#as you can kinda tell i un really like theatre

[thechosenferret]

Okay I just need to spam with all the things I could finalllly notice in Hamilton soo

The way the show portrayed time by having two different scenarios being sung about during the same time yet through slowly walking down stairs and stuff they’re both passing at different times

A main one is when Angelica comes back to America and does that by slowly descending the stairs.

The way the lights went out on Phillip when he died

The blue light on John during the interlude.

Just the entire cast, they were all so fabulous

And everyone behind the scenes, just absolutely wowe

How the ensemble had so many different outfits yet they all looked like the same outfit if you don’t pay attention, but they add sooo much more to the world

Very theoretically, would Hamilton be alive if at the very beginning of the dual he rose the pistol at the sky instead of a last second choice? So burr knew he wasn’t gonna kill him in the end.

The ensemble was absolutely wonderful. I love them all, they deserve so much praise. I am very gay for all of the girls in it, especially the top left one. Again, they were all so bloody amazing, I cannot stress that enough.

Also they are all much much gayer on stage, especially Laurens

Those very long glances and looks at Hamilton while the rest of the squad looks elsewhere. That’s gay, son.

Hamilton swipping away a tear as he goes into Non-stop.

Jonathan Groff’s expressions being fabulous when he physically cannot move under the weight of his costume

But also when he took off his crown during the second act to go mayhem with the other, perfect.

Props to him he absolutely controlled the stage up there

And Leslie Odum Jr. Just wow, seeing him made Burr just so much more,,, Burr. Ya know?

I never noticed how sick and stiff Madison is during the show, but everything made so much more sense after realizing that

Another of me not realizing things is the line from My Shot “Enter me, he says in parentheses” is a reference to a script where (Enter me) is referring to ham entering into the revolution and stuff. My brain just didn’t catch that.

On the same note, lots of the lines now have a million more reasons behind them when you can see them deliver it, especially with Burr.

In the first act, I can’t remember who was the amazing soul who did it, but on the second story stairs he jumped up onto the middle of the railing and was having a good old time

Also I really wanna know how they handled the fire, cause it looked like they slipped the extra papers into a different spot in the bucket so that they only burned the single paper.

The way Burr posed in the spotlight after The Room Where It Happens with his fingers pointing down, directly opposite how Hamilton points up. Wowe

Lin’s voice gets really deep whenever he’s tearing up and sad, and it hurt so much more.

The main cast slowly appearing in their white outfits from the start after they died

How, especially in Your Obedient Servant, they separated the songs from what was currently happening ever so slightly so that instead of them singing what he was writing, he sang what he wrote as he signed it off and sent it away. Idk why I like this so much I just do

Of course Ham’s lists slowly making their way to Burr and the ensemble member’s face when she joked with him on the last one!

Ham’s fists were clenched so so much.

Jefferson kept making me smile after sad things with just himself and his wonderful dance moves.

Speaking of dance moves, the chOREOGRAPHY WOW

The small pieces of ballet thrown in, mainly with that one ensemble member.

At the very end when Anthony Ramos was in the second story on the stage, he had to portray both Laurens and Phillip so he showed himself as Laurens and then spun into a spot next to him where he then represented Phillip.

The lights. Just wow. The square lights. Wow. Everything about the lights. Wow

Also I 100% teared up during the first song. I have absolutely no shame about that.

#as you can kinda tell i un really like theatre #like i really would like to go into theatre as a job #imma rewatch it tomorrow probably and add more #hamilton #hamiltonfilm #hamilton musical #hamilton the musical

[barkilphedros-hat]

Moments in the 2019 Bristol Old Vic stage production of Cyrano that made me lose my MIND-

The opening scene starting at the convent instead of the theatre with the plot being told as a flashback (Cyrano’s actor seeming kinda out of it, which of course became HEARTBREAKING when the scene was played out again at the end)

The production working Patrycja Kujawska’s Polish accent into the storyline by making Christian Polish instead of just a new Gascon cadet

“Ballad of the Duel in the Bourgignon Theatre between Monsieur Bergerac and ✨une Tosseur✨”

Roxane excitedly telling the audience Cyrano is her cousin as she ran through it

Roxane describing the object of her affection as handsome and Cyrano’s actor hunching over slightly and sounding breathless as he repeated “handsome…” like she legit punched him

Honestly just the way Tristan Sturrock played Cyrano, man really had the 🥺 face right

Cyrano going “handsome fucker isn’t he?!” to the audience in complete disbelief when shaking Christian’s hand

“I need some motherfucking ELOQUENCE!”

De Guiche being completely incapable of pronouncing Christian’s surname

“I love you.” “You’ve said, expand!” “I love you…” *puppy head tilt* “Loads.”

Roxane telling Christian he talks crap and ordering him to “vanish”

The ENTIRE balcony scene, from Cyrano tapping his heart when he talks about Roxane changing her hair is set down in his memory forever, to Christian and Roxane slowly circling each other and reaching out for one another as Cyrano delivers his speech, completely oblivious and near tears with happiness that she’s finally listening UGH MY HEART-

Christian falling off the balcony with Cyrano trying to hold him up as the monk comes on stage. Cue awkward pause and “…good evening.” 😂😂

The “Man from the Moon” skit. All of it.

Cyrano, Christian and De Guiche looking absolutely terrified of Roxane being on the battlefield, with all 3 of them imploring her to leave 

Christian realising what’s happened with the letters and sending Roxane off to entertain the troops before folding over onto his knees and screaming “CYRANO!” into the silence 😭

“I want to be loved for myself, or not at all.” *cue me sobbing into my programme*

The tiny beat of dead silence when Roxane hears Cyrano’s slip of the tongue with “was” before EXPLODING into screams and trying to crawl across the stage to get to him

De Guiche being the one to hold her so she doesn’t get hurt 🥺😭

Cyrano slowly sliding down the side of the stage like he’s in physical pain while saying the infamous “yes Roxane… yes Roxane…”

Cyrano begging De Guiche to save Roxane and De Guiche just nodding in determination (now *there’s* a redemption arc)

THE ENTIRE CONVENT SCENE - especially with us basically seeing the first scene again but with added context and ✨ANGST-✨

“Your eyes are closed… how can you possibly be reading?”

Cyrano trying to comfort Roxane throughout the entire thing

“I was loved all along, beyond my wildest dreams.”

“Christian will be there, and we three, when you join us love…” said while collapsed in a heap and pointing wildly to the heavens I cRY- 😭😭

The change to the final line from “my panache” to “our panache” with Cyrano faintly smiling at Roxane

I just have a LOT of love in my heart for this version okay?? 😭😭

#there has to be a recording of it I WANT IT #Cyrano #Cyrano de Bergerac #Bristol old vic #Theatre #Tristan sturrock #Sara Powell #patrycja kujawska

[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Radio version - Ep 9, Nov 2015.

Kaoru begins by introducing the concept of the show, and then immediately introduces Joe. Kaoru says the show has become quite interesting for him, and he gets less nervous each time.

After reading out the shows contact info, he reads out a message which was sent in by a listner. The message asks how Kaoru feels about the fact that photography is allowed during shows overseas. Doesn't it bother him? He says at first, he wasn't used to it at all, especially the flashes going off from the audience. These days you can take a decent photo on a smartphone without necessarily having to use flash, so he doesn't see as much flash recently. But when they first started going overseas, the amount of flash from the audience was incredible, and he wasn't very fond of it. He doesn't mind it as much these days though. He thinks its ok if fans post images of live shows online because it spreads awareness of the band. On the otherhand, its not good if people see these photos and make a judgment about the band, because these photos do not catch the real feel you get when you actually go to a live. In the end, he thinks it can have pros and cons. Joe says it reminds him of a band he loves, Grateful Dead, who let fans tape their shows.  Fans would make bootleg copies of material and exchange it among themselves. Then after that, even if the band didn't have a new release, there would be people who knew them from bootlegs where-ever they went. But Joe doesn't think we should equate bootleg footage with going to an actual live. Kaoru says, this may be his own selfishness, but he at least wants people to wait until after the show is finished before they post photos online. The original question also asks if Kaoru wants photography to be banned in lives overseas, like it is in Japan. Kaoru says its mainly down to a culture difference, and he thinks its best to just follow the culture when they are overseas. ('When in Rome...' I guess).

He then moves to his next topic about a man named Neil Thomas Douglas who discovered his absolute doppelganger after getting on a flight heading to Galway, Ireland. Kaoru says this isn't related to Freedom of Expression, but he just finds it amazing, and asks Joe if he's ever had this experience. Joe says he was recently mistaken for the comedian Naoki Matayoshi, when he was in a cafe. The staff wouldn't take payment from him because they thought he was Matayoshi, and wanted him to have it for free. He says he's worried if he goes back and they ask for his signature. Joe then says there is an urban ledgend that everyone has three doppelgangers in the world. He finds it fascinating that as DNA is finite, there may at some point be a person out there with exactly  the same DNA arrangement as your own. It may or may not be at the same time you are alive, but he thinks it may be possible. He also thinks that De ja vu could be explained as, for example - if he went to Kyoto, had a great time and didn't want to go back to Tokyo, the part of him that wants to stay in Kyoto would stay there emotionally. And although these two parts of him shouldn't ever meet, whenever they do cross paths, thats what causes de ja vu. He says there must be more to it than just science. Kaoru (possible slightly sarcasticly) expresses his awe at such an idea.

After this they are joined by Dobashi from Tokyo Sports. They comment that the murder story from last week was a little creepy. Dobashi brings up the story that Osaka now has its own 'Lupin'. On the 22nd of October, an unemployed person had been arrested in Osaka, suspected of being responsible for a number of thefts and illegal entries. This was after a series of 14 different investigations by the prefectural police. He had been responsible for various sneaky thefts over a few months, and was eventually spotted in a shopping zone by the police, but ran for cover to a friend's house nearby. When they went to find him, he shouted, 'Im called "Naniwa Lupin!!" '. (*Naniwa is an area in Osaka*) They wonder why he wanted to be called in that way. Naniwa, and Osaka itself has a kind of tough image, especially compared to Kaoru's home prefecture, Hyogo. Hyogo does have its dark side, but no-one ever imagines that. They think about Kobe, or the theatre group Takarazuka, nice things like that.  Its nothing compared to the tough image Naniwa has. But when Kaoru, as someone born and raised in Hyogo, hears the phrase 'I'm Naniwa Lupin!', he thinks it sounds crazy. On the otherhand, it could just be the uniquness of people from Kansai showing. After all, the guy is exercising freedom of expression by saying it, which links the story right back to the theme of the show.

Then they move onto one more story. The story that the celebrity Takabe Ai had been arrested for cocain possesion and use. This news had been widely reported, and promted the question of whether there is a celebrity war on drugs taking place. Kaoru says he didn't really know much about Takabe. Joe asks Dobashi if Tokyo Sports have any juicy info regarding this issue. They do, apparently. Dobashi then hints at various famous persons he knows of whom the authorities suspect of drug use, without actually saying their names. Kaoru says he knows that someone who Dir appeared on a tv show with several years ago is also suspected. Dobashi then stresses that these are just people who are suspected. The police need solid proof before they can raid someone's home, because if they don't find anything in a raid, they will have to admit publicly that the suspect was innocent of drug use. Simply put, a famous person won't be raided unless the police know for sure that they have drugs, which is probably what happened to Takabe. Kaoru adds that an arrest will be possible if two people testify against a suspect. Dobashi then talks about how the singer Aska used to do drugs at his mistress' house, to keep it a secret. Joe says that from the day after Aska's arrest, his songs were no longer played on radio. Of course doing drugs is bad, but should that crime also extend to the artists work? Does it become a crime to even play the songs on radio after that? Joe says its very difficult to have any meaningful discussion in the Japanese media about a convicted artists' previous body of work. Kaoru says Dir en grey are the type who people often imagine would be doing drugs, as they often also go overseas too. He says whenever they get back to Japan from overseas, the drug detection dogs at the airport come straight over to them. He's kinda scared of them as they are so big.

Kaoru finishes by promoting the Budokan shows and Chinese tour, and reminds listeners about the Arche cover design topic, and that some of designs are being posted on the show's blog. He tells listeners that as the next show will be the 10th episode, there may be a kind of special announcment to look forward to. He ends by saying he thinks the recent episodes have been going pretty well.

Songs - Dir en grey/Un duex, Mastadon/Divinations.

#dir en grey #the freedom of expression

[taylorinthetardis]

Wallflowers - A Henry Cavill x Reader fic

So I did a thing! Rather than continue to work on my larger, more complicated Pride and Prejudice fic, I decided to make a fanfic out of the fantasy I had at work the other day!

There will most likely be a part two to this, I just thought I was at a good stopping point and wanted to see what you guys thought about it.

Full disclosure: I didn’t mean for this to whole ass turn into a Bath and Body Works ad, but it kinda did. For those of you reading in countries that do not have Bath and Body Works, its basically just a body and home care store. In the US their scents are legendary. Pretty much every young girl went through a BBW phase where that was all they used for soap and perfume. That all being said, in the interest of further disclosure and covering my ass, I own neither Bath and Body Works nor any of the trademarks on the scents listed herein. I also do not own Henry Cavill because owning human beings is a crime.

This is my first Henry fic so be gentle with me! It’s a bit longer than I had anticipated and un-beta’d.

Warnings: just a lot of fluff. some self-deprecation. loads of swearing. don’t know if I should warn for slight bashing of the religious but I will anyway so no one gets mad at me.

Wallflowers

It was shaping up to be another boring ass day at Bath and Body Works. I had started working here during the Pandemic after I was laid off from my job at the movie theatre. I had planned on it only being temporary, but even after things got better and I got my theatre job back, I decided to stick around. What can I say; a bitch is broke. Nothing wrong with double-dipping.

There was something about Sunday mornings in the mall. Probably because people around here still went to church in the mornings. Like it matters. Sunday mornings are always so slow, here and at the theatre, but the day always picks up after 1, when morning church services finish. It was me and Samantha up in the front room this morning, working out the leftover boxes from yesterday’s shipment. She was one of the first people I really bonded with here, both of us being super into both Marvel and DC, specifically Sebastian Stan and Henry Cavill. They had just started filming the next Superman movie and they were going to be shooting scenes up in Michigan again, like they had for Dawn of Justice.

“I’m just saying, we should really consider asking for a few days off and just going up there and scoping it out. I mean, it’s Henry fucking Cavill. He’s less than an hour away from us. Right now. Less than an hour. When is that ever gonna happen again? I can use some of my vacation time at the theatre, so at least I’m not missing out on money from them. It’ll be a blast. I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? We don’t see him? I mean at least we’d have tried. I’d rather try than stay down in stupid Ohio with the knowledge that he’s that close.”

“Do you really think Ann’s going to give us time off to stalk Superman?”

“We ain’t gonna tell her what it’s for! Just lie, c’mon now.” I laughed. I dropped a box of Gingham body cream into the understock drawer and broke the box down. Out of the corner of my eye I caught movement, oh goodie, a customer. Samantha was quicker to greet them.

“Welcome to Bath and Body… OH MY GOD!” I turned around and was met with the sight of none other than Henry fucking Cavill, sheepishly running his hand through his now jet-black curls, obviously embarrassed at having been recognized. Damn, am I glad I put make-up on this morning. Alright Y/N, this is your fucking chance. For once in your damn life, be fucking cool. You can do this. You look good, you smell like Champagne Toast, you’ve got this. I pulled my hair down from its messy bun and shook it out a bit before walking over to where Samantha was still trying to collect herself. The store radio started playing Halsey’s Bad at Love and I had to bite my lip to stop myself from bursting out laughing at the absurdity of the situation we were now in. Not five minutes ago we were talking about seeking him out and now here he was in all his brick-shithouse-ness. I looped my arm through Samantha’s in a show of support.

“What a wonderful coincidence! We were just talking about you and now here you are! It’s crazy how the universe works, isn’t it? I’m Y/N, this is Samantha; what can we help you with today, Henry?” I smiled my most adorable smile at him, the one that makes my little cheek dimple pop out, and, honestly, they both looked shocked. Samantha was clearly surprised that I was more capable of speech than she was, and to be honest so was I, and Henry seemed shocked that I would openly admit that we had been talking about him before he got there, which probably wasn’t a great thing to say, but I panicked.  

“Well, I was told this was the best place to go for candles and air freshener-y type things. The house I’m renting just has this odd odour that I can’t get rid of. I’ve been airing it out during the day, all the windows open, and I come home and it still smells funky. I know I could just find a different place, but it’s close to a park and that’s been nice for Kal and I don’t want to make a fuss, so…” Henry sort of shrugged, the buttons on his plaid shirt straining with the movement of his broad shoulders, and gestured around the store as if to say “that’s why I’m here”.

“Well, you’ve definitely come to the right place. All of our home care is in the second room, grab a basket, I’m sure we can find you some scents you’ll like.” He walked over to the basket tower to grab one as a couple more customers walked in. Samantha nudged me towards the second room; I was going to have to handle Henry alone for now, it seemed. He followed me over to the Wallflower wall. “So, these are our Wallflowers. They’re sort of like the Glade Plug-ins, I don’t know if you’ve seen those, you plug this diffuser into any power outlet and screw the fragrance bulb in and it diffuses the scented oil into the room. They last for about a month or so. These’ll probably be the best option for you, well these and maybe a room spray or two to start with. The candles are good, but obviously the scent is gonna be strongest when they’re burning and it’s probably not a great idea to light a bunch of candles and then leave for the whole day.”

He chuckled. “No, I’d say you’re right about that. I definitely don’t want to burn the place to the ground. Are there any scents that you’d recommend?”

“Well, I mean, it obviously all depends on your personal preferences. I like sweet scents. I like my space to be smelling like a bakery or a candy shop at all times, so I tend to go for anything like that. We actually still have some of our holiday scents that we’re trying to get rid of and there’s this really great one in that line called Spiced Apple Toddy. It smells like apple pie. I love it. It’s only out during fall and winter so I stocked up. I need it all year long, honestly. I still have so many other scents at home, but like I’m probably never gonna get sick of it, for real, it smells so good. Or I might go every other month swapping between that and Black Cherry Merlot because that’s awesome too. And then there’s Champagne Toast, I mean, that one might be a bit too feminine for you, but I love it. It’s sweet and just a tiny bit citrusy. I can’t do any of the floral or like, outdoorsy scents, they set my allergies off. And honestly there’s some of these that I smell them and I’m like, who is putting this in their house? Like, what nutjob thinks this scent is good? How many people have senses of smell that are this screwed up?” At this point I was rambling, talking excitedly and with my hands, handing him testers to smell and trying to gauge his reactions to know what to hand him next. He didn’t have any bad reactions to anything I gave him until I handed him the tester for Fresh Balsam. His nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and he very carefully set the tester down on the counter as far from him as he could manage. He handled my word-vomit good-naturedly, with a small smile on his face, nodding and chuckling when he thought something I had said was funny. Our fingers brushed a few times as I handed him the testers and after the third time, I began to feel like it was deliberate on his part, but it couldn’t have been, could it? He couldn’t really be interested in me. He’s Henry Cavill. I’m just, well, I’m just me.

Me, with my two minimum wage jobs, still living with my parents, inching ever closer to 30 years old. Why would he want any of that? Why would he be interested in me physically either? I mean, he’s literally flawless and I’m short, overweight, I eat like shit, I don’t exercise, hell, I barely know how to put on make-up correctly. Yeah, I look good today, but that’s not par-for-the-course.    

He put a few each of Cinnamon & Clove Buds, Black Cherry Merlot, Limoncello (for the bathrooms, he said), and Laundry Day (for the laundry room, obviously) in his basket along with enough of the plugs so he’d have one in each room. He also grabbed a Black Cherry Merlot and a Limoncello room spray off the shelf next to the Wallflower display before turning back to me. “So then, where do you keep this Spiced Apple Toddy that you like so much, or did you hide them so you could have them all to yourself?”

I chuckled nervously and ran my hand through my hair, sort of disbelieving that he was actually paying attention to what I had said. Boys never listen to me when I talk, I always have to repeat myself, but I guess that’s because I usually end up talking to the dumb ones. Henry’s not dumb. He really is just fucking perfect, isn’t he? Pretty and he listens? That shouldn’t be such a difficult combination to find, but for me it had been. “They’re on the table over here with the rest of our leftover Christmas stuff. Hopefully the tester is still there somewhere.” I put my hands in my apron pockets and I could feel the jolt of confidence I had had just minutes before leaving my body. His charm had worn me down, bringing me back to my normal, anxiety-ridden self. I caught the toe of my boot on the corner of one of the other tables as we walked towards the center of the room. I stumbled, but before I could fall his arm was already out to steady me, wrapping around my waist to keep me upright.

“Are you alright Y/N?” A look of genuine concern was on his face and I swear to God I swooned. Like, fuck, I just stubbed my stupid toe, it’s not that serious. I mean yeah, I stubbed my toe and then almost fell into a table covered with candles in glass holders, but like, I didn’t fall, you caught me, please stop looking at me like you care. You can’t give me that much hope. It isn’t fair. And goddamnit I love the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth. Like, fuck it’s never sounded so good. This isn’t fair, why is this happening?

“Yeah, Henry I’m fine, just a stubbed toe. Thank you for…you know.” I gestured down to his arm, which was still around my waist. The sound of me bumping into the table drew the attention of the rest of my co-workers, however, who were now coming out of their various positions to see what was going on and to make sure no one had broken anything. Samantha popped her head in from the front room and Kelynn and Mira came out from the cashwrap with Pilar and walked to the edge of the third room to peek in. All they saw was me, blushing profusely, with Henry Cavill’s beefy-ass arm still wrapped around my fucking waist. “Everything’s fine guys. I promise.”

“Holy shit, is that…”

“Mira!”

“But Kelynn that’s fucking Superman!”

“You can’t cuss in front of him Mira, he’s a customer!”

“Will you guys cut it out? You’re embarrassing us in front of the hunky British dude!”

“Hey, I’ve got an idea. How about we all pretend like this isn’t happening right now? Pilar can go back to the cashwrap, you two can go back to whatever it was you were doing, and I’ll go back to what I was doing, namely making a damn sale!” I extricated myself from Henry’s grasp so I could shoo them back towards the cashwrap. They turned and walked away, bewildered looks on their faces. I turned back to Henry who was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and ran his hand through his curls, leaving them messier than they were before. An errant one fell over his forehead and I wanted to brush it out of the way, but he just left it.

I walked over to the table that I was originally heading for and found the Spiced Apple Toddy Wallflowers. There wasn’t that many left, but there was still a tester. I grabbed it and spun around to bring it to him, assuming he hadn’t followed me, but as I turned, I found myself going face first into his massive chest. I put my unoccupied hand up to steady myself and pushed on his chest to force him back. He was just too close. Why was he so close? He opened his mouth to say something but I beat him to it. “Here. This is what I have in my bedroom right now, this is Spiced Apple Toddy.” Oh god, why did I say it like that? The one I have in my bedroom. Jesus Christ. He quirked his eyebrow at me and cocked his head to the side, smirking a little. Instead of taking the tester from me, he took my much smaller hand in his, guiding it up towards his face so the tester was close to his nose. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. A serene smile spread across his face and I felt my face get hotter. He opened his eyes, looking down into mine. Fuck I could drown in those ocean eyes.

“Oh, I like that very much. You were right. I think that one’s my favourite.”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x reader #my first henry fic #fluff #unintentional bath and body works ad #be gentle

[silverislander]

Hey bud, person who is not a loser, is so cool and a sweetheart?

What about the fanfic questions for G, F & R?

Thanks!

answer under the cut bc uhhh i started ramblin again lmao.  also: no u 💛

g. do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

oh man i HAVE to do it in order. i don't write in strict drafts so i lose track of all the things i was trying to make a thread with like running jokes or repeated lines, where exactly the scene goes and what happens around it. not to mention writing the fun scenes first means i can't even make myself do the difficult/less fun ones, it sucks.  bad for my brain >:/

f. share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

ok, excerpt got kinda long but there’s 2 specific things here and they’re a couple lines apart so bear with me (from mine)

“You came back,” Dina said coolly, crossing her arms and holding her gaze, her face unreadable.  Robin closes the door behind her.

“I came back.”  Ellie was cowering under her stare.  Why did she do this?  God, she needed more time before trying to do this.  “Can we talk?  I mean, is that okay?  Because it’s okay if it’s not-”

“Was it worth it?”  Oh, god, that question was a trap.  There was no good answer here.  Yes, Dina, I left you and it was totally worth it, I tried to kill a woman who’d already forgiven me because I couldn’t fucking let it go and I barely know how to be a human being anymore.  No, Dina, I left you and our fucking son for nothing because I couldn’t do it in the end, and you were right, and now I’m here to beg for you to take me back like I don’t understand the ways I hurt you.

“I made it to Santa Barbara,” she started, and Dina scoffed.  She stepped a little closer nonetheless, her stare burning into Ellie.  “They were there.”

“So you killed her.  You got what you wanted.”  She didn’t sound impressed.  She didn’t sound upset.  She kept her voice totally flat.

“No,” Ellie admitted.  “I- I couldn’t.  It wasn’t- I did the wrong thing.”

“No shit,” Dina interjected.

Ellie was silent, nodding.  “I’m not going to pretend like I deserve anything from you, because I really don’t.  I could spend my entire life making it up to you and it still would never be close to enough.”

“But?”

She flushed.  “I want to apologize, for a start.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dina exploded.  “You’re gonna say sorry?  That’s why you’re fucking here?  It won’t make it better, Ellie.  You fucking left.  I asked you if we- if I was enough to make you stay, and then you fucking left.  Do you get that?  Do you understand how shitty that is?”

“I understand,” she said quietly, voice breaking already.

“Then why the fuck are you in my house?”  Her voice was dangerously low.

“You don’t have to forgive me, and I’ll never bother you again if you ask.  I’ll fucking leave town if you tell me to.”  The idea made her feel cold inside- never another chance to have a home here.  Never another chance to see her potato, not even a glance when he was passing by.  Never another chance with Dina, although she supposed based on the way this conversation was going that that’s gone anyways.  “The only thing I’m going to ask is for you to listen.  I’ll leave you alone after that, I swear on my life.”

“Your life doesn’t mean very much to you lately, Ellie.”  She was right.

“I swear on our son,” Ellie blurted out.

“My son.  Not ours.”  Dina shook her head.  “Nothing’s ours anymore.”

“Okay.”

this fic fucking hurt to write, but it felt like the right conversation to have and i’m proud of how it came out.  i kept thinking abt dina asking her if it’s worth it after she returns bc like i said, it’s a trap!  there’s no good answer to give there that will make anyone feel better.  ultimately i do think ellie thinks it was worth it to a degree bc she desperately needed to have that agency to let abby go on her own terms.  the theatre fight wasn’t her choice in the end, so it won’t feel finished until she ends it her own way.  ellie’s barely made any decisions of her own in her life, not even whether she wants to live.  but the thing is, dina wouldn’t hear any of that in the context of this conversation.  it would sound more to her like “yeah, i don’t regret it”.  it would hurt both of them too badly to tell her that leaving her and their baby behind was worth it, and so ellie doesn’t say that.

there’s also “your life doesn’t mean very much to you lately” which.  fucking ow.  but true.  at the point she was leaving for sb, i really don’t think she was planning on coming back.  she knew full well it could be a suicide mission, and i think she was ok with that bc well, i lived five years longer than i should have anyways.  poor girl is in a very dark place :( and the bit abt jj not being ellie’s son anymore,, also ow, but that’s sort of where the title comes from.  nothing is theirs anymore, but then they both still have the thought in the back of their brain of “i want to be yours again, and maybe eventually you’ll want to be mine”.  in any realistic story i think that would have to take months to years to actually happen, but i ain’t abt to write a long fic.  who do you think i am, someone with an attention span?  we write speedruns in this house!!

r. are there any writers (fanfic or otherwise) you consider an influence?

tbh? if you've written anything in the tag then chances are i have probably read your work, and there is a huge chance i have been somehow influenced by that, whether it's the ideas, a hc you mentioned offhand, a writing style or a dialogue bit. there's just a LOT of talent and big brain energy in this fandom and it's my favourite thing. specifically i have to mention @respectablesentiment, @yourcandleonthewater and @watery-sun bc somehow everything those three have written fucking OBLITERATES me every time,, oh my god man, amazing.  their work always feels v honest and beautiful, even when it hurts lol.

non fic authors tho?? usually it's whatever i'm reading currently. i kind of just notice little details of the author's style and go "oh that's neat" and try to borrow it. there are (extremely old, unpublished, non-tlou) fics i've written where you can tell i was reading a lot of stephen king bc i was imitating the way he writes characters' inner thoughts as these fragmented interrupting bits in the middle of paragraphs. it's a bit noticeable that i was reading jane eyre last semester bc the fics i wrote during that time all have these long, rolling descriptions of actions and details in the setting lol. just kinda picking up bits and pieces along the way :)

#thanks for the ask friend 💛 #ask game #levi.doc

[mccnyoongi]

buttercup ⇢ pt one

⇢ pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

⇢ genre: smut + slight angst

⇢ au: college!au, fwb!au, stoner!yoongi, assholeish!yoongi, fuckboyish!yoongi fwb to lovers trope

⇢ word count: 6k+

⇢ warnings: smut, honestly mostly porn, unprotected sex, recreational use of drugs & alcohol, dirty talk, praise, degradation, ridiculously excessive use of pet names, fingering, dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex, slight dumbification (whoops), hair pulling, creampie??, oral (f receiving), pussy slaping, reader has a thing for Yoongi’s hands because who doesn’t, reader and yoongi are both sarcastic and oblivious, this part is basically pwp.

⇢ synopsis: Min Yoongi wears leather jackets, fucks you like he hates you, spends most of his days on the wrong side of a blunt, and calls you the sweetest names when no one else is around. And you definitely aren’t falling in love with him.

⇢ author’s note: so yes, buttercup is being cut up into two parts thanks to a lot of my life getting uprooted this week!!! ill spare you the details but everything is really chaotic rn so im sorry this isnt exactly what i promised :( thank u for all the insane amont of love ive gotten so far. this is a pretty um... filthy piece of writing skfjsd and it’s definitely not perfect and id love to get better with everything i put out on here but i hope u guys enoy ily xx

If there was a magic lantern hidden somewhere on the campus of this university, you’d find it and your first wish would be to make it so that no one found out about this whole illicit affair you’ve been having with Min Yoongi. The secrecy was fun, sexy like you guys had a whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. Or something. Your second wish would be to make his dick vibrate. 

But then he just had to go and go down on you in a bathroom during a party at the Beta Tau Rho house, not even a month into the fall semester, knowing you wouldn’t be able to be quiet or subtle at all. And he was so smug about it too, the fucker.

You can still feel the embarrassment buzzing under the surface of your cheeks from when you walked out that bathroom door and a dozen frat boys and mutual friends of yours and Yoongi’s were out there, waiting for the two of you to emerge and giving you a round of applause when you did. Yoongi had just laughed and rolled his eyes before leading you to the kitchen to get the pair of you some drinks. He’s always been particularly good at brushing that shit off of his shoulder. You aren’t, but you’re pretty good at pretending.

Maybe you should have ended it all that night. Of course, you didn’t. You figured, hey,  you’re young and in school so fuck making good decisions. Of course, the fact that no other guy has ever been able to dick you down nearly as well as Min Yoongi can is probably a huge contributing factor. 

Sure he might be grumpy, and sarcastic, and he tries way too hard to look cool and nonchalant, but he’s also the first guy to ever make you squirt. And you’re pretty sure that the way he waxes poetic about your pussy would make even Shakespeare swoon. So maybe the pros outweigh the cons, but only just.

“I can’t believe you’ve been getting Yoongi dick for almost three full months and haven’t divulged every single detail and vein to me, you cold, uncaring bitch-” Jimin’s voice is far too loud for the student-run coffee shop the two of you regulared every Sunday; a tradition that Jimin always insisted upon. He loves his traditions almost as much as he loves destroying any personal boundaries between the two of you.

“Keep going Park, see if I ever buy your coffee again.”

“Don’t change the subject,” You can’t say you’re surprised that Jimin is reacting like this. Self-proclaimed ‘disaster bisexual,’ Jimin was one of the very first friends you made back when you were a shy, barely functioning freshman. 

He actually introduced you to all his frat brothers, and a large number of the people you now call your friends. Including Yoongi, whose dick seems to be a reoccurring topic between you and… most people you know. Even if they weren’t at that dumb party, Jungkook made sure that every living being that stepped onto campus was aware of the newly found out fuckbuddies.

“We don’t keep anything from each other, Y/N,” He’s whining over his coffee now, full lips perched in that pretty pout that he regularly uses to his advantage. “I even told you about that time I puked on Namjoon’s dick in our second year!”

“Mmm, and I wish you hadn’t told me, Minnie-” The visual still haunts you, but Jimin has never had any predilections when it came to oversharing, especially not with people who have the misfortune of being his best friends. “‘Sides, I didn’t figure it was important, the whole Yoongi thing-”

“His dick, you mean.”

“Because it’s not like we’re getting married,” You carefully ignore him, a useful habit you’ve picked up three years into being his friend. “Just sex, remember?”

“So fucking what? You told me how you sucked Jeon’s cock in a movie theatre less than twelve hours after it happened-” You take a large gulp of your own iced coffee to busy yourself when the shameful memory is brought up. Not shameful because of the promiscuity of the act, no you’re an adult, thank you very much, but rather because of the boy you performed them on. Jeon Jungkook is now more of an annoying younger brother to you than anything. Not to mention he’s got a giant mouth that couldn’t keep a secret even if it killed him.

“Jesus you could’ve picked any other example-” You groan out as Jimin smirked, receiving the exact reaction from you he wanted. You think you’d have learned by now. “I’m sorry, okay? You big baby.”

“Hey, you’re on thin ice,” He points an accusatory finger at you and you have to fight the urge to smack it out of your face. “Now you have to make it up to me.”

You sigh- Jimin can really be exhausting when you’re only half a medium coffee in. “And how do you expect me to do that, Park.”

“Dick details, fucking obviously,” He says it like you’re a moron for even asking. And maybe you are. “Well details in general, I guess. You know, the basics; length, girth, does he make you call him daddy, is he good- I mean he must be un-fucking-real if you’ve been bouncing on it for three goddamn months, you whore.”

“I’m not giving you measurements, Jimin, I’ve yet to take a tape measure to it- and stop assuming everyone has a daddy kink just ‘cause you do.”

“Okay, vanilla bitch. You’re lucky I already know he’s got a monster cock from that time he streaked at that post-mid-term party next year.”

“Then why’d you even ask?”

“To see if you’d tell me the truth. It was a test and you failed.”

“I may be a college student but you’re gonna have to threaten me with a little more than a failing grade to spook me,” You roll your eyes playfully- there’s no real threat in his words, there never is.

“You’re right, I’m sure you’d much rather be punished by Yoongi, huh?”

                    ..............................................................................

Watching Yoongi roll a joint, his long, slender and experienced fingers moving quickly and deftly, has always had this near hypnotizing-like effect on you. His apartment smells like weed, the scent never surprising and would almost be overwhelming if you weren’t so used to it by now. The sight alone is almost enough to make you wet. But you’re stronger than that- except for when you’re not. 

Sexy hands aside, but unfortunately not on you, you’re thankful for his cannabis-related expertise because a) you can’t roll one yourself to save your life and b) despite normally reserving your consumption habits for parties, you feel like you deserve a fat one after the week you’ve had. What with, you know, the stress of having every student on campus knowing about yours and Yoongi’s torrid affair, thanks to fucking Jeon Jungkook. Brat. Plus incessant goading from both Jimin and your roommate, Irene- equally angry as Jimin about your worst kept secret- has only made you sink further into your insecure and paranoid thoughts.

The weed would help, you’d told yourself when your phone pinged with that much anticipated what’re u up 2? late night text from the raven-haired devil himself. Yep, it was the weed, the comforting blanket of getting high. And had nothing to do with the boy that was offering them. Not even his fat cock or magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. 

“Alright, dove,” He says from his spot on his worn-out single-dorm couch- the names don’t tend to surprise you the way they used to. You kinda figured that the affection-starved Yoongi had just you know… gotten comfortable with the girl he had been fucking for the last couple of months. No big deal. Sure they made your heart swell and your panties dampen, but then it could be looked at as a positive. 

He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, where he’s uncomfortably hunched over the table as he works and notices how you’re looking rather spaced out- not entirely rare for you. He’s used to the hundred-mile stare you tend to adopt when deep in thought, though it’s considerably less common for a sober you.

“Dove?” Nothing. “Y/N?” It’s the use of your actual name from his lips that finally grabs your attention.  You finally turn your head to look at him, the glaze of deep thought finally leaving your eyes. An eyebrow quirks to let him know you’ve heard him, but his gaze remains piercing and unwavering on yours. “You need to stop worrying so much, dove.”

“That’s what the weed is for, Yoongs.”

“The weed? You’re just here so I can smoke you out then, huh? No ulterior motives, hm?” His tone is as dry and sarcastic as ever, qualities he had quickly become known for around campus. He shurgs “Fine. Just here to sesh. C’mere then.”

You scoot closer to his side of the couch, not even thinking twice before listening to him. His tongue is tantalizing as he licks the rolling paper, even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He’s almost always tantalizing to you.

“Don’t be grumpy. You invited me over,” Your words are softer than you meant, but your proximity to him makes you feel stilted. He was right, you really needed a smoke, more on edge than ever.

“Well, technically,” He starts, unlit, perfectly rolled joint now perched between his lips. He grabs at your legs before continued so that you were resting sideways on the black couch, legs strewn over legs, thighs touching thighs. “I invited the best pussy on campus over.” You crinkle your nose at his bluntness.

“Yoongi-” You scold indignantly and pinch at a well-toned bicep. “Don’t be an asshole, you asshole.” He grins despite the insult like he’d expected it. Or he’s revelling in it.

“You know I’m just fucking around, angel,” His arm tucks around your waist comfortably, pulling you even closer. “Tryna chill you out. I can tell when you’re all strung out. I know how you,” He pokes you in the middle of the forehead, still grinning, as you pout from being called strung out. “Tick.” 

He really does, doesn't he? The thought is mildly terrifying, and you think that Yoongi might be too smart or his own good sometimes. When he’s not smoking himself into another dimension, that is.

He leans back into his seat, uncurling from around you to finally light up. A few sparks later and the room is fogging up with overly pungent smoke- the cheap smell makes you think that he probably bought it off of Hobi, too lazy to go any further off-campus than his own block of apartments to one of the nice but relatively affordable dispensaries. You crinkle your nose at the scent, grateful he’s too distracted to notice since he’d probably just tease you for liking the fancy shit more. At least you trust Hobi, and he lives only two buildings down from Yoongi. Truly an age of convenience.

A few passes, tokes, whatevers later, and you’re feeling substantially... floaty. You’ve completely relaxed, choosing to lie down rather than put the effort into sitting up, though your legs are still thrown across your equally high counterpart’s. What’s left of the roach is left to burn in one of many strategically placed ashtrays around the apartment, this one being on the living room table.

Yoongi has barely moved in the past while, head resting lazily on the back of the couch, black hair messy and his neck- which is somehow handsome to you- stretched out, and hands resting against your bare knees. You’ve barely paid him any mind, the silence nothing but comforting and easy. 

Which is why you can’t help but jolt just a little in surprise when those hands, the hypnotizing ones you’re so obsessed with suddenly start creeping up your legs, halfway up your thighs, carefully kneading the supple flesh he finds there. He chuckles at your reaction, finally picking his up his head to watch you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Bet you’re extra sensitive right now, huh petal?” He doesn’t have to bet because he knows it’s true, knows how needy you get when you’ve smoked. And he loves it- it’s why he never makes you pay for any of the times he smokes you out.

“Fuck off,” You whine at his light-hearted teasing, but Yoongi just giggles- he fucking giggles- in response, hands still travelling the expanse of your thighs. 

“Be nice,” His words are still jovial, but there’s a gruffness behind them that sends a shiver down your spine, despite the relative stuffiness of his living room.

“I am nice, you’re just a dick,” You pout- childish, but you can’t quite come up with anything more clever at the moment. The jab may be weaker than your usual quips, but Yoongi seems to have decided it’s enough to warrant a punishment of sorts, as he sends a quick slap onto your thigh. It’s certainly not the harshest hit you’ve received from him, it’s more playful than anything, but it’s enough to make you whine, not even noticing when your own hands jump down to grab at him and your now sore flesh.

His eyes take on a new sort of darkness, beyond the dilated pupils from the high he’s in the middle of as he grabs at your wrists, any assault you had planned halting in its tracks. His large hands that you’ve drooled over- figuratively and literally- many a time are big enough that he only needs one of them to hold both of yours steady. He uses his grip on you to yank you back up to a sitting position, where your noses almost touch and you can feel his breath fan across your lips.

“I told you, I know how you tick,” He lets his tongue swipe out to wet his lips, the act distracts you and makes you mimic it with your own tongue and lips. The smirk he gives you is all at once wicked and panty dampening. “Which means I know you like it when I’m mean. I know you like when I treat you like this, like my little slut,” The word makes you draw in a breath as your face reddens in humiliation and tension. “And- and I know you’re probably soaking through your panties right now, all over my couch. Making a fucking mess.”

It infuriates you to no end how right he is as your breaths come out shaky and uneven as you feel your pussy flutter around nothing beneath your shorts and panties. 

“Aren’t you?” His tone doesn’t leave room for playfulness anymore, and you’re nodding dumbly before you can give it a second thought. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t give you any time to bask in the praise before he’s leaning in to capture your lips in a searing and sloppy kiss. He’s domineering even in the way he kisses you, teeth biting and tongue sweeping into your own mouth as he revels in the small sounds that escape you. His hands leave your wrists, freeing them so you can grip onto raven locks with a newly freed hand as his own wrap around your waist. 

Every sense is filled with him, and it is all at once comforting and exhilarating.

He tugs and roughly manhandles you so that you’re properly astride his denim-covered thighs, your lips never untangling in the process. When your lips finally do come apart, it’s with a lewd sound and a gasp from your mouth. He’s still smirking.

“Gonna fuck you so good petal,” Yoongi has always been so blunt and unforgiving, whether in bed or out and it had been one of the things that first attracted you to him, besides his obvious good looks. 

Before the two of you had even gotten together, when you were friends who didn’t fuck on the regular, you had even mustered up the courage to touch yourself to the thought of him speaking to you like this- your own fingers circling your clit and delving into yourself without abandon. You had only been able to imagine up a fraction of his sexual prowess. 

Like the time only a few weeks ago you admitted to him in a foggy haze, high than you think you’d ever been. how you’d brought yourself to climax with images and soundbites of him flitting through your head. He’d immediately made you put on a show for him- recreating those nights, but this time with him sitting feet away from you and ignoring your pleas for him to touch you.

Right now, however, the only things keeping you grounded in reality is the feeling of the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath you, though nowhere near where you truly ache to be touched, and one of his hands brutishly tangled in your hair, pulling harshly so he can have easy access to your neck. Plush lips start soft, kissing and licking at the skin there, before his teeth join in, biting and sucking like he loves the taste of you (because he does).

“Y-yoongi-” You’re trying to keep the whimpers at bay, like maybe if you stop yourself from seeming so turned on so fast it’ll get him to fuck you faster. “C’mon, just fuck me already.”

“So demanding for such a needy bitch,” He has you squirming on his lap and you don’t know why you thought you had any power over him left. “Have you forgotten your place? Can’t think of anything else but getting fucked, huh?”

You nod in agreement, but find out he must want a verbal response when you’re met with a sharp spank to your ass that has you squealing and bucking into his lap. “Yeah, yeah Yoongi ‘m sorry, just need it.”

“I know, baby, I know, you can’t even help it when you get all messy like this, I know,” You can’t decide whether his words are sweet or patronizing when he coos at you like that, but either way he’s got you another pair of panties.

“Need you to fix it, Yoongs,” All pride is out the window when he’s got you like this, and you love pleading with him to give you what you want almost as much as likes making you beg.

“I will,” He gives you one more harsh bite to the junction of your neck and your shoulder that you know will blossom into a bruise just in time for your 10 AM class tomorrow and you hiss at the mingling of pain and pleasure. “Now fucking get up,” He pats lightly at your thigh twice at the order.

You’re in no position to disobey, and you know from experience that not listening to him will end up with a sore ass and no release in sight. You stand up on shaky, doe-like legs and he grins at the sight of you. He stands up with you, his lean form and strong stance making him look taller than he really is. Then his long fingers are pulling at what little clothing you have, stripping you of both your tank top and your shorts and your bra isn’t far behind. Soon you’re clad only in your panties while he’s still fully clothed in black form-fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Thankfully he leaves his cliche, but devastatingly sexy leather jacket at the door.

He doesn’t make any move to undress at all and you hope to god he will eventually- you love seeing his honey-coloured skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as he fucks you into oblivion. But for now, he stays fully clothed and he roughly pulls you by your upper arm until he can bend you over the arm of the couch, panty-covered ass high and perfectly on display for him.

“God, you’re fucking dripping,” He taunts, fingers running over your pussy through the thin cotton, making you whine into the rough cushion your face is resting on. “All this from almost nothing, huh? You’re such a fucking slut for me, shit.” He sounds genuinely amazed by you and when you uncomfortably crane your neck back to get a good look at him you let out a proper moan. He must have stripped his shirt off when you weren’t facing him, because his chest is bare for you to gaze at, or you would gaze at it if you weren’t distracted by the hand that isn’t on you, which is lazily working over his cock, rock hard and aching through his jeans.

He smirks when he notices what’s grabbed your attention, knowing you’re only moments away from quite literally drooling on his pillows. “Is this what you want? Hm?”

“Ye-yeah your cock, Yoongi, need your cock,” Your face burns red and blood burns hot as the crude words leave your mouth.

“And you’ll fucking get it, dove,” The cute name contrasts the second harsh spank he lands on your ass and you moan at the delicious sting. 

You think that he must be about to tear your panties off and sink into you, but that would be too predictable and Yoongi loves to keep you on your toes. Instead, he disappears from your line of sight, a dull thump coming from the hardwood as he drops to his knees, feline gaze now level with your cunt. 

“Yoongi-” You’re whining again, and you even have to hold yourself back from stomping your foot childishly because, god, you just need him to do something.

And then he finally does- he licks a thick stripe, right from your clit to your entrance, still over your panties, and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, twice, three, four times until your hips are bucking and you’re whining because you need more, you need him to actually touch you and not be a giant fucking tease for once in his life.

“Be fucking patient,” He hisses out, but at least he’s finally rolling your underwear down your legs to toss them somewhere across the room. “Or I swear to god, I’ll hold you down just like this so you can’t even squirm while I get myself off all over your messy cunt,” His hand is running up and down your bare pussy as he speaks, spreading the wetness around, to your clit and your thighs and your ass and then back again. “And then I’ll send you home without touching you or cleaning you up, so you’ll have to take the subway home covered in my come and fucking trembling. So be fucking good.” At the last word, he lands a mean slap against your gushing cunt and you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“Shit-fuck- Yoongi, please, just-” You stutter through your words, needing to get them out, though you don’t know why. “I’ll be good, okay? ‘M your good girl, I am, promise, I’ll be good.”

He doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. But you have to assume he’s happy with your desperate response when he finally delves into your pussy like a man starved, tongue licking into you, the muscle sending spasms up and down your legs. You have to muffle your moans by biting into a pillow, not needing another altercation with his neighbours, but you want nothing more than to yell his name as loud as you can until your voice goes hoarse when he shakes his head from side to side, tongue still buried inside of you and one of his hands now roughly circling your clit. 

It’s too much, but it’s not nearly enough. It’s when he switches positions between his hand and mouth that you think you might explode; his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue circling and playing with it and two fingers fucking into you, preparing you for the impressive girth of his own cock.

Your teeth let go of the strong grip it has so you can warn him of your impending orgasm. “Yoongi- gonna come-” You manage to choke out between barely quieted moans.

You know that he wouldn’t be able to respond if he was still suckling on your clit, but you still whine and wiggle your hips as he pulls away, earning you yet another spank to your rear, where you can only assume a nice handprint is forming. “Yeah? Want you to come all over my face, like a good messy whore- gotta come for me before I can fuck you like you need.” 

When his mouth finds your swollen clit again, you can’t help it as your orgasm barrels through you almost violently, every muscle tensing and fingers grasping at whatever they can find, neighbour’s delicate sensibilities forgotten as you moan out Yoongi’s name. He licks you through it, fingers no longer pistoning into you. When the last of the tremors have faded he finally pulls away, using his clean hand to wipe your mess off of his chin, though it hardly cleans him. 

“Good fucking girl,” The roughness with which he was grinding his still covered bulge into your now sopping wet center would be impossible to ignore even if your head weren’t a million miles away. But for now, everything is Yoongi, every single scent is filled with him and you think that that might be making your head even fuzzier than the drugs coursing through your system, but you’re too far gone to be sure. Or to even care.

Because all you can think about is his mouth-watering hands kneading at the slightly pinkened skin of your ass, his mouth-watering cock rutting against you and his mouth-watering, well, mouth pressing wet kisses and occasional bites up and down your spine. “Yoongi,” You meant to speak with at least a little more conviction, but his name comes out as little more than a mumble.

“Hm,” He hums against your skin and even those slight vibrations reverberate straight to your heart, which starts beating faster at the thought of what’s to come. “What, is my babygirl still needy?” 

The use of the word my in front of the affectionate name makes your heart jump, but you don’t even have time to scold yourself for thinking with your post-orgasmic pussy before he continues talking with that sinful mouth of him. “Such a greedy, desperate girl, won’t be happy ‘til you’re stuffed full of my fat cock,” His words have you whining and grinding back against him, where you don’t have to look to know you’re leaving a stain on his favourite jeans.  If you’re unlucky- or lucky depending on your mood- he’ll make you clean it up with your tongue as further delicious torture. 

But smoking makes Yoongi needy too, no matter how much he teases you for the effect it has on you, and he can’t wait much longer, not with his cock so hard he was a razor blades’ edge from losing his mind. He needs to be inside you as much as you need him.

Which is why you don’t doubt him for a second when he’s murmuring things about how he’s ‘gonna fuck you so good, gonna fuck you stupid,’ and you can only respond with even quieter whispers of ‘I knows’ and ‘pleases’ as he strips himself oh the rest of his clothes, hissing from oversensitivity as his cock makes contact with the air. It’s wonderfully overwhelming and he’s not even fucking you yet.

You can’t even explain how grateful you are when Yoongi turns you around because you love just seeing his cock. You’ve never been one to describe guys’ dicks as pretty before- except that TA you managed to fuck before Jimin sunk his claws into him, Kim Seokjin, because, well, you’re not blind. But Yoongi’s dick is gorgeous. It’s not the biggest thing you’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t have to be, not when it’s girthy enough to make you salivate with a curve that points to the heavens. Gorgeous.

He’s pulling you on top of him so he can sit back down and you’re back to straddling him, and you don’t complain because you know he’s tired both from the pot and crouching on his haunches for access to your center not two minutes ago. Plus he loves when you ride him, breasts bouncing in his face, wetness making a mess out of his lap and full access of your entire body for both his hands and lips.

“Need you to bounce on my fat cock before I fucking explode, baby,” And you’d have to be some sort of a madwoman to deny him.

“Need it too, Yoongs,” You don’t know why you feel the need to remind how desperate you are for him, surely he can feel it, your swollen pussy resting only centimetres above his throbbing length. “Can’t think of anything else.”

“I know,” He’s rubbing the angry red tip against your sopping folds, tinges of overstimulation making you jolt. Or you would jolt if his hands weren’t heavy on your waist, keeping you steady so you couldn’t a) get away from his cock or b) properly sink down onto it. “So pathetic and perfect for me like this, all cock drunk and fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet, huh?”

You nod frantically, and you can’t even find the energy to be embarrassed when a hand comes up to pet your hair with a condescending ‘awe’ as he pouts at you. You bat his hand away with a whine and furrowed eyebrows, but all that gets you is his hand tangled in your hair, yanking sharply in retaliation. “Careful, slut, or you won’t be coming for the next week-”

“Please, Yoongi-” You don’t let him finish, knowing from experience to always take his threats seriously. “I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry, okay just please-”

You cut yourself off with a high pitched, tea kettle-like squeak as he uses his hands on you as leverage to have you sink down onto his cock in one fell swoop. “Shit, god, you’re always so fucking tight around me, fuck me.”

I am, is what you wish you were coherent enough to snark back with, but you’re sure no one would blame you if they could feel what you feel right now. And what you’re feeling right now is how well Yoongi feels inside of you, like no cock you’ve ever had. Every ridge and vein on his cock fills you up to the fucking brim, no room left for a pinky or a thought that has to do with anything other than Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

And then he starts with those devilish moments of his hip, fucking into you shallowly and slowly to start and it’s all Yoongi’s dick. 

“Fucking bounce on it, dove. Fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you need it,” He speaks through gritted teeth, each word a struggle as he tries not to fuck into you without thought. And it’s with the satisfaction you get knowing he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him that you find the strength to do as he says.

With quivering thighs, you push up and off of his cock, the two of you sharing a harmonious groan at the feeling, foreheads pressed against each other, skin sweaty. And this all just in the calm before the storm. 

It’s not long before the both of you are moving frantically, mere seconds, really. It’s intense and all-encompassing, as you grind and roll your hips, cock deeper than you knew to be possible, and his bucking his own hips into you roughly, no doubt as deeply in some sort of euphoria as you are. His hands are everywhere and so are his lips. He sucks marks into your tits and gropes your ass, controlling your movements to the best of his abilities.

All of that, plus your clit grinding against his pelvic bone every other second and your head just might be in another universe. 

Yoongi’s words are swirling around in your head, though you’re not properly taking any of it in- his velvety voice goes on about how wet you are, how tight you are, how you’re a good girl and it’s all another instrument in your downfall. You’ve never been much for heights but being with Yoongi feels like something akin to what you assume bungee jumping is like, and you’re just about at that point where your cord runs out of length and your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

“Tell me you’re fucking close, baby, c’mon,” This is as close to pleading as you can ever get Yoongi but you’re still swimming in pride. He brings a hand off of your ass to cup your cheek, brushing away your now mussed hair and a single stray tear and you drink in the look in his eyes, dark red-rimmed and needing. “Gonna fill you up with my come, just like I know you like, my perfect little cumslut, fuck, just need you to come first, yeah? All over my fucking cock.”

And with a particularly hard grasp at your ass, bringing you to grind your clit against him again, you’re gone. It’s considerably less intense than the previous one, as many second orgasms are, but your head is still spinning and you think you might have drooled a little, but you don’t mind and you know Yoongi doesn’t. Your attempts to stifle your moans are unsuccessful as the name of the man attached to your favourite cock falls from your lips like a mantra.

And where your orgasm is, Yoongi is rarely far behind- he loves seeing you fall apart around him, because of him and you always clench so fucking hard around him in the peak of your pleasure how could he fucking not. He’s grunting, moaning, damn near growling as he spurts his own release as deep into you as he possibly can, coating every inch of your delectable pussy, vague mumbles of how he’s filling you up, just like you’re meant to be that you can just barely hear.

Shakey breaths hit each of your faces as you come down, now still and worn out. Your chests move up and down and you don’t know when you’ve buried your face into the crook of his neck, but the warmth and smell are more comforting than any hit you’ve ever taken off of one of his blunts.

“Shit, buttercup,” He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and where you’ve tucked yourself He runs a hand through his sweaty black locks, the other hand locked around your waist. “I don’t know how we’re gonna move without making this couch fucking disgusting.” Mood killer.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, but I do. Especially if Joon or Hobi someone finds it and makes a big fucking deal out of it, like no other guy in his twenties has some come stained furniture.”

You pull back from the spot you wish he’d just let you fall asleep in so he can see your pout. He can’t find the sight of you… adorable? Your hair matted, bruises, courtesy of yours truly littering your tits and chest, a thin sheen of sweat making your skin glow and bottom lip jutted out exactly enough to be overexaggerated and so fucking adorable. 

At that moment he’s glad that about three weeks ago the two of you had started to break the unspoken no sleeping over after sex rule because he just wants to clean you up and feel you curl yourself around him like you like to.

You don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late and that it doesn't matter, because this was certainly time well spent. You wonder how much sleep you’ve given up in lieu of Yoongi’s pretty dick. Of course, it does matter... because you have a 9 am class tomorrow morning that you can’t miss, but that’s for future you to worry about. For now, it’s time to try to get up without defiling this Ikea couch (you failed miserably and giggled about it while Yoongi groaned in mock pain), burn out just one more joint, steal some clothes for bed and some snacks from his fridge, and pass the fuck out on his bed, which you think is way better than yours, but that has nothing to do with the boy in it or his comforting warmth and smell.

                     ..............................................................................

Past you is a dumb bitch. Also maybe current you. Point being, you hate you, because you’re sore and stiff and ten minutes late to your dumb 9 am class and it’s all Yoongi’s fucking fault. You texted him this much, calling him a ‘little bitch boy’ for not even waking you up to make you a cup of coffee with his fancy instant coffee machine before you left. He hasn’t responded yet because holy fuck does that guy sleep like a rock. A really cute, cuddly, sex-god rock.

But, as usual, Jimin came in clutch, handing you off a coffee as your paths crossed on campus, each of you heading to your respective classes. He gave you a one-armed-too-tight hug and a comment on how you have that very glamourous ‘I got fucked by Min Fucking Yoongi last night and you didn’t so I’m better than you look.’ You tried to take it as a compliment as you thanked him for the coffee. He gave you a cute kiss to your forehead that reminded you you could never even be annoyed at him for too long.

And now you’re in class. Headache from not getting enough sleep getting worse by the second while you tried not to think about what judgements people must be passing on you, with your sunglasses inside and hickeys you didn’t have time to cover up.

When your phone pings you assume it’s Jimin, with something slutty or sarcastic or both. But it’s not. It’s Yoongi- well, it’s what you have Yoongi’s number saved under, aka the drooling emoji three times over… You’re surprised he’s awake, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have shit to do until the afternoon. 

You have a fleeting thought that it could be a dick pic- yeah it’s a little early for that kind of dumb fuckboy behaviour, and you’d previously thought that too, but Kim Taehyung proved you wrong last year. 

Yoongi isn’t a dick pic kind of guy anyway. No, he’s the guy that sends pictures of his hand around your throat that one night you let him take artsy photos of you two fucking on his film camera. The kind of guy that sends you audios of him jerking off and moaning your name that you listen to through your earphones in between classes because he knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. He’s the guy that drives you crazy because you can never quite predict what he’s gonna do next.

[9:23 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: you could have woken me you know dummy

[9:24 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: subways are gross in the morning

[9:25 am] From ����🤤🤤: i could have u know, driven u…

[9:26 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: cant really say no to u buttercup.

You don’t know why you’re heart’s beating so fast so you reprimand yourself for thinking with your pussy. Min motherfucking Yoongi is gonna be the death of you.

#bts smut #btswritingcafe #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #buttercup #bts fic #yoongi fic #bts fanfiction #bts oneshot #bts writing #def not my best work but u know JKFDHKJFHS

[baekhyub]

It’s different - Mark Lee

warnings : car sex, fluff

Alternative Universe Mark Lee Best Friends To Lovers AU!

You and Mark had always been good friends ever since you’d met . You made him when you first joined high school and from then you instantly clicked when you began talking to him as he was the locker next to you

Not to be mean or anything but mark and I have always been at different “social standards” as people awfully would call these days and all my friends would tease me for hanging out with him even though I loved hanging out with Mark more than anyone in the world

He knows everything about me

He knows what i like

He knows what I love

What’s my favourite food

My favourite show

My favourite movie

My favourite words

Basically everything we get each other and i love it but no one else understands it usually calling us a “weird pairing”

I remember when we turned 16 we would always go to the drive in movie theatre and it was so cute but I remember the first time I was really nervous , do I cuddle him ? Or not , do we share snacks or not? Is that just a couple thing

I always turned away the idea that I ever had a crush on mark but I only realised it when he wasn’t around me anymore

We graduated school and promised to talk to each other every day

We went to two different universities in two different places

Sure we talked for a few days but soon after everything stopped

No texts

No FaceTime

No phone calls

No meet ups

That was it

A few months back I tried texting him but someone replied saying they didn’t know who I was and I found out he’d changed his number

I tried to find him on Instagram but i can’t

So I eventually gave up and officially got not so much mad but quite upset at the fact he done that to me

-

The next week i decide to take a trip back home and I’ve never been more excited to see my family I haven’t seen them in so long being away in a different country for uni

When I arrive I greet everyone and it really truly does feel like home

I decide to hop in my car and drive round the neighbourhood

As I’m driving I lose track of where I am and as I look around I realise I’m in marks street where he lived I notice all the houses and trees in the exact spot from when I used to come to visit mark usually taking the bus and finally I reach marks house . I stop outside and look for a minute reminiscing the past and how much fun we would have together for basically nothing I start to tear up but quickly wipe away my tears , why am I so affected by this he’s just a stupid boy

When I am getting ready to drive away that’s when I see him

He walks out his house

He has blonde hair now he must of dyed it

He’s wearing a shirt with a black denim jacket and black ripped jeans with a nice pair of boots but where is his glasses he would always wear ?

He looks good he looks really good, better than I remember

I’m considering going out to see him

Is that weird ?

We haven’t spoke in a very long time

Does he even remember me ?

And he walks back in his house after getting something out his car

I decide I’m gonna do this what’s the worst that could happen , we’re older now and more mature

I park my car and I nervously step out

I come to his fence and pause for a second contemplating if I should really do this

I decide yes just do it

I open the gate and walk up the steps and finally I am on his porch for the first time in 5 years

I knock the door and I stand there nervously

fumbling with my own hands and then becoming sweaty out of my nerves

I feel my heart beat out of my chest as I hear him walking towards the door

He opens it rather quickly and then looks at me for a second and then goes

“Y/N OH MY GOD HI”

He practically shouts before leaning in to give me a hug

I hesitate for a second before deciding to hug him back

“I’ve not seen you in forever Mark”

“Yeah i know it’s been a long long time”

“You changed your number” I asked with a slight show of annoyance in my voice making sure he would understand

“Oh yeah sorry I got a new contract for my phone and everything and I couldn’t message you any way to tell you I had a new number so sorry”

“I was really hurt about that you know”

“y/n I’m so sorry, please let me make it up to you”

“how can you make up ignoring someone for 5 years”

“You’re right thats not forgivable” he pauses for a minute, the air silent and things starting to be awkward

until he finally speaks up again

“Wanna go see a movie”

“At the drive in” ?

“Yes at the drive in”

“It’s still open”?

“Yes I actually checked yesterday that’s when i got back”

“You checked why”

“Just to remember old times you know”

“I get you”

“So tonight for the movie”

“Yes that sounds great”

“I’ll pick you up later”

“See you”

I rushed to my car I was excited? nervous? kinda scared? I don’t know how I feel I have mixed emotions right now

-

It was finally later on in the evening and Mark should be coming to pick me up soon

I wore a pair of leggings and an oversized jumper with some trainers but did my makeup nice

Just as I finished applying my lipgloss I heard a knock on my door...it must be him

I quickly grab my bag and head to the door

“Hey”

“Hey y/n you look nice”

“Oh it’s nothing”

I closed and locked the door behind me and I got into his car which was definitely upgraded from when what he would drive when we were in high school

we arrived at the drive in still as busy as ever and parked in our spot, it was a horror movie, Mark and I’s favourite

he reclined the chairs back and we sat down together in the back seat feat up on the chairs in front

We already brought snacks from both sides and had them placed in front of us

As the movie began me and mark didn’t really talk

Both of us definitely too nervous to speak

But I decided to crack the ice

“Feels weird doesn’t it”

“Yeah it does, feels like yesterday we were 16, I miss those days”

“Me too , so much, you don’t understand”

“You know I literally loved you y/n”

“I love you too mark your my best friend”

“No” he laughed “I had the biggest crush on you”

I went bright red “oh really”

“Yes i would die every time we hung out”

“That’s funny”

“Sorry are you weirded out by that, damn I knew I shouldn’t of said anything”

“No Mark It’s funny because I really liked you too”

“REALLY”

“Yes dummy I always liked you I can’t tell you how devastated I was when we didn’t talk anymore it broke my heart”

“Me too y/n but I thought the only way would be to distance my self from you so it would hurt less and it worked for a while but now I’m back here” mark paused for a moment to hold my hand, “I’m back here with you in the drive in, our place, where we would spend countless weekends and we would sit here and cuddle and talk about everything together”

“Mark”

“Yeah” he leaned in and looked down at my lips

I looked down at his before looking into his eyes and then I closed my eyes and kissed him , I finally did it I’m kissing Mark Lee, my crush since forever, the moment feels unreal, my dreams coming true

He pulls away and then pulls me onto his lap

I sit on top of him kissing him more roughly and I start grinding down onto him(feeling confident) he grabbed onto my hips and starting rocking me back and forth against him until I felt him go hard through his tight ripped jeans he threw his head back onto the window on the back seat and I took this opportunity to kiss up his throat and I started to bite leaving hickeys down his neck “fuck y/n”

He sat up and lifted his shirt over his head and he did the same with me, lifting my jumper off and then quickly un doing my bra and my nipples went hard instantly as they hit the cold mark leaned forwards and started to bite my right nipple and then sucked on it making me whine he then did the same with my left driving me insane

He started to leave hickeys down the valley of my breasts and then trails kisses until he reaches my mouth again kissing me passionately

“I want you to ride my baby girl but we gotta be quiet”

“Okay” I reply quickly wanting to get into it

Mark helps me taking my leggings and underwear off, not caring who sees, and then I help him take his jeans off , as soon as they are off I start palming him through his underwear and I can see he is already wet leaking pre cum

“Fuck y/n stop teasing and take them off”

I take them off painfully slow just to tease him even more

I run my hand down his length and lightly squeeze him before I line myself up with his length

“Are you ready”

“I have been for a long time”

I slide down onto him moaning when he finally fits all the way in

I start to bounce on his dick gradually getting faster as I grip onto the headrest for support

Mark and I moan in sync but we’re trying to be as quiet as we can trying to make sure no one can hear us

Mark reached his hand out and starts to rub my clit and that’s when my hips twitch and I lose my fast pace

“FUCK MARK” I say as quietly as I can

He starts to rub faster trying to make me cum

“I’m gonna cum mark”

“Try told it in for a bit longer”

“I don’t know if I can”

Just then mark takes his hand away and grabs onto my hips fucking up into to me to try chase his own release

I start to clench around him really starting to give up

“Okay cum now”

I cum all over his dick and he pulls out and cums on my stomach pumping his length to get the last bits out

Luckily mark had towels so we cleaned ourselves up and got changed by the time we done that the movie had come to an end and we left to drive back to his house

“Well that was the best time I’ve ever had there”

“Not for me” I smirk

“WHAT how, was I not good enough”

Mark was concerned but I was laughing just teasing him

“My favourite time is when you got out the car and tripped in the mud , you were COVERED it was absolutely hilarious”

“IT WAS NOT”

#mark lee #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct imagines #mark lee x reader #mark lee imagines #mark lee fanfic #nct fanfic #nct127 #nct127 smut #superm #kpop smut

[dreamsafterhours]

college boyfriend!markhyuk au series: III (donghyuk's pathway)

a universe in which roommates!markhyuk meet each other's s/o in class

markhyuk are roommates, my/n and dy/n are roommates, mark and dy/n take classes together and so do donghyuk and my/n — how will their fates intertwine?

genre: fluff pairings: mark+my/n (fem), donghyuk+dy/n (fem), platonic!mark+dy/n, platonic!donghyuk+my/n format: dotpoint AU universe: non idol, college bf warning: some swearing

masterlist

or click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

III: 별빛이 내린다 샤라랄라랄라라 (2+2=4)

the meeting of two souls: donghyuk & dy/n

welcome! back and to the next part

in which things actually happen! yay

so. up until this point

it’s been quite obvious i hope

that this is the one where The Soulmates Meet™

and this one right here is the one where donghyuk meets his future wifenew best (not) friend

dammit this is a set plot with SET relationships

yeah

major spoilers for future parts but hey :) y’all know it i know it let’s just.

let’s get to it!!

that day you accidentally sleep in after a late night and walk into your lecture looking pretty trashier than you would normally a few weeks into the first sem and you’re already tired it’s okay bby aww

and mark suggests skipping the next lecture and going for coffee instead

you’re like ok lmfao free coffee for me yay thanks marcus i owe you one

and to make up for the lecture he suggests he join you and your roommate with his own roommate in the library later that day to study the material you’d missed out on

so you’re like sweet study group hell yeah and apparently his roommate is also in biomed like your roommate? hey they might get along pretty well it’d be nice to have roommates in the same faculty hey

little do you know you little cutie you uwu

mark takes you to a cafe to buy you your favourite drink and a croissant bc you skipped breakfast again and he cares about his friends ok plus he was eyeing that donut next to the savoury menu in the glass cabinet and he would have felt bad if he got something to eat and you didn’t

you sit down, sipping your drink at the window seats and wishing your fatigue away

laughing with mark about what you slept so late for

my/n had been ranting about her love life again or perhaps lack thereof,,

don’t worry tho

after you’d gotten her to sleep, you’d gotten major feels for an essay question that you’d been tasked with due in a week but you hadn’t touched it until last night

staring at the prompt for at least half an hour trying to get your head around it and wondering what the hell you’d write about

but like they say

starting is half of it

so when you start spinning your words and getting into the writing mood

you accidentally wrote an entire draft without realising

albeit being full of loose ends and points you need to refine, etc., it was a decent body of work that you’d tackle for a few more nights before turning in

a skeleton, you’d called it

“a skeleton?”

“yeah. next thing i need to do is.. flesh it out”

“.. literally”

cue mark’s small pause

/inhale/

/MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

you know how mark’s laugh is very how do i put this into words hm dictated

you can HEAR each HA and they’re separate syllables yet sometimes they can vary in tone and length right it’s usually the more consistent HAs before he kinda loses it and starts throwing himself around

it was that laugh

honestly man finds everything funny his laughing threshold seems so low

and no matter how unfunny you are he WILL laugh at anything you say

and you’ve been doing it a lot lately

you could say literally any random thing and he’d already be ready to laugh (see Figure 1.1)

Figure 1.1

you: /snort/

mark, already giggling: “what”

you, still sniggering: /touches his elbow/ “arm knee”

mark: /inhale/ gotta live and breathe that oxygen

mark: HAHAHAHAhahAhaHAHAhahAhHa (decrescendo.. cRESCENDO)

^ that but looped, with intermittent slaps to your arm

anyways you never fail to make him fall out of his chair in laughter

but enough of that. dy/n is donghyuk’s y/n for a REASON ahEM

so after you finish up your breakfast at the cafe you go back to your dorm to take a power nap and recharge before your library session you were going to stay awake but mark forces you to take a nap and you’re like bro you just fed me caffeine now you want me to sleep??

then he tells you he ordered your drink decaf

you turn to him real slow

“.. you sick traitor. how dare you besmirch my name so. you scorn my forefathers and our dependence on the holy bean’s juices. betrayal runs rampant in your soul and mine stands at the mercy of your choices, them informed by the devil himself”

mark: /shrug/ “placebo effect yeet. hey, it worked for a bit. now you should really go home and get your sleep”

and he drags you back to your dorm and waves you off before going to his next class

you’re lowkey grateful for it tho when you take a shower and collapse onto your bed, falling asleep in what you think could be half the time you usually take

dreaming about losing your airpods and mark yelling at you to be more careful and then you two fighting bc you’d just lost your $300 bean sprouts but you could have sworn he took them

then police sirens went off out of nowhere and both of you were being arrested for assault and thievery

why you were the one being arrested, you had no idea but it’s a dream nothing follows the guidelines of hard reality anyway

just as you’re about to be handcuffed, you think to yourself, nope. i have a library session to attend. ain’t nobody got time for this shit

and you just

wake up

but the sirens are still continuing?? so you’re like ? is my building surrounded

they’ve come for me

even though you haven’t exactly broken any laws or have you

and you realise it was the alarm you’d set in time to get ready for your library session

so you grab your stuff and leave for the library, double checking with your roommate over text to make sure she was on her way

her lab class was taking longer than usual so she tells you she’ll be 10 or so minutes late

so you tell her you’ll be saving a seat for her and call mark to let him know you’re on your way to the library

“oh i’m already here lol. alright, i’m waiting for you outside”

and sure enough, you see him leaning on the wall of the entrance, eyes on his phone

you consider calling out to him but before you actually do, he glances up and spots you walking over tf do you have psychic spatial awareness mark

smiles and takes his corded earphones out

“you seriously need to upgrade those”

“they work fine”

“nop i’m getting you airpods for your birthday”

“dUdE thEy’RE tOo ExPEnSiVe. nO dUDE NoO”

“nOP. i’m GOING to buy you EXPENSIVE BEAN SPROUTS for your LIFE DEBUT ANNIVERSARY and you CAN’T STOP ME”

at this point i should just put /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ and you should know what laugh i’m referring to

/MARK LEE’S MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

/MLML/ for short

nvm it’s fine it’s kinda fun to type /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/

literally mark laughs in bolded italics i’m just sad i can’t underline it on tumblr unless it’s a link lmfao

n e ways

i digress

you shush him because you’re about to walk into the library

“qUIET DOWN marcus” turn that sh down for quiet new dawn

the library is almost full for the day but after a minute or two scouring the building you find an empty four seater in the middle of nowhere it’s CRAZY you can NEVER find a MIRACLE like this life couldn’t get better

i’m sorry

you speed walk to claim it even though there was no one else in your vicinity to threaten your territory

mark laughs at you trying to get to the table as fast as you could without all out running

getting out your things, you send a photo of your seat to your roommate and tell mark to send it to his roommate as well so they know where to find you

you start watching the lecture online while taking notes and since you’re not in the lecture theatre you can talk more audibly with mark not that you don’t talk in the actual lecture too,,

maybe you do text a lot,,, during class

mark usually says things like “.. implications of what now?? interpretation of huh?” to which you reply “i want cheese when i get home”

and he has to stifle his laughter while you keep your straight face and continue writing your notes he admires this ability ngl

and so while you’re watching it on your computer

you can say things like “fuck. i want pickles”

and mark will /throw himself back/ and cackle and probably say some shit like “DIDN’T YOU HATE PICKLES??” between his giggles

and you’re like “yeah. fuck pickles but like. fuck. pickles”

he almost falls off his chair at this point

but when he balances himself again he spots someone down the corridor and wave them over

“oii! over here dude”

you turn to glance at them to expect his roommate, but you see your own roommate talking to someone and wave her over as well

“heYY my/n”

you see the other person turn to your roommate and tell her something, , then she says something back

which is apparently shocking to them, because he glances over at mark and then at you

and then he looks again when your roommate points straight at you

to which you’re like ?? hi? y u look me

and then they both start laughing

you wonder if they were laughing at you or smth until mark’s like “tf is that idiot doing”

and u look at him like ? what idiot

“that idiot. the idiot roommate i told u about. the one who called u a homewrecker”

and you’re like

wait

[info clog]

wait

[error]

“wait”

“what”

“that’s your roommate?” u point at the boy next to my/n, who r both still laughing at something going all “wOW r u KIDDING” he has a loud voice

and mark’s like “? yeah”

and you go

“.. the girl next to him is my roommate”

mark: “wait what”

that’s what she said

at that point they’ve made their way over to the table, still trying to hold in their laughter

you start to introduce your roommate to mark, who’s still confused by the situation

you: “mark, this is my/n, my/n this is mark”

my/n: “nice to see you again mark”

you: “wait. again?”

mark: “yeah we’ve met. hi my/n”

you: “what”

mark: “yeah”

my/n: “yeah”

his roommate: “yeah”

you:

you: “i feeling like i’m missing something here”

turns out

surprise surprise

that one friend that my/n had made in her biology class was mark’s roommate oh my god they were roommates

whose name, you are told, is lee donghyuk

magical moment

us watching: heh 🤤

u can’t help but do a lil body scan from head to toe bc he a fine piece of cake we all know that

honey skin, oversized white t shirt, black pants, sneakers and lighter brown hair that looks fluffy the type of fluffy that makes u wanna touch it

yes he’s good looking. yes

yaaaaas

then mark tells him your name

“she’s the one i said reminded me of you”

“r u talking abt me behind my back marcus??”

donghyuk laughs and holds out a hand for you to shake

“what kinda coincidence is this?? i adopt your roommate, you’re dealing with mine”

“oh you’re gonna have to get in line to adopt her, i’m her legal guardian, sorry donghyuk”

to which he goes

“lmfao then we’ll both be her parents”

“k but i’ll keep her on the weekends. you see her on the weekdays”

then he wipes his smile off his face and he’s like “who said we’re split”

mark and my/n are doing the /MANIACAL LAUGHTER/ at this point

mark: “so ,, seriously what are the chances”

you: “this quartet,, it’s fate guys it’s fate there’s no way about it”

yes it is. yes. it is

even that four seater table was free because of fate

donghyuk: “this calls for drinks later. we all free? no 9am classes tmr?”

my/n: “we have a physics prac at 8:30 dingus”

donghyuk: “ah shit”

you barely got any notes for that lecture for at least an hour because you end up talking altogether throughout the session but once you remember you’re in a library to study you request a ceasefire and agree to study for a bit which,, you gotta admit ,, isn’t really productive because you’re so excited to meet someone new

but the best part about the day was when you notice how many times mark is glancing at your roommate while she’s reviewing her notes, completely oblivious

donghyuk complains that he’s hungry after another hour or two and you suggest you all have dinner together

donghyuk leans back in his chair in a stretch, his jumper lifting up a little over his jeans and showing a bit of his belly “ah i’m craving chinese”

you perk up, “mE TOO”

so you all go to your favourite chinese place just outside campus where you find out that mark and my/n have the same taste and so do you and donghyuk

he points and u and goes “oH?”

“jjAMPPONG? U TOO?”

“the ONLY DISH EVER”

mark and my/n: jjajang is fine : )

you and donghyuk: “JJAMPPONG IS SUPERIOR”

give him a bro five with the shoulder bump and everything

the boys walk you and my/n back to your dorm afterwards

donghyuk and my/n end up walking in a pair and mark walks alongside you

mark mentions how it’d be fun if you made a group chat together

you: “do it”

“i don’t have your roommate’s number tho”

you’re smiling wickedly at his reaction “?? ASK HER FOR IT”

“dude what?? no u make one and i’ll add donghyuk to it”

“bRO JUST ASK”

“wHAT NO U DO IT THEN”

so u go

bet

and you call out the two biomed kids walking in front of you

“hey donghyuk! give me your number i’ll make a group chat”

“sure lol” and you open up a new contact to let him type his number into your phone

he saves his name as hot boi hyuk ✌🏻

which you just leave bc you’re busy making the group chat

mark is still astounded that you asked donghyuk for his number so easily

you: hi hello good day

my/n 🌸: yeetus meetus

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: bow before me

you: here before me lie the beginnings of a new era

you: one born from blood and stone

my/n 🌸: tf is she saying

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: idk but lets go with it

you: together we rise from the rubble and sort through the debris

hot boi hyuk ✌🏻: yas queen

my/n 🌸: i hate this gc already

you: and we WILL REBUILD THIS EMPIRE

read by marcus the fool 🤡 at 8:21 pm

safe to say you stay up for a good while talking on that group chat while mark just sits idle,,

you honestly don’t know if he’s consciously reading or not maybe he just left his phone on the chat

and thus our quartet is complete,,

and they all lived

happily ever after

but this isn’t the ending tho is it

wink wonk /waggles eyebrows/

this is but the epilogue to the prologue

that doesn’t make sense but n e ways

our quartet has not yet become two pairings

y’all just don’t know what the future has in store for you :)

click here to meet your soulmate, eng lit!mark!

II ⇤ | III | ⇥ IV

taglist: @lavellanfriendliness​ 

shoot me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future parts!

#dreamwritersnet #kwritersworldnet #neowriters #nct au #nct 127 au #nct dream au #markhyuck #markhyuck au #markhyuck x reader #mark x reader #haechan x reader #donghyuck x reader #mark au #haechan au #donghyuck au #nct college #nct college au #eng lit mark #paediatrics haechan

[ayashiki-i-i]

Last Friday, I had the absolute joy and privilege to see Be More Chill in London!

(Yes, last Friday, this has been sitting in my drafts for over a week because I couldn’t figure out how to appropriately convey my delight with this show, and also yes, joy and privilege, call me dramatic but I swear to god nothing on this Earth makes me appreciate my life quite as live theatre.)

I have loved this show for a very long time. Not quite since its first Two Rivers Theatre run, but very early on from when it caught the internet’s attention. I was at the start of what was to become a viral sensation, and I was with the show, rooting for it, hoping for it, ever since. I feel like I walked the journey from crossing million hits on Spotify to the Broadway alongside the cast and creators. I felt immensely happy and proud for these people I never met when they announced their off-Broadway return, and I honest to god cried the day they opened on Broadway. Needless to say, I was overjoyed, literally jumping with happiness, when they announced they will stage a production on West End. Or technically off-West End? I’m still very confused how The Other Palace is not West End and Victoria Palace literally around the corner is West End... Anyway. I have not walked into that theatre on Valentine’s Day with low expectations.

And my Mount Everest high expectations were far, far exceeded and shot somewhere into the stratosphere.

I really can’t with words describe how much I loved this show. Joes Iconis and Tracz managed to hit some very special spot with this musical. It’s truly hard to describe, but this show just makes you happy. It makes you involved and interested. And I gotta tell you, I think we hit the press night, because there was a bunch of people (very respectfully) scribbling on their pads and iPads during the show, so this wasn’t an audience primed and geared for this type of musical. And that’s not even counting all the parents chaperoning their teenagers. And I can guarantee you everyone had a great time. During the intermission I went to get a drink and witnessed several conversations between aforementioned parents that all pretty much amounted to “wow, this is actually good!” It’s honestly such a treat to be in an audience that’s genuinely enjoying themselves.

This show is funny, and heartfelt, and charming. So charming. It has somehow a vibe of a really well done high school production, which could maybe sound like a criticism but i swear it isn’t!

I haven’t seen much of the previous productions, except few clips from the Two Rivers bootleg slime tutorial, but I really tried not to watch too much, hoping against hope there will be a revival one day (I try not to watch shows I have a chance of seeing one day. I’m fortunate to have the chance of having the full experience live so I try not to ruin it for myself lol). I gobbled up all the official promo clips and videos from the NYC revival, being super unlucky and managing to plan my New York trip in that small window when BMC just closed Off-Broadway and before it got on Broadway. I haven’t even listened to the Broadway recording, because by the time it came out I knew they’ll be staging a production over here. So i went in quite blind. With all that previous ado, this is how it was:

The book is so good. So so good. Many times when I fall in love with an album, the actual musical doesn’t hold up because the book doesn’t compare (hi, Dear Evan Hansen). But BMC is as engaging and fun between the songs as during them. Tbh I don’t love the changes to the songs they made, but I don’t really hate them either... Now having listened to the Broadway recording they reverted somewhat back to the original album on West End and I’m happy they did, but still. Especially Pitiful Children did not deserve the cuts. But I mean