose it. Caroline and him had gotten in a fight the night prior because she was trying to slowly move into his place without him knowing— but he knew. And while she had originally come to apologize, it turned into a whining fest.

“Haz, please? It’s been 6 months. It’s really time to take it to the next level.” He winced at the nickname. God, he hated that shit so much. The cringiest one.

“Caro, love... no. I’m not ready to go further than what we are doing now. Sleepovers are what we’re doing. I can’t rush into such a decision.” He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not rushing! I barely get to see you as it is. It’s not fair.” And she had a point. Harry hadn’t been close lately.

“I’m busy, I’m working. I’m sorry.”

Y/N had seen the tall blonde enter the office. She knew that she shouldn’t be nosy, shouldn’t interrupt and it probably took her about 10 times to convince herself that she needed a reason to go over there. So, she waited till her father had a paper or two that needed to be given to Harry and she strutted down with her plan set. She knocked on the door twice as usual and stepped inside with a bright smile on her face.

“Hey! I— oh.” Y/N paused and closed the door behind her. Showtime. “Didn’t realize you had company, my apologies.” Y/N spoke and walked over to hand him the papers, noticing he had been burning the candle she’d gotten him. Oh he made it so fucking easy. “I’m glad you like the candle though, they make one in those sent for the wax burner you have.” Y/N remembered he had mentioned that he couldn’t burn it in the house because Oliver was still quite curious and he was nervous about him knocking something over.

Harry closed his eyes. God damn it. Y/N was a pretty, rich girl. Young. Hot. And Caroline did have a bit of a jealous streak. She wouldn’t at all be okay with thinking Y/N was over at his place. She already was having her insecurities.

“Thank you, Y/N—“

“Wait— how do you know about the wax burner?” Caroline was making his blood pressure rise. God damn it. Why? He was just trying to get work done and two women were going to have a pissing contest over him— one who didn’t even have a right to?

“Girls, that’s not important—“

“Yes it is? Is she why you’ve been busy?”

Y/N was smiling on the inside but part of her wanted to leave and let him explain. Of course, Y/N didn’t want to make it seem like she was doing it on purpose so she got a bit defensive.

“It’s not that hard to find out, I gave him a candle and he told me why he couldn’t burn it in his house.” Y/N spoke calmly, watching the woman narrow her eyes at her. “What, you haven’t heard of being attentive?” Okay, maybe that was a bit much. “All the information is on the papers, H. Don’t have to brief you. See you later.” She said calmly, she knew it would get under the woman’s skin and made her way out of the office and back towards her fathers. Maybe she was evil, but she was a little pot stirrer. She wanted things to bubble over on their own, Y/N just had to be there to catch him.

“Who is she? She seems awfully comfortable with you.” Caroline was getting antsy. She could tell how on edge Harry got when Y/N walked in the room, of course she would assume something was up. Even if she was assuming wrong. The thing was, he couldn’t technically be mad at Y/N because she hadn’t done anything inherently bad. Sure, she mentioned something no one would know unless they were close but it was a simple thing.

“She’s Y/N, the boss's daughter. She’s been very welcoming.” He said simply, taking a swig of his coffee. For fucks sake. He was going to die if these women didn’t give him a break.

“Why is she giving you candles? It’s weird. How much time do you spend with her?” She asked, obviously not happy.

“I don’t know why she gave it to me, to be nice? Love, you’re completely overthinking this. She helps her dad out and runs papers. Sometimes she chats and asks me business questions. Nothing that you’re thinking about is happening.” He promised. It wasn’t. He hadn’t laid a hand on her. Y/N was touchy. Liked to fix his tie or his hair and multiple times he had said to not, it was appropriate. She didn’t seem to care— but he wasn’t going to tell Caroline that.

The girl just nodded, leaving the office. Harry has told her not to come if it wasn’t urgent because he was usually busy. And now she wonders if he was busy with papers or in between the leggy girl’s thighs. Of course it was fate that had her almost crashing into her on the way out. Never in her life had she felt territorial over a man like this but Y/N was an obvious threat.

“What is going on with you and my boyfriend?” She asked seriously.

Y/N was simply going to get her father and herself another coffee when Caroline nearly knocked her off her feet with how fast she was moving. If that wasn’t enough to piss Y/N off, the girl had the nerve to speak to her in a threatening tone in her father’s building? This girl didn’t know what she was doing clearly or how spiteful Y/N could be. She was trying to be nice originally, but she didn’t appreciate her tone or the look she had in her eyes.

“Unfortunately nothing, yet.” Y/N responded in a snarky tone, “but you keep at the jealous girlfriend look, it’ll do you wonders.” She rolled her eyes and blocked her when she tried to storm out. “I better not see you in this building again? Got it?” Y/N raised her brow, “have a nice day.” She smiled at her, pushing past her to walk back towards her father’s office. Oh Y/N was livid. Livid.

“That fucking bitch!” Y/N slammed the door with her foot behind her, moving the coffees on to her father’s desk. “Harry’s girlfriend was here and was chatting to him when I went to drop papers off.. I simply made a comment about the candle I gave Harry and she went off... stopped me in the hallway and questioned me all threateningly, like she had the fucking right.”

“Take what she wants.” Her father said easily. “You’re trying to. She thinks that. Take what she’s been trying to keep. I think you and Harry are a lovely couple. It’s a shame he doesn’t see the vision yet, however he will come around.” He was positive. He wanted the upper hand. Yes, he loved Y/N and wanted her happy, and Harry would promise that but he would ultimately have someone to give the company to, and still be involved. Keep it in his family. It was perfect. “I know my daughter, and I know you’re relentless enough that he should be cracking soon. Go talk to him. Comfort him. If his girlfriend was causing issues, being a source of comfort could help. Make a move.” He suggested. An evil man was always a business one.

So that’s what Y/N did.

She took a second before making her way over to Harry’s office again. This time it wasn’t to give him papers or flirt or anything like that, it was to genuinely check up on him. Y/N knew she had been pretty forward and though he had told her to stop she was still being pretty relentless which, if the tables were turned, would be very problematic. It probably was now too. Y/N knocked twice on the door and stepped inside.

“Harry?” She asked in a soft and gentle tone, one she didn’t use with anyone. She closed the door behind herself and stood there, looking at him. “Are you alright?” She asked softly, “I didn’t mean to cause all that... I’m sorry if I did.” She really didn’t mean to make it that big of a mess. “Know you might not want to talk to me, but... I am here to listen if you need me to.” Y/N offered, hoping that he didn’t take it as some ploy to try and get to him. She really did just want to be there for him. She didn’t want to make it about her, which was rare, even though he could appreciate that.

“Yeah... m’okay, thanks. You didn’t say anything wrong. You just said an innocent comment but, she’s been a bit angry lately with me and thinkin’ I’m avoiding her so it made her upset.” He murmured. She wasn’t trying to get to him. She was genuinely asking and he could tell from the look on her face. It felt really nice, actually. Having someone ask him. He didn’t have his mum or dad or sister here so, seeing someone at least care a bit was nice. “It was... you just said wax melters? Am I crazy?” He rubbed his forehead. “Fuck. There’s nothin’ going on with us and still, she assumes. I’m good, Y/N. Thanks for checking on me.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, expecting her to let herself out.

“She asked me again when she was leaving... what was going on between us, and I told her nothing..” Y/N wanted to be honest with him too, wanted to let him know so he realized the level of jealousy his girlfriend was having. She didn’t want to leave him like this, she could understand the feeling to an extent but she would only leave if he asked her too. Y/N noticed he was too much in his head, clearly struggling to ground himself so she took the initiative. She moved to sit in his lap, her hand gently cupping the side of his neck and rubbing her thumb over the soft skin. She knew nothing technically was going on between them, but was there actually nothing there? Maybe now was the time to ask? “Know I’ve been really forward with you and I apologize if it’s been too much, because if that’s something that’s causing your stress I’ll back off— I will.” Y/N spoke gently, knowing he wouldn’t want her to, but she had to at least offer.

He hated how good her touch felt. How he wanted to melt into it and let her give him attention but every time he thought about giving in, he would remember his job. The years of being a stupid coffee boy. He couldn’t do that again. However right now, he felt vulnerable and upset at Caroline for doing that shit and especially confronting Y/N when realistically she hadn’t said anything wrong.

“You’re not... fuck, Y/N.” He groaned. “I hate that I like when you tease me and touch me. I can’t like it, I can’t like you. It puts me in so much danger.” Plus, he was overcome with thoughts about her in his most intimate moments. The last two times he’s had sex with Caroline, he thought about Y/N instead. Took her from behind and imagined her unstead. It was so wrong. He knew that. “It’s okay. I just... you make it so hard for me.” He knew there she knew that. Especially when he felt her hand gently caress his cheek and her soft little pout. “It’s not fair that you’re everywhere and I can’t stop thinking about it when I get home... fuck. It’s so frustrating and I can’t even hate you for it.” He couldn’t never hate her. “Do you know how crazy it’s making me? When you come in here and make me want to cheat just by batting your lashes at me? It’s so fucked and unfair that all you have to do is giggle and I want to risk my fucking job— fuck.” He hissed. “And I can’t tell if you’re toying with me or like me for real. I can’t tell and It drives me mad.”

Y/N felt her heart swell up at his words. It felt tight in her chest, so many words buzzing through her mind as she tried to figure out what she could say first. God, she just.

“I really like you Harry.” She said simply, forcing him to look in her eyes, her voice soft and quiet. “And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold back because of who I am— I'd never do that to you, or to anyone for that matter.” She searched his eyes for a moment, feeling out the silence before speaking again. “And I’m not one to go after someone who is spoken for, but it’s you... you just have to be so damn perfect and I can’t help but feel like I can treat you better than she can... especially after what happened today I—”

His silence was killing her. She was so thankful that he liked her, that he felt the same way she did but he didn’t want to risk his job and didn’t want to be a bad guy who cheats. Y/N wished he could understand she wasn’t asking for either of those things necessarily. It wasn’t even that he had doubts that she could treat him better. He quite liked the idea of her. He would need to open his heart to her but that wasn’t an option. Would it ever be? Maybe once he got the promotion but nothing could stop this growth he was wanting. However, she looked so soft. So so sweet and sincere as she told him that she thought he was perfect. Y/N being honest? It was something he liked. When she was like this and it dialed down her brat attitude, that’s what he enjoyed.

He didn’t think before he did it and that was his fault, but he grabbed her face, and kissed her. He wasn’t able to stop himself.

Just as she thought she’d fucked it up, his mouth was on hers. She wasn’t dreaming, this was really happening. She let one of her hands tangle in his hair, wanting to take advantage of what could be the only chance she had at this, a soft pleased moan muffled against his lips. Y/N let him have full control of this kiss, letting him take what he needed from her so that she could prove just how submissive she could be if he only let her be. She wanted him so bad and she felt like she’d finally gotten something from him, even if it was just a little kiss it was already a massive step in the right direction. When he tried to pull back she deepened the kiss, desperate to keep this moment going for as long as possible. She didn’t want it to end, didn’t want him to decide it was a mistake, Y/N just wanted to cherish it and remind herself that a nice man could like her and treat her well.

Harry knew that this kiss was going to place him in a lot of dangerous areas. Y/N would be relentless on getting more— which secretly thrilled and terrified him at the same time. Caroline, She couldn’t ever find out about this. But mostly? Her mouth was perfect. She tasted sweet and had a hint of coffee and some sort of sweet gloss, but he didn’t care. He loved it. He let himself lose, allowing the kiss to deepen. Her tongue running against his and the softest, most cock teasing noises coming from her as she clung to him. Submissive and soft and fuck, perfect. It pained him to pull away, Y/N chasing his mouth and pecking him as he tried to speak. Though, he wasn’t trying to truly stop her yet.

“Baby— no...” He felt her bite on his bottom lip, his heart beating. “Shit— Y/N, we can't.” He finally pulled away, taking in deep breaths. Fuck. He had fucked up. So why didn’t it feel like it?

The pet name rolled so beautifully off of his tongue that her heart fluttered despite the fact that he was telling her to stop kissing him. It hurt her, of course, having to be the better choice but never being the priority. With soft pleading eyes, she sat with a pouty lip while her finger slowly twirled around a curl at the base of his neck.

“Why is it so wrong?” She asked softly, “Yes, you’re with her but... if you want me, you can break things off.” Y/N knew it was easier said than done but she was giving him an option. “And I’m pretty sure my father cares more about you more than me...” She chuckled sadly. She wished she was joking too. Y/N was soft and vulnerable now, having gotten a taste of what she wanted most. She didn’t want to go back to her apartment and be all alone. She wanted warmth, wanted someone to love and someone to love her. “Why is it such a bad thing to want me?”

“That isn’t true. He loves you. I think he finds it easier to talk to me because I’m a male and in business. You’re his daughter.” He tried to soothe. God. He just made shit a million times more difficult. “It's wrong because... what if something happens? What if shit goes wrong and then you get angry or hurt and your father fires me? What if people start shit and think I’m sleeping with you or something to get a promotion?” He said. “There’s nothing wrong with you. It just... fuck, this is hard. Maybe later. But for the time being... we can’t do this. I have to figure things out on my own and get it together. Think hard about it because it isn’t just a fling for me. This is my life, my reputation, and my career on the line.” He whispered, standing up. He was gentle when he put her on the ground.

Y/N let out a sigh, did he not realize that she had just as much power as her father? She was just about to make a point but he made it clear that his career was more important than whatever they had. She could understand that, but she didn’t agree. She would have him, especially now that she knew he liked her in the same way.

“What if later is too late? What if I told you being with me can insure you have a job for life? It’s not just a fling for me either. It’s my life too, you know?” Y/N spoke quietly, “wish you’d have a little faith in me.” She said, clearly frustrated with the situation. Y/N decided she’d give him his space, looking at the time and shaking her head. “I better get going.” She spoke after clearing her throat, collecting her things as if nothing had happened and walked towards the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Harry.” Y/N gave him a sweet smile and closed the door behind her on the way out.

Another long and lonely night.

----

Harry wasn’t sure if the kiss was a mistake or not. He wasn’t one to believe in regret, he did something and he had to face the consequences— however this? This was a whole lot. If he had thought Y/N had been much before, it was nothing compared to now. She came in and blatantly flirted with him, leaning over his desk in her sexy as fuck tops or dresses and gave him views he had been thirsting after, knowing he couldn’t. That he needed this job and she was tempting him at every turn. Not only that, but she would bring him coffee every morning and had figured out what scone he liked, coming to sit on his desk and flirting until Harry basically demanded she relax and go help her father.

Why would she stop? She wasn't alone in her want and she knew that now. It was his fault, because he had shown his hand and Y/N knew every small rejection wasn’t genuine. It was to save his job, but internally, he wanted to give in. Still, she would straighten his jacket or come behind him and fix his tie, talking into his ear. Enough to make him distracted half the day. When he was called into the big bosses office, and saw Y/N? He was fucking terrified. However, he was smiling wide and telling Harry to sit— so he did.

“As you know we’re looking to expand our branches across major cities in Europe. I just got off a call with Jean Pierre, he needs me in paris this weekend, but I’ve already booked mandatory meetings with the builders down in Philadelphia.” Her father explained, looking down at his paperwork and then up at Harry. “I need you to go and meet with him and handle business. You’re already briefed on everything you need to know, just need you over there.” He smiled, of course leaving out the most important part. “I’m having Y/N accompany you, seeing as there are a few events you’ll be attending. She’ll show you the ropes, show you around Paris as well, won’t you sweetheart?” Y/N smiled brightly, nodding her head.

“It’ll be amazing, promise I’ll show you a good time.” She cooed, watching his reaction carefully because of course he’d think she planned this.

“All expenses will be covered and you will be paid. This is a huge favor I’m asking of you, I know. Have your suit sizes and passport information sent to me.” Her father requested, knowing that Y/N would want to dress him up for the occasion.

Well fuck.

He was going to be alone with Y/N, in the fucking city of love, and he couldn’t say no. Not that he necessarily wanted to— but it was putting him in such a temptation spot that it made him nervous. The business, he could handle. That wasn’t what made him worried. It was Y/N and her ability to wear him down and be relentless even after he tries to show no reaction whatsoever. She just knew how he was feeling. And she had been sweeter than pie to him, working slowly on bringing him to the spot she wanted. He knew that.

“Oh— of course. How long is this trip for?” He asked curiously, side eyeing Y/N for a moment. He was praying for a short one but by the look on her face, it was definitely a week or more.

“Well, you’d be leaving Friday and arriving Saturday, your first meeting is on Monday and your last event is Friday night so... let’s say a week including travel?” He explained, already booking a hotel for the two of them at Y/N’s favorite place to stay. “Do you need to make any arrangements?” He raised his brow at him.

“He’ll need to make some for Oliver.” Y/N pointed out, her father looked at her with furrowed brows. “He has a kitty, daddy.” Y/N cooed with a smile, “I’m sure his girlfriend can take care of him.” She said with a small smirk, knowing full well the game that she was playing. He had yet to break up with her and she was hoping he’d do it soon so it wasn’t on his cautiousness. Y/N was already packing in her head, knowing exactly what she wanted to bring and needed to bring.

“I’ve forwarded the itinerary to Y/N, she’ll act as your assistant for the weekend, utilize her in any way you will.” Her father explained and Y/N smirked at that. She sure hoped he did.

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

[part 2]

A/N: a bit of a cliffhanger there, but oof.. tell us what you think! - n + d

masterlist

#writing #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry writing #jarofstyles #harry styles au #ceo!harry #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction

973 notes · View notes

phantasticworks · 3 years

Text

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)

so. here i am again (soz) but I really just couldn't wait a second longer to post this fic. So this is just part one, and there will be a part two posted soon(ish). and yes i did in fact decide the phandom needed yet another photography fic (although, tbf i started writing this back when those were still cool and popular)

read on ao3

Words: 21.6k

Summary: Dan and Phil meet at 2 a.m. in a coffee shop. Phil is a photographer looking for a model, and Dan can't say no to pretty boys.

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, light angst

It was a weird situation.

Scratch that. It was an insane, very unlikely, but somehow still copacetic situation. See, Dan didn’t have anything better to do with his time (aside from the time he spent facedown on the floor dreading his very existence, he was pretty much a free agent) and Phil had been rather... convincing.

Not in that way.

Well.

No, no, not in that way. Not really, at least.

They met in the way most caffeine-driven, insomniac uni students do when they’re struggling through assignments at two am and would absolutely kill for some caffeine; they met at a coffee shop. Dan’s favorite coffee shop, actually, although by the end of the evening that fact would be used against him in order for one particularly passionate and newly inspired photographer to get his way.

“A caramel macchiato, please. And, uh... pistachio muffin?” Dan pulls his wallet out of his pocket, digging inside until he finds a tenner. The change she hands him back is deposited into the tip jar, and she offers him a small smile.

“Thank you, I’ll be right back with your drink.”

Dan nods, stepping to the side and very nearly bumping into someone else. “Whoops, sorry, mate.” Unconsciously, he reaches a hand out to steady the other person. Dan’s eyes flick up and meet pale skin, blue eyes, and a very disheveled looking quiff.

“No, it’s my bad, really. I wasn’t even paying attention,” the man replies, quiet embarrassment covering his tone.

Stepping back a respectable distance, Dan tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans, taking in the appearance of the man in front of him. He’s wearing a red and black plaid shirt with the top button undone, and over that is a stonewashed denim jacket. His legs, miles of them it seems, are painted with the black skinnies that his hands are awkwardly tucked into, in sort of a weird backward claw. He’s got a bag slung over his left shoulder, a kind of boxy looking one that almost looks like a lunchbox. Dan is faintly aware of the fact that this stranger is watching Dan check him out, but if he has a problem with this, the man doesn’t say so. After an assessing gaze, Dan’s eyes flick back up to blue ones hidden behind simple black framed glasses.

“Caramel macchiato,” the chipper voice behind the counter says, interrupting whatever silent conversation Dan is having with this stranger.

“That’s me,” Dan says with a small smile, stepping to the side to grab his drink and muffin.

“Funny, that’s me as well,” the stranger jokes, stepping up to the counter, closer to Dan than is probably strictly necessary. Dan doesn’t find that he minds. “I’ll have what he’s having.” He tilts his head, squinting at the hand Dan is holding his muffin in. “What kind of muffin is that?”

“Pistachio,” Dan responds.

“Hm,” he considers. To the girl behind the till, he says, “Scratch that, same drink but I’d prefer a raspberry almond cream scone.”

The girl nods, ringing him up and telling him the total. It occurs to Dan, while they’re having this interaction, that he has no reason to stay there. He’s already gotten his food, and he doesn’t know this man. There’s really no reason to stand there and wait on him. And yet, Dan sees no reason to go rushing off back to his shitty little flat with his annoying roommates who hate him. He shifts from foot to foot, contemplating on how creepy it is for him to stand there waiting for a stranger.

Before he has the chance to properly freak out about it, the man turns his head, smiling when he sees Dan still stood there. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asks politely.

This feels like it’s a challenge in some way, but Dan can’t decide how. He’s even less sure about how he would handle it even if it was. Two seconds away from lying, he stutters out a fumbled, “I- no.”

The smile grows into a full blown grin, and Dan can’t help but focus on the little bit of pink tongue poking between his teeth. “Perfect! I could use the company.”

Dan doesn’t have time to argue against that. As soon as the man is handed his order, he thanks the cashier and turns to look at Dan, gesturing to the sofas in the corner. Nodding, Dan follows him over and takes an awkward seat on one end of the ugly, green crushed velvet sofa closest to the window. The man has already laid out his scone and drink, and he hands Dan a napkin as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Thanks,” Dan says, holding the napkin in his hand like an idiot. When the guy smiles at him, Dan tries to copy it, but he knows it’s awkward. “I’m Dan,” he says dumbly, moving to hold his hand out for a handshake. He realizes a second too late that he still has his drink in his hand. His face floods with color, and he’s quick to set it down and try again.

Blue eyes crinkle on the edges of a smile, and the man reciprocates the handshake in a much less awkward fashion. “I’m Phil.”

Dan nods, tugging his hand away when it feels appropriate to do so. It hasn’t set in until then, but the true awkwardness of this situation, of having a two am coffee and snack with a stranger, really sets in. “So, um... caramel macchiato?” His voice is stilted, awkward, even to his own ears.

Phil quirks a brow and bites his lip as if to hide a smile. “Yeah, reckon it’s my favorite.”

“Good favorite to have,” Dan replies. He reaches for his drink and takes a large sip. It’s sweet, sweeter than he’d usually like at this time of day (or night, depending on how you looked at it) but it was still nice. His hands shake a bit as he goes to set it down, so he tucks his hands under his thighs to hide it. Glancing up at Phil, he frowns, surprised to find him already looking back.

Phil has an easy smile on his lips, and he leans back on the sofa, pulling his legs up to sit in a criss-cross fashion as he regards Dan. “I’m guessing you’re a student?” Phil asks.

Dan’s lips twist but he forces a nod. “Yeah,” he replies, shifting uncomfortably.

Despite Dan’s awkwardness, Phil appears intrigued, leaning in with a smile. “What are you studying?”

“Law.” The word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and his nose scrunches at the thought.

Phil smiles, his lips curling as he takes a sip of his drink. His eyes sparkle above the cup, as if they’re sharing some sort of secret. Dan kind of likes the way that feels. “What did you want to study?” Phil asks, as if that’s something you just ask someone you’ve only just met.

Dan can’t help but bristle. “I... what makes you think I don’t want to do law?” He crosses his arms, defiant.

The look Phil sends him implies that the question is a stupid one. “Your face kinda gave it away, mate.” He does that smile again, the one with his tongue between his teeth, and Dan nearly swoons.

“Okay, well, no, it’s not exactly my dream career.” Dan can’t believe he’s admitting this to a complete stranger. He hasn’t even admitted this to his parents yet. Not to mention the other, more personal thing he hasn’t admitted to them yet. He won’t be sharing that today, though. At least, he doesn’t plan on it.

Phil leans in again, hovering close like they’re sharing secrets. “What is your dream career?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Dan stares at him instead of responding. Something clicks in his head, and he recognizes this as some form of flirting. He can’t, or rather doesn’t want to, deal with that. So he doesn’t. Instead, he laughs. Loudly and awkwardly. “Don’t think we know each other well enough for me to share all my hopes and dreams, mate.”

There’s a flash of a grin but then Phil settles back, his mouth forming a vague smirk as he tucks into his scone. Watching him eat serves as a reminder that Dan has his own food, a reminder he’s grateful for as soon as Phil catches his gaze. Cheeks warm, Dan quickly reaches for his pistachio muffin, tearing it apart and eating it in little bits.

He hears a laugh from beside him, but at this point he pays no mind to it. His whole reason for leaving his shitty little flat at two in the morning was to get one of these delightful muffins, and despite the distraction, he was actually very hungry, and after the first bite he can’t help but snarf the rest of it up. He’s mid-chew, barely holding in a noise of pure joy at how fluffy the pastry is, when he hears a camera shutter.

Dan startles. His muffin very nearly faces an untimely death, but with the secret muffin-saving ninja powers he didn’t know he had, he manages to save it before it hits the floor. Choking down the bite in his mouth, Dan turns his head, staring past the rather impressive looking camera lens and glaring daggers into Phil’s eyes.

“Um... What the fuck?”

Phil at least has the decency to look sheepish. He lowers the camera, his gaze locked on what Dan assumes is the screen, which is probably displaying the likely incredibly unflattering photo of Dan.

“Sorry,” Phil apologizes, half-heartedly. “You just... I don’t know, sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Dan clears his throat, sitting forward to place his muffin down. He dusts the crumbs off his lap, his gaze flicking from Phil to the camera. “Well? Let me see it.”

“Oh.” Phil looks surprised. Dan hates that he thinks that’s endearing. “Well, it’s not very good, I wasn’t going for something perfect, and the lighting is off, so-“

“If I’m modeling without my knowledge or consent, I’m seeing the result,” Dan deadpans.

Phil actually looks proper embarrassed now. “I am sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Clearly. Hand it over.” He reaches for the camera, but doesn’t snatch it. He was raised better than that, obviously.

With another sheepish look, Phil gently sets the camera down in Dan’s awaiting palm. He handles the camera carefully, but with steady, sure hands. Belatedly, Dan realizes that the camera must have been in the bag he’d mistaken for a lunchbox earlier. The camera is heavier than he’d been expecting, but then again Dan’s never really had much reason to hold a camera before, especially not one of this caliber.

He has to click the center button to wake the screen back up, and when he does he squints to see the picture better. His breath catches. The picture isn’t fantastic, from a subjective point of view. Although maybe that’s just his bias, as he’s the subject of it and it’s not exactly a flattering pose. He’s got a pleased look on his face, his index finger between his lips, clearly stuffing food in his mouth. There are crinkles by his eyes and regardless of the fact that no one looks good shoving food down their throat, it’s actually... not a bad picture.

“I’m sorry, I know, it’s not like... great. The lighting isn’t perfect, and the angle is awkward, but you were just so... well, anyway. Sorry, again.” Phil’s rambling at this point, and Dan can’t be bothered to reply to any of it.

“It’s... it’s actually really good, Phil.” Dan’s eyes don’t leave the camera. Maybe that’s narcissistic, but he doesn’t actively hate the way he looks, not from Phil’s perspective. Glancing up at who is apparently a good photographer, Dan offers a cheeky grin. “You’re not half bad for a guy who takes creep shots of strangers in cafes in the middle of the night.”

Phil’s face falls, a pinkish tint crawling up his cheeks. “I-“

“I’m joking,” Dan assures him with an easy smile. He hands the camera back, a twisting feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this stranger has a piece of him he can’t get back. He doesn’t like that part of this, he realizes. Clearing his throat, he gestures at the camera. “What’re you gonna do with that photo?”

Phil gives him a small, knowing smile. This makes Dan’s gut twist in a different way. He’s not sure how to interpret this one. “I can delete it, if you’d like,” he says, shrugging. His gaze drops to the photo and his lips twist. A silent conjunction lies stagnant in the air between them.

“Okay... is that what you’re going to do with it?” Dan asks, because he can’t not ask. He hates to tell this man, who is clearly a good photographer, that he can’t keep the picture, but the part of him that cringes at the idea of someone else seeing it refuses to be silent.

“Well, I mean obviously I will if you want me to, but...” he trails off, his gaze flicking between Dan and the photo on the camera as if he can’t reconcile the two versions of him. Or maybe it’s something else. “I’m actually looking for a model.”

Dan can’t help it. He laughs.

It’s not even anywhere in the realm of an attractive laugh, as he fully snorts, and that sound in itself just makes him laugh harder. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to have to keep looking. I’m not a model.” He shakes his head at the very notion.

Phil quirks an eyebrow and looks pointedly at his camera, as if that proves literally anything.

“Oh come on!” Dan groans. “That? Seriously? I look like, like a troll! Or a- a hobbit!”

The exasperated look on Phil’s face says that he isn’t buying it. “No, you really don’t. But even if you did, given the right lighting, angle, and some time, I think you’d be surprised at how not-hobbit-like I could make you appear.”

There’s something hopeful behind Phil’s eyes, and Dan watches as his fingers skate almost nervously over the buttons on the camera. Dan’s almost inclined to agree just on the off-chance he might get a shot at seeing what else those fingers do. He immediately berates himself for the idea; he barely knows this guy, but from all indications he’s lovely and deserves more than Dan’s gutter thoughts.

“I don’t know the first thing about modeling,” he says instead of going anywhere near the mental path his brain is suggesting.

“You don’t have to. As long as you’re good at keeping still and following directions, all you need is a good photographer,” Phil insists. He’s got a cheeky look on his face. “And being pretty doesn’t hurt.”

Dan stares that flirty remark in the face and says, “Let me repeat myself, keep looking.”

Phil’s face crumples into something unsatisfied before eventually shifting into something resigned. “If you actually don’t know that you’re attractive, then you’re very daft.”

The remark, as blunt as it was, sends a rush of something warm through his chest and up his neck. Ducking his head to hide his reaction, he mumbles, “I barely know you.”

“I promise I’m not a murderer.”

Dan’s head immediately snaps back up and he squints at the man beside him. “Funny, that sounds exactly like what a murderer would say.”

Phil grins. “Would a murderer offer to do a background check to prove it?” Those blue eyes are sparkling with mischief, and Dan is about two seconds away from agreeing to something both dangerous and stupid.

Reaching for his forgotten drink to distract himself, Dan hums. “Dunno. Don’t reckon I’ve ever met a murderer.”

“Yet,” Phil says, his voice filled with unabashed glee.

Dan levels him with a thoughtful stare. “Yet,” he agrees, slowly.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, finishing their pastries and drinks as Phil’s offer hangs above their heads. On the one hand, Dan really has nothing to lose. He’s bored of his life and his so-called friends who don’t seem to like spending time with him anyways, so it’s not like he’s losing out on precious social time if he agrees to it. On the other, he seriously doesn’t actually know Phil. He knows he’s a photographer who likes caramel macchiatos and that’s basically it. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know the bloke’s last name.

“What’s your name?” Dan asks, breaking the silence so suddenly that Phil actually startles in his seat. “Sorry,” Dan offers a sheepish grin. “I’m just curious. What’s your full name?”

Phil smiles. “Philip Michael Lester.”

Dan nods. He sips. Then, “I reckon that sounds like the name of someone who isn’t a murderer.”

When he glances over, Phil is hiding a grin behind his hand. “You reckon so?”

“Yeah,” Dan shrugs. He thinks for a moment. “What kind of... like, modeling, do you want me to do? Like, I don’t know if I’m down to be naked for photos.”

Phil’s got an adorable flush crawling up his neck, likely at the blunt way Dan had phrased it, but he somehow still manages to meet Dan’s stare with something serious. “Just for photos?”

Now it’s Dan’s turn to flush. “Shut up. Is this how you’re going to kill me? Lure me in with jokes and flirting and then cut off my willy when I’ve let my guard down?”

If Dan thought Phil’s face was red before, it’s literally nothing compared to the beautiful flush that paints his cheeks now. “No!” He hisses, looking over to the counter with panic in his eyes. Considering they’re the only customers and the cashier has retired to sitting on the counter playing with their phone, Dan thinks it probably safe to say that no one heard.

“Hey, I’m just asking! You can never be too careful. Lot of creeps out there,” Dan grins.

Phil shakes his head, hiding his horror behind his cup. “I’m starting to think you might be the murderer.”

Dan smiles, but it’s a bitter thing. “The only thing I kill is anyone’s desire to be around me for any length of time ever.”

It’s funny how quickly Phil’s expression changes. He lowers his cup, his gaze soft as it lands on Dan’s. For however long those moments are, they share some silent understanding. Even if Dan doesn’t know him, he recognizes that Phil gets it; maybe not on some deep psychological level, but Dan sees in the lack of pity or discomfort that Phil just... knows.

“If you promise not to kill me and I promise not to kill you, do you think you could maybe consider it?” Phil asks.

Dan’s grateful for the subject change, even though it forces him to focus on the topic at hand. He considers it for a moment, but really he already knew what his answer would be the moment Phil said he was attractive. If that makes him shallow, then so be it.

“I’ll do it.”

~~~

After exchanging numbers and schedules that night, Dan agreed to meet Phil at his flat two weeks later for his first shoot. It made him vaguely uncomfortable to think of it like that but in the end that’s pretty much what it was, at least if Phil had anything to say about it. The man in question had yet to give Dan any explanation for why he was taking the photos to begin with, but Dan just assumed it was for a project. He did learn that Phil was finishing up his second degree, something Dan was immensely jealous of, considering he felt like dropping out half the time.

The days before they’re meant to meet seem to fly by, and when Dan shows up at the address he’d been given on Friday night, he’s practically vibrating with nerves. Despite the fact that they’d spent much of that time apart texting and getting to know one another, he still felt a little out of his depth stood at Phil’s door, especially knowing what awaited him on the other side.

Still, it’s not like he could easily get out of it now. So instead he texts Phil to let him know he’s there, waiting awkwardly on the steps in front of the building. Phil replies to let him know that he’d be down in a moment, so Dan stands, shifting from foot to foot, as he waits.

He’d been completely clueless as to how he needed to dress for this, and Phil had been no help at all. He’d instructed Dan to just wear something comfortable, that he was less concerned about costuming than he was the picture itself. Dan didn’t know much about photography, so he decided to listen. He’d chosen a pair of black jeans, not ripped for once, and a plain black jumper. His hair was a controlled mess, and after an hour of forcing straighteners over it, he managed to get it into something presentable.

The door in front of him swings open while he’s contemplating his choice of shoes, and he nearly falls over in surprise. He catches himself before he can, but the embarrassment of almost falling nearly has him turning around to leave until he catches sight of Phil’s pleased grin. “You made it!” He cheers, ushering Dan inside.

Dan quirks a brow at him. “Did you think I just texted you from my flat just to get a laugh when you realized I wasn’t here?”

Phil’s grin doesn’t falter in the slightest. “Hey, I don’t know what you’re like, maybe you never planned on showing up at all and it’s all just a big prank.”

If Phil wasn’t already leading the way upstairs, he’d see the incredulous look on Dan’s face. “That’s ridiculous. I’m right here.”

He watches Phil’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “I don’t know that. Maybe you’re a figment of my imagination. Maybe you’re a figment of your own imagination. Who knows?” They stop at a door just off the staircase on the second floor, much to Dan’s relief. He wasn’t much for exercise and he wasn’t aware that today he’d be doing cardio, or he’d have worn a thinner shirt. “Maybe existence in itself is just a social construct,” Phil says conspiratorially, opening the door to his flat and sending Dan a mischievous grin.

“Stop, you’re gonna send me into an existential crisis,” Dan complains.

Phil is good-natured enough to laugh, which is refreshing compared to the usual groans and bitchiness Dan would hear from his friends for a similar comment. It’s nice.

Phil leads the way into his flat, and Dan distracts himself from his nerves by looking around, taking in all of the little knick knacks and decor. It’s not messy, per se, but it differs from Dan’s own flat in the way that it’s comfortably lived in. There’s not a whole lot of space, but somehow it doesn’t feel crowded or small. Dan wonders if that has anything to do with the bright colors, which, he notes, don’t seem to follow any sort of pattern or color scheme.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess, I rarely have company.” Phil sounds apologetic as he moves further into the flat, bypassing the lounge and leading Dan into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

Dan nods, moving to settle on one of the barstools by the counter. “As long as it’s not of the alcoholic variety.”

Phil smiles as he moves around the kitchen, reaching into a cupboard for two glasses. Dan watches as the hem of his shirt rides up, showing just a little bit of skin before it settles back down. “You don’t drink?”

Shrugging, Dan leans forward on the counter, his arms folded. “Not with people I barely know,” he replies dryly.

There’s a flicker of something like hurt on Phil’s face, but it’s not there for long. “Ribena okay?”

“Sure.”

It’s a little bit awkward as Phil prepares their drinks in silence, which Dan attributes to the fact that they don’t really know each other that well. It’s hard to start a conversation with a stranger, especially when you’re in said stranger’s house. All things considered, though, Dan could be a lot more worried about that. Phil just seems to have this calming sort of energy to him, and it’s hard for Dan to reject that, even with his brain as messed up as it is.

“Here you go,” Phil says with a smile as he hands Dan a drink.

“Thanks,” Dan replies with a smile. He takes a sip, averting his eyes from Phil’s curious gaze. It’s a bit less watered down than he prefers, but he doesn’t actually mind it all that much. The sweetness is less of a whisper and more of a shout, and he smiles to himself when he thinks about Phil’s obvious sweet tooth.

“Alright?” Phil asks, sounding a little nervous.

Dan nods. “It’s good.” Clearing his throat, he gestures vaguely to Phil. “So, Mr. Photographer. What kind of photoshoot have you got in mind for me?”

At the mention of the reason for Dan’s presence, Phil grins. “Well, I’m glad you asked. Follow me.”

Dan spares a confused glance at his drink but does as instructed, standing up to follow after him. Now that he’s being led into the lounge he’s got a chance to look around a little more and is surprised to see a bookshelf filled with familiar things, mostly video games and movies. There’s a couple odd knick knacks here and there that he recognizes from a game or anime. The thought that they actually have things in common startles Dan, but it isn’t unwelcome.

“So, for the portrait series I’m doing, I’m focusing more on a lifestyle, candid kind of photography. I’m still working on the basic theme but I’ve got some ideas for a couple of shots to get started.” Phil is explaining this as he’s moving around, grabbing his camera off the desk and moving to the glass door which Dan has just realized opens onto a balcony. Dan’s nodding along, pretending he gets it, while still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this man looked at him and felt he was worth capturing. “If you have any ideas or questions or anything, feel free to let me know. I’m usually pretty open-minded about things like that,” Phil says with a smile.

Dan nods again. “Alright. Well, uh... where do you want me?”

Phil grins, and Dan flushes when he realizes what it sounds like. Luckily, Phil doesn’t tease him for it. “I thought we’d start with the balcony. I’ve got some ideas that I wanna go ahead and do while the lighting is nice.”

With another nod, Dan moves towards the door. Then he comes to a halt, turning back around to face him. “Is what I’m wearing alright? I wasn’t sure what to wear.”

There’s a twitch of a smile on Phil’s lips at that. “What you’re wearing is perfect. You can take your shoes off though, if you want. Might be here a while.” There’s no hint of innuendo in his voice, but Dan can’t help but think about it anyway.

He toes his shoes off, glad for the brief distraction to calm himself down. After tucking his shoes out of the way near the door, he turns around, tugging on his sleeves as he waits for instruction. Phil isn’t looking at him right now, his focus on the balcony door. He pushes it open, steps back, and then tugs it in just a little bit. After staring at it for a moment he closes it, then nods to himself. If Dan wasn’t so confused, he’d probably laugh at him.

A few minutes of this go by and then Phil’s turning back around with a bright smile. “Alright, so for this to look candid and what not, I need you to like walk out onto the balcony as naturally as you can. We’ve got time to do it more than once, so it’s fine if the first couple of times feel awkward.”

“Okay,” Dan shrugs. He’s struggling to pretend he’s not nervous at this point but really, how can he not be? He doesn’t even know Phil but he wants this to work for him.

Dan moves towards the door, hyper aware of every movement of his feet as they drag across the floor. He doesn’t hear any other instruction, so he continues, pushing open the glass door and stepping onto the balcony. He also doesn’t hear the camera shutter, so with an embarrassed feeling in his chest, he turns to look at Phil.

Click.

“Um.” Dan blinks. “I thought...”

“Just checking that the camera is good to go,” Phil says, his lips twitching like he wants to smile. Dan can tell he’s lying, but doesn’t know how he’d feel about being called out for it.

“So... want me to go again?” Dan asks dumbly.

Phil nods, gesturing for him to come closer. “Here, just...” as soon as Dan is closer, he reaches out for him. Dan’s heart thumps out of beat, and Phil hesitates, smiling gently. “Can I?” He asks, gesturing to Dan’s shirt.

Dan can only nod, and Phil takes that as permission. He steps just a bit closer, and a wonderful scent of something fruity and sweet floods Dan’s senses. He’s trying to decide if it’s kiwi or something else when Phil’s gaze meets his, making Dan flush and drop his eyes. Phil’s camera is resting against his chest, the strap around his neck, and Dan tries to focus on that as Phil takes Dan’s sleeve and rolls it up almost to his elbow. He takes the other and copies the look, glancing over the rest of Dan before clearing his throat and stepping back.

“Am I ready for the camera?” Dan jokes, trying to ignore the racing of his heart and the way he can still smell faint traces of Phil’s cologne in the air between their bodies.

Phil’s suddenly heavy gaze drags from Dan’s hair down to his jeans, and he tilts his head, considering. “Depends. How comfortable would you be without your jeans?”

~~~

Dan cannot believe this. He simply cannot believe he agreed to this. Even an hour and a half later, it feels a bit like some weird fever dream. But no, there he is, in Phil’s flat, clad in nothing but a black jumper and black Calvins, modeling. If it could even be called that, because at this point Phil is mostly just engaging him in conversation, getting Dan distracted, and then snapping a photo. He very rarely asks for a specific pose, and Dan’s starting to wonder if he’s actually getting any good shots out of this or not.

Still, he won’t complain because so far he’s learned a lot about Phil. He’s 28, which surprised Dan at first, until he explained that he’d finished school with a degree in video post-production only to realize a couple years later that he was interested in photography. He’s not a full time student, but he’s enrolled in the photography course and loving it, apparently. Dan feels all sorts of out of place when Phil talks about school with such passion. It’s something he wishes he had, something he’d wanted for himself for years and never found.

Dan actually shares things about himself, as well. He offers up his own situation with school, admitting that he’d dropped out of uni a few years ago, only to get stuck with no job and no future until his parents made him agree to go back. He’s in his second year of law this time, which as a 24 year old, feels very embarrassing. Phil is all kind words and encouragement about this; Dan tries not to feel surprised that Phil is not only attractive and clever but also deeply empathetic.

“That’s really brave, you know,” Phil tells him. He’s sat on the only chair on the balcony, looking up at Dan with soft eyes. Dan shrugs, glancing away from him. He can’t handle the caring behind those eyes, he can’t let himself feel something more for this stranger other than vague appreciation and friendship. There’s the sound of the shutter clicking, and he levels Phil with an unimpressed stare. Phil grins and snaps another photo.

“It doesn’t feel brave,” Dan tells him, continuing their verbal conversation as he turns away, looking out on the city around them rather than stand facing Phil. He realizes belatedly that the height of the balcony and the way he’s leaning against it probably just look like he’s presenting his ass, but he’s already lost whatever self-consciousness he had about being nearly naked in front of someone he hardly knows.

“How does it feel, then?” Phil asks. Dan likes that. He likes that he doesn’t argue with Dan’s feelings, he asks him to explain them. Dan likes that a lot.

“Well, it feels like... I dunno. Like a waste of time.” He glances over when he hears the chair squeak to find Phil standing beside him. He’s got this open, welcoming expression on his face. Dan suddenly feels like he could tell him anything and Phil would just... know. “I feel like I’m wasting my time, or potential, or whatever.”

Phil nods. “I get that. I started out with English Language and Linguistics at uni. I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t something I was like, super passionate about. Not enough to stick with it, and like, what the hell do you do with that kind of degree, you know?”

Dan shrugs. He doesn’t know, honestly, but it feels good to talk to someone who gets it, in some way. “Right.” It’s quiet for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts as they look out into the street below. They’re not very high up, but there’s not a whole lot of tall buildings around, so it feels like they are. Dan hears the camera shutter but this time he doesn’t look. Instead he allows himself a small smile, something warm fluttering in his chest. Another click, and then he hears Phil sigh.

“These are really good,” Phil says softly. “I mean... not like I’m bragging, just...” He meets Dan’s gaze with a sheepish smile. “You look really good.”

Dan’s not sure he can handle that. He ducks his head, avoiding even looking in Phil’s direction until he feels less embarrassed and charmed and pleased. “I’m sure they’re alright,” he says noncommittally.

Phil laughs at that. “I’m not sure if you’re insulting me or yourself, but either way, I’m not sure I appreciate it.”

He can’t help it, Dan snorts at hearing this. “Sorry. Self-deprecation and all.”

There’s a very serious expression on Phil’s face when he looks at Dan then. It nearly chills Dan to his bones, but he finds he can’t look away. “I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.” He sounds perfectly serious.

Dan swallows. He wonders if he’s imagining the lack of space between them. “What do you see when you look at me?”

Phil studies him for a moment. He moves slowly, pulling the camera strap over his head and setting the camera carefully in the chair. Dan’s definitely not imagining it when Phil steps closer, making Dan turn as Phil crowds him back against the balcony. “All sorts of things,” Phil murmurs. Speaking any louder in the space between them would sound like yelling. “I see someone who’s sad.” Dan makes a soft noise of protest, but Phil shushes him gently. “But someone who’s doing what they can not to feel that way.”

They’re stood less than a foot apart now, and Dan studies the swirl of colors in Phil’s eyes. His breath is caught in his throat. He doesn’t know how Phil just knows these things, but somehow he’s managed to understand more about Dan than he’s understood about himself in years. More than that, Phil sees these things about Dan and doesn’t shy away from them. He looks at him like it’s okay to feel that way, like he maybe understands what it’s like. Dan loves it.

“What else?” He whispers, as if they’re sharing secrets.

Phil smiles. “I see those beautiful brown eyes.”

Dan blushes. “Shut up.”

“No,” Phil grins. He reaches forward, and Dan expects a soft touch and hopes for maybe more than that. He’s surprised when instead Phil pokes his side.

“Hey!” Dan yelps, squirming from his hand. “That’s rude.”

Phil giggles. “Sorry. I wanted to see that cute little pout.”

Dan’s face is likely blood red by now, but he tries to force his lips out of the pout he feels them in. “Alright, if you don’t stop flirting you might actually have to do something about it, you know.” He crosses his arms, quirking an eyebrow at Phil in challenge.

The challenge is apparently accepted, as Phil grins back, crossing his own arms. He’s an inch or two shorter than Dan, but with that stance, he appears taller. “Like what?”

And well, Dan wasn’t really expecting Phil to play along. He can only stare at him, blinking in confusion. “Um... well...”

It seems Phil expected this because he starts laughing as if it was a joke. Dan has no choice but to join in, pretending right along with him. “C’mon, you must be getting cold out here.” Phil turns to walk inside, gesturing for Dan to follow. Dan hadn’t really thought about it until now, but his legs are rather chilly.

After closing the door and walking into the lounge, he finds Phil stood there holding his jeans out to him. Dan tries not to let it bother him that this evening isn’t going in the direction he originally thought that it might go in. He shouldn’t be surprised about that. Phil is seemingly a very nice person, one who probably doesn’t hook up with emotionally unstable uni students he met at two am in a cafe. So really, Dan just needs to calm down with his expectations there.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking the jeans. He figures propriety is probably already out the window, so he goes ahead and pulls them on, trying not to think about the fact that Phil is watching him. “So, um...” He wants to ask if he’ll see Phil again, but he’s not sure how to.

Phil seems to understand anyway. He smiles and moves to the desk in the corner. Above it is a wall calendar, filled with lots of colorful sticky notes and scribbled handwriting. Even squinting, Dan can’t really make any of it out. Somehow, that, too, is endearing. Phil mumbles to himself as he scans the calendar, his finger moving along the dates as if he’s looking for something.

“I’m free next Saturday if you’re willing to do this again,” he says, turning around to glance at Dan.

A little startled by the suddenness of the request, it takes Dan a moment to nod. “Alright, uh, sure. What time?”

“Hm,” Phil hums to himself, considering it. He bends over to look through a notebook on the desk, and Dan is definitely not looking at his ass. Okay, maybe he takes a peek. Or two. Or maybe he just stares. “I have a list of ideas, give me a second,” he says, offering Dan a smile over his shoulder.

Dan nods, clearing his throat and pretending he’s examining the furniture. “I meant to tell you earlier, but I really like your flat. It’s cozy,” he says. His voice sounds awkward, even to himself. He’s genuine in his compliment, though. The decor is a lot brighter than he’d go for, and there doesn’t seem to be any cohesive theme, but he appreciates the bursts of personality he sees in every item.

“Thanks,” Phil says, turning to face him with a grin. “It’s taken me a while to accumulate all this junk, but it’s mostly sentimental.”

Dan cracks a smile at that. “That’s sweet. I’m not very sentimental myself, actually.”

Phil’s smile cracks a little at that. He recovers well, and manages to laugh. “My mum says I’m a hoarder, but I actually think I got it from her.”

“Maybe don’t tell her that.”

“Yeah, maybe not.” Phil grins genuinely. “So, I’ve got some… er… well, some other shots I want to get.” He bites his lips as if he’s embarrassed.

Dan can’t help it. His mind takes a sharp turn for the gutter. “What kind of shots?”

Phil raises a hand and scratches the back of his neck. Dan stares at the way the tendons in his arms flex. It’s unacceptably attractive. “Well… Please don’t think I’m creepy for this, I swear I was going to get someone else to do it, but if you’re willing… My series would look more cohesive with the same model in every shot.”

Dan rolls his eyes now. The beating around the bush thing isn’t cute anymore. “Spit it out, bub. What do you want me to do? Pose nude?”

“No!” Something panicked arises in Phil’s eyes, but it’s replaced by something like consideration, clouded with something akin to guilt. “Er… Well, not entirely.” He bites his lip at this, staring at Dan like he’s waiting for him to run.

Crossing his arms, Dan quirks a brow, waiting. “So?”

“Well, it’s like… The theme I’m trying to work with is intimacy, but like from different angles. We, uh… For the assignment we were told to pick a sort of abstract or misunderstood concept, and research what we can to come up with a photo series that shows the deeper understanding of it. And uh, I went with intimacy.” His face is pink, and his gaze darts around the room in a nervous way Dan hasn’t witnessed yet.

Dan considers what this means for himself for a moment. He knows what he considers intimacy to be, which is basically sex and the things that go with being intimate before and after that. He can’t pretend he isn’t interested in what Phil wants to do with this concept, and honestly, after today, he feels comfortable enough that maybe he wouldn’t mind a little nude shoot. That might change due to his ever changing self-consciousness but he’s not totally opposed to it right now.

Phil must misunderstand his silence to mean he’s considering saying no. That thought’s laughable to Dan, at this point. “If you’re not comfortable, or if it’s something else, that’s totally fine! I mean, if you just don’t want to waste your time, I can pay you? But if you’re uncomfortable then-”

“I’ll do it.”

Phil stops talking. He blinks. Then, “What?”

Dan shrugs, an almost giddy feeling seeping into his chest. He tucks his hands into his pockets. “I said I’ll do it. I mean I reckon if you were gonna murder me, you would’ve done it by now. And I’m not too fussed about posing nude, but…” He’s not sure if what he’s about to say is obvious or not, but… “I’m… homosexually inclined, if you will.”

There’s a heavy silence. Phil blinks at him, twice. Then, he promptly bursts into giggles. Dan’s not impressed by that.

“Sorry, I’m not- homosexually inclined? Is that what we’re calling it these days? God, I’m getting old.” Phil laughs again, clutching his belly and tossing his head back with the force of it.

Dan’s fight-or-flight response is hovering on the edge of a knife, waiting to see if he’s going to have to protect himself from this situation somehow. He’s never actually had anyone start laughing in his face when he told them he was gay, but he reckons maybe he did say it in an odd way. Still, it was almost unsettling to see the soft look on Phil’s face once his giggles have subsided.

“I am too, by the way. Homosexually inclined,” Phil repeats the phrasing and smirks. Dan immediately relaxes. “That’s the only way I’ll ever come out to anyone ever again, so thank you for that.”

Dan rolls his eyes but pantomimes tipping a hat. “Happy to be of service.” Now that their truths are out in the open, he’s more relaxed, but also just that much more uneasy. Before, Phil was just this fit guy taking photos of him that Dan could quietly pine after and assume about. Now… now he knows for sure. And that scares the hell out of him. “So, Saturday?” Dan asks, clearing his throat to clear some of the tension in the room.

Phil nods, a familiar excited glint reappearing in his eyes. “Yeah, say… five-ish? The lighting is better when the sun’s going down.”

“Sure.” Dan takes this as his invitation to leave and heads back to the front door. Phil follows after him and stands by while Dan tugs his shoes back on. “Anything particular you’d like me to wear?” He doesn’t mean to flirt, but he can’t help but put on a certain tone of voice. He’s only human.

If Phil’s bothered by the obvious flirtation, he has a funny way of showing it. Smirking, he crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside him, his eyes raking over Dan’s body in a way that nearly makes him shiver. “If you’ve got a light colored sweater or something, that would work.” He tilts his head, considering for a moment. “And the Calvins are a nice touch, as well.”

Dan can’t help but smirk back, as if he knows what they’re doing here. He doesn’t, not really. “Why, reckon I’m gonna be back down to my pants for you?”

Phil stares him straight in the eyes as he nods. “Yeah, I reckon so.”

This does make Dan shiver. He can’t help it. His skin is suddenly feeling a little tacky, his clothes clinging a little too closely to his skin. “Right,” he mumbles, clearing his throat after. “See you Saturday?”

The grin on Phil’s face takes any of the previous heat away, but it leaves Dan warm in an entirely different way. “Saturday. I’ll see you then, Dan. Be safe.”

Dan offers a little wave as he steps out the door. He forces himself to take a deep breath before getting any further, processing what he’d just agreed to. Spending an evening with a very attractive, also gay man, taking perhaps racy photos.

God, Dan was so fucked.

~~~

Dan has counted down the days until Saturday, unashamedly. There’s no one but himself to shame him for his weird crush, and for now, he’s not going to beat himself up about it. That’s probably most definitely subject to change, he realizes once he’s standing at Phil’s door on Saturday evening, wearing black ripped jeans and a light tannish Yeezy sweater he’d spent way too much money on. He’s a little early, since they’d agreed on five, but Dan doesn’t actually think Phil will be all that bothered about it, honestly. At least, he sincerely hopes he isn’t.

Dan: im outside let me in

Phil: you should’ve sent the meme

Dan: ?

Dan hears the door click the same time his phone buzzes in his hand. He opens the door with one hand while his other clicks on the meme. He snorts when he sees it, having forgotten all about the Eric Andre meme, but this was certainly an appropriate moment to use it. Since he’s literally in the same building as Phil, Dan doesn’t bother typing out a response, pocketing his phone and making his way up to Phil’s flat.

Phil’s quick to open the door after Dan’s knocked, and Dan smiles automatically upon seeing his face. He’s not wearing glasses this time, and his hair is in an almost perfect quiff. Dan very much wants to touch it, but he knows that’s definitely not appropriate. Phil looks incredibly cozy right now, wearing a grey sweater and black skinny jeans.

“Hi,” Phil says, his voice sweet.

Dan can’t help the stupid grin on his face, stretching at his cheeks and probably caving his dimple. “Hi, yourself.”

He doesn’t have a chance to ask to come inside, as Phil’s suddenly shifting closer, his hand coming up to Dan’s face. Dan sucks in a sharp breath, heart beating out of rhythm. Whatever he’s expecting to happen isn’t Phil’s intention, apparently, as Dan’s surprised when he feels Phil’s finger sink into his dimple. “Hello to this part of you, specifically.”

It takes him a moment to process the disappointment he feels that Phil didn’t do something else, but then he’s just thrilled that Phil is touching his face so casually. Then, he hears what he said. Laughing, Dan swats his hand away. “Oh, fuck off.”

Phil grins at him. “What? It’s cute. Hello, there… Derek!”

Dan blinks. “Derek?”

Phil’s finger comes back up to gently dip into the concave space on Dan’s face. “Derek the dimple.”

“You’re really odd,” Dan muses. Phil’s face twists at this, and Dan smiles before stepping through the door beside him. “It’s cute, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t wait for a reaction, walking over to where Phil keeps his shoes and toeing his trainers off. He tugs his coat off as well, looking around for somewhere to put it that doesn’t clutter some of Phil’s space.

“I’ll get it,” Phil says, coming to the rescue. He grabs the coat from Dan and leads the way into the lounge, the sound of the front door shutting behind them echoing into the room. “Have you eaten?” Phil asks, his back turned to Dan as he goes to hang Dan’s coat genty over a chair.

“No, I figured I’d eat later when I leave.” Dan goes to sit on the sofa, glancing around the room casually to see if anything’s changed since he was here last week.

Phil nods, but chews his bottom lip hesitantly. “Do you like pizza?”

Dan quirks a brow at this and tries not to smirk. “Are you trying to buy me dinner, Phil Lester?”

To his credit, Phil doesn’t seem very embarrassed by this. His eyes dart away but ultimately come back to Dan’s face, searching. “I guess so. If you’ll let me.”

Clearing his throat to hide the way he’s actually very pleased by this, Dan nods, following it with a noncommittal shrug. “Well, if you insist.”

Phil laughs, moving to his desk and grabbing his laptop. He returns to the sofa, dropping beside Dan and opening his laptop. “Domino’s okay?”

Dan nods and shifts on the sofa, tucking his feet up and leaning over to watch Phil order their food. “Have you tried the Sizzler?”

He realizes how close they are now when Phil turns his head and their eyes meet, mere inches apart. Phil has a lovely, surprised smile on his face. “The Sizzler is literally my favorite.”

This draws a pleased smile on Dan’s lips. “Yeah? You’ve got good taste, then.”

Phil nods. “It’s got just enough toppings to mask the flavor of the cheese, it’s great.”

Dan blinks. “Sorry, why would you actually want to mask the cheese? The cheese is the best part!”

Phil’s nose crinkles adorably as he turns back to the screen, clicking around on the order page. “I’m lactose intolerant, cheese just doesn’t really suit me.”

“Huh,” Dan hums. “I guess it’s good that mozzarella cheese basically just tastes of air, then.”

A dainty white hand comes up to rest over Phil’s chest as he mock-swoons. “You understand me,” he sighs.

Dan grins. He’s got the inexplicable urge to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder, but he refrains. Phil finishes up their order and closes his laptop, setting it on the coffee table in front of them before leaning back. His head rolls to the side and he blinks up at Dan adorably. Dan takes this moment to reach forward and poke Phil’s cheek, much like he did earlier to Dan’s dimple.

“So, pizza then photoshoot?” Dan inquires, the soft silence overwhelming him.

Phil nods. Then shrugs, which is a very mixed-signal sort of gesture, Dan thinks. “Well, probably pizza and photoshoot, really.”

“What?”

Without answering, Phil stands, going over to his desk and grabbing a notebook. He glances around until he finds a pen, then rejoins Dan on the sofa. “Right, so, the photo series has four parts to it, representing the four types of intimacy. So I figured today we could work on the first part.”

Dan nods, as if he completely understands this. He doesn’t. “Alright. So what’s the first part?”

Phil flips some pages in the notebook until he reaches one with “Experiential” at the top. Dan glances at this word, then back to Phil, then back to the page. Phil must notice his confusion, as he laughs under his breath before handing the notebook over. “I tried to write a short explanation, but basically it’s like intimacy in doing mundane activities. Like… I don’t know, playing video games together, or doing an art project, or something.”

“Right…” Dan nods slowly. “So, are we going to do an art project together?” He’s half-kidding. Half, because he’s not very artistic but he actually likes the idea of doing something creative and fun with Phil, who seems to be the human embodiment of those ideas.

“No, although that probably would’ve been a good idea,” Phil says, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I actually thought we could play some video games or play a board game or something?”

Dan nods. “Sure, I’m always down to play video games. I should warn you though, I didn’t have any friends until uni, so I’ve had lots of time to get really good at pretty much every video game.”

There’s something fleetingly sad in Phil’s gaze, but he recovers with a laugh that warms Dan’s heart and has him smiling. “We’ll see about that.”

~~~

“Fucking fuck fuck!” Dan screams, his thumb aching from how tightly he’s holding the button to steer. “Get out of my ass!” he screeches at Phil.

Phil cackles from beside him, his kart closing in on Dan’s. “Stop shouting that! I have neighbors, you idiot!”

Dan makes a frustrated grunting noise when Phil somehow manages to pass him and cross the finish line first, a string of curses leaving his mouth as Phil squeals with joy beside him. Ever the petulant child, Dan throws the switch joy-con towards Phil, who yelps. Dan pitches to the side, letting out a frustrated noise against the sofa cushion. “You’re the worst,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the fabric.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of me winning,” Phil taunts smugly.

Sitting up with a huff, Dan sends Phil a glare, only to startle when the camera flashes. He wants to be annoyed, but he can’t, not when he agreed to this impromptu shoot. And Phil’s been doing this for the past two hours since they finished their pizza and started playing Mario Kart, so if Dan was going to have a problem with it, he probably should have said so before now. He doesn’t actually, really. It’s always a little surprising, and it usually catches him off-guard since he’s rarely expecting it when it happens, but seeing Phil smile down at the camera every time he takes a photo makes it worth it.

“Rematch?” Phil asks, prodding Dan’s thigh with his joy-con, setting the camera down on the coffee table where it’s been residing for the majority of the evening. There’d been a couple times when Phil had gone to the kitchen under the pretense of getting something, only to surprise Dan by taking photos of him from behind the sofa. Dan doubts that those are any good, considering there’s probably nothing in shot but his unruly hair and the tv, but this is Phil’s project, so who is he to judge?

Dan rolls over so he’s on his back and drops his legs onto Phil’s lap, smiling when Phil begins rubbing his calves over his jeans. Whatever concept of personal space that existed hours ago is completely gone now, as both of them have taken to casual touches at almost any opportunity. Dan’s drowning in the feeling of this casual, friendly intimacy, and he idly wonders if that might be one of the themes for what Phil’s working on. “Depends, what time is it?”

Phil leans over to wake his phone up. “It’s a few minutes till eight,” he replies. He’s got an odd look on his face as he looks away from Dan before speaking again. “Why, got a hot date?”

This is one of those incredibly laughable things that Phil has said, and Dan treats it accordingly, dropping his head back to let out a cackle. “Bub, tonight you were the hot date.” He’s pleased by the surprised smile on Phil’s face. Dan’s cheeky for a moment and lifts his leg up to rub his foot against Phil’s thigh. “But no, I’ve just got revising to do. Exams coming up soon and the like.”

Phil doesn’t look particularly pleased by this, but nods in understanding. “Okay. Do you need to go home now?” His voice sounds just on the edge of disappointed, and Dan almost hates the way that makes him feel like he’s flying.

“I mean… I probably should. Why? Got other plans for me?” He smirks as he says it, obviously flirting.

Phil’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes this time. He shrugs, looking down at where his hands rest on Dan’s legs. “No, not really. I just like having you around.”

The naked honesty startles Dan into silence. He knows very few people who can tolerate him, let alone who actually enjoy his company, so this coming from Phil… Well, it’s a lot for Dan’s emotionally damaged brain to take in. After taking a moment to collect himself, he knocks his knee against Phil’s chest to prompt eye contact. Phil’s eyes are pools of blue and flecks of gold and Dan just knows he’s got a stupidly soft smile on his face as he speaks.

“I like being around you too, spork.”

Phil grins at this. He leans closer, just enough to sink his finger into Dan’s dimple. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

Dan nods, making no move to get off the sofa. “When do you want to work on the rest of the photos?”

There’s a shadow of something hurt on Phil’s face, but it’s gone so quickly Dan figures he imagined it. “You know, I’d like to hang out sometimes… Like, we don’t have to just work on that everytime we see each other, yeah?” He sounds nervous.

“Right,” Dan says slowly. It’s not that he hadn’t considered this, but he hadn’t gone so far as to assume Phil would actually want to do that. “Well, when’s the project due?”

“It’s not due until the end of December, so yeah… we’ve got time to work on that. I just…” Phil clears his throat as he looks away. He’s absentmindedly tugging on a thread on Dan’s jeans, and Dan wonders if he’s going to manage to pull it off completely. “We’re friends, yeah?”

An awkward laugh escapes Dan at that. He’s positive he doesn’t miss the flash of hurt on Phil’s face this time, but he doesn’t know what to make of it. “Yeah, Phil, of course we are. And sure, we can hangout whenever you want. In fact, what about tomorrow? I need to get some homework done, but we can meet up at the cafe for lunch?”

Phil smiles at this, a proper one with his tongue poking through his teeth. Dan melts at the sight. “Sure, okay, yeah. I’d like that.”

“It’s a date, then,” Dan says, his voice mostly teasing. He leaves his words hanging in the air between them, open to whatever interpretation that Phil might want to give them.

“A date,” Phil echoes, nodding and looking down at where his hand is resting on Dan’s leg. “I guess I’ll let you get home, then.”

Even though Dan knows he needs to go, he doesn’t like the idea of actually doing it. Still, he can’t overstay his welcome, even if Phil does enjoy having him around. Besides, he needs to get home and take his meds before he goes to bed anyway. He drags his legs off Phil’s lap and stands, stretching his arms up above his head to give them some relief. They’d been lounging on the sofa for hours now, and he desperately needed to get his blood circulating again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Dan says on a yawn, dropping his hand to ruffle Phil’s hair. If Phil’s bothered by the gesture, he doesn’t show it.

“Yeah.” He stands and follows Dan to the door, watching him as he gets ready to leave. “Oh, here,” Phil says suddenly, spinning around and stepping back into the lounge, returning with Dan’s coat in his hand. He holds it out and gestures for Dan to turn around. Dan does so, but he rolls his eyes as if he’s not secretly pleased by the gesture.

When Dan turns around, there’s a soft, fond look on Phil’s face. Dan wants to kiss him. He wants to so, so badly, but there’s still that voice in his head, reminding him that Phil isn’t interested in him in that way. So instead, he lifts his hand in a little two-fingered salute, cringing at himself as soon as he does it. “See you tomorrow, then, Philly.”

“Goodnight, Dan. Be safe going home.” The repeated sentiment stirs something warm in Dan’s chest.

“Goodnight,” Dan echoes softly as the door closes behind him.

~~~

Dan sits in the cafe, his laptop open on the table in front of him. He’s a few paragraphs into an essay about a topic he doesn’t care about and hardly remembers, his cursor blinking at him condescendingly. If the other two or three customers weren’t present, he’d thump his head on the table in anger, barista be damned. It’s the same barista that served him and Phil that night a couple weeks ago, Dan realizes, so they probably wouldn’t be surprised if Dan just started acting off his rocker.

He’s mid-thought about all the situations this barista has probably had to see, wondering to himself if she’s ever had to handle a mental breakdown, which then steers him onto the thought path of wondering if that’s what’s actually happening to him right now or if he’s overreacting. His train of thought is completely thrown off the track when he hears a voice as someone settles on the seat in front of him.

“Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale,” Phil says, his face morphed into one of concern. He pushes a hand through his slightly disheveled quiff, helping it a little bit but mostly just giving it a more purposefully tousled look.

Dan blinks at him. “What would you do if I said I was having a mental breakdown?” he blurts unthinkingly.

Phil raises an eyebrow at him, looking surprised but not as confused as Dan expected him to. He leans forward, folding his arms on the table and resting his weight against them. It’s a good look, Dan thinks to himself idly. He’s wearing a pink and purple hoodie, and his black-framed glasses. He looks like a snack, if Dan’s completely honest. “Are you?” He asks, breaking Dan out of his cycle of inappropriate thoughts.

Sighing, Dan leans over and rests his head against the table, staring blearily up at Phil. “No? I mean… I don’t know, honestly. I don’t guess so.” He punctuates it with a shrug, which just results in him bumping his shoulder into the table. It stings.

Phil smiles down at him like he’s not bothered at all by Dan’s odd mood. It’s nice. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, sweet and considerate as ever.

Dan shrugs again. His shoulder aches now. He sits up with an exasperated groan. “I just feel like I’m wasting what’s left of my stupid life sat here working on a paper I don’t give two fucks about, but I can’t drop out because my parents would kill me. Not that I care what they think, but they’re helping me pay for a flat and stuff, so I can’t exactly do what I want, can I? I just… I want a different life. This one sucks.” He hadn’t realized how worked up he was until he’s finished, but now that he’s done with his rant, he’s left panting and maybe there’s a wetness in his voice that wasn’t there before. He clenches his eyes shut tightly. He’s not going to cry in front of his new friend, in the middle of a goddamn coffee shop. He isn’t.

The feeling of a hand brushing against his own has his eyes snapping open, staring at Phil with wide eyes. Phil offers him a sympathetic smile. Dan hates pity, but he doesn’t feel like this is Phil’s intention, somehow. “Do you want to do something to take your mind off of all that?” Phil asks him sweetly.

Dan’s inclined to say yes. He’d love a break, even if it’s not for long, but he knows he needs to finish this godforsaken essay if he has a chance in hell of passing this class. “I can’t. I need to finish this essay.” His voice is bitter.

“Okay. Do you want me to leave so you can focus?” Phil doesn’t sound thrilled at the idea, but Dan appreciates the gesture.

“No, I can work with you here. If you don’t, you know, mind that I’m not going to be very entertaining.”

Phil laughs, his tongue poking out in Dan’s favorite smile. “I think I can entertain myself. I’ve got some things I can work on while you’re doing that. I’m a little behind some of my projects for work, so this would probably be a good time to finish them.”

Dan really needs to focus on his assignment, but the mention of Phil’s job piques his interest. He hadn’t really mentioned that before, although Dan had already deduced that he probably had some kind of job, considering he’s a part-time student living in a flat by himself. Unable to quell his curiosity, Dan props his head in his hand, watching Phil pull out a laptop and a notebook from his backpack. “What kind of projects?” He asks.

“Some videos to edit. Mostly ads and things like that. I think I’ve got a motivational video and a music video, too.” Phil makes a grimace at that, but Dan’s only about a thousand times more curious now.

Feigning nonchalance, Dan nods and glances at his own laptop. He’s got a little over a thousand words and he’s got to have twenty-five hundred to meet the assignment requirements. But, it’s not due for another week, so surely he can spare a few moments of watching Phil work, right?

Whether he can or not, he decides he’s going to.

“Can I watch you edit?” he asks, his voice unintentionally small.

Phil looks surprised when he glances up, but he’s quick to nod. “Yeah, of course. Um…” He points vaguely to the space on Dan’s side of the booth. “Mind if I move over there?”

Dan grins and moves his own backpack out of the way, clearing a spot for Phil to put his own things. “Be my guest,” he says, mocking a terrible French accent.

After moving his things over, Phil seems to remember that they were originally only meeting to have lunch, and yet neither of them have any food. “Do you want me to go grab us something to eat?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Dan reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Phil’s hand on his wrist stops him.

“I’ll pay, I asked you out, remember?” Phil’s got a cheeky grin on his face as he stands from the table. “What do you want?”

Dan is very nearly blushing at how chivalrous Phil is being, but he clears his throat in an effort to control himself. “A strawberry lemonade, please.”

Phil quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, what else? What do you want to eat?”

It’s probably just the usual bout of nerves, but the idea of food is not very appealing to Dan in this moment. His stomach turns at the idea of eating something, and he’s pretty sure that it’s written all over his face. “I’m actually not very hungry right now,” he says awkwardly.

There’s a flash of confusion on Phil’s face, but he manages a slow nod. “Okay. So just the strawberry lemonade?”

Dan nods. “Yeah.”

“Alright,” Phil says, flashing a smile. “Be right back, then.”

Dan tries not to watch Phil as he makes his way to the counter to order, but his attempt is probably mediocre at best. His eyes stray from him for a few seconds at a time, but generally his gaze is casually sweeping over Phil’s body, appreciating the way Phil’s jeans fit around his ass. As soon as that thought catches up with him, he looks away, embarrassed. He’s not about to sit here ogling his friend while they're out for lunch, even if they have held up a rather flirtatious banter since meeting.

“Here you go,” Phil says a few moments later, setting a fairly large pink drink in front of Dan. He’s got something pink as well, but it’s a deeper, more magenta shade than Dan’s. “I also got you a pistachio muffin, for later, if you decide you’re hungry.” Phil places a paper bag down, and Dan stares at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thank you,” Dan stutters out.

Phil shrugs, moving to sit down back beside Dan. He situates his drink on the right side of his laptop before reaching for the paper bag. He takes out a bagel, sitting it on a napkin and closing the bag back up, scooting it towards Dan. He glances at him, appearing a little startled to find Dan already staring back at him. Before Dan can apologize for being creepy, Phil smiles and points to the bag. “Take it home, if you don’t want it now. You’ll be hungry eventually.”

Dan can’t say no to that, obviously, so he just nods mutely. “Alright, sure.”

Looking pleased with himself, Phil opens up his laptop and clicks around until he’s got a video editing program loading up, switching back to his email to click on the file attached. “So, usually clients just email me and after we agree on rates and such, I put the things I’m sent in folders that are in order of due date. I’m a little behind, so I haven’t organized these yet, but I don’t have that many to work on, so it’s not that big of a deal,” Phil explains as he opens his files and renames the thing he’s downloading.

Nodding along, Dan reaches blindly for his drink, his nose wrinkling when he takes a sip. Glancing down, he realizes he’d picked up Phil’s by mistake. “Mate, what is this?” he asks teasingly, gesturing to the cup when Phil looks at him in confusion.

“It’s dragon fruit lemonade,” Phil says defensively.

“It’s terrible,” Dan decides, setting it down and reaching for his own instead.

“It is not! It’s really tasty,” Phil argues, snatching his drink and taking a long, exaggerated sip as if to prove his point.

Dan scrunches his nose, definitely not agreeing with that assessment. “Try mine,” he offers, holding his cup out for Phil to take a sip from.

Phil rolls his eyes but leans forward, wrapping his lips around the straw and taking a little sip. Dan gives him a look, and he rolls his eyes again before sucking a little more into his mouth. Swallowing and leaning back, Phil narrows his eyes, looking to be seriously contemplating the taste. “Well, it’s not terrible, but mine’s just more exotic and fancy.”

“You should stick to editing and photography, bub. You’d make a terrible lemonade critic,” Dan says solemnly.

There’s an adorable pout on Phil’s lips as he jokingly digs his elbow into Dan’s side. “Rude,” he mumbles, focusing on his laptop again.

Dan grins, and leans closer, tentatively dropping his chin onto Phil’s shoulder to watch him work. Phil’s eyes dart to meet his, and Dan offers him a saccharine-sweet smile. Phil makes a big show out of rolling his eyes at this, but ultimately he focuses on his work, quietly talking Dan through the process as he edits clips and adds sound when appropriate.

Eventually, Dan goes back to working on his essay, but they stay close, talking when there’s a lull in creativity or when Dan just cannot take a moment more of affidavits and case files. Phil sometimes prods him and asks him to watch a section of the video he’s working on, asking if the transitions are smooth to an untrained eye, and Dan likes helping when he can. It’s nice, he realizes, working beside someone even when they’re both working on their own separate projects. It’s copacetic.

“I’m so tired of this,” Dan groans, thumping his head back against the booth. It makes a cracking sound and he winces, a sharp pain spreading across his skull. “Ow,” he whines.

Phil glances at him, concerned. “You alright?”

Dan nods, rubbing the back of his head. He gets a cheeky idea and pouts at Phil. “Kiss it better?” he simpers.

Phil doesn’t even blink. He rolls his eyes but nods, gesturing for Dan to get closer. “Turn your head, you little troll.”

Surprised that Phil’s actually catering to this whim, it takes Dan a moment to do as he’s told. He does, though, turn his head to look away, his hand still covering the spot he’d injured. He feels Phil take his hand and move it out of the way, and then he feels a gentle kiss pressed to the tender spot. His veins flood with warmth, so suddenly it causes a shiver down his spine. There’s no way Phil doesn’t notice it.

Luckily, he doesn’t comment on it. “Does it hurt badly?” Phil asks sweetly, his dainty fingers coming up to gently skim Dan’s scalp.

“No,” Dan says faintly. “Just tender.”

Phil hums. “Poor thing,” he mocks. He’s still stroking Dan’s hair, but Dan turns his head anyway, pouting when he sees the smirk on Phil’s face.

“I’m injured, and here you are, taking the piss.”

“Sorry. Maybe next time you’ll tone down the theatrics,” Phil suggests.

Dan huffs. “I was a theatre kid, it’s in my blood.”

Whatever he said seems to strike Phil as interesting, as he tilts his head and considers Dan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Why don’t you do theatre anymore?” Phil asks, completely out of left field.

Dan lets out a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t know. I just… Don’t?”

Phil nods. He shrugs, then, turning back to his laptop. “I think you should do some auditions. You’ve got an actual talent for it, I think you’d do really well.”

This throws Dan for a loop. He wasn’t expecting Phil to say anything like that, not at all. He knew he was usually dramatic, but it was mainly in a funny kind of way, he never thought about getting seriously involved with theatre now that he was an adult. It’s… not a bad idea, though. He’s not entirely opposed, at least.

“Maybe,” he says noncommittally. He actually really likes the idea of getting involved in it, now that it’s been presented to him as an option. He doesn’t plan on telling Phil that yet, though, no matter how much he genuinely likes him. “Can you read over this paragraph and tell me what you think?”

~~~

The days and weeks pass by in a flurry after that day in the cafe. Dan wasn’t aware how much free time he really had until he started spending it with Phil. There was hardly a single day that passed when he didn’t spend time with Phil, either at Phil’s flat, the cafe, or even the library, which is where they found themselves now. Dan had a research project due in two days, and in true Dan fashion, he’d procrastinated it until the last possible moment. Phil had wanted to work on his photo series some more today, and when Dan said he had to finish this project, Phil said that it was perfect for what he needed.

So there they were, sat across from each other in the library, Dan hard at work on his stupid research project while Phil scribbled in a notebook and occasionally took photos of Dan. Sometimes Phil would stand up without saying a word, only to walk around and take shots from different angles. Dan was genuinely trying to submerge himself in his project, so most of the time he wasn’t even aware of what Phil was doing, too caught up in his own head to pay too much attention.

If Phil had any complaints about Dan’s focus being on his own work, he didn’t say. Sometimes he would say Dan’s name, snapping a photo as soon as Dan looked up at him, but mostly he just stayed quiet, working on his own things while Dan did the same. They’d done this a lot, when Dan or Phil had work they needed to get done but they wanted to spend time together. It was nice, working in a shared space on their own things, although sometimes if they were at Phil’s flat they’d get distracted by food or anime or video games. Still, even that was nice, as Phil was lovely to be around regardless of what they were doing.

They’d been at the library for probably close to three hours now, and Dan was reaching his limit. He had actually gotten a lot done, but his vision was starting to go fuzzy and he couldn’t concentrate on what he was reading. It didn’t help that he was basically starving, and his head felt like it was full of cotton. Quietly, so as not to disturb anyone else, he closes his laptop and folds his arms over it, resting his head on his forearms and closing his eyes. He hears a shift in front of him and a few moments later he feels a body in the seat next to his, a hand coming to stroke his back in soft sweeps.

“You okay?” Phil’s soft voice whispers.

Dan nods, not opening his eyes. “Just tired. Can we be done for today?”

Phil laughs quietly. “Yeah, bub, we can be done. Do you want to come back to mine?”

Wordlessly, Dan nods again. Phil hums a confirming noise before going to gather up his things. It takes Dan a moment, but eventually he sits up and does the same, shoving his laptop in his bag along with one of his law textbooks. Phil takes one of the books he’d been using and disappears to put it back for him, and just the thought of the gesture warms Dan up from the inside.

It’d been a little over a month since they met and nothing had happened between them yet. Not that he didn’t love just being Phil’s best friend; he did, so much. But… He wouldn’t keep lying to himself, he was interested in Phil romantically. He didn’t know how to bridge the gap between friendship and more, though, not when he had no solid proof that Phil felt the same. Other than some assumptions that Phil liked him due to some of his behaviors, Dan had nothing to go on. And, he reasoned, someone can be nice to you without wanting to date you, and he can’t fault Phil for being a good person, even if it threw his emotions for a loop every time.

“Ready to go?” Phil asks, suddenly standing beside the table, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

Dan nods, dragging himself out of his melancholy thoughts in order to stand and grab his own backpack. He follows Phil outside, sending the librarian a polite smile as they pass her. He’s not really paying attention to where he’s going, trusting Phil to lead them safely, so when his body collides into something solid, a squeak falls out of his mouth without his permission.

Phil glances over his shoulder at Dan, a smile on his face. “Sorry,” he apologizes for his abrupt stop that caused Dan to run into him. He gestures outside. “It’s pouring,” he informs him.

Fuck. Dan could honestly cry right now, in a totally not dramatic way. He’s just had a mentally draining day, and to see that on top of that it’s pouring down rain, well, it’s not his favorite thing ever, that’s for sure. He’s highly aware of the fact that his hair is tediously straightened and pushed up into a sort-of fluffy quiff that could never look anywhere near as good as Phil’s does. But he knows that this rain will very much ruin that illusion, and he’s hyper aware of the fact that Phil has yet to see his curly hair.

So, yeah, he could cry.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks, that same soft voice he always uses when he thinks Dan’s upset about something. “It probably won’t rain for long, we can wait it out, if you want,” he offers.

Dan’s inclined to say yes just so Phil doesn’t see his natural hair, but his growling stomach and borderline exhaustion demands that he find a soft sofa, preferably Phil’s, as soon as possible. “No, it’s fine,” Dan mumbles. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get to yours and order some food, right?”

Phil is definitely aware that Dan is not feeling right, but he graciously doesn’t call him out on it now. Dan knows that will not last, but he’s grateful for it nevertheless. “Of course. Come on, watch your step, it’s probably slippery.” Phil reaches for Dan’s hand probably without thinking, and Dan lets him take it. Phil’s hand is cool to the touch, despite the fact that it wasn’t all that cold inside the library, and Dan absently remembers something he’d said about a week ago when they were watching Bake Off at Phil’s flat.

“Dan, c’mere!” Phil whined, reaching for Dan’s shirt and tugging him into a sort-of-but-not-quite cuddle on the sofa. Dan went easily, allowing Phil to pull him in, completely unbothered. If anything, he was thrilled. Phil was a little tipsy, but Dan was more than happy to oblige this whim, and he’d make sure Phil’s inebriation didn’t lead to anything they wouldn’t allow themselves to do sober. “You’re so warm,” Phil sighed, tucking his head into the crook of Dan’s neck. “Like a little space heater.”

The memory of that moment flashes back into Dan’s mind now, and he can’t help but squeeze Phil’s hand, trying to transfer some of his warmth to the other man’s chilled fingers. Phil glances back at Dan, but doesn’t pull his hand away. He squeezes back and turns to watch where they’re going, leading the way sure-footedly. Dan’s happy to let him.

~~~

The rain is relentless the whole way back to Phil’s flat, and both of them are shivering by the time they get inside. Phil’s all mumbled apologies as he heads to his bedroom, going to retrieve some dry clothes for them to change into. Dan waves him off as he goes, tugging his sopping shoes off and depositing them next to the door. He peels off his hoodie, leaving his t-shirt practically plastered to his chest. It’s a bad day for a white t-shirt, he realizes, seeing the way it’s practically transparent with water.

“I got you a hoodie and some pants. Do you want-” Phil stops, and Dan looks up at him, holding his dripping hoodie out sheepishly.

“Sorry, I don’t know where you want me to put this,” Dan apologizes, gesturing with the wet fabric.

Phil is very obviously checking him out right now, but Dan is very much pretending not to be affected by it in the least. “Uh… I’ll throw it in the wash for you,” he answers, his voice a little strained. He shakes his head, perhaps to clear it, then reaches out to hand Dan the little bundle of clothes in his hand. “I left a couple pairs of sweatpants out on the bed, you can just pick whatever you want to wear. I know you’re picky about your matching outfits or whatever,” Phil sounds a little bit more himself, punctuating his words with a teasing roll of his eyes.

Dan sticks his tongue out childishly, trading his hoodie for the dry clothes. “If I don’t care about my look, I’ll end up with fashion catastrophes like this!” He complains, gesturing wildly to Phil’s bright yellow emoji bottoms, which he’s paired with an old Friends t-shirt.

Huffing, Phil pushes him gently into the direction of his bedroom. “Go get changed, you absolute menace. I’ll order chinese.”

“Ooh, get me some egg rolls,” Dan calls back. He hears an exasperated sigh, but he grins, knowing Phil will order him all the egg rolls he wants. He loves that about him, among other things. He finds several pairs of sweatpants on the bed, and after a moment of consideration he chooses a pair of plain grey ones. Not that it matters, he reasons with himself, even as he double checks that the grey doesn’t clash with the offensive highlighter green of the hoodie he’s been given.

After changing into Phil’s clothes, Dan takes his wet clothes down the hall and deposits them in Phil’s washer. He hasn’t started it running yet, so Dan goes ahead and does it himself, humming quietly as he tosses a tide pod in and sets the water temperature. When he’s finished, he turns around, nearly having a heart attack when he sees Phil standing there, watching him with a small smile.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, you made me jump!” Dan nearly gasps, his hand flying up to clutch at his heart. “Why’re you creeping?” he asks, his voice bordering on whiny as he steps past him and goes to the lounge.

Phil giggles, like properly giggles, at that. “I wasn’t. You just didn’t hear me over your concert.”

Dan sends him a glare. “Don’t mock me, Lester.”

“I would never,” Phil promises, batting his eyelashes playfully. Dan doesn’t believe it for a second, but he rolls his eyes and drops onto the sofa, choosing to ignore him. “Your hair’s all wet,” he observes.

The reminder has Dan biting his lip and bringing his hands up to flatten it as much as he can. “I know,” he says sadly.

“Want me to get you a towel?” Phil offers.

When Dan shrugs, Phil takes this as permission and hauls himself off the sofa and disappears down the hall to the bathroom. Left alone, Dan takes a moment to look down at the hoodie he’s wearing now. It’s bright, bright green, a shade he normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, and it’s got the York University emblem on it. Dan vaguely remembers Phil saying he’d gone there, but it had been awhile since they’d talked about it, and Dan honestly didn’t have much reason to remember it. But, being wrapped in something so personal to Phil, who seemingly loved his university days, has Dan feeling warm and fuzzy and full of something that’s just a bit too close to something.

“Here,” Phil’s voice comes from beside him, and Dan looks up to see him holding a towel out for Dan as he sits down. The weight of the realization Dan’s just had, or what feels like a realization, leaves him immobile, staring dumbly at the towel like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Want me to do it?” Phil offers, his voice dripping in sugar sweetness.

All Dan can do is nod numbly, but that’s all the permission Phil needs. He shifts to sit up on his knees, giving him a height advantage that normally Dan has between the two of them. He’s gentle as he rubs the towel over Dan’s hair, and Dan’s eyes are glued onto every shift in Phil’s expression. Phil seems to notice, his eyes dropping to study Dan’s face with a tender gaze. Carefully, slow enough that Dan could stop him if he wanted to, Phil shifts, moving one of his legs to the other side of Dan’s, properly straddling his lap when he settles.

“Dan,” Phil breathes out. The word sends shivers through Dan’s whole body. He’s warm all over, his chest a furnace of heat where his heart is frantically pumping to the whisper of his name leaving Phil’s lips. “Is this okay?”

Dan can’t breathe, he definitely can’t speak, so all he manages is a weak nod. Phil’s eyes search Dan’s, and there’s something cautious, unsure in his gaze. Dan hopes, he fucking prays that the same look isn’t mirrored in his own gaze, because god, he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. His hands, shaky as they are, come to rest gently at Phil’s hips. The touch startles Phil into shifting on his lap and Dan can’t help but drop his forehead to Phil’s shoulder with a soft groan.

“Sorry,” Phil laughs. His hand comes up to card through Dan’s curling hair, apparently dropping the pretense of drying it. “Your hair’s curly,” he notices, sounding surprised. This is not where Dan thought this was going at all. “I didn’t know your hair was curly.” He almost sounds offended.

Choking out a laugh at the ridiculous turn in conversation, Dan rolls his head to the side and stares incredulously up at Phil. “I know. That was intentional, believe me.”

Phil frowns at him. “It’s cute,” he says, his tone defensive.

Dan snorts. “For a hobbit, maybe.” He closes his eyes, relaxed in the way Phil pets his head gently.

“A very cute hobbit,” Phil insists. Dan feels his lips drag across his temple and he shivers again.

Pulling away, Dan looks up into Phil’s face and smiles at the adorable pout on his lips. And looking at that, Dan really doesn’t know that a stronger man could resist it. He leans in, but he remembers something important at the last second. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his lips a breath away from Phil’s.

There’s an audible gulp, and Dan readies himself for rejection. Phil’s lips part, and he knows, already, that it’s going to be a no, he could never be lucky to meet a guy who is both attractive and sweet and also gay and-

Two things happen at once.

Phil, for all his hesitation, breathes out a quiet, but certain, “yes.”

At the exact moment, there’s a jarring buzz, signalling the takeaway has arrived.

Dan has quite literally never been so full of disappointment.

They sit, frozen in the moment for just that- a moment. And then Phil’s sending him an apologetic smile, shifting to rise from Dan’s lap. Dan’s foolish hands latch onto his shirt, and Phil gently tugs them loose, a fleeting expression of sadness on his features. He hesitates, but then gestures to the door, backing away from the sofa. Dan’s certain his devastation is palpable.

“I’ll be right back.”

Dan can only watch him go. Whatever invisible wall was holding the waves of disappointment from crashing against the shore of Dan’s heart comes crumbling down the moment Phil disappears from view and Dan allows himself a moment to hurt for this missed opportunity. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he allows it to wash over him. It was in the moment, he’s certain. That was his specific moment, maybe the only moment he’ll get to act on his feelings. Fuck. Fuck it all, if that’s how this dissipates between them. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair and-

“Dan.” Phil’s voice is firm, assured. Dan barely has the energy to look at him, but when he does something passes over Phil’s face, a clear understanding of what Dan’s feeling in this moment. He doesn’t give Dan a chance to respond, setting the takeaway bag on the coffee table and immediately resuming his position on Dan’s lap.

Confused but not opposed, Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s waist, clutching the t-shirt in his fingers. Phil smiles down at him. It’s a sweet, affectionate thing. His hand comes up to rest on Dan’s cheek, his thumb brushing down and dipping into the dimple Phil’s got such an affinity for. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, repeating Dan’s own words.

Swallowing hard, Dan nods. “Yeah. Yeah, please.”

That’s all the permission Phil needs to lean in, framing Dan’s lips with his own. Dan’s hand comes up and rests on Phil’s wrist, his other still scrabbling for purchase against Phil’s side. He leans into the feeling of Phil’s lips on his, a soft give and take as they part and come back together several times, really just working out what the other likes. Phil’s not taking it further than the soft almost-open-mouth kisses that they’re sharing now, and Dan’s definitely okay with that.

After what probably isn’t more than five minutes, Phil gently presses a hand to Dan’s chest and slowly pulls away. His gaze is soft as he looks at Dan, his tongue absentmindedly swiping across his lips in a way that Dan thinks should be illegal. “Food, then… more of that?” Phil questions hopefully.

Dan nearly laughs. As if he wants literally anything else. “Absolutely more of that. The food can honestly go fuck itself right now, though, if I’m being honest.” Of course, his stomach decides that it’s an appropriate time to remind them how long it’s been since they’ve eaten, and they both glance down in surprise as it growls. Dan’s cheeks flush, while Phil cackles maniacally.

“Sorry, that was just- you tried- and then-” Phil is practically gasping for air, covering his mouth as he giggles. “Right. Let’s get some food in you, before you turn into the hulk or something.”

Dan pouts when Phil climbs off his lap and begins sorting out their food. “Rude, honestly.”

Phil hums, shrugging. “I bought your dinner, I reckon I can insist that you eat it,” he teases, grinning over his shoulder at Dan.

“Whatever, fine,” Dan says. He stands, gesturing to the kitchen. “Ribena?” He asks. He’s familiar enough with Phil’s kitchen that it doesn’t feel weird offering to go make their drinks.

“Wine, actually. There should be a bottle in the fridge from last time.” He doesn’t meet Dan’s eyes when he says this, but Dan’s secretly thrilled. They’d had a disagreement about whether or not you should chill wine before drinking it. Dan was pro-chill, and Phil was indifferent but insisted he didn’t have space in his refrigerator to keep a full bottle of wine. Much maneuvering later, Dan managed to fit in a smaller bottle of rose, much to his own delight.

“Right, some wine coming right up,” Dan says, affecting a heavily posh accent as he disappears into the kitchen.

As he’s pouring their drinks, the events of the last half hour finally hit him. He actually has to lower the bottle of wine to take a moment to process the fact that he’d just kissed his best friend. They’d fully made out, right there on Phil’s sofa. Dan manages to stifle his shocked laugh, because as thrilled as he is by this turn of events, he really doesn’t want Phil to hear him laughing to himself in his kitchen like some kind of idiot.

“A glass of rose, for you,” Dan announces as he comes back into the lounge.

Phil grins up at him, taking the drink with his nose raised up in the air. “Thank you, waiter,” he says, affecting a terrible posh accent.

Dan settles onto the sofa beside him, giving him a sideways glance. “Are you trying to mock me?”

There’s a sipping noise, and Phil offers a shrug as he smirks into his glass of wine. “Perhaps.”

“I do not talk like that.” He does.

Phil shrugs, setting his glass down. He looks back at Dan, tilting his head in a considering sort of way. “I reckon you kind of have some sort of Christopher Robin kinda vibe.”

Dan can’t help but dimple at him. “Winnie the Pooh was literally my favorite thing in the world when I was, like, six.”

“Really?” Phil asks. He sounds endeared. “That’s cute. You kinda look like Christopher Robin, too, actually.”

“I mean, right now I definitely look like a hobbit, not a cute animated character from a loveable children’s franchise, but thanks, I guess?”

Phil rolls his eyes at this, stuffing his mouth full of rice. He chews quickly, and as soon as he swallows he looks at Dan, his eyebrows furrowed in what looks like disappointment. “I really don’t like you talking trash about yourself. I think your hair is really cute.” Dan starts to protest and Phil raises a hand to stop him. “I know, but I’m just saying. You may not agree, but I just wanted you to know, that like, it’s a good look.”

Dan looks down at his food, his heart swooping as the words sink into his skin. He clears his throat, glancing over at Phil and nodding. “Right, well… thanks.”

There’s a smile on Phil’s face as he shrugs. He catches Dan off-guard, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek. Dan’s face feels like it’s burning at the touch. “Netflix?”

~~~

It’s several hours later and the sun has set over the horizon, leaving a dusky light streaming in through the balcony door. Not that Dan is paying attention to the lighting right now. That’s the last thing on his mind, actually. Right now he’s sat in Phil’s lap, his mouth working fervently against Phil’s. Phil’s got his hands on Dan’s ass, and every now and then he squeezes gently, sending a shock of shivers down Dan’s spine. It’s so good, Dan is actually wondering why the hell they hadn’t tried this before.

Taking a breath, Dan pulls away, blinking blearily down at Phil. His hair is a mess from Dan’s hands running through it, and his lips are pink and slick with a mixture of their spit. He’s so goddamn perfect, Dan really wishes he had a camera.

With a laugh, he realizes he has access to a very nice camera right now. He twists his torso and reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing the very expensive and professional camera of Phil’s. He tinkers with it until he figures out how to turn it on, then he looks at Phil, raising his eyebrows in question. Phil studies him for a second but nods. Dan grins, lifting the camera up and taking what is probably a really clumsy and terrible shot of Phil’s face. He takes two more, and on the third, Phil reaches for Dan, sliding his hands up underneath his borrowed shirt.

“Oh!” Dan squeaks when Phil rubs his thumb over a nipple. Dan drops the camera, carefully, onto the cushion beside them. He sighs, dropping his head back as Phil leans in and latches his lips onto Dan’s neck.

He only kisses at first, then small nibbles follow. After a few moments, he tilts his head back and looks up at Dan with a smile. “Do you like this?” Phil asks, his voice incredibly sweet.

Dan laughs and nods, dropping a hand to run through Phil’s hair again. “God, yes. You can keep going. I really like it a lot.”

“Teeth?” Phil asks, scraping them gently across a patch of Dan’s skin as he says it.

A shiver runs over Dan’s spine, and his hand tightens in Phil’s hair. “Yes,” he breathes, barely holding in a moan.

Phil goes back to lavishing his neck in kisses, and now gentle bites that increase in intensity until Dan is a whining, throbbing mess, rocking his hips against Phil’s desperately. One of Phil’s hands comes down to squeeze his ass, and Dan just needs a little bit more, just a little, and he’ll get there.

“Fuck, Phil. I’m so close,” he pants, dropping his forehead against Phil’s shoulder. It makes it harder for Phil to access his neck, but Dan can’t take anymore of the torture. It’s too much.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” Phil whispers in his ear.

Dan doesn’t even consider saying no. “Yes,” he breathes.

Phil gently guides him off his lap, leaving Dan standing in front of him as he makes quick work of pulling down Dan’s sweatpants. His blue eyes dance with mischief behind wisps of fallen hair as he takes Dan in the palm of his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the weeping head of his cock. “Is it weird to tell you that you’re just as beautiful here as you are everywhere else?” Phil whispers, his words dancing into the air between them.

Carefully, Dan drops a hand to Phil’s hair, brushing it back to see his eyes, unobstructed. “No. Not weird at all,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly strangled with emotion. Phil smiles up at him, and Dan’s so fucking gone.

The blowjob is one of the best he’s ever received. The awkwardness of being with a new person that way doesn’t claw through his ribs the way it normally does, he doesn’t try to hide from the way Phil holds his gaze as his cheeks hollow around Dan’s cock. He’s so… content, in Phil’s care, so unafraid of the way Phil handles him, sucking and wanking him with enthusiasm, as if they’ve done this a hundred times before. Dan’s whole body is on fire, and for every minute Phil works his mouth, he’s just that little bit closer to falling apart.

He tugs on Phil’s hair when he’s close. Phil blinks at him, maybe attempting a wink, but doesn’t stop his ministrations. Dan shivers. Pulling away for just a moment, Phil smacks his lips together and gazes up at Dan with something so heart-wrenchingly warm, Dan nearly looks away. “You can go in my mouth, if you want. I don’t mind the taste.”

Dan pets his hair. It’s ridiculously soft and smooth, just a bit greasy from going a little too long unwashed. Dan loves it. “Okay,” he murmurs. He gently guides Phil back to where he was, and Phil goes eagerly. Dan isn’t sure if it’s his enthusiastic approach to the task, or the way Phil’s eyes look, but when he falls over the edge, filling Phil’s throat with release, he feels the relief deep in his bones.

Phil neatly tucks Dan back into his pants before pulling his sweatpants up his legs, while Dan’s arms remain useless at his sides. He watches as Phil leans in, nuzzling his stomach before pressing a kiss to the waistband of the sweats, and Dan’s dizzy with the fresh wave of heat that courses through his body.

Rather than acting on his own sudden desire, Dan drops to his knees before the sofa, staring up at Phil and running his hands over his thighs. He’s impressed with Phil’s stamina, because despite being very obviously hard, he’s not touched himself this whole time. Phil stares down at Dan with such a sweet, easy grin, that Dan knows, he just knows that he can never go back from this. This feeling, the way Phil looks at him like he’s just put every star in the sky- Dan’s already addicted to it.

“Phil,” Dan breathes. He brings his hand that much closer to where Phil so desperately needs him. “Let me touch you.”

Phil kisses him. The angle should be awkward, with Dan knelt on the floor the way he is, but it’s nothing more than perfect. When they part, Phil sinks the pad of his thumb into Dan’s dimple. “Touch me,” he encourages.

The flutter of excitement in his stomach propels Dan forward, pushing gently on Phil’s shoulders so he’ll lean back, giving Dan space to work. Phil’s pajama bottoms, as disgustingly bright yellow as they might be, are loose and easy to work down Phil’s thighs. Dan’s patience expires there, however, and he makes no further move to remove them completely, instead shifting forward and tugging at the red Calvins that are so useless in concealing the shape of Phil.

“Fuck,” Dan whines as soon as they’re out of the way.

“Hm?” Phil inquires. His eyes are hooded when Dan looks up, and if he didn’t know any better, he might think Phil was drunk.

Dan swallows hard before leaning forward, giving a few little kitten licks to the head of Phil’s cock. “You’ve got a lovely cock. I thought you would.”

Phil groans. His hand catches in the mess of Dan’s drying hair. “How often have you thought about it?”

Dan pretends to consider this. “Enough,” he decides. Every day, his subconscious adds. He doesn’t give Phil a chance to respond, getting right down to business, stretching his lips around Phil and relishing in the weight on his tongue, the taste of him, the texture. All these things he loves about sucking cock, but attached to a person he loves even more.

The thought shocks him enough that he manages to accidentally gag himself.

“You alright?” Phil whispers, ever the considerate one. His hands are carding through Dan’s curls, and he’s got an awed look about him, as if he likes Dan’s hair like this, likes Dan like this.

Dan nods mutely. He has to pause, though, just so the thought bouncing around his head doesn’t do something reckless, like take a step out of his mouth. He presses a fleet of kisses to Phil’s thighs, counting them so that both thighs will get an equal amount of affection. When his head finally quiets, Phil’s growing soft.

“I’m sorry,” Dan murmurs. He presses his lips to the side of Phil’s cock and suckles. “My head was being loud. I needed a minute.”

Phil’s eyes could be screaming, the affection in them is that loud. “Take your time. If you’re uncomfortable, we can stop.”

Shaking his head, Dan offers him a grin. “Don’t get greedy, Lester. You’ve already shown me your willy, you might as well share it.”

Phil squeaks, his cheeks tinting with pink. He covers his face with his hands, peeking through the forest of fingers to blink at Dan. “Well, go on, then. You can… you know. As a treat.”

Dan giggles. He kisses Phil’s left thigh, then his right. Then he takes him back into his mouth, wrapping a hand around the base. One of Phil’s hands slips into Dan’s hair, but the other tangles with the fingers of Dan’s free hand. For every swirl of his tongue through Phil’s slit, Dan squeezes Phil’s fingers, and every time Dan drops to take him deeper, Phil tugs on his hair, a whispered apology falling from his lips every time.

“Close, Dan.” Phil sounds breathless, and Dan glances up at him, shivering at the sight of Phil already staring back, his full bottom lip captured between his teeth as he gazes down at him.

Dan doesn’t like the taste, normally. He usually only swallows to be polite, or if it’s convenient.

When Phil releases into his mouth, Dan swallows for neither of those reasons. He’s curious, and he wants to know how he tastes. Some part of him probably also just wants to impress Phil, but that part is secondary to the way his tongue cleans Phil off when he’s finished, greedy for a closeness that such an intimate part of sex provides.

When he pulls away, he blinks up at Phil, a little blearily. Phil sighs contently before swiping his thumb across Dan’s lips, no doubt cleaning him up. Dan doesn’t realize he’s crying until Phil swipes at his cheeks. “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging Dan up.

His legs are tv static beneath him, and will certainly be sore tomorrow, but Dan allows Phil to tug him into a sort of cradle in his lap. He doesn’t speak, he only pets Dan’s hair, peppering his face with sweet kisses while Dan thinks. It was only a couple tears, really, he justifies himself. Probably from allowing Phil as far down his throat as he did. There’s no other reason he would be emotional enough to cry while giving a blowjob, that’s for sure.

Dan’s not sure how long they sit there like that, but eventually he realizes it’s dark and panics. “I need to go.”

Phil’s eyes flash with hurt. “You can stay,” he argues gently.

He could. “I can’t,” Dan whispers.

Phil presses his forehead to Dan’s temple and takes a deep breath. “Tell me I don’t have anything I need to apologize for.”

Dan sinks his hand into Phil’s ruffled hair. “Of course you don’t. I wanted this.”

At that, Phil flinches away like he’s been burned. “As in, past tense? Like you don’t anymore?” His voice is panicked, and Dan would do, or will do, anything to calm him.

He gently cups Phil’s cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his cherry lips. “I want it. I want you.”

“Then stay,” Phil breathes.

Phil won’t make him. Dan knows he won’t. But he feels chained to this sofa, to Phil, as if he can feel the metal carving into his wrists.

“I’ll stay,” Dan promises.

~~~

When Dan wakes up, the first thing he notices is a weight against his back. It takes him a second to remember the night before, but when he does, his lips twitch into a smile. Carefully, so he doesn’t wake Phil, he shifts, rolling over until he comes face to face with the other man. Phil’s mouth is dropped open in sleep, and Dan leans closer, admiring his beautiful eyelashes. He feels a little creepy staring at Phil while he’s sleeping, but Dan can’t tear his eyes away. There’s just something so soft about Phil deep in sleep, something that has Dan completely captivated.

Until Phil begins to wake up, that is.

Dan quickly scoots back, pretending he just woke up to save himself the embarrassment. He watches Phil wake up through half-lidded eyes, smirking to himself when Phil smacks his lips loudly, only to groan when he realizes how bad his morning breath is, probably. His blue eyes flicker over to Dan and suddenly that gorgeous grin is taking over his features again, filling Dan with this bubbly sort of happiness that he doesn’t even try to hide.

“Good morning,” Phil mumbles, his voice scratchy from sleep. Dan feels his face flood with heat at the way that sound affects his still-sleepy body.

“Hi,” Dan squeaks, turning over to hide his growing problem in his pants. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm. But the waking is better by far,” Phil says with a cheeky grin. Dan returns it, right up until Phil leans in, planning to kiss him no doubt.

Dan makes quick work of covering Phil’s mouth. “Not so fast there, Casanova,” he tuts.

He feels Phil frown against the palm of his hand. “Why not? I had your willy in my mouth last night, and now I don’t get a good morning kiss?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “First of all, you need some lessons on consent. I can consent to something one day and not want it the next, you turnip.”

Phil presses a gentle kiss to the palm of Dan’s hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He pauses for a beat. “Could I please have a morning kiss?” he asks sweetly.

“Pft,” Dan snorts. He pats Phil’s mouth softly. “You didn’t brush your teeth last night, so that’s a hard no, bub.”

“Okay. How about if I go brush and use mouthwash? Then can I have a tiny kiss?” Phil requests, his eyes lighting up with joy. Dan wants to laugh at him- he’s like a little kid begging for a new toy.

“I’ll consider it,” he teases.

No sooner are the words out of his mouth before Phil is stumbling his way off the bed and making his way to the bathroom. “Be right back!” he sing-songs.

Dan snorts but watches him go. Left alone, the creeping doubts and worries begin weighing on him. They haven’t defined this, whatever it is, and Dan doesn’t want to be the one to ask. Phil’s older, he reasons, so he should be the one to ask Dan out or whatever. Just the thought of actually seriously dating Phil at all is enough to make him want to throw up with happy nerves, the best possible kind of lovesick butterflies inhabiting his stomach.

Still, as excited as it makes him, Dan doesn’t want to be the one to initiate the awkward “what are we” talk. He’s had his heart broken far too many times over that talk, or at the very least his pride. Another, smaller voice, argues that maybe he shouldn’t consider dating Phil at all. Their friendship is, after all, founded on Phil needing Dan for his photography project. Sure they have lots in common, but Phil has a whole other adult life outside of depressed, failing-law-school little Dan. And as much as Dan wants to believe Phil might actually like him beyond the circumstances of their friendship, he just very seriously doubts it. He might just be in this for the free model and the sex, now that they’ve evidently added that to the mix as well.

He’s thinking that this just reaffirms his reluctance to bring up the status of their relationship to Phil when his thoughts are derailed by Phil barrelling back into the room, hopping up onto the bed and immediately going to straddle Dan’s lap. “My mouth is minty fresh for you now,” he announces proudly.

Dan grins. “Just for me?”

Phil nods, mirroring the smile. “A little kiss?” he asks, holding his hand out and indicating a tiny amount with his fingers.

Rolling his eyes, Dan brings a hand up to massage at Phil’s side. “Don’t you want me to go brush my teeth too?”

To Dan’s surprise, Phil shrugs carelessly. “I honestly don’t mind it, but if you want to, I’ll wait.”

Dan blinks up at him. Phil stares right back, not caving. After several moments pass in their weird staring contest, Dan shrugs. “Alright, come here, then.”

Phil goes eagerly, pressing his lips to Dan’s with an intensity and passion that Dan wasn’t prepared for considering how early it probably is. Processing the time is a mistake, apparently, because as soon as that part of Dan’s brain is functioning, so is the part that reminds him that today is a Wednesday, which means he has class.

Pulling away with a sharp gasp, Dan reaches frantically to the side, searching for his phone in a panic.

“Dan?” Phil asks, his voice concerned.

“My phone- what time is it?” He asks, fumbling around on his- well, Phil’s- nightstand.

Phil shuffles off his lap, giving Dan space to sit up and finally grab his phone. He presses the power button and feels a fresh surge of panic realizing he’s only got half an hour, at best, to get up, change, and make it halfway across town back to campus for his nine o’clock property law lecture.

“I’m so late, fuck, I’m so fucked, god-” Dan rants, climbing out of bed and searching for clothes; his, Phil’s, right now he doesn’t care, he just needs to be dressed and out this door like now. “Fuck! Where are my- jeans, I need jeans. Did I wear jeans? What am I- pajamas, fuck,” Dan’s mumbling to himself under his breath.

“Dan?” Phil asks from where Dan left him on the bed. When Dan glances at him, he looks a little hurt. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, fuck, sorry, Phil. I’ve got class, and I really shouldn’t skip it, but later? We can-” he forces himself to stop there with the reminder that the ball is in Phil’s court right now. Dan clears his throat, glancing away. “Just let me know when you want to work on the photo series again, and we can sort out a time, yeah?”

“Er… Sure, okay,” Phil says slowly, like he doesn’t quite get it. “I think your clothes are still in my washer,” he says, his voice apologetic. “I forgot to switch the load out last night when we… er…” He trails off, and when Dan glances at him, his face is dusted with pink. It’s beautiful- he’s beautiful.

Dan shrugs the thought away. He makes the split-second decision to ignore what transpired the night before, at least until Phil confirms that the feelings Dan’s got are mutual. “Do you think I could borrow something of yours?” he asks, timid.

Phil smiles, a soft twitch of his lips, before nodding and moving to the dresser. “I’ll find you some jeans, but you can pick whatever from my closet,” he instructs, waving Dan towards the open closet door. Dan vaguely remembers whispering complaints to Phil about it the night before, whining about how creepy it was to sleep with the closet door open. Phil had ignored him, obviously.

After barely a minute of searching, Dan pulls out a sort of atrocious sweater, mostly black but with some purple and orange stripes that reminds him vaguely of the nineties. He doesn’t think before he shrugs out of his borrowed shirt, tugging the sweater over his head in its place. By the time he turns around, Phil’s stood there gazing at him with something adoring in his eyes.

“Here you go,” he says, holding out a pair of black jeans. “They’re ripped, just like you like them,” he teases.

Dan grins at him as he pushes his borrowed sweatpants off his legs. “Thanks, mate,” he replies. He tugs the jeans on, surprised that they fit him. Phil gives him a strange look when Dan makes a surprised noise and Dan shrugs. “Your ass is bigger than mine, so I’m just surprised these actually fit me. Flat ass problems,” he says, grinning at the way Phil blushes.

“I- you- I do not,” Phil argues pathetically. “My ass is-”

“Perfect,” Dan grins, unable to help himself, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Phil’s waist. He kisses him deeply, convincing himself he’s got the time to do so. He doesn’t, not really.

“Shut up,” Phil mumbles against his mouth.

“‘S true,” Dan argues. “You’ve got a great ass. Mine isn’t nearly as mouth-watering as yours.” He’s taking the piss, a little, but mostly to cover the fact that he’s had many a wet dream about that plump ass on those long legs of Phil’s.

“Your… Yours is… perfectly adequate, Daniel,” Phil argues between kisses.

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, not even listening. He swipes his tongue across Phil’s lips before forcing himself to step away. “I really need to go.” He can’t keep the guilt out of his voice.

Phil’s face drops, and Dan nearly cries at how disappointed he looks. “Yeah… Okay. I’ll text you later?” He sounds unsure.

Dan nods hurriedly, almost to spite the voice that’s telling him to shut up and not jeopardize their friendship. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later?”

Phil nods. “Alright.” He walks Dan to the door, where he pulls on his shoes hurriedly. Just before Dan turns to leave, Phil darts forward and kisses him again. “Be safe. Learn something new!”

“Alright, Dad,” Dan jokes, rolling his eyes. Phil’s nose crinkles adorably at the endearment. “Bye, Phil.”

“Bye, Dan,” Phil echoes, holding the door as Dan leaves.

Dan doesn’t hear it close until he’s at the end of the hall.

~~~

There’s a subtle shift in Dan’s life after that, or at least the part of his life that’s intertwined with Phil’s. It’s not so obvious at first, just hanging out a bit more often without the constant excuse of Phil’s photo series hanging over their heads.

And then, of course, there’s the sex. That’s rather new, Dan thinks to himself as he goes to let Phil into the flat he shares with three other blokes. They’re busy, out-going types, which is something that Dan is super disgusted by and can in no way relate to. But their frequent absence does have its perks, like now, when Phil wanted to see him and wanted to get out of his own flat. Up until now Dan hasn’t invited him over due to his roommates, but upon Phil’s insistence, he’d caved.

“Hi,” Dan greets when he opens up the front door.

Phil grins, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek. “Hello there,” he says happily. He’s got a backpack slung over his shoulder, which Dan notices as Phil steps past him and further into the flat. “Will there be a grand tour?” He asks with a joking tone.

Dan snorts. He waves Phil ahead of him, into the lounge, which connects to a kitchen. There’s a hallway that cuts between the two common areas, and each of the four bedrooms, plus the shared bathroom, are that way. “This is it,” Dan says with a vague gesture around the room.

Phil takes it all in, as if there’s actually anything to see. “It’s cozy,” he says mildly.

He’s not sure if it’s just the sort of weird mood he’s been in or if that actually bothers Dan, but either way, he frowns. “I mean, I told you it wasn’t much, I don’t know what you expected.” He doesn’t mean to be harsh, but the tone flavors his words without his permission.

There’s a quirk to Phil’s left eyebrow when he looks at Dan. He definitely picked up on Dan’s attitude. “It just doesn’t look like you,” Phil says with a shrug. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Dan.”

Dan nods, looking away. He doesn’t want to fight with him. “RIght.” He nods to the hall. “Bedroom’s this way.”

He’s fully expecting a joke, so when it doesn’t come, he tenses. Something angry and red is poking at his anxiety demon, causing it to stir. He hates that feeling, he really, really does. Trying not to show it, he leads Phil into his room and promptly goes to sit on the bed, leaning back and watching as Phil surveys the new space. If Dan thought he was being observant in the lounge, his attention to detail in this room is tenfold. He studies every poster, every trinket, every key on Dan’s keyboard, as he slowly moves around the room.

They don’t speak for what feels like hours, but eventually, Phil drops his backpack on the floor by the bed and settles in front of Dan with a smile. “This is better,” he announces in a pleased voice.

Dan blinks at him. “What is?” He asks dumbly.

Phil reaches out and tucks his pinky underneath the rip of Dan’s jeans, stroking the skin there softly. “This room. It’s more you.”

“You think?” Dan asks, tilting his head as he considers it.

Phil nods with a smile. “It is, yeah. It’s full of little Dan things. I like it a lot.”

Dan tries, very hard, not to let that go to his head. “Thanks,” he says, unsure of what else to say.

There’s another silence as Phil tucks two more fingers into the rip of Dan’s jeans. It’s not really any sort of sexual searching, just patient, calming touches that go straight to Dan’s heart. Dan’s staring at his leg and Phil’s staring at him, always watching him when he’s at his most vulnerable.

Without a word, Phil pulls his hand away and kicks his shoes off, crawling up the bed to curl himself around Dan’s side. He hums a questioning noise, and Dan just nods mutely, allowing himself to be maneuvered into a cuddle. Dan can breathe easier then, avoiding Phil’s eyes but feeling the comfort of his body wrapped around Dan’s. There’s a warm kiss pressed to the spot just behind Dan’s ear and he lets out a breath.

“How about a nap?” Phil asks on a whisper.

“Are you staying the night?” Dan asks, glancing over at Phil’s backpack.

“I was going to, but if you’d rather I didn’t-” Phil begins.

Dan interrupts him with a shake of his head. “I want you to stay,” he says, voice small. He rolls over in Phil’s arms so they’re facing each other, clutching the front of Phil’s shirt in his hand. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Dan apologizes.

Phil smiles, ducking forward and pressing a soft kiss to Dan’s lips. “It’s alright,” he whispers when he pulls away. He lifts a hand to Dan’s hair, stroking the chocolate waves gently. “Do you actually wanna nap?”

Dan shrugs, feeling a flush on his cheeks at what he thinks is the sound of a suggestion. “I’m not really in the mood for like, sex, if that’s what you’re asking.”

There’s a look of panicked surprise on Phil’s face at this, and he’s quick to shake his head. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just meant, like, we can watch a movie? If you want to do that instead of sleep.”

Chewing his lip, Dan considers this. “I probably won’t be paying a whole lot of attention,” he admits, almost ashamed of his lack of attention span.

Phil smiles. “That’s alright.” He sits up and reaches for his backpack, pulling his laptop out and setting it on the bed. Before opening it, he turns to Dan with a quirked brow. “Are we going anywhere tonight?” he asks.

Dan shakes his head with a snort. “I’m not,” he says, disgusted at the very idea of leaving his warm bed.

“Good,” Phil says with a grin. He stands, immediately tugging his jeans down his legs. Dan isn’t sure if he’s meant to look away, but he doesn’t. He isn’t even particularly interested in a sexual sense, he’s just curious about how Phil looks when he’s getting undressed for bed. Phil looks up at him after tossing his jeans to the floor, and he has a light dusting of pink across his cheekbones when he sees Dan watching. “Quit looking at me,” he whines, climbing back into bed.

Dan turns his head pointedly to stare at Phil. “You’re nice to look at,” he says with a shrug.

Phil rolls his eyes. “You should take yours off too,” he says, poking Dan’s side.

Pulling the cover up, Dan gestures to his sweatpant-clad legs. “I’m already in my pjs, bub.”

“I know that,” Phil says with a sneaky little smirk as he opens his laptop and goes to Netflix. “But I think we ought to match.”

Dan huffs. “What if I get cold, huh?” He asks, quite theoretically, considering his body temperature almost always runs high.

Phil kisses his cheek. “I’ll keep you warm, baby,” he says sweetly.

Dan, embarrassingly, blushes at that. They still hadn’t defined this… whatever it was, so for now Dan only knew that he was quickly catching feelings for Phil. That was dangerous enough without the complication of their involvement for Phil’s photography project, so Dan’s decided that the easiest way to handle this is to ignore it. They can be friends, they can have casual sex, but he can’t even consider what would happen if those feelings turned into something more. His friendship with Phil had become one of the most important parts of his life, and he’d be beyond devastated if he did something, intentional or not, to jeopardize that.

Instead of acting on his instinct to move closer, emotionally and physically, Dan snorts, covering up the racing of his heart. “Shut up,” he says, struggling to keep the fond out of his voice. “Can we watch Avengers?” he asks, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

Phil smiles at him. He types for a moment before turning the screen around, where, sure enough, he’s pulled up the first Avengers movie. He fiddles with the settings on the volume and screen size for a moment before pressing play, snuggling back on the bed. He very unsubtly moves his arm to wrap it around Dan’s shoulders, ignoring Dan’s faux-annoyed huff at the cliche gesture.

“Are you hungry?” Phil asks him in a quiet voice only a few minutes into the film. “I may have brought some popcorn with me,” he admits, shameless.

Dan can’t help but roll his eyes. “Did you bring the kind I like?” he asks, mostly kidding. He’d only mentioned it once or twice, that a certain brand of popcorn tasted better to him, but ever since then he’s noticed that particular brand taking up more space in Phil’s cupboards.

To his surprise, Phil nods. “I did. I even brought that candy you like to pour into the popcorn.”

Hiding a pleased smile against Phil’s chest, Dan huffs. “Will you make the popcorn if I get the drinks sorted?”

Phil kisses his forehead. The gesture warms Dan’s entire face. “Sure,” Phil says easily. He goes to climb out of the bed, then stops suddenly, staring down at his bare legs. “Would your roommates be particularly offended by a half-naked man in your kitchen?” He sounds only partially concerned.

Dan grins, pulling Phil towards the door. “They’ll get over it if they are.”

~~~

They don’t have sex that time. Looking back on it, Dan thinks that’s an important thing to remember about the first time he invited Phil into his home. Whether it was because he could just tell that Dan was having a bad day, or maybe just not in the mood himself, Phil doesn’t initiate anything sexual, not even when they’re curled around each other watching stupid YouTube videos at two in the morning. Instead, he just holds Dan, and allows him to be.

Dan thinks about that a lot, later, after everything falls apart.

~~~

#phanfiction #phanfic #photographer!phil #student!dan #model!dan (sort of)#friends to lovers #best friends #miscommunication #angst #fluff #smut #break up #getting back together #photography fic #take a picture (it'll last longer)#tapill #part 1

20 notes · View notes

mdawritings · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 5

I.V

Masterlist

Content warning: smut, daddy kink... you've been warned

"You almost ready, Einstein?" Katie calls from the other side of the door. You hurriedly slather on another layer of concealer on the fading bruise on your neck. It’s still pretty god awful after your meeting with Hotch yesterday. The deep purple splotch is the only one visible because it’s right smack under your jawline. It’s been hell trying to hide it from Katie. If she saw it, she would inevitably get curious and since you spend almost every moment together, you couldn’t simply lie and tell her that you had hooked up with someone randomly yesterday.

"We’re going to be late! You’re just asking for the sexy professor to yell at you!" She teases and knocks again on your door. You roll your eyes at the nickname for Hotch and scramble to pick out some clothes.

"I’m coming, just one more minute!" You glance over yourself in the mirror. You smooth out your skirt. It’s the only other skirt you own and it’s definitely not daytime appropriate. It’s a matte black fake leather skirt. Turns out, you did indeed rip the seams in your skirt the other day when you were busy on your knees. You hurriedly pull on some sheer black tights, tuck your shirt into the skirt and slip on your boots.

"Y/n, I swear to god-" Just as Katie is about to yell at you again you swing the door open, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"No more yelling. I’m ready," You shake your head at her and move around her in the door frame.

"You look… nicer than usual," Katie teases and hands you a to-go cup of coffee. "Dressing up for someone special?

Your heart picks up in pace, thinking about how Hotch will react to your attempt to dress up for him. It worries you, how desperate you are to impress him. It’s not out of character for you to seek validation from respected figures, but you’ve never been one to seek validation through looks or appearance. That’s not to say you’re not good-looking, because you know you are. But you don’t pride yourself on being the hottest, most attention-grabbing woman in a room.

Just over two weeks ago, you were hoping for attention from Professor Hotchner, but not this kind of attention. You want him to shower you with compliments in relation to your hard work, your intellect, your drive. You want to know you’re the star student. It’s obvious, you’re the smartest student in the class. He’s made that clear to you. But he holds you to such a high standard. It’s as if your work will never be good enough for him. That would normally anger you, but this new, more personal kind of attention has distracted you from the intense standards he has for you. You love that he can’t get enough of you. He can’t keep his hands off of you.

Sleeping with your professor was never something you necessarily dreamed about or fantasized. You had exes try and role play with you but it never really turned you on. This new fling with Hotch has made you truly understand the appeal.

The idea that he can’t resist you. He’s so into you he has to have you. The stolen glances in class. He’s risking everything. His career, his job, his standing as a professor, all just to sleep with you. Just to have you. That’s how irresistible you are to him. And damn, that makes you feel good about yourself. But it feels as if you’ve sacrificed your need for respect for unbridled, animalistic passion.

"Huh?" You glance over at Katie, realizing you’ve ignored her question, losing yourself in your thoughts of Hotch, "No. No one special."

"Not even Charlie?" She smirks over at you, smiling behind her coffee cup like a giddy school girl.

You feel your face growing hot, "Charlie? No, I’m… I’m over that."

"Over that?" Katie stops in her tracks and latches a hand onto your arm, "When were you ever," She pauses, "On that?"

You laugh at her word choice and shake your head, "He’s cute! And really sweet to me and smart and we have really good conversations and—"

"So then why are you ‘over that’! He’s always finding ways to touch you casually," Katie throws an arm around your shoulders, imitating Charlie. You roll your eyes. If only she knew about your extracurricular activities with a certain ‘sexy professor.’

"I don’t know." You shake your head, "He’s just so… So unfocused. Don’t get me wrong, he’s smart, he really is. But I need someone driven like me. I need someone who understands my mind." Katie rolls her eyes and lets out a small scoff at you.

"I’m not saying you have to marry the dude, but you have an opportunity for a very," She wags her eyebrows as you open the door to the lecture hall, "Very fun time in bed with him."

You laugh boisterously at Katie as you step into the classroom. The class is loud, every student talking and socializing with those around you. Your eyes land on Hotch. He’s leaning against the whiteboard at the front. You swear you can see his eyes widen as they run up and down your figure. You give a smirk and turn your attention back to Katie.

"If you like him so much, you can sleep with him," You put your stuff down by a seat at the front. Katie takes the seat next to you like always.

Something about knowing you’ve caught Hotch’s attention is empowering you. You’re feeling bold. You keep your focus on Katie as she rambles on about your social activities. "This isn’t about me. This is about you, Einstein. And you? You need to get laid. I’m sure that Charlie would be more than willing to be that man for you."

"Katie!" You scold her and shove her arm playfully. You glance around to make sure that Charlie hasn’t heard any part of your conversation. He glances up from his friend to give you a small wink and a wave. As you take your seat, you bring your eyes back to Hotch. His brows have furrowed, his arms crossed against his chest. You give him another smirk and lean back in your chair, parting your legs just enough that it’s clear your actions aren’t innocent.

He clears his throat, "Alright everyone, quiet down. Time to get started." His eyes flick back to you. He gives you a glare that says ‘behave’ but you simply lean back a little more in your chair, parting your legs just enough to draw his attention. You see his line of sight travel down and you swear you hear him stumble over a word or two as he starts today's lecture.

——————————

Hotch has never been much of a fan of teasing. He likes to be in control. And looking at the way you’ve parted your legs, the black leather tightly clinging to your skin, and the devious sparkle in your eyes, he knows exactly what you’re attempting to do, and he’s not amused.

A mix of frustration, irritation, and desire bubbles inside of him with every passing minute he looks at you. He tears his eyes away from your velvety figure, pushing his attention onto the 50 other students in the class. He tries his best to hide the growing heat in his body but he practically lets out a groan when he looks back over to see the way that you’re pressing the end of your pen to your plump lower lip.

Hotch stumbles over his words for a second, seeing that damnable smirk of yours quickly growing as he does. There’s only one word he can think best describes you right now: wicked. Your whole demeanor, your outfit, it all reminds him just how much he hates being teased. He wants to grab you by the front of your shirt and take you over his knee, show you just how much he won’t tolerate such wicked behavior. He hates that he’s let you affect him, have some sense of power over him.

Just as he’s regaining his composure, you lean a little forward, flashing your cleavage in his direction. "Miss Y/L/N," He has to avert his eyes from you, not sure how he could possibly hold himself together while you look like that, "You mind giving a small summary of the facts of the case I’ve just discussed and its importance in the context of the history of criminal law and the state of the country at the time of the court’s decision."

"Oh not at all," You pause, "Sir." You give a small nod. He’s hoping to trip you up. Hopefully, you’ve been so distracted by your cunning little charade that you haven’t paid attention to his lecture. He’s hoping to regain some sense of power back. If he can remind you just how quickly he can embarrass you, he’ll feel less powerless.

To his surprise, however, you begin reciting an eloquent and complete response to his questioning. He mentally curses you. He’s not sure why he expected anything less from you. His mistake is underestimating just how powerful your mind is. You’re utterly intolerable. A wicked mind and a wicked little body. How is he supposed to remain composed?

"Was that enough? To your satisfaction, Sir? Or shall I go on longer?" That knowing little smirk hasn’t left your face and Hotch shakes his head.

"Good enough, Miss Y/L/N," It feels like the glow of his cheeks and the lustful look in his eyes will give him away to the rest of the lecture hall. He’s almost positive that every student can sense exactly what’s going on and that simply cannot stand. "Try to wipe that blank look off your face and at least pretend to be engaged in the lecture." He scoffs before forcing his attention back to the prepared lecture.

You don’t pull any more stunts the rest of class but just your appearance is enough to drive him wild. His head feels as if it's in a haze. Hotch isn’t even really quite sure how he manages to get through the lecture. He decides to dismiss everyone a few minutes early but he can’t let you get away with such utterly unacceptable behavior.

"Miss Y/L/N," Hotch calls from the front of the room as the entire class begins to pack up and file out. He gives a small gesture of his fingers to tell you to come to the front before pointing down at the ground.

Katie gives you a confused look and Hotch sees you mumble something to her as she glances between the two of you, hesitating a little before finally leaving

————————

You’re not sure whether or not to be terrified or proud. It’s clear your actions have gotten your professor’s attention. It’s also clear that he’s frustrated and/or upset. You gather up your books and throw your bag over your shoulder, making your way over to Hotch’s desk.

His eyes dart around the classroom as the last few students file their way out the door. In a blink, his hand grabs at the front of your shirt, yanking you close to him, "What the hell was all of that?"

You smirk. As soon as he grabs your shirt, you know he’s not actually angry with you. "Have I done something wrong, professor?" You glance up at him. Your tone is innocent but your body language tells a different story. You press your pillowy breasts into his chest and place your hands on his shoulders, attempting to brace yourself.

"I can’t wait a full week to see you," He mutters under his breath. You feel his hands ghosting over your body. He wants to touch you. His hands are itching to feel your skin, to take your warm skin in his hands. He wants to feel your lips moving with his. You want his touch. The feeling of his rough hands running over your body. "Come with me to my office now," You hear an almost pleading tone in his voice.

You smirk, his lips inching closer to yours every second, "I have plans. Sorry."

A low groan erupts from his throat but he tears himself away from your tempting, enchanting form. You feel him slide something small into the palm of your hand and you glance down at it, his messy scrawl is a series of numbers.

He walks around to grab his briefcase, packing up the classroom, "It’s my number."

You’re a bit confused, assuming that your interactions wouldn’t be more than just the weekly meetings and every day in class. He’s not some schoolboy crush that you’re going to call on a Friday night, sitting on your bed, your feet in the air, giggling and laughing to yourself over the phone with him, arguing about who will hang up first. He’s a man. A much older one at that. He’s over 10 years older than you. This isn’t a silly little flirtation. It’s rough, it’s messy. It’s purely physical and animalistic.

When Hotch looks up at you, he can sense the confusion in your expression at the gesture, "I’m not saying we’re going to talk on the phone each night but you know… just in case I have to get in contact with you."

You almost laugh at the diplomatic way he’s going about this, "Right. Well, I’ll put the number in my phone in case of an emergency." Now your word choice brings you to the brink of laughter.

In case of an emergency? What kind of emergency? An emergency booty call?

You turn away from him with a small nod and walk towards the door but he calls out stopping you, "Miss Y/LN,"

You turn back and Hotch stands at the desk, running his eyes languidly down your figure, taking it all in one last time, "Pull a stunt like that again and you’ll be sorry." He quirks a brow in disapproval.

"It won’t happen again, sir," You grin.

"And wipe that smirk off your face," He rolls his eyes. You press your lips tightly together, struggling to hide your pride as you leave the classroom.

You meet Katie outside the lecture hall. She stands up straight, pulling away from the wall she was leaning against. Just as you open your mouth to explain to her you feel an arm swing around your shoulder, pulling you close to a warm body.

"You get in trouble again, Einstein?" You’re pressed close to Charlie and you can feel his voice rumbling in his chest as he speaks.

"You know actually," You turn his arms to look up at him. He keeps his arm wrapped around you, holding you close so that when you turn, your chest presses against his. Your face is much closer to his than expected, "It’s none of your business."

Charlie glances down at you, a boyish smirk plastered across his face, "I like the new look," He grins and looks over your outfit. Katie lets out a small laugh and shakes her head at the two of you.

"Don’t be creepy, Charlie." She walks closer to the two of you.

"I’m not! I’m being genuine, I think you look really nice, Y/N," Charlie lets you go but wraps his free arm around Katie’s shoulder, bringing her in close to him as well. You laugh at the image of the three of you, Charlie’s arms around each of you, all laughing animatedly.

"Mr. Miller, I don’t mean to interrupt such an utterly enthralling conversation, but I do need to get to my office at some point." When you turn around you see Hotch standing in the doorway, that you, Katie, and Charlie have managed to block. His head is tilted slightly down as he scours at the three of you. Well, there goes his good mood.

"Sorry, sir," Charlie’s voice is soft and small as he releases his grip on Katie so she can move to the right, but keeps an arm wrapped around you, pulling you to the left so that you all move out of Professor Hotchner’s way.

You feel Hotch’s eyes linger on you for a second before he goes storming down the hallways to his office.

"I swear to god that man is the devil spawn," He shakes his head, twirling a ring around his finger.

"He’s not that bad," You roll your eyes, pulling your bag up on your shoulder.

"Not that bad? Einstein, I’m pretty sure he hates you more than me if that’s even possible." Charlie teases, dragging you down the hallway with him and out into the cold outdoors.

You shake your head with a laugh and lean into Charlie’s arms out in the cold, Katie trailing close behind you, "It’s fine. I can take it."

"So what are our plans for tonight, ladies?" Charlie glances back at Katie behind the two of you who simply responds with a little shake of her head.

"Our plans," Katie pulls you out of Charlie’s grip and you laugh, feeling a rag doll being pulled between the two of them, "Are to watch a movie and get drunk in our apartment."

"Sounds like fun," He grins.

"Aw too bad you’re not invited," Katie gives him a small little pouty face.

"I never agreed to getting drunk," You shake your head, "It’s a Thursday and we have class tomorrow. How do you expect me to get through the day if I’m hungover?"

"God you know sometimes you can be such a buzzkill, Einstein."

"Do you ever stop to think that maybe I’m so much younger and smarter and more successful than you two because I work hard?" Your words might seem harsh but it’s just how you interact with your friends. You all tease each other, make fun of one another.

"Yeah, yeah we know, high IQ, blah blah blah, you’re basically a kid genius," Charlie rolls his eyes.

"Well, kid genius," Katie chuckles, "Could you just humor me? One or two drinks?"

"The things I do for you."

————————

Katie was not joking when she said she was planning on getting drunk because she’s already finished off a bottle of wine herself and you’re barely halfway through the movie you two are watching together.

Your phone buzzes on the couch and you reach for it, flipping it open to see a text from Hotch. You furrow your brows slightly and read the message.

What are you doing tonight?

You bite your lip at the message, taking a second to glance over at Katie, whose eyes are glued to the tv screen.

Drinking, watching a movie. You?

The texting feels unnatural. Again, he’s your professor, not some cute 20-something-year-old boy that you casually text on a Thursday night.

Isn’t drinking alcohol illegal at your age?

You roll your eyes at his response. He has so flagrantly demonstrated a lack of respect for rules, aka, not sleeping with students.

Contrary to what you might think of me, I don’t always follow the rules

His responses are rapid. What happened to getting his number in case of emergencies?

I think I prefer you when you listen to instructions.

Where’s the fun in that?

There’s a long pause in which he stops replying. You let out a breath and turn your attention back to Katie, whose eyes are starting to droop closed, the wine bottle tightly wrapped in her clutches.

You reach across her body and pull the bottle away, "Okay drunk-o, time for bed for you. And time to drink some water," Katie lets out a small groan and rolls over on the couch a little. You grab the empty bottles and cans, carrying them to the kitchen to recycle them.

"Einstein!" Katie’s shrill, wine-soaked voice rings throughout the apartment.

"One second, K," You call back, dropping everything into the recycling.

"Who the fuck is A.H. and why is he texting you?" Your heart sinks into your stomach. You let the last few cans clatter into the bin with an aggressive clang before rushing into the living room to snatch the phone out of Katie’s hands.

"Do you have a secret admirer?" Katie wags her brows at you.

"No. You’re drunk. Go to bed." You point at her bedroom like a disapproving mother.

"No, I can’t let you clean everything up by yourself." She stands up, swaying a little as she does. She reaches down for an empty glass but you’re quick to scoop it out of her hand.

"Please just go to bed." You laugh a little, still clutching your phone tightly against your chest, out of her reach.

Katie grumbles out a ‘fine’ before turning and disappearing into her room.

You finally get a chance to steal a look at your texts.

I’m still at work. Meet me at my office. Now.

——————

You teeter back and forth on your toes, waiting outside Hotch’s office. You glance down at your phone again, checking the time. Hotch texted you nearly an hour ago. It’s only been one week and Hotch is already switching up your agreement. You’re not upset about it, you’re actually excited to see him more. You do wonder, whether or not this infatuation he has with you will soon fade. Will he get bored of you? Will he realize that the initial attraction was all physical, nothing more than a few slip-ups? You know there’s more to you than just appearances, but does he know that?

You let out a long drawn-out breath, flipping open your phone to look at the time again. If he wasn’t going to show, he should’ve let you know. You take one step away from the office door when Hotch catches your arm to stop you. You let out a small gasp in shock.

"Going somewhere?" Your eyes snap up to his and there’s a hint of a smile playing on his mouth, "You’re not going to bail on me, are you?"

"Me?" You shake your head, "You texted me nearly an hour ago! I’ve been waiting for you."

Hotch sighs and reaches for the key to unlock his office door, leading you inside, his grip still firm on your upper arm. In an instant, Hotch whirls you around, pressing you back against the door, trapping you between it and his body.

"Do you know how impossible it is to be around you all day without touching you?" He inches in closer to you and you can feel his hot breath fan across your face. His lips gently brush against yours. You instinctively lean your head up, wanting to press your lips against his fully. "That little stunt you pulled today?"

Your breathing stutters as his hands roam your whole body, squeezing. Your hot flesh in his hands is pliable and you melt under his touch. "You liked it," You pant out.

His hand comes up to your neck, wrapping around it tightly. He forces your face up so you look at him and he slams your head back against the door, "Don’t be so fucking snippy with me." He growls and yanks you by the neck to press his lips to yours. His mouth is hot and needy. The kiss lasts a long time, one hand still firmly wrapped around your neck, the other tangling in your hair at the base of your neck.

He kisses underneath your jaw before hooking his hands up under your legs and lifting you off the ground. You cling to him tightly, hoping he doesn’t drop you. He slams your back against the wall and you let out a small gasp, both out of pleasure and excitement. "This is what you wanted, right?"

You’re panting heavily already and he’s barely touched you, your skin on fire. "Mhm," You manage to moan out. You’re amazed at how Hotch is still managing to hold you up against the wall. You gasp out as he presses hard against you, spreading your legs widely, pushing up your skirt so it bunches around your hips.

His head buries into your neck, kissing and nipping gently. Both of his hands move to cup your breasts, his palms filling with your warm skin. You let out a loud moan at the touch and Hotch chuckles under his breath at the sound. You grip his shoulders tightly and only manage a small whimper as you clench your thighs together.

Hotch brings his mouth up to meet yours once again, hungrily devouring your moans. You want to tangle your fingers in his hair and tug at it. You want to cup his cheeks and hold him close. He presses even closer to you, leaving no space between his body and yours.

"I can’t stop thinking about this," Hotch groans, pushing your shirt open more, now only holding you up with one arm. You can see the muscles in his arms rippling, the veins protruding. He tugs aside your bra and palms your breast, his rough hands on your velvety skin. He rubs your nipple between his fingers, "Your mouth, your body, us together."

You rock against him, pressing the hardness in his pants against you, eliciting a loud moan from you and a small growl from him at the pleasure you send radiating through him.

Your hands drop to start to undo his belt. He pulls you away from the wall spinning you around to place you on the edge of his desk. You push the fabric of his slacks down and stroke his warm skin. He hisses and grits his teeth in response, pulling away from your kiss to throw his head back.

"Be careful," You smirk, "Someone might hear us, professor."

"Let them." He shakes his head. Hotch’s eyes snap back down to yours and he doesn’t care about anything but pleasuring you. He pulls your mouth back against his and he feels himself consumed by your scent. He reaches down, gripping your thighs in his hands, placing your feet on the edge of the desk, parting your legs wide, all for him.

You slide closer, rubbing yourself against him. You need him. You want him and you’re so fucking tired of waiting. His hand trails between your bodies, rubbing you slowly, dipping just one finger into you, thrusting it ever so slowly.

"Please," You whine and as you throw your head back, Hotch’s mouth clinging to your throat, sucking and biting, kissing over the fading marks from your last rendezvous.

"Please what?" He grumbles against your neck.

"Fuck me," You can barely get the words out before he lifts you up, flips you over onto your stomach and thrusts up into you, in one motion. He thrusts hard and deep and you let out a moan, louder than anything.

Your body moves with his, your hips going back slightly to meet his every thrust. He fills you in just the perfect way and you’re panting and chanting his name, "God yes, sir, just like that."

He reaches around to grab both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back. "You wanted me to do this. To get angry. To take you. Show you, you’re mine, right?"

You struggle to let out a throaty ‘mhm’ in agreement. He keeps your wrists pinned with one hand and grabs your hair, yanking you up.

"That’s why you put on that little show today, right?" He growls close to your ear. You grind your hips back against his, "Use. Your. Words." He demands. He yanks on your hair a little tighter, in an attempt to remind you who has the dominant position.

"Yes!" You whine out, "This is what I wanted!"

"Good girl," His voice has a malicious tone, but not in a way that scares you. It excites you. He’s rough. He’s wild. He’s uncontrollable. And you’re the one who makes him feel that way. That’s powerful.

You arch back, your chest pressing against the wood on his desk. Hotch keeps your wrists pinned tightly behind your back as he pounds into you relentlessly. He bottoms out with every thrust, which leaves you struggling to cry out with pleasure. You cry out senselessly, every muscle in your body trembling, "Fuck daddy!" The words tumble out of your mouth and you barely take notice of them, your eyes rolling back in your head as you do.

"Did you just call me daddy?" Hotch releases your wrists to bend down and grab your neck. He wraps a large hand almost entirely around the base of your throat and yanks you up, your back pressed fully against him.

"Sorry," You attempt to moan out as Hotch continues to fuck you harder.

"Don’t apologize, pretty girl," He groans against your ear, "Say it again."

"Fuck, daddy!" The pace increases into something animalistic. Your body is shaking wildly at this point and you feel the pleasure building steadily, surging through you with every thrust. You feel his grip on your wrists loosening as his palms grow sweatier.

It’s not long before you’re tightening around him, desperately wishing for something to grab onto. You’re squirming under his touch, the pleasure almost too much as he barrels into you. You come hard and fast and he continues to fuck you through it, yanking you up against him again, a hand wrapped tightly around your throat.

He thrusts into you a few more times and you’re practically crying out in response, your eyes watering, tears running down your cheeks at the overstimulation. He soon comes to a halt, shuddering and groaning, throwing his head back as he releases into you. He lets you down back onto the desk gently, your overheated damp skin contrasting against the cold, smooth wood.

You lie there a second, attempting to catch your breath and steady your heart rate. You feel Hotch press a small tender kiss along your shoulder blades and spine and it’s oddly comforting. "That’s it pretty girl." He says against your skin. He helps you sit up, "I knew you could take it."

You wipe your face, attempting to clean any smudged makeup but you know you must look a mess. Your eyes are glossy and your face is flushed. Your hair is a knotted mess from where he’s tangled his fingers into it. You right yourself, fixing your skirt, tucking your shirt back in.

There’s a long drawn-out moment of silence where you glance at Hotch awkwardly, not sure what you would say to him now. It’s odd how you two are so intimately equated with each others’ bodies but you feel flustered just speaking to him. "I guess I’ll… head home." You smile softly.

You start towards the door but Hotch stops you, "You shouldn’t-" He sighs and grabs his briefcase from the desk, "You shouldn’t walk home alone. It’s dark outside."

"I live just one or two blocks from campus, I should be fine," You shrug, "Plus I’m sure you want to get home. You’ve been working all day."

Hotch rolls his eyes and practically pushes you out of his office as he shuts the lights and locks up, "Stop being so stubborn and just let me walk you home."

You simply shut your mouth and nod, knowing there’s no point in arguing with him over this. You walk out of the building, Hotch walking alongside you.You wrap your arms around yourself as you step out into the cold, a small shiver running through you.

"You should’ve brought a jacket," Hotch nods slightly at your shivering.

"I didn’t really think to grab one when I was rushing out the door," You tease. Hotch smiles in response and the conversation comes to a lull as you both walk alongside one another. You glance down for a second to see Hotch rubbing his fingers together at his side. It’s something you’ve seen him do a few times, whether it’s while he’s lecturing or when he's focused or when he’s reading. "You do that a lot." You uncross one of your arms to point down at his hands. "That thing with your fingers. You rub them together."

He glances down at his hands and gives a small shrug of his shoulders, "It’s just something I do, I guess."

"It’s how I know you’re really focused on something," You nod letting silence take over once again. You try to focus on the sound of your shoes on the pavement or steadying your breathing. Your heart is beating fast. It always is around Hotch.

"That’s good," Hotch speaks suddenly. It’s as if he was having a conversation with himself before speaking out loud, "Being observant. It’s a good quality for a lawyer."

"How so?" You glance over at him, eyes trailing over every single facial feature. You smile at the way the cold air has given his cheeks a slight pink tinge. The wind tousles the little hairs at the top of his head.

"Being able to observe and understand your opponent’s behavior. The jury’s behavior," He nods, "you need to know what flusters people, what trips them up. You need to know their tells, their weaknesses, their strengths. If you can understand and observe the behavior of all the people in that courtroom… you have full control over them."

"So by analyzing behaviors… you gain some sense of how to control people," You nod, reciting back to him. There’s a pause in conversation again. "Do you know my behaviors?"

A wide smirk starts to spread across Hotch’s face, "Yes. I know when you’re angry, or when you’re focused. I can tell when you’re…" He trails and glances down your figure, "Excited. I know what makes you feel good."

You feel the heat rising up your neck and into your face. Suddenly the cold air isn’t as biting anymore. "Care to share any of these behaviors of mine?"

"I’m pretty sure you said it yourself earlier… something along the lines of ‘where’s the fun in that?" He laughs and you give his arm a nudge.

Another pause. You’re nearly a block from your apartment, do you just give up and resign yourself to silence?

"What’s your favorite color?" You blurt out and turn to look at him.

"My favorite… what?" He laughs and shoves his hands deeper into his pants pockets, "Are you serious?"

"Fine, nevermind." You shrug, "I’m just trying to get to know you."

"By asking about my favorite color?" There’s a judgmental tone to his voice but when you look over his face, that small hint of a grin lingers.

"I said nevermind," You stop in place and nod up at your apartment building. "Well… this is my stop." You joke. You feel a strong urge to stick your hand out to shake his which would be incredibly awkward, but you’re not sure what kind of send-off is appropriate. A goodnight kiss is simply far too intimate and a hug is too friendly. You settle for an uncomfortable nod and tight-lipped smile, "Good night Hotch."

"Aaron," He nods, "You can call me Aaron."

Your cheeks ache from smiling so hard. You give one last look before walking up the steps to the front door of your building.

"Hey, Einstein," Aaron calls out and you freeze in your place a little. Something about hearing that nickname come out of his mouth is incredibly endearing. You turn to him, "Blue."

"What?" You furrow your brows at his words.

"My favorite color. It’s blue." He smiles. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, suppressing your smile.

"Good night, Aaron," You repeat and open your door.

"Good night, Einstein."

Chapter 6: I.VI →

#aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch #hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotcher x y/n #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #wanna be yours fanfic

38 notes · View notes

come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years

Text

Characters: Oikawa Tooru/Sakusa Kiyoomi/Miya Osamu

Request: Hi! Do you think you can make headcanons for Oikawa, Sakusa and osamu, with an s/o thats a medical student? 🙏🏻😳

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 1.9K (~600 a piece)

Notes: I’m v v v sorry for the recent lack of updates! I’m moving back to uni on Tuesday and I didn’t plan accordingly and get fics lined up >.<

Oikawa Tooru

The most supportive bean oml he’s so cute

It’s definitely not easy considering he’s in Argentina, but he does his best to check up on you whenever he can. You have a tendency to over-work yourself while studying, so someone needs to remind you to take a break and get some rest dumbass literally doesn’t take his own advice smh

You should hear him when he’s talking to his team about you. “Oh, you mean Y/N? My DOCTOR s/o? Yeah, that’s right. I’m dating a doctor.” You aren’t even a doctor yet, but he’s going to tell everyone he knows that his s/o is a ✨doctor✨

He can’t really help you study because of the distance, but if you ever need to vent to him about classes or your residency, boy is there. He is listening intently while you spill all the tea! Oikawa likes the drama, what can he say? It’s like his personal soap opera.

Oikawa takes so many screenshots while you video chat. You’re probably going over notes or working on homework and he’s just collecting all the photos.

He’s going to post them on his instagram later, captioning it with something like, “yeah, your s/o may be great, but are they a doctor? lol didn’t think so 😜” and you’ll have to comment “Tooru, I’m not a doctor yet.”

But, Tooru literally does not care. He can’t get over the fact that you’re so?? Smart?? You could be telling him about something you learned in class that day and he’ll be nodding along, like he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but to be honest?

He doesn’t know what the hell you’re talking about. You keep using these big words and he’s just “?????”

Oh, but he learns, because he’s a good boyfriend for sure. He has sticky notes all over his apartment with random medical words that he’s heard you say. It’s low-key just to impress you, but also Oikawa really does care about what you’re talking about and he wants to be able to follow the conversation better.

Boy learns his new vocabulary words in Japanese and Spanish to further impress you and because he knows that you find it really hot when he speaks Spanish.

Brb cackling at the idea of oikawa just spewing a random Spanish diagnosis in your ear during sex because he can’t remember how to say what he wants to tell you

Everytime you reach a milestone in your med school career? He’s bragging so much. You’d think that he was the one who made the dean’s list or that he was the one who finished the classroom section and was moving onto their residency.

He’s honestly just so proud of you and wants to show you off, because you’re just so driven and passionate about everything you do. It’s a big reason why he fell in love with you in the first place.

Peep him cheering the loudest when you finally complete your residency. Stand right there. He wants to take pictures of his s/o looking fine as hell in their white coat with their MD, so he can brag to everyone he meets that his s/o is officially a doctor

The proud smile on his face when you’ve finally done it? Irreplaceable. He’s been your biggest supporter through this whole thing. To him, watching you do this is as amazing as doing it himself.

He’s going to frame your degree and hang it up right by the door of the apartment when you two move in together. Just a gentle reminder that he’s dating a doctor, no big deal.

You could try to tell him that you’re proud of him for following his dreams and making it to the big leagues and he’s just, “yeah, but who graduated medical school 🤗”

AWWW WAIT

If you open up your own practice one day ;-; this baby is just beaming with pride, taking all the pictures and all of the videos as you cut the ribbon to announce the opening

Marry him. Marry him or I will.

Sakusa Kiyoomi

You probably complained once about the workload, saying that it was so much harder than you ever anticipated, and this son of a bitch would just scoff like, “It can’t be that difficult.”

But, it’s that difficult and you let him figure that out. You handed him a stack of your assignments and said, “If it’s so easy, you do it.”

Insert Sakusa Kiyoomi hunched over the table for three hours, just staring at the page, occasionally flipping through your textbook and medical dictionary as if either of those things would help him.

He literally handed you back a blank paper and didn’t say a word.

Honestly, he has no idea how to help you study, but he’ll try his best. If you hand him a study guide or a stack of flash cards, he’ll sit on the couch with you and quiz you until you know each and every one better than you know yourself.

He’s not exactly going out of his way to learn about medicine so that he can better converse with you, but he does pick up on a few things

Kiyoomi’s gotten pretty good at breaking down the medical terms from long hours of helping you study. He has a decent understanding of what some of the roots and suffixes mean, so when you start talking about something from school, he can usually at least pin down some of the information

Sakusa is going to use your career path to his advantage though. He wants to know what disinfectants they're using at the hospital and can you get him some?

He’s already pretty private about his personal life, especially when it comes to his relationship with you, so outside of his small friend group, he hasn’t told many people that you’re a med student.

This doesn’t make him any less proud though. He’s just more quiet about it. But, he’ll celebrate all of the little accomplishments right there with you, texting you right before you take a big test to wish you luck and taking you out for ice cream or a nice dinner when you get your results

If he gets a long break at practice, he’ll go take you lunch, just so he knows that you’re taking care of yourself properly.

MASK SELFIES

You stay up really late trying to memorize the proper treatments and where to make incisions and things like that, so if Kiyoomi doesn’t ask you to come to bed, it’s very possible that you just won’t? And he’s learned that the hard way.

Right before your finals you told him, “Yeah, I’m just going to study for another hour or so and then I’ll head to bed.”

He literally found you asleep at the kitchen table, your notecards all over the floor because you knocked them off at some point in the night

But, Sakusa is a good boyfriend so he’ll make you breakfast and some tea or coffee to help you start your day.

Speaking of coffee and tea. He’s limiting your caffeine intake :) oh, you want a cup of coffee/tea at 9 pm? “That shit better be decaf.” it’s literally just so you can sleep. Once 5 pm hits, he doesn’t let you have caffeine, but it’d be bogus if he sat next to you with a cup of tea, so he also doesn’t have caffeine in the evenings.

He’s definitely the type to show you that he cares more so than actually tell you how much he loves you

Miya Osamu

Superior twin

This is a joke i love both miya boys equally, even if atsumu does have piss hair

N E WAY. Osamu has no fucking clue what you’re talking about 90% of the time and I hate to break it to you, but-

He’s not going to take the time to learn like the others. He may stop you to ask questions, but that’s really it.

It’s not like he doesn’t care though! Osamu really loves that you’re following your passions. He just knows that even if you do explain it to him, he’s probably going to get lost in all of the logistics.

Most of the time, you’ll just see him nodding along with what you’re saying, popping in with a question or a comment every now and then. While he may not understand what you’re saying, he does take some interest in it.

He’ll ask you things about the medical equipment in your bag. Like, how does the blood pressure cuff work? Have you ever given yourself stitches? If he were to cut his hand chopping ingredients, could you fix it right here in the kitchen or would you still take him to the hospital? Can you really hear his heartbeat with those weird headphone things? It’s called a stethoscope ‘samu smh

Osamu is the king of making sure that you take good care of yourself. This man? Oh, he’s packing you a lunch every single day you have to go to class.

Better yet? If you come down to Onigiri Miya between classes, he’s going to pile your plate full of food and then he’s got a to-go container with more, just in case you get hungry. He has your favorite drink stocked so it’s there whenever you come by.

He won’t sit with you, because he’s usually pretty busy, but he will let you sit at the counter so he can talk to you while he prepares more onigiri.

‘Samu always asks how your day went. It’s the first thing out of his mouth whenever he sees you after your classes.

If you guys get done around the same time, he’ll meet you at your university to walk home with you.

He makes sure that you drink plenty of water. He’s like a waiter, I swear. Osamu will walk past you like every 20 minutes just to make sure that you have enough water and if he sees that you haven’t been drinking your water-

Prepare for a lecture on the importance of hydration as if you don’t already know that??

“‘Samu, I’ve had five glasses of water. I’m not thirsty.”

“You need to stay hydrated!”

He’ll try to help you study if you ask, but it usually ends up with you laughing as he tries to pronounce some medical term. He’ll toss the flashcard to the side and just huff, “That’s probably not going to be on the test.”

Like Sakusa, he’s pretty reserved when it comes to talking about his personal life, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have a picture of the two of you on your graduation day hanging up in Onigiri Miya.

He’s not going to say anything about it first though, but if someone asks? He can gush about you for a good ten minutes while his patrons smile and nod. Telling them how proud he is that his incredible s/o graduated from medical school with flying colors, explaining what field you’re in and what that means he’s literally just repeating what you told him once oops

319 notes · View notes

jess-rewatches-prodigalson · 3 years

Text

You Can Run... (S2, E11)

My time-stamped thoughts for this episode are below. As always I reference Malcolm’s mental health. A lot. So if that’s going to be a trigger for you, don’t keep reading.

SPOILERS AHEAD:

0:03 - Baby!Malcolm and baby!Ainsley playing together is so cute. <3

0:05 - Malcolm is playing with Batman (the hero) and Ainsley is playing with the Joker (the villain). But Ainsley wants to play with Batman. Coincidence? Foreshadowing? I’m torn.

0:20 - ....I can’t tell if this is regular “kid fake crying to get sibling in trouble”, “bad fake crying because kid actors are still just kids who are learning”, or “Ainsley is a psychopath and she’s never been able to cry properly fake crying”.

0:50 - “I’d much rather stay at home with my favourite guy.” UgH. Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep. No wonder Malcolm has so many Daddy issues. This broke my heart. Malcolm clearly idolized Martin. Martin was his hero. :(

1:35 - “Where are you? Talk to me.” This hurts because it makes sense. Malcolm’s one constant in life was his father’s voice. For better or for worse. It reminds me of anxiety disorders/depression. Part of you doesn’t want to heal. You don’t know what to do without the pain and fear. You don’t know who you’d be. The unknown is scarier than the pain and misery. That’s Malcolm right now. He knows Martin is bad for his mental health but he’s afraid to lose Martin because without Martin’s voice Malcolm has no idea who he is.

1:55 - I can’t decide if I love or hate Ruiz. She’s really combative? Like Malcolm didn’t say “You’re here to take over” aggressively. At all. I respect the hell out of her for being a total badass and good at her job....but she’s also kind of verbally aggressive? And pretending she doesn’t know Martin is Malcolm’s father? Like - I know she was probably trying to break the ice but it was really unprofessional and kind of a dick move? IDK something about Ruiz just kind of rubs me the wrong way (no this isn’t sexism. I’m a woman working in a male-dominated field. I respect the hell out of career-driven women. This is purely just something about her personality that bothers me.)

2:41 - Oh yeah. Gil did not like the joke about Ruiz not knowing The Surgeon = Malcolm’s father. Look at Gil. He’s annoyed but he’s also worried af about what that little comment did to his already mentally fragile profiler.

3:22 - Just how many times has Malcolm played that voicemail since the end of 2x10? It looks like Gil’s already heard it. Dani’s probably heard it. How many times did Malcolm listen to it - desperately searching for clues? This is not good for Malcolm’s mental health. He needs a hug - not to listen to his manipulative serial killer father on repeat (although, that’s kind of the show isn’t it?). Also, where’s the “we’re the same” part of the message? Did Malcolm delete the end of the message? Maybe so he doesn’t become a suspect?

3:32 - Look at how utterly furious and concerned Gil is. Guys. Guys. Papa!Gil is BACK. <3 <3 <3 <3 Oh how I’ve missed him. Seriously though, Gil looks absolutely livid (at Martin) because he can see how upset Malcolm is and he knows it’s all Martin’s fault. Plus the concerned looks he keeps shooting at Malcolm? <3 My heart <3

3:39 - “Of course not.” LIAR. I truly believe this episode is an excellent example of a character “knowing something as fact in their heads but feels the opposite way in their hearts”. Malcolm is still a little boy desperate for his father’s love. Problem is, Malcolm is also a highly educated adult man who knows that his father is incapable of truly caring about him.

3:55 - Gil watching Malcolm’s hand shake. <3 I have no words. Gil looks so concerned. We’re getting so close to a full Malcolm breakdown and I’m here for it. If we get a full on intervention and/or hospital scene I will be the happiest person alive.

4:15 - A couple of things 1) look at how Capshaw is glancing around the room when Gil, Malcolm, and Jessica are talking about how Daryl tried to kill Jessica. Capshaw is showing equal amounts of disdain, envy, and guilt. 2) Gil making a joke just to make Jessica and Malcolm smile is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Gil is single handedly, emotionally, holding these two together and it’s the content I’ve been desperate for.

4:42 - <3 <3 My heart is melting. <3 Gil’s little smile when he looks at the picture of baby!Malcolm and baby!Ainsley. Look me in the eyes and tell me Gil isn’t their dad. I’ll fight you.

4:50 - “All the kooks will come out. I know the drill.” Poor Jessica. She’s really been through a lot of crap. :(

4:55 - Did Gil shoot Capshaw that suspicious look because he was about to show blatant physical affection to Jessica or because he suspects Capshaw knows something about Martin? Maybe both?

5:00 - Sooooo Gil and Jessica just flirt openly in front of Malcolm now? ....Look at Malcolm’s reaction to their little moment. That boy has heart eyes. <3 Forget Brightwell - Gillica is the ship I will die on.

5:50 - I promise you. Jessica’s eye roll+huff when Malcolm says he’s going to stay with Capshaw for a minutes is defensive. She’s knows that Malcolm is trying to get information that will help recapture Martin. But right now? She just wants a hug from her son. She wants to keep him in her sight; where she knows he’s safe.

6:12 - soooooo Capshaw is definitely a psychopath and she’s 100% acting in this scene. Look at her. She’s angry but she’s trying to act calm. She’s trying to justify everything she did but it never quite connects. She’s just a little bit....something. Vacant? Insincere? Malcolm seems to believe her though...because she told him exactly what she knew he would sympathize and empathize with...the next two episodes are going to be incredible.

7:00 - Damn. Malcolm looks so destroyed in this scene. He looks scared, sad, angry. This boy is riding an emotional elevator that only goes down. I’m just waiting for it to hit the ground.

7:14 - This is fake. Capshaw’s “crying” here? How completely put together she seems? Fake. She’s trying to act distraught and guilt-ridden but she just seems too put together and angry to make it believable.

7:25 - How much do you want to bet that Capshaw is either 1) after Martin because one of her family members was killed by the Surgeon, 2) some sort of already established serial killer/psychopath who thinks killing the Surgeon will make her a serial killer legend?

7:30 - Malcolm being kind is everything. <3 Ugh. This little cinnamon roll is such a sweetheart. <3

8:12 - I’m on Malcolm’s side. Ainsley can’t think about work? Bullshit. Ainsley is somehow in on this whole thing. Istg.

8:21 - “Dad is out there and I don’t know. I’m just not okay.” ....this whole exchange between Ainsley and Malcolm felt forced? Like Ainsley is really off here. It seems out of character that Ainsley would admit that she’s not okay so calmly. She’s too passionate (generally speaking) to just be this calm right now.

8:24 - Ainsley is way too calm for the daughter of an escaped serial killer. Malcolm looks utterly terrified. Ainsley just looks....indifferent. Sure, maybe she’s processing things different or she’s in some state of shock but I find it unlikely.

8:41 - Awwww. Looks like Gil let a Whitly near his car. <3

8:51 - Awwwww...Malcolm literally jumping into the ambulance is adorable. <3

9:00 - “So it’s official. The Surgeon’s killing again.” THE LOOK. The look that JT, Dani, and Gil exchange everything to me. It’s concern. For Malcolm. For what they know this is doing to him. It’s fear. For what may happen next.

9:19 - “Dude.” Some people think JT is being a dick to Malcolm here. I disagree. Sure, it’s not what Malcolm wanted (or needed) to hear. BUT the way I interpreted that ‘dude’: JT is concerned about Malcolm. JT knows that Malcolm is having a hard time right now and JT is worried that Malcolm is reverting back to ‘scared little boy who doesn’t want to believe his dad is a killer’ instead of his usual ‘profiler-mode’. I don’t think JT is upset with Malcolm. I think this is JT acting like Malcolm’s big brother.

9:26 - “I’m not saying I believe it. But I’m sure he believes it.” Gil isn’t buying that. Look at his face. Gil knows Malcolm is struggling to separate his complex feelings about Martin ‘Dad’ Whitly and Matrin ‘the Surgeon’ Whitly.

9:33 - Again. The phrasing here may have been a little blunt but I think this is JT trying to remind Malcolm that his dad is a monster who doesn’t love him. It’s not a pleasant thing but it is a reminder that Malcolm needed to continue working the case effectively.

9:38 - JT and Dani exchanging looks of concern when Malcolm raises his voice (and again when Gil sends them to canvas the area for missing cars) <3 WHERE IS MY INTERVENTION?!!? <3

10:01 - “You think I’ve lost it.” :( This breaks my heart. It’s not enough that Malcolm has been on a downward mental health spiral this whole season. Now, Martin escapes and Malcolm is so fragile that he can’t tell the difference between concern and disapproval. He genuinely can’t see that Gil, Dani, and JT are concerned about him. He’s interpreting their concern as distrust and disapproval. :(

10:30 - .....where’s Gil’s car? Did he leave it with Dani and JT?

10:45 - “He lived here with my mother before I was born.” Excuse me? What? My brain is short circuiting. I want more details. I find this information utterly fascinating. Were Jessica’s parents alive? Is it a Milton family home or did Jessica and/or Martin buy it themselves?

10:51 - “If my father was a serial killer I may have fortified my house a little better.” .....no. This felt wrong. I don’t like that Gil said this. Why would Malcolm fortify the house more? Martin was literally chained to a wall. PLUS Gil’s been to Malcolm’s place before. If Gil (the cop) was concerned about safety he would’ve said something to Malcolm about it before now.

11:44 - I want to punch that US Marshall in the face. Don’t you dare suggest that Malcolm should’ve seen this coming or that he has anything to do with Martin’s escape. I also love this interaction. It really shows the story of Malcolm’s life: his colleagues don’t trust him because of who his father is. Malcolm’s skill is never enough for the cops/FBI/law enforcement to trust him because Martin is a serial killer. Shouldn’t it count for something that Malcolm is the one who turned Martin over to the cops AS A 10 YEAR OLD? ALSO - WTF did Malcolm have ammo for his antique weapons??!?!?

11:54 - Look at Dani and JT. They look ashamed and concerned. Almost as if they just realized that they’re the only ones in the precinct (other than Gil) who have ever given Malcolm a chance.

12:02 - The hand tremor <3 Damn. Someone hug him. He is so close to a full mental breakdown. I can’t wait.

12:17 - “I’m not fine.” I. Am. So. Proud. Our broken boy just told the truth about his mental state. Look at Dani. She’s shocked and she’s more concerned than ever. Malcolm admitting he’s not fine means he’s really really not fine. This is bad. Malcolm is going to lose it soon.

12:35 - “You were in control” I understand why that would be comforting for Malcolm. HOWEVER, when it’s said like that Malcolm probably draws the parallel between himself and Martin (the manipulative control freak). :(

12:55 - Malcolm expressing his self doubt is shattering. He’s being so vulnerable with Dani right now and I don’t even care about the Brightwell ship at the moment - I’m just proud of him for opening up to someone.

13:03 - “Usually his voice is in my head all the time” Yes. Because even though Martin was chained to a wall, he was still in control. The constant phone calls. The verbal chess games. The traumatic memories. Malcolm has never been able to escape Martin. Ever. Now 2/3 of his regular Martin exposures have disappeared and Malcolm doesn’t know how do go about daily life without the constant harassment.

13:40 - There’s no way Jessica was actually in enough pain to ask for a painkillers. Jess overheard Malcolm and Capshaw talking and she came to ask Capshaw about it.

14:14 - “I feel like I’m in Hell’s waiting room.” “Been there for 23 years.” Ouch. Capshaw is lying through her teeth but Jessica? Jessica is being sincere. My heart breaks for her. Also - the fact that every time we’ve seen Jessica bond with another woman (Eve, Capshaw, Birdie) that woman is a manipulative woman trying to use Jessica’s connection to Martin for her own personal gain is very upsetting. I petition for Jessica to bond with Tally and/or Dani.

14:40 - Look at Capshaw’s face when Jessica mentions Martin’s open casket. She’s hopeful. Like she just found a potential partner in crime. Or at least she just found another reason to justify what she’s about to do to Martin.

15:15 - I can’t anymore. It’s been driving me CRAZY that Dani’s curls are extremely different sizes in almost every other scene this episode. Sometimes the curls are reasonably tight and a little frizzy, Then in scenes like this one her curls are big, loose, and clean. Her hair is gorgeous both ways but the inconsistency is really bothering me.

15:52 - Americans - help me out. Is this a thing? Do your bowling alleys serve alcohol? Specifically wine? My Canadian ass is curious (our bowling alleys serve pop and bottled water. And maybe fruit juice).

15:52 - Look at how cautious Malcolm is as he approaches the boy. He’s afraid. Afraid that he’ll see evidence that the Surgeon is killing again.

16:45 - Who did Pete steal those clothes from? It wasn’t the EMTs.....did he raid Malcolm’s closet?!?!?!

17:15 - Pete was 10 when he found a quasi-sanctuary from his abusive father. So was Malcolm (in the sense that Martin was arrested and physically removed from the home).

17:40 - I love this about Malcolm. Pete helped Martin escape. Pete is a killer. But Malcolm is standing there talking to Pete like they’re friends. Malcolm genuinely empathizes with Pete’s childhood. It’s messed up but it’s also beautiful. Malcolm truly has a good heart.

18:00 - And now Malcolm is scared. He’s just remembered that Pete is a serial killer and he’s in danger.

18:15 - Look, Pete’s a bad guy. But his childhood? Damn. That sucks. :(

18:33 - “Tell me where Martin’s headed.” Not “The Surgeon”, not “Dr. Whitly”, not “my father”. “Martin”. Because Malcolm doesn’t know “Martin”. He’s met his father/dad - the man who loved him and cared for him during the first 10 years of his life. He’s met “The Surgeon” - the man who chloroformed him, manipulated him, and emotionally abused him his entire life. He’s met “Dr. Whitly” - the man who tried to teach him about the human body as a child and the man who gives him valuable medical insight on cases. But Malcolm’s never met this side of Martin Whitly and he doesn’t know what to expect. So he’s calling him “Martin”.

18:56 - Malcolm, you moron. Pete can see that you’re already suffering.

19:07 - I’ll be honest. I was kind of shocked that they killed off Pet like this. I knew Christian Brole was a guest star so obvious something would happen to write his character off the show but....this was intense.

19:16 - “Bright I saw it too.” Thank you, Dani. Calm this boy down. He’s about 10 seconds away from being arrested for being a moron at a crime scene.

19:30 - “It is my job to find my father.” This runs deep. Malcolm isn’t just talking about how it’s his job to profile where Martin might be. This is Malcolm admitting that he’s been subconsciously looking for his father for 23 years. He’s just a little boy who keeps visiting a serial killer in prison because he hopes that one day he’ll find the father that loved him (or at least acted like it). :( Someone hug this boy. <3

19:44 - I found how Malcolm pushes Dani off of him interesting. He’s clearly furious. He clearly is not in the mood to be touched but as soon as Dani starts manhandling him he sort of calms down? He’s not calm but he gains better control of himself. He listens to Dani when she guides him away from Ruiz, (he’s not perfect by any means) but he walks away and you can see his body language relax slightly.

20:11 - I kind of feel bad for JT. Gil and Jessica have blatantly flirted in front of him twice now (2x5 and now). That’s got to be awkward for him. hahaha

20:14 - “Where is Ainsley?” Good question Gil. Malcolm (who is on the verge of a panic attack) is working himself ragged to find Martin. Jessica is terrified and going through old photos to see if she can find anything that might give a clue to Martin’s whereabouts. But Ainsley? Not only is she calm - she’s not reporting on the prison break. She’s not actively trying to find Martin and she’s not terrified. Why? I honestly think (hope) she’s working with Capshaw.

20:20 - That look Gil shoots JT. Yep. Gil definitely suspects that Ainsley’s involved. I’m pretty sure Gil has pieced together what happened to Endicott and now he suspects Ainsley.

20:30 - hahahaha the way that JT stares at Gil as Gil leaves the room. hahahaha. He’s like: “This is awkward. I don’t want to babysit your rich girlfriend (and the Mom of the most annoyingly endearing profilers in existence). I am uncomfortable and I hate that you’re leaving me here alone.”

21:05 - I LOVE THIS SCENE. EVERYTHING ABOUT IT. I love how Dani is slouching in Gil’s chair like she owns it. I love that Malcolm is sitting on the couch like a scolded child. I love that they’re talking about Gil’s birthday.

21:32 - “I’m already drafting an apology letter.” “That’s not enough.” SAY IT LOUDER DANI. This. FINALLY we get someone calling Malcolm on his passive suicidality. Yes, Malcolm is driven and obsessed with the case (any case). But he also risks his life needlessly to solve them. As though he thinks he’s not worthy of saving. As though he believes he deserves to suffer for what he did to The Surgeon and for what The Surgeon did to his victims. Malcolm is passionate and dedicated to his job. But he doesn’t care about his life enough to protect it. That’s passive suicidality in my books.

21:43 - “For a killer who has done nothing but make your life a living hell.....he’s not worth it.” THIS. Malcolm doesn’t hear this enough. People always suspect him of being like Martin. People rarely take the time to realize that Malcolm was just a little boy who was traumatized by the things he found out about Martin. Strangers judge and treat Malcolm like a criminal just because his father is a publicly bad person. It’s been happening for so long that Malcolm believes he’s a bad person who isn’t worthy of happiness.

21:52 - Poor Malcolm. His little face. :( He looks so sad, angry, and scared all at the same time. This is another case of “the logical part of my brain knows I’m acting irrationally but I can’t stop it because the emotions are too big and strong and everything hurts.”

22:05 - “I’m sorry.” MALCOLM WHY THE HELL ARE YOU APOLOGIZING TO DANI?!? Because you yelled at Ruiz and now Dani’s worried about you? Dude. You’re having a mental health crisis and a really really bad day. You don’t need to apologize right now. Dani doesn’t want your apology. She wants you to take care of yourself.

22:25 - “Jury’s still out.” Ouch.

22:32 - Oh look. Another old person with a landline. hahahahha

23:11 - JT being a sweetheart to Jessica. <3 I love this man. This is so cute. I feel like this is the first time JT’s truly seen Jessica as a full human with a personality as opposed to Malcolm’s rich mother and Gil’s love interest.

23:18 - “I get a call like that once a week.” OH HELL NO.

23:30 - I love the fact that Jessica and JT are bonding over the fact that they’re both being harassed and judged for something outside of their control.

23:41 - SOMEONE IS CALLING TALLY?!?! NO. NO. NO. NO. I’M FURIOUS.

24:04 - “I don’t know. Why did you pretend no one was on the phone earlier?” I love this line. Jess didn’t tell for the same reason JT didn’t. They’re independent, strong people. They don’t want bother other people with their problems. They’re embarrassed that this is happening to them and on some level they probably think (wrongfully) that they deserve it.

24:46 - Oh look. All of Malcolm’s worst nightmares are coming true on the same day. The look of pure terror on his face. <3

25:20 - I want more Gil + Ainsley scenes. I find them fascinating. Ainsley looks like she resents Gil (probably because he spent so much time with Malcolm instead of her in the 90s+00s). Gil looks remorseful, sad, concerned, and fatherly. Like, even though he didn’t spend a lot of time with Ainsley - he still loves her. Because he loves Jessica and Malcolm so he loves Ainsley by extension.

25:30 - “People always suspect him” THIS. Ainsley is trying to manipulate Gil into believing she’s innocent by drawing parallels between her actions and Malcolm’s. What Ainsley doesn’t seem to realize (and why Gil is so cold when he says “People always suspect him”) is that Gil watched Malcolm grow up. He watched the cops question him in 98′ because they thought he was a suspect. He watched Malcolm grow up as people bullied him and locked him in closets because he’s the son of a murderer. Malcolm was fired from the FBI for being the Surgeon’s son (and punching a sheriff). Ainsley though? She forwarded her career by televising Malcolm’s mental health issues and proudly announcing that she’s the daughter of a killer. She still has a job. People still treat her with respect. Malcolm wasn’t granted that luxury. Gil knows it. He watched as Ainsley used Martin as a tool for success while Malcolm struggled under the weight of Martin’s crimes and abuse.

25:34 - “Ouch”. Malcolm’s not offended. Look at the little smile he sends toward Dani. <3

25:36 - Ainsley is furious. That’s the look she had in her eyes when she confronted Malcolm about the pig’s blood incident. She has no remorse. She’s pissed that her brother is overshadowing her.

25:49 - “We didn’t plan a prison break.” Who’s the ‘we’. Her and Malcolm? Or Ainsley and Martin? Or all three? Or Capshaw and Ainsley? ....this 3/4 of those options are definitely true. But one of them might be a lie. I think Ainsley was purposely vague to make it harder to Malcolm, Gil, and Dani to tell if she’s lying.

26:17 - Ainsley isn’t scared, stressed, or anxious when she picks up the phone. She seems annoyed but hopeful. I find that interesting.

26:46 - That smile. Ainsley loved talking to her dad. As a girl who grew up without a father - I feel for her. BUT GIRL - he’s a killer and this is not healthy.

27:08 - Malcolm suspects Ainsley. And he’s scared. Bring me my popcorn. I’m here for the show.

27:18 - This must be killing Ainsley. The fact that she knows Malcolm, Gil, and Jessica are a quasi-family unit. It’s probably making her feel more left out than usual.

27:30 - “Maybe I should’ve done more for her when she was growing up.” :( My heart is shattering. This isn’t Gil’s fault but damn, does this hurt.

27:40 - “No matter what we did, all roads led to Martin.” More confirmation that Jessica and Gil co-parented Malcolm. <3 This is amazing. I’m so happy.

27:53 - Really Jess? You’re turned on by the fact that Gil has a secret plan while your daughter is being questioned about helping a murderer escape prison?!?! It’s adorable (especially how Gil starts flirting back with her) but also - not the time.

28:14 - This is why I think Ainsley is somehow involved with Capshaw and/or is a budding serial killer. She’s so cheery. She’s being questioned by the police because they suspect her of committing a crime. Even an innocent person would be a little anxious or defensive. She’s just....numb but also cheery at the same time? Something’s not right here.

28:19 - “This room is under surveillance at all times.” ....but is it under audio surveillance? Is this interrogation going to become a bigger part of the plot later in the season? Because Ainsley verbally questions if she’s like Martin.

29:17 - As much as I hate Martin, I agree with his analysis of Ainsley. She’s high on charm, low on compassion and empathy. She doesn’t have normal reactions to traumatic events. She never appears scared or sad. We’ve only ever really seen Ainsley happy, determined, or angry.

29:20 - ....I fully believe Ainsley is fake crying to manipulate Malcolm during the interrogation.

31:25 - “Do you think I’m the reason he broke out?” Ugh. Ainsley is so starved for parental attention and it’s heartbreaking.....maybe that’s how this killer was made.

32:00 - Gil doesn’t think Ainsley’s a credible source of information. Let’s all just sit on that information for a bit.

32:19 - “It’s not him I’m worried about.” <3 <3 <3 <3 Papa!Gil <3 I’ve missed you. <3 <3

32:34 - YO Gil, Malcolm. Have you two knuckleheads really never watched Criminal Minds?!?! This dude is showing textbook “I’m a hostage” behaviour.

33:19 - Gil calling Malcolm his ‘partner’ is so precious. <3

34:50 - Sooooo 400K is a LOT of money. Did Martin use Milton family money for his murder agenda?!? Did Jessica never notice that much cash missing from their accounts?!? Where did all this money come from?!

35:32 - Ahhhh lovely. Martin had a fake Canadian passport.

35:46 - Excuse me while I cry myself to sleep because Martin put Malcolm’s batman toy in his murder escape bag. It’s so twisted and yet, sweet?

35:50 - “What’s that?” <3 My heart has shattered. Look at the unshed tears in Malcolm’s eyes. Listen to how soft Gil’s voice is. Look at Malcolm’s sad little heartbroken, hopeful smile and Gil’s heartbroken look of concern. <3 I adore this exchange so so so so much. This is the Papa!Gil content I’ve been hungry for.

37:38. -”Bright, she said no.” ....and Gil doesn’t want him going in there either. It’s not safe for anyone. But especially not for Malcolm in his current mental state.

38:25 - “Don’t ever imply Bright doesn’t want to save lives.” YES TELL HER GIL. YES. I’m living my best life. The Papa!Gil fans were FED this episode. <3

38:51 - “They’re going to kill him.” I love this because I get it. My dad was abusive. I don’t like him and I don’t respect him. I think he’s a shitty human being. But I still love him. A part of me always will. Malcolm’s relationship with Martin is a little more complicated but it boils down to the same thing - no matter what a part of you will always love your parents. You might hate that part of yourself. You might try to suppress it. But it’s always there. Whether you like it or not. The idea that Martin will be killed? That’s terrifying for Malcolm because a dead Martin Whitly means he’ll never ‘earn’ his father’s love. It means his chance of finding the father who loved him pre-age 10 is gone forever. And that’s terrifying. Malcolm will grieve what he lost but he won’t grieve Martin as a human being - just who Martin could’ve been for Malcolm.

39:22 - Gil chasing Malcolm <3 I’m in love.

39:55 - Again, where the hell did Hector get these clothes? He sure as hell didn’t steal that plaid shirt from Malcolm’s place or the EMTs.

40:10 - Hector is my favourite killer. I love him and I don’t know why.

40:50 - This sequence is haunting. Watching Gil, Jessica, and Malcolm terrified and concerned in isolating shots. <3 *Chef’s kiss*. AND THE FACT THAT JT is still with Jessica?!?! <3 Glorious. I’m here for it.

41:35 - I don’t like the way Capshaw looked at Malcolm when she said, “He’s your father.”.....it was appraising. Almost like she’s considering killing Malcolm to snub the whole Whitly family of potential killers.

42:17 - That line about karma......holy shit. Capshaw is evil #confirmed. Malcolm is a moron for not spotting it right this second.

42:55 - I have so many questions. 1) how did Capshaw get Martin in the car without anyone noticing? Like, why didn’t the security cameras catch it? 2) ....how much air circulation is in a car trunk? 3) How long has Capshaw been planning this? 4) is it really Martin in the car? Or someone else? ....maybe she had a goon kidnap Martin and take him to a secondary location after he left Claremont grounds? 5) Did Capshaw ever have a romantic interest in Martin? Was it ALL show?

AHHHHH this episode was amazing and I can’t wait for Tuesday. Thanks for hanging out. <3

24 notes · View notes

anntoldst0ries · 3 years

Text

Lost in Translation

If someone told me a couple of months ago how invested I’d be in OH and the story, I would laugh at them. But here we are, isn’t life full of surprises :)

Apologies for mistakes, if you notice any please feel free to let me know!

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC

Word Count: 2,358

Summary: What happens when it’s just Dr Ramsey and his thoughts?

Warnings: None, just a tiny bit of angst & fluff. A lot of introspection!

~~~~~~~

After what felt like the longest shift ever, Dr Ethan Ramsey finally entered his apartment. He closed the door, leaving the whirlwind of his professional life outside.

A biscuit golden retriever jumped at him with all the might in his paws and the sore muscles of a 37-year old diagnostician almost gave up under the pressure of furry ball of fluff.

“I’m happy to see you too, buddy. But you need to go easy on me today.”

Jenner just stared at him with those big black eyes, licked his hand and went back to solving the most important problem of the day: how to cadge some real food, the one hooomans eat.

Although he was far from contemplating whether dogs have what resembles an intelligence (it was someone else’s specialty) he couldn’t help but think Jenner knows. This constantly salivating, instinct-driven creature somehow understands what it is that Ethan asked him to do and why.

“Great, Ramsey. You are going crazy, may as well admit yourself to the psychiatric ward right now. Dr Keller will be delighted to see you. And all the predators of Edenbrook will finally have a proper fodder - Ethan freaking Ramsey has officially freaked out.”

Having poured himself a decent glass of scotch, he stood in front of a giant window overlooking the bay. The waters were quiet and calm, a total contrast to the fire burning inside him after taking a long sip. There was something soothing in the almost painful feeling. 10 years ago downing a whole glass of neat scotch was way beyond his repertoire. One of the perks of being over 35, he guessed. It was scientifically proven that man’s tastebuds change drastically after reaching certain age. He had to admit, there was at least a grain of truth in this. The gold liquid was no longer just bitter and harsh; it had texture, flavour, a complexity - something he wasn’t able to appreciate before. As a doctor, he also knew that he’s got 20, maybe 25 years of this experience left - until ruthless time and ageing will blend all tastes into one.

The lights of the night danced around the spacious living room, their gold reflections creating an aura of mystery in a dimly-lit apartment. He looked around and his gaze landed on antique vase, a present Naveen brought him from Greece for his 35th birthday. It complemented tasteful interior design, expensive decorations and custom furniture perfectly.

As beautiful as they were, all these things made him feel nothing. It was almost ironic that this unquestionably beautiful property, paid for with his own blood, sweat and tears, he couldn’t possibly care less about. Right now, he could have been in some shithole in Roxbury, sipping cheap beer and it would make no difference whatsoever. Except, it would have saved him a mini fortune, which he was now spending on this goddamn penthouse in Beacon Hill. A place he never ever spent more than 4 hours at a time in.

He smirked at the thought - that’s exactly what Naveen said about his own lake house before saying goodbye to his mentee last year. Back when he thought he was going to die soon. Was it surprising? No, everyone was expecting that Ethan will one day take Naveen’s place as the best diagnostician in the world. He considered this not so much an honour, but rather a tribute to his biggest idol, his friend, his father figure. If he was to ever repay Dr Banerji for everything he’s done for him, there was only one way - he needed to be the best among the best.

They called him the best diagnostician of his generation. Although he resented the title, this label given to him by the mutual admiration society (that he had zero respect for), he was very much aware that he was exceptional at his job. Ethan never thought of this as bragging, because bragging made people vain. He liked to think of it as self-confidence, which, as it grew stronger, made him work for his patients even harder than he ever thought possible. The people whose lives he saved, they had to have confidence in him. They had to believe that he knows what he’s doing. And how could he instil a sense of confidence in them, had he not had it himself?

“You can’t give what you don’t have.” - the sentence kept echoing in his head. Tobias used to say that to him all the time, he lived by these words. It was probably the only relic of their once unbreakable (or so they stupidly thought) bond and also the only thing relating to Tobias that didn’t make him want to gag.

So Ethan accepted his role as a successor of the greatest diagnostician in the country. Because there was a mission and a responsibility behind this fate. Because there was a sense of safety in predictable realms of medicine. Also, because… it felt like kicking Tobias right in the crotch. Although he’d never admit this to anyone, least of all himself, the unwritten competition they were subject to for the past 17 years, helped him keep a laser focus on the tasks in front of him. And every time he was able to wipe the smile off Mass Kenmore’s ‘star’ handsome face, Ethan felt satisfaction.

Becoming the man he was today required a lot of changes. He got rid of all the needs of usual Everyman. First, he swept his feelings under the carpet of indifference and cynicism. Then, he learned how to live among people, but without delving into deep and ‘meaningful’ relationships. This was his bauble and he was perfectly… content with it. That is, until it hadn’t been smashed to pieces because something happened to him.

Someone happened to him.

Oh fuck.

He made a desperate attempt to try and stop the inevitable, but it was too late.

His head was instantly flooded with images, followed by ubiquitous tingles that filled his body. In his mind’s eye, a face shaped instantly, the image so vivid that he was almost blinded by it. It’s as if the person was standing right in front of him. The feeling was as mesmerising as it was painful.

Damn it. She didn’t even have to be here to do things to him. To make him see things. Smell things. Hear things. Feel things.

Ethan and The Feelings. This band rarely played together. Ethan wasn’t really a team player and The Feelings were loud, untameable and too unpredictable for the likes of him. He had to learn to tolerate them, because wherever she went, they followed.

He couldn’t rid of her presence, no matter where he was or what he did. Not that he wanted to - he just couldn’t, for the love of god, comprehend all this. Having been a king of self-control and master of his own life, it was beyond Ethan’s understanding how this woman, almost a decade younger than him, managed to turn him into… well, Jenner. He’d do anything she’d ask him to do. He was an electric ride-on, the one they buy for children. And she was holding the remote.

No, this wasn’t the most fortunate comparison. Because an electric toy was not capable of feeling things. And he was. A lot. More than he ever thought possible and more than he wanted to.

The fear of being misapprehended stopped him from telling her that sometimes he hated what she was doing to him. Not her, he could never hate her. He hated this unexplainable power she had over him and wasn’t even fully aware of. It frightened him. That she clawed his composure back so easily. That her youth, enthusiasm and energy were like a tornado to the illusionary beach he used to inhabit in his head. The force of her personality wreaked havoc on the well-oiled cogs of the machine that was once his life.

It took all the strength he had to stay away, from the day he first saw her. No, that’s not right. From the first time he felt her. Ethan’s mind was definitely against him today, because the images materialised within seconds, before he even managed to fully accept the presence of the thought.

He was sitting in his office, wondering why the hell has he agreed to help Harper with reading pages of blabber from wannabe surgeons and doctors. They were all the same and if he got a cent for every time they got under his skin, he’d be a millionaire. But Harper was an old friend and his ex, he had a lot of respect for her. She’d just been promoted to the Chief of Medicine and although she was more than capable to do the job, he understood that transition from theatre to bureaucracy was scary and challenging for her. It was the least he could do to help and certainly a task way easier than being a shoulder to cry on.

Having gone through pages of “I wanna change the world and find a cure for cancer” he almost fell asleep on his desk. Not that there was something wrong with medical research or a quest for deeper meaning of one’s career - but what he read in those applications sounded like an extract from a beauty pageant. And, frankly, when he looked at some of the photos attached to applications, he couldn’t help but think beauty pageants were a better fit for some of these people than a hospital.

“Christ, are they giving away medical degrees for free these days?” He sighed loudly, sending another handful of pages onto the pile of would-be Grey’s as he called them, because he was more than certain that majority of these people derived their idea of work in hospital from the TV series Grey’s Anatomy. All Ethan knew was that he’s never seen anything more divorced from reality, having watched one episode after all the nurses kept chirping about Dr Derek Shepherd for a whole week.

Fully prepared for yet another disappointment, he turned the front page of next file. Looking at him was a young, beautiful woman with raven hair. Her gaze was daring and gentle at the same time. Even though it was just a photo, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she looked right through him.

Things only got better as he kept going through the next pages. Her application was a riveting read, it was honest, filled with passion and well written, all without being cliche. He saw the most incredible potential, but more importantly, he felt it. She made him feel things, even though he never met her. It was all just pouring from the pages. Ethan would always remember how excited and nervous it made him feel. He almost suffered from a head-on crash with gurney whilst running to Harper’s office, because he had to make sure that she gets the residency position in the hospital. His own feelings played no role here, she simply deserved this position and he knew Dr Emery won’t even question his judgement.

And then he met her.

To be honest, he completely forgot about the interns’ induction, he’s seen so many in his life already that he couldn’t care less. The new case Diagnostics Team took onboard was occupying him completely on that day.

Looking at it now, he couldn’t help but think of one of his favourite movies, Picnic at Hanging Rock. There was this line that he always felt drawn to, but could never fully understand:

“Everything begins and ends at exactly the right time and place“

He was walking down the long corridor, when he heard Danny, one of the nurses, screaming. A minute later Ethan was on his knees, next to a woman in her 50s. He figured out quite quickly what was happening to her, but if his diagnosis was correct, he was going to need some help. Having lifted his gaze, he looked for a familiar face. But there was no one around. That’s when he remembered about the stupid intern induction.

“Damn it, where are the doctors?!” - he asked out loud.

“I’m a doctor!” - responded an unfamiliar voice. Ethan turned around and saw a young woman with black hair in fresh scrubs. He never saw her before and figured she must be one of the new interns.

“You, Rookie. Come here!” - he literally wouldn’t mind if she was an actress playing a doctor, he needed an extra pair of hands. Right here, right now. She kneeled on the patient’s left side, her sight piercing him, waiting for instructions. That’s when it hit him.

It was her.

The fate didn’t spare her - Ethan knew as well as she did that having to deal with Hemothorax on your first day was a tricky business. But she was brilliant. A little nervous, yes, but brilliant.

All she needed was a push. That’s why he picked her to pieces, leaving her confused and probably upset. She will understand one day and she will be grateful.

He said what he had to say and then he just disappeared behind the corridor. He couldn’t be around her more than necessary. Because she made him feel. And this was the last thing he needed right now. Or ever.

What the hell?

Dr Ramsey shook his head and woke up from his daydream. He felt his loyal furry companion licking his hand with a pleading gaze. Suddenly, the weight of the thoughts crushed him like a tidal wave, the feeling so intense that his legs instantly turned into Jell-O, forcing him to sit down. That’s exactly what he was afraid of. The moment he’s had a minute, he immediately gave into thoughts. That’s what she was doing to him. Every part of him wanted to take an extra shift, but common sense and medical knowledge prevailed. He needed 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, otherwise his body would give up soon, making him no use to anyone, especially not all the patients who desperately needed him.

But he was a fool to assume this was going to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list (please let me know if you wish to be removed, I tagged the accounts I follow and truly admire!): @terrm9 @openheart12 @openheartthot @rookie-ramsey @alwaysmychoices @brooks-eden @drethanramslay @starrystarrytrouble @justanotherrookie @caseyvalentineramsey @incorrectopenheart @heauxplesslydevoted @perriewinklenerdie

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #edenbrook #pixelberry #open heart choices #play choices #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart fic #choices fic writers creations #fics of the week

58 notes · View notes

tisfan · 4 years

Note

Prompt list 94. “Oh fuck it, will you marry me?” WinterIron. Pretty please !

Title: Somebody that I Used to Know Written by: 3023 @tisfan Square: T3 – Phone Sex Rating: Teen and Up Triggers/warnings: no archive warnings apply Tags: Make-up Fic, Tony Stark has a Heart, post break up, texting your ex, references to phone sex Created for: @tonystarkbingo Word count: 1,547

Prompt: Fuck it, will you marry me?

Bucky Barnes wasn't sure when Brooklyn had become a stranger to him. When he didn't quite feel welcome anymore. That he didn't belong.

Too many changes, maybe. Not the superficial ones, like that bookstore being a cafe and the Wash-a-teria boarded over, or a new Bodega on the corner. But the changes to Bucky.

It's a two week job, he told himself. Two weeks and he'd go home again. This empty hotel room and looking over the skyline… being in the same city with him.

Of course, if Bucky hadn't been stalking his ex on social media for months now, he wouldn't know that. Not for certain. He took out his phone, considering the idea of ordering take away from their favorite place. New York was always going to remind him of Tony.

God, those had been some good times. Fucking great times, really. He remembered their last fight, when they decided it just wasn’t going to work, they were done. Bucky needed to make something of himself, get out from under Tony’s shadow, and Tony was insisting that Long Distance could work, but then he kept getting swamped with SI stuff and not coming out to visit, and it just wasn’t fucking worth it. The heartache and disappointment. But man, he’d loved the hell out of that man. No one else in the last few years had come even half as close.

He scrolled through his contacts. He had a new phone, but he always just transferred everything to the new device. He flicked the screen a little harder than he meant and the list scrolled way past Knish Nosh and Stark, Tony was there on the screen.

He probably didn't even have the same number anymore. Or wouldn't know who Bucky was. New phone, who dis. New life, do I even know you?

Thinking about getting Potato Knish. You hungry?

He hesitated and then hit send.

Tony probably wouldn't even answer him.

Good. It was probably for the best.

His phone buzzed. New text from Stark, Tony.

Am now.

Bucky? It's been ages. How TF you been?

Bucky was just starting to type in a reply when his phone rang. Stark, Tony.

“Hey,” Bucky said, trying not to put too much meaning into it. It wasn’t a shoulder touch and a lean in and bedroom eyes, Hey. It was just a hey, how are you? That kind of hey.

“Are you close enough to actually get knish?” Tony was talking really fast, tripping over his words like he was scared he wouldn’t have time to get them out.

“They certainly haven’t got knish in Indiana,” Bucky said. “Yeah, I’m in the city for a few weeks, on a job.”

“Oh,” Tony said, and there was a lot of weight in that oh. What did oh mean, Bucky wondered. Oh, as in that’s good to know, or-- “A few weeks, yeah, that’s good, that’s good. I mean, not-- I mean, you’ll be in the city for a few more days?”

Bucky’s eyebrow went up. So typical. “Let me guess, you’re out of town for some SI thing and--”

“Yeah, you know, it’s a thing,” Tony said hastily, instead of trying to make excuses, which is what he usually did. “I’m on the plane right now, as a matter of fact, gotta love that inflight wifi. Hey, do you remember, back when I was on that trip in Beijing and the wifi cut out right when we were having the most incredible phone sex?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, and it was a bitter sort of laugh, because that had been the beginning of the end. He wouldn’t be so shallow as to say that being left hanging had been the whole reason, just that it was a symptom of the problem. And the problem was, Tony was never there. Which just made it easier for Bucky to leave. “Yeah, I remember.” But Tony had come home, and taken a whole week off, despite the fact that his personal assistant had been screaming about it, just to spend it with Bucky, to be there for his sister’s birthday.

Huh. Bucky’d sort of forgotten about that, really.

“Well, you know, it’s not knish,” Tony offered, “but I could entertain you, I bet. Those were the days weren’t they, Bucky? I’ve been thinking about you recently, glad you texted. You know?”

Tony Stark had been thinking about Bucky? “Phone lines go both ways,” Bucky said. “You could have dropped me a line.”

“Yeah, no, I didn’t think I wanted to hear you hang up on me,” Tony said. “In case I was just somebody you used to know.”

Bucky swallowed an absurd lump of guilt. “I would never,” he lied. It was a lie, because he didn’t know if he would have, back when they first broke up. But he had never, so it was still sort of the truth. “I-- I never hated you, Tony, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Tony said, and it was wistful and sad, and a little like Han Solo going into carbonite. God, Bucky was such a nerd.

Tony was, too.

“I missed you,” Tony said.

“Yeah, I missed you, too,” Bucky admitted. He had. “It-- Indiana wasn’t… I mean it wasn’t bad, you know. But-- it wasn’t you. I… okay. When will you be back in the city? You want to get knish with me?”

“I would love to,” Tony said. “Um, Thursday? I think I’ll be back on Thursday.”

“I can do Thursday.”

“Great, I’ll call you with details,” Tony said. “I-- I mean, I’ll see you then.”

Was Tony going to say “I love you”?

And if he was, did he mean it, or was it just leftover muscle memory from when they had signed off their calls with I love you.

“I know.”

“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” Tony said, looking up from his phone, “but--”

Bucky threw the paper down onto the hospital bed, along with a bundle of cheap, sidewalk-seller flowers. The petals went everywhere in a storm. “Business trip?”

Well, Pepper had tried to keep it out of the papers, but apparently someone with a telephoto lens had gotten him as he went into the hospital.

“It’s what we were telling everyone,” Tony said. “Stock takes a hit if I’m not fit and fantastic, which seems unfair to me, but SI employees thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of people, and if the stock tanks too much, then the board starts hounding me for layoffs.”

“You could have died,” Bucky said. With those dramatic eyes and his penchant for hyperbole, not to mention the sort of face that wrecked a thousand ships, Tony always wondered why his boyfriend -- ex, ex boyfriend -- hadn’t gone into modeling. Or acting.

“But I didn’t, and now I have a brand new tricuspid valve, and everything’s going to be fine. Assuming you don’t kill me,” Tony added.

Bucky threw himself down in the guest chair. He probably regretted that immensely, since Tony knew they weren’t very comfortable. “How long did you know?”

Tony didn’t try to play dumb. “That I had heart problems? About two years, now.”

Right before Bucky had left. He watched Bucky come to that conclusion.

“And you didn’t tell me?”

“Honey, you-- you were leaving anyway, you wanted your dream and your career, and what sort of an asshole would I be if I made you stay here just because--”

“You were dying?” Bucky glanced at him, his entire heart in his eyes. “Tony, you could have told me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now,” Tony tried. It wasn’t a good attempt. He’d let Bucky leave. Practically driven him off, really, not wanting to be that guy, not wanting to spend the rest of their time wondering if Bucky was being nice because he wanted to, or because Tony was sick. Not wanting to emotionally blackmail the man he loved.

And, to be honest, wanting to make the break easier for Bucky. Didn’t want to leave him alone and mourning, if that happened. Tony had never been very good at that sort of thing.

“You asshole,” Bucky said.

“Well-established,” Tony agreed. “Look, I just--”

“I love you,” Bucky said. “I… you were putting the company ahead of me, that’s what I thought, and I know… I know your job is important, baby, but. All I wanted was to be first, and you-- you let me leave you when you were dying?”

“I’m not dying now,” Tony pointed out. “And I was going to meet you for knish on Thursday and tell you. I think I should get credit for that. I-- I just wanted… if it worked, if we could make it work, I wanted to be sure. I didn’t want you staying because I was smothering you.”

“Breathing free air in Indiana is not that damn important, Tony,” Bucky said. “I’ll quit, I’ll come home, whatever you want--”

“What?”

“Fuck it, will you marry me?” Bucky asked, then, because it was Bucky, and Tony, he added, “dumbass.”

“It’s pronounced Dumas.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” It was probably stupid and impulsive and rash, self-destructive and textbook narcissism. “I think-- I think we’ll be all right.”

#tonystarkbingo2020 #texting your ex #winteriron #tony stark x bucky barnes #fills #prompts #Anonymous

207 notes · View notes

vventure · 4 years

Photo

Pairing: Ennoshita Chikara x American!reader

Genre: Fluff

Plot: Rain? Not ideal, but Chikara won’t let it ruin a perfect opportunity.

HaikyuuWriters’ Monthly Prompt Event - Prompt: Summer

Word Count: 2020

Warnings: None

All characters are aged to 20+

A/N: Me? Writing fluff? More likely than you think djfkd My family has been going to the lake every summer for about 15 years now, so I wanted to share a little bit of that while also including Ennoshita and his Capricorn stellium. From my research, those with Capricorn stelliums in their natal charts like to plan in advance, and the best way forward is through. Hope you enjoy! I tried to make it enjoyable for those who aren’t American as well <3

Dappled light sparkled over white knuckles as the small convertible wound its way around sharp bends under your direction. Your begrudging passenger, Ennoshita, held your hand as though his digits were a snapping turtle that’d finally caught its prey. He was no coward, but the bottomless ravines caging the road coupled with the seasoned driving of a person unafraid of kinks in the path of the vehicle set his teeth on edge.

“You don’t trust my driving?” You queried, peeking over to discover his normally shiftless face uncharacteristically tense behind his dark sunglasses.

You’d rented the car when your flight landed in America and Ennoshita insisted he would drive the entire way to the lakeside cabin in the mountains. Having never driven while placed on the left side of the car he did remarkably well; it was a treat to observe his handsome profile as warm air blustered through his short locks.

The confidence he’d possessed then evaporated the moment the road urged him to maneuver around a curve, prompting your boyfriend to pull over and admit he needed his designated passenger to take over, explaining that since you’d grown up driving ‘this way’ you should be the one to do it.

You understood his hesitation. When you’d moved to Japan for university, the only transportation you felt comfortable using was the train, the bus, or your own two feet. These modes took you far, but Ennoshita took you farther by offering to drive when you were too intimidated to even learn.

In this moment, the regret rolling off of him in waves was palpable even in the open air of the compact car.

“I trust you, I do,” he spoke feebly. “It’s just that...are you sure you’re okay with driving? It’s been years since you’ve done this.”

“I’m sure, baby,” came your response laced with finality. You lifted his hand to your lips, skimming them delicately over the smooth skin of his knuckles as you approached another twist in the road.

“Pay attention!” He cried, his rock-solid composure slipping as his free hand clapped over his eyes; the car continued to glide smoothly along the asphalt.

“I am,” you intoned against his hand before smiling. “Relax! You never get this worked up.”

“Don’t like when plans change,” he mumbled, a pout creasing his visage.

“What?”

“I just don’t like when things don’t go the way I planned.”

“I know,” you said with an inaudible sigh. “Don’t stress, just go with the flow.”

“Easier said than done,” came his garbled response that you chose to ignore. This was just the way that your boyfriend was: he was happiest when things worked out exactly in the manner he had planned.

“We’re almost there, smooth sailing now.”

You could see him visibly relax from the corner of your eye as the road straightened out ahead, the turn onto the graveled drive leading to the lake house approaching quickly. The view that each person navigating the narrow road gained when pulling into the driveway of the wood-clad cabin made the rattling of brains over potholes and oversized crushed rocks worthwhile.

Pine trees so tall they could tickle the sky framed the expanse of the crystalline lake with powder white clouds embedded in pristine cerulean reflected along its surface, inviting any passerby to dip their toes into the chill water.

Hopping out of the convertible, you were eager to grab the groceries and assist Ennoshita inside when the lake captured your attention. This happened every time your family visited your go-to location for summer vacation.

There was something about the lake that made it your solace. Not so much the lake, but the memories shared here, like kayaking through hidden alcoves at dawn, swimming out as far as possible until your brain begged you to go back lest you be captured by a non-existent lake monster, and burning marshmallows over a fire that blazed too hot for too short a time as mosquitos buzzed away from your bug-sprayed skin.

The lake acted as a looking glass for you, sending snippets of the past through your mind as you leaned against the front of the car.

“[Y/n]?” Ennoshita prodded, his arms laden with plastic bags. “I’ve got everything, are you coming?”

“Oh!” you responded, snapping from your reverie with a small smile. “Let me help you.”

His mind was almost always consumed with plans. Planning for becoming a physical therapist from the beginning of high school. Planning the perfect way to ask if you’d like to see a movie with him after he met you in a general education class at university. Planning out what you both were looking for in a shared apartment and how to make it the best location for your careers. Planning how to make your relationship permanent.

He hated the saying “Change is inevitable,” and throughout life he’d worked to ensure that no matter what happened he stuck to his guns and completed the task at hand, so why did this sudden alteration of his image for the day feel different?

Dread had settled in Ennoshita’s spine, the fine hairs on the back of his neck standing stock-straight as he peered out over the tumultuous lake from the enclosed porch of the cabin.

The day had risen beautifully with the sun beaming along the peaked waves as boats skipped across the water. He was overjoyed to wake up to your beautiful face glowing in the morning light. Although the itinerary for the day seemed run-of-the-mill--preparing barbecue chicken and then enjoying a bonfire once it was dusk--there was something special that he wanted to spring on you that demanded perfection from the atmosphere.

The atmosphere was a fickle entity to work with, and his optimism surrounding the day was lashed down by pouring rain. It hammered against the once tranquil water and afforded the lake an ominous appearance, almost as if a monster was preparing for the perfect moment to show its grisled face. Dark thoughts were a hallmark of his mind on its descent to self-doubt, though he rarely stood at this precipice due to thorough plotting.

There was no way that he could explain this to you without revealing his hidden agenda. How was a chicken barbecue and bonfire supposed to be a special occasion? You’d tell him to move the dinner plans to tomorrow and order pizza in, problem easily solved.

“Storms roll in fast,” you explained, your voice rising in volume with every step you took towards him. These were the first real words you’d spoken to him that weren’t whispered affections across the valley between your pillows in the dark. Translating for each set of parents had been all-consuming, but rewarding, leaving no time for conversations between lovers.

“I have to start the coals,” he said, placing his warm hand between your shoulder blades. “Where can I find an umbrella?”

“Let’s just order--”

“No, it’s okay,” he said, kissing you on the cheek. “The chicken won’t be good tomorrow anyway.”

“There’s a big yellow umbrella in the coat rack just inside the doorway,” you explained. “Let me at least help you.”

“No, stay in here so you can translate, it won’t take me that long to get this cooked up.”

Ennoshita quickly snatched the bag of marinated chicken from the fridge and the cheery yellow umbrella and made his way down to the grill to find your father standing over it, the coals smoking as they heated.

“You didn’t have to do that, sir,” he called in english to the man standing dangerously close to such high heat. “I was just coming down. Why don’t you go inside, I don’t want you to get sick.”

It was thoughtful of him to assist and save Ennoshita the time it would take to get everything set up. Now, all he had to do was dump the coals and start grilling. Rain sizzled along the white-cast charcoal nuggets as they cascaded into the belly of the grill before he put the grate over top. Water was already accumulating along the slotted metal as it sat waiting for food to be placed upon it. This wouldn’t work, the downpour might affect his ability to cook everything thoroughly.

So Ennoshita sacrificed his comfort for the fate of dinner.

‘Not ideal,’ was the understatement of the year as Ennoshita stood in a cloth hoodie with rain soaking him all the way through. He steadfastly held the yellow umbrella over the hot grill as the marinated chicken cooked and took on flavor as though it were another sunny day at the lake.

No matter what, this was going to happen. He wouldn’t let rain ruin this evening.

It was fine if he was soaked, he could change quickly and meet everyone for dinner before the chicken was too cold. The best way around any obstacle is through.

The sound of the rain was so consuming that he hadn’t realized you were approaching until the rain was no longer sluicing off his face, a warm hand now firmly against his back. Looking up, he spotted a black umbrella now hovering over him to protect him from the elements. And to his left, there you were in your hoodie, your palm against his abdomen, and your eyes full of concerned love.

“What’re you doing out here?” He asked before turning to examine the food.

“I told you I’d help.”

“Don’t they need a translator?”

“The language of afternoon judge shows is universal,” you quipped teasingly, to which he returned his usual bored look. “They’re okay for now, I think they were just preparing the side dishes.”

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he said.

“But I wanted to. Besides, we haven’t talked in days. I miss you.”

He smiled down at you, drinking in how your face still glowed with an inner beauty in the murky twilight and how the shine in your eyes never dulled by any undesirable circumstances.

Giving you a small peck on the lips, he finally tore his eyes from your face and deemed the chicken ready for the family dinner.

Laughter flitted through the open screens of the porch where Ennoshita stood surveying the sight that greeted him once he was dried off and changed: five of the most important people to him stood around the fire pit. The rain had cleared to reveal a nearly blinding cherry sunset capped with deep plum, its appearance reflected on the now-calm lake it oversaw.

Japanese and English were quickly replaced by laughter as you reminisced and told jokes over the past, even Ennoshita’s least favorite childhood story of putting on a musical all about his stuffed animals for his mother surfaced in the jovial atmosphere.

Something about the way you stood, your back turned so you were merely a silhouette in the saturated light, had his eyes locked onto your form as you swirled and sipped from the wine glass in your hand between the two families he hoped to unite.

People spoke of moments where everything dropped away and it was only the other person in front of them. Things often fell away for Ennoshita when he was focused on achieving a goal, superfluous people and emotions blurring, so he thought he knew what these so-called people were talking about. He was wrong.

Now he knew, watching your head tilt back to free the lilt of your laugh, this was the moment he’d been missing out on. Perhaps he’d experienced it during your first kiss, or even when you’d said yes to moving in with him—but this was different. The moment he’d planned this entire trip for had come, and he ceased his nervous fiddling.

Although the day wasn’t perfect, you were.

“Chikara,” came your sweet call, your upturned face adorned with an affectionate smile reserved for him alone. “Come join us!”

The sound of your voice drew him from his thoughts, the square velvet box he’d been fidgeting with dropping to the bottom of his pocket as he made the journey downstairs to join the group.

Any plan could change as long as he had you.

Taglist: @miyuswriting @burnthoneymint @bb-noya

#Ennoshita Chikara #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuuwriters 0620 #Ennoshita Chikara x reader #Chikara Ennoshita #Haikyuu!!#haikyu!!#hq!!#Haikyuu!! x reader #fluff #Haikyuu!! fluff

134 notes · View notes

surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #395

“suicide? i’ve already died / it’s just the funeral i’ve been waiting for”

Have you ever met a famous political figure? No. Have you slept for longer than usual today? Ugh, no. I officially have my APAP mask for my sleep apnea, and I chose the one that covers my nose and mouth considering it varies which I breathe from when I sleep depending on congestion. It is very hard to get used to. When is the last time that you experienced rejection–literal or imagined? Hm. Is there an artist or celebrity whom you admire for their craft but take issue with their personality or politics? Yeah, such as Marilyn Manson. He's a pretty gross person but by god do I love his music. What’s the last thing you made out of clay? An anatomically correct heart. Do you like bacon bits on your salad? Yes. What do you do to celebrate Earth Day? Nothing. :/ I wish I could think of something to do for it. Have you ever had someone try to intentionally bully you to suicide? Bro what the actual fuck. No. Who are your favorite kids that you’ve babysat? My nephew Ryder. Would you feel funny if you kissed somebody of the same sex? I've kissed a girl and it felt pretty great, so. Name three things in your room that others probably don’t have in theirs: 1.) a snake; 2.) a huge meerkat collection; and 3.) an APAP machine. Besides furniture, what’s the biggest thing in your bedroom? My snake, I think. Describe your feet: Ugh, the worst. My feet are horribly callused from when I used to walk all the time. I have small toes. What’s a pretty bird? Peacocks. Besides sleeping, what do you do in bed? Just about everything. .-. How do you like your hoodies? Loose/oversized. Can grills be sexy on a guy? They're hideous, if you want my honest opinion. Have you ever been in a Catholic confessional? Yes. How fucked up are those, honestly... I really hate the concept of teaching children that they have to tell some random guy things they feel bad about and let him ask God to forgive you or else you're going to Hell. What color was the hair of the last person you kissed? Brown. Can you do a backflip? No. Where are the last three places you went? The TMS office, a gas station, and my sister's house. Do you consider yourself a flirt? No. How old is the oldest person you’ve dated? I actually don't know, but at least close to 30 now for sure. I just know we were both in high school, but he failed I think two years. What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Music. Who has the best personality on YouTube? Guess who, lmao. Which YouTuber seems uber-confident? Mark is a very confident person. I envy 'im for that. What is the funniest YouTube video you have ever seen? I watch YouTube like... constantly, so I've seen thousands upon thousands by now. I really don't know. Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? No, but that's like a dream marriage venue for me. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't think I ever had a boring one. Man, I miss those. Do you enjoy watching videos of babies being born? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Does ANYBODY? Are you a hoarder? No. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? I would say liposuction, but I honestly want to lose the weight myself. If/when I lose the weight I want to, I am 110% getting loose skin removal at LEAST on my stomach because I feel hideous with it. Also if I achieve my weight loss goals, I want to get a breast lift. Weight loss-related things aside, I'm pretty serious about getting laser hair removal on my legs because I HATE shaving and my legs are VERY hairy, and the hair is dark, so I'm extremely self-conscious about it. Are you the type of person who asks a lot of questions? It depends on who I'm asking. With some people, I'm afraid to look stupid if I ask too many. How many states have you visited in your lifetime? If you're excluding the ones I've merely driven through as well as lived in (which is only one), I've visited Ohio, New York, Florida, Virginia, Tennessee, and Illinois, so six. I MAY have been to Michigan as a baby, but I don't remember. What is your biggest fear for the future? Ending up homeless after Mom passes. I'm scared my family will give up on me, which is completely unrealistic, but I'm terrified of living on the streets. Do you like seafood, or not so much? I only like shrimp. Have you ever cried from being so nervous? Oh, certainly. What is your favorite book series, if you have one? Hm... of all series I've ever read, probably the Shiloh trilogy. I adored the books and the movies. Have you ever had a parasite before? NO NO NO NO NO, DON'T MAKE ME IMAGINE THIS. I am PETRIFIED of parasites. Do you have a big heart when it comes to animals? Absolutely! Have you ever put your pets in a kennel for a while? I actually don't remember? It's possible when we've gone on an extended vacation, but I'm unsure. Whenever we've gone somewhere, friends have normally taken care of our animals. Where is your favorite place to buy clothing? Hot Topic or Rebel's Market. Do you enjoy listening to older music? I love classic rock and metal. What do you think is the most stupid song out there right now? "WAP" for fucking sure. I haven't even heard the whole thing, and I don't EVER want to. As a child, did you ever want to become a mermaid? Nah. Ariel was my favorite princess, but I wasn't obsessed with mermaids or anything. Can you compose sentences in any other language than your own? Some German, yes. Mainly just the basics. Have you ever met someone who was really racist before? Yes, many. -_- Do you have any celebrity autographs? No. If you could be a Disney character for a day, who would you be? Maybe Kiara from TLK. What is your favorite color of clothing to wear? Black. Did you ever build furniture forts as a child? Oh yeah, lots of times! I sometimes even pretended they were burrows and I was a meerkat, ha ha. What kind of dog is your favorite? I have a beagle bias. Do you prefer water or land? Land. Have you ever had a seizure? No. Do you plan on losing weight any time soon? Hunny, I've been trying to since 2016. -_- I lost like 70-ish pounds through 2017-2018, but recently I've gained almost like... all the weight back and it is upsetting beyond words. Have you ever been in a heated pool? Uh, a hot tub? Yes. Are you looking forward to anything? Getting Venus' terrarium, finishing TMS so I can maybe get a job, visiting Sara again... What was your GPA in high school? Over 4.0. Do you require a lot of private time? OH yes. What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I hope achieving a sense of accomplishment and becoming content with my hopeful career, marrying a fantastic partner, and having a family of lovely pets. If you have a favorite television show, who’s your favorite character? I'll go through the very few I deeply enjoy: 1.) Mozart in Meerkat Manor; 2.) probably Hyde from That '70s Show; 3.) perhaps Envy from Fullmetal Alchemist; 4.) Jerome from Ginga Densetsu Weed; and 5.) Shiro from Deadman Wonderland. Did you use to watch Blue's Clues? OH yes. I loved that show as a kid. Do you stutter when you get nervous? BADLY. Your lunch consisted of...? What DID I have... uhhh OH leftover pizza. What is your favorite kind of chips? Hot, crunchy Cheetos. What is the best way to tell someone that they stink? I wouldn't. Do you have any embarrassing usernames? Some from the past, yeah. Do you have a backpack in a shape of an animal? No. I found a meerkat one once, but it was way too small for me to use in school. :( I was so disappointed. Have you ever waxed your legs? No. I've waxed my upper lip and eyebrows, but especially with how long and thick my leg hair is, I think waxing there would be excruciating, so no thanks. Do you own any shirts with a peace symbol on it? No, but I would if it had a cool design. Have you ever taught a little kid to flick people off? No, and I wouldn't. Children generally don't have a strong enough grasp on when profanity is appropriate and not. Have you ever itched yourself until your skin was raw? This is VERY common. Like right now, my right arm is the Sahara with how dry and raw it is. Do you always clear your history after using the computer? Nah, got no reason to. Have you ever eaten a Big Mac? No, because I know I wouldn't like it; I don't like lettuce on my burgers. Do you feel like you’re judged for your looks? For my weight, yes. Name one world issue that upsets you. Just one? Poverty is high on the list. Just... no one should have to live like that. Do you like Wendy’s frosties? After they thaw a little bit, oh yeah. It's physically impossible to drink them for a good few minutes because they're so damn thick.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''cyanide'' by metallica

2 notes · View notes

amerasdreams · 3 years

Text

I have been listening to True Spies podcast on Spotify. It’s apparently connected to a thing called Spyscape, which has a museum/experience thing in New York. They also have an online test for your personality and intelligence.... well those intelligence tests all of course have to do with math. and they are TIMED. somehow I got thru guessing most of them.... didn’t score 0 but didn’t score great.

so guess what I scored on intelligence! and personality scores mean I’m more prone to health problems and being unhappy.... :(

(here I woke up thinking I can be uniquely me, I don’t want to be like anyone else anyway, I can embrace that... but how can I when what I am is this pathetic)

I shouldn’t have done this, I know what these tests do, make me discouraged and hate myself more. they even said I’m not imaginative and creative-- things I value most besides intelligence (and intuition/empathy...)

they did say the “spy role” I was most suited for, which is what I’m most interested in, intelligence analyst. But in the more “practical” side, for jobs, it mentioned medical things, technical things, which I wouldn’t be good at and don’t like, business marketing-- working for a business I don’t care about, a job with no meaning.... it even had mathematician! when I’m obviously not good at math. the only jobs I might be interested in are psychologist/criminologist... idk.... to late for me to get any career anyway, let alone somehow what I really want

they did a risk assessment, where you blow up the balloon before it pops to get “money” - yesterday I started it and panicked when the balloon popped the first time and closed the window. then when I was walking the dogs it occured to me it was a test lol and I would just have to keep risking popping the balloon... so today I saw it as more of a game and not the ‘scary balloon popping oh no I lost money!” -not even real money. idk about fun.... all these things were stressful esp the intelligence test.

today I started the test, thinking it might help me, get insight into what I can do, instead, it discouraged me, I’m what I thought, mediocre and not suited for much, they only gave a “role” to me because they had to give me something. It said the intelligence analyst is inquisitive--when it just said I wasn’t - idk how this even fits with the test bc analytical? that wasn’t one of the dimensions and doesn’t seem like I scored high on implied analytical powers, same with determined--

how can i live with myself being like this, having no role and no future according to any dimension that really counts. don’t want to be plodding away at menial tasks when I want to do something Imaginative, Creative, Intellectual-- ha can’t even do that

oh I’m proving them right, easily stressed and sensitive and reactive --

I’m not including the risk assessment bc I don’t think it’s accurate-- I’m really very risk averse in all cases... oh we know that already so.

results (bold/parentheses is mine)

MENTAL HORSEPOWER

Unlike Alan Turing would, you scored moderately low {yay!:(} on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that, on the whole, you struggle with complex mathematical and analytical problems. {so how can I be an analyst?} That said, you can usually spot patterns and find links in data – as long as the information you have been given isn’t too abstract. (I like big picture things.... abstract things... apparently I’m not good at it)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with a moderately low Mental Horsepower score, you are more likely to ‘go with your gut’ when making decisions rather than to apply logic and reason (that’s true.... logic is mystifying. fits with being INFP-- logic is my weakest point). It is unlikely that you will sit down and win a game of chess, and you probably rely on your satnav rather than read a map yourself. (yep.... chess is too much strategy... I can’t see ahead like that .. hm how could I be an analyst)

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are not a very conceptual thinker, you are better in roles where you can do things ‘automatically’ rather than applying any abstract reasoning skills. You are not bad at visual-spatial or mathematical tests though, and with training and practice, your skills will definitely improve.

THE SCIENCE

Mental Horsepower relates to our general cognitive ability and our capacity to think about, reason with, and understand abstract concepts. It particularly links to analytical and mathematical skills, but also covers memory, comprehension, language, learning capacity and judgement. These are hugely significant skills for success at work and in everyday life.

Psychologists have developed all kinds of tests to measure cognitive ability. Some of these involve predicting outcomes from patterns in data (also known as inductive reasoning), while others focus on mentally flipping and rotating images. We use both of these approaches in our Mental Horsepower tests at SPYSCAPE.

Recent neuroimaging research shows that intelligence is linked to brain patterns, and that these patterns are unique to each of us (meaning you can’t change them :( )– much like our fingerprints. In one study, these brain ‘fingerprints’ were used to successfully predict people’s scores in IQ tests.

While IQ tests are probably the most common method for determining cognitive ability, there is some debate over whether they provide a complete picture. For example, theories suggest that there are many different types of intelligence which are not accounted for in these tests. Still, it is generally accepted that people who score highly on tests of cognitive ability are on the whole better at completing intelligence-related (so that career’s out... if it was ever in lol) tasks in the real world.

COMPOSURE

Unlike Jason Bourne, you scored extremely low (low on everything! what a wonderful person!) on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that you are far more vulnerable to stressors than most people (I knew that). You are likely to have a very strong emotional reaction to negative events and your brain becomes highly active when you see something you perceive as unpleasant (like this test!). Although this means you find it hard to relax, it also means you are really tuned in to your surroundings ( and what’s the upside of that? nice consolation prize....)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people with extremely low levels of composure, you are highly likely to experience anxiety and burnout. (with things that aren’t really stressful to anyone else. just stepping outside. just being inside-- doing thigns like this.. doing most things actually-- help how can i live) You can be far too critical of yourself (well how do i stop? if this is how I am like), especially when you are stressed (which is almost all the time), and this can make it tricky for you to overcome problems (which is never, which is why I’m still living w my parents). You also dwell on the past far more than people with high composure.

On the positive side, you are responsive to your environment, which means you are more likely to anticipate negative outcomes and find ways to avoid them (like almost everything). You are also sensitive and caring, and your observant nature means you look out for yourself and the people close to you. (what’s the point of that when you can’t do anything, or get to know new people)

IN YOUR WORK

It is unlikely your colleagues will turn to you when there is an emergency or crisis at work. This is because you struggle to keep your emotions in check, and challenging situations can get the better of you. When this happens, you are not great at maintaining focus or making tough decisions.

THE SCIENCE

Composure relates to how our brains respond to stress. In tense situations, your brain activates an area called the hypothalamus, which releases adrenalin and cortisol – also known as stress hormones.

A bit of stress now and then is important for survival, because it alerts us to the dangers around us. Small amounts can be useful, but too much over a long period of time is bad for our health (oh goody). Studies show that the adrenal cortex, the part of the brain that releases stress hormones, is also linked to the healthy function of our immune system – and people who are more prone to stress are also more likely to get sick.

There is also a connection between composure and working (short-term) memory. Composed people perform better on tasks where they need to recall and use relevant information while they’re doing something else – for example remembering the steps of a recipe when cooking a meal.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN COMPOSURE ARE

LAID-BACK

RELAXED

COOL

FOCUSED

POISED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN COMPOSURE ARE

EMOTIONAL

SENSITIVE

PERCEPTIVE

RESPONSIVE

VIGILANT

Contentiousness

Unlike diligent Mission: Impossible hero Isla Faust, you scored moderately low on this attribute. The result, driven by your performance in the personality tests, suggests that unlike Isla, you find it difficult to keep focused on long-term goals {Idk about this. goals are all i focus on.... well. I think about them often but Idk how to create the steps to get there and so things fizzle out and I get-- discouraged what else is new). You get distracted or bored quite quickly and are often drawn to new ideas and projects instead of finishing what you are currently doing (well.... hm. I finish novels...). You understand what is important in life, but you sometimes skip the details. (I’m not a detail person... I can be but they often seem irrelevant)

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Because you prefer not to a follow a schedule, hobbies that require regular training are not for you. In fact, your interests change quite regularly, and you find long-term commitment a challenge whatever the activity. Friends and family know that if they want you to do something, they need to encourage you to get organized. When they press you, however, you do things pretty well.

IN YOUR WORK

You take a relatively flexible approach to work. As such, you get distracted easily and do not always complete the task in hand. Because of your tendency to do this, you are likely to change jobs – and perhaps even career – fairly regularly (I want variety... Idk, this sort of fits, sort of doesn’t).

THE SCIENCE

Conscientiousness shapes how likely you are to follow rules, regulate your own behavior and get yourself organized. The more conscientious you are, the more motivated by goals and tasks you are likely to be.

According to what psychologists call the ‘Big-5’ model, conscientiousness is a core dimension of personality – and one of the five key traits that drive human behavior. Whether you are high or low in conscientiousness can help predict your success in social, academic and professional situations.

If you have high levels of conscientiousness, you are probably more productive and better at adapting to new situations (that’s true, I’m not) that come your way. However, this does not mean that being conscientious is always a good thing, because research also shows that being too conscientious can lead to overthinking. (I do that too...)

Some studies suggest that people who are more conscientious are healthier – and they might even live longer. This might be because conscientious people are more likely to exercise regularly, eat healthily, and avoid smoking or drinking too much alcohol.

It’s hard to say where conscientiousness comes from. One study found a link with areas of the brain relating to attention and cognitive control. There is also evidence to suggest that genes play their part. It’s likely that social factors such as your upbringing influence how conscientious you are, too.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

HIGH-ACHIEVING

ACCOUNTABLE

THOROUGH

DRIVEN

SELF-DISCIPLINED

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN CONSCIENTIOUSNESS ARE

IMPULSIVE

FLEXIBLE

EASY-GOING

SPONTANEOUS

ADAPTABLE

(I think I’m sort of this, sort of not because I’m borderline INFP -- P is flexible, impulsive while J is more structured-- I’m slightly more Perceiving. goes to show Myers-Briggs is pretty good at describing personality accurately....)

INQUISITIVENESS

Unlike Carrie Mathison in Homeland, you scored moderately low on this attribute. Your score was driven by your performance in the personality tests, and it suggests that you are pretty cautious about new ideas, beliefs, cultures and theories.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like other people who scored moderately low on this attribute, you are not so willing to take on board other people’s views (that’s true). You will consider what people have to say, but you are likely to stick with your own opinion. You feel more comfortable in familiar situations and surroundings (well, yes...), and you do not really feel the need to explore new places (I kind of do, though... I want to but I often... don’t. because it’s too hard).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you aren’t motivated to learn or acquire new skills (Idk about this... depends on if it’s something I’m interested in. I’m learning like 15 languages on Duolingo...), you are less likely to seek out new opportunities at work. And the longer you stay in a job, the worse your motivation is likely to get. In general, you tend to perform better when you start a new position, although you will carry this out using the same approach you always have, rather than approach it in a new way. You like real-world, practical work that has straightforward solutions.

THE SCIENCE

Inquisitiveness is an important trait for discovering new things and building a better understanding of people and of the world around us. Psychologists have developed tools for assessing and measuring how inquisitive a person is.

These are based on extensive research into personality and are designed to evaluate five facets related to inquisitiveness: (i) intellectual curiosity; (ii) aesthetic sensitivity; (iii) active imagination; (iv) attentiveness to inner feelings and; (v) preference for variety.

Furthermore, personality researchers have identified two types of inquisitiveness; ‘epistemic’, which refers to information seeking ( I think I’m more information seeking?) behaviour and ‘perceptual’, which refers to experience seeking.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

CURIOUS

OPEN-MINDED

IMAGINATIVE AND INVENTIVE

CREATIVE

ADAPTIVE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN INQUISITIVENESS ARE

PRACTICAL

CONSISTENT

TRADITIONAL

HABITUAL

PRAGMATIC

SOCIABILITY

A bit like Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, you scored extremely low (yay. well I knew this... and from answering the questions... )on this attribute, which suggests that you prefer to spend time alone and keep yourself to yourself. You avoid parties, meet-ups and other noisy gatherings because you find them overwhelming (wayyyy). If you really have to socialize, you need plenty of quiet time afterwards to help you rest and recharge.

IN YOUR DAILY LIFE

Like others with an extremely low sociability score, you don’t like being the center of attention and often struggle to start conversations. You think a lot before speaking and regularly find it hard to express your thoughts and ideas. Because of this, you often let others do the talking, and you don’t take part in small talk either. This behavior means you might come across as socially reactive, and people may think you only talk to them when you feel you really have to (as in, extremely negative, and I shouldn’t exist. although... i do talk to them if I have to.... haha I do take part in small talk because I think I have to. or people will think I’m rude. but I don’t like it. I’m sensitive to how I’m perceived and don’t want to be seen as too antisocial, but I talk to others out of fear not of want... yikes. no wonder no one wants to be around me. well I don't want to be around them. well - I want to be around people I know well. for limited amounts of time... need less to recharge from people I know than strangers. I want to be with them, I don’t want to be with strangers-- it’s only stress and not fun at all. but how do i get past the stranger part to the friend part if I don’t like being with strangers and it’s all stressful adn overwhelming? How do i participate in society, have people to talk to, have any sort of success??? - shouldn't exist.).

IN YOUR WORK

Because you are more comfortable working independently (please. HOW???? besides working for myself... haha can’t work for anyone else bc can’t get past the interview, these ^ traits are obvious and not something any employer in their right mind wants), you will be more productive – and much happier – managing your own workload, tackling problems alone, and avoiding company brainstorms and powwows.

THE SCIENCE

How sociable you are can be linked to your levels of happiness, positivity, and wellbeing. In fact, sociability relates to a variety of positive outcomes in life, including how successful you are at work, how well you cope with challenging situations, and even how physically and mentally healthy you are. (yay. I’m doomed. I might as well kill myself now)

People who are highly sociable are more positive emotionally (case in point!) than those who are less sociable. In one brain imaging study, people with a high sociability score had higher levels of brain activity when they saw images of happy faces and other positive emotions.

The same part of the brain that processes emotions also helps interpret information from social contexts, which means we can judge a social situation and then respond appropriately (social situations, like math problems and logic, are mystifying to me. yay the things that are highest linked to success--).

There is some evidence to suggest that highly sociable people might be better at detecting and decoding the meaning of social cues – including how they analyze and read people’s faces (oh, I know that. I have a hard time judging people’s faces, in fact I often think they are mad at me or judging me by their faces when they probably aren’t. I even have trouble finding out what emotions go with what emoji! besides the basics. i mean why, how are there so many emojis....). This means they are likely to find social interaction easier to deal with than others (lol yes. it’s . not easy. why. do i have to be born like this. always been. hell..).

There is also research to suggest that highly sociable people have more connections between regions of the brain that involve visual stimulus and regions that process social and emotional stimuli. (brains are better, we get it)

Sociability might also be associated with the neurotransmitter dopamine, which is linked to reward-seeking behavior. It is thought that people who are highly sociable may have an enhanced response to dopamine in the brain, which makes them pursue rewards such as attention, status, power or pleasure. This would explain why, when they get these things, they feel happier or more satisfied.

PEOPLE SCORING HIGH IN SOCIABILITY ARE

TALKATIVE

FRIENDLY

ENTHUSIASTIC

ENERGETIC

EXCITABLE

PEOPLE SCORING LOW IN SOCIABILITY ARE

QUIET

RESERVED

INTROSPECTIVE

PRIVATE

SHY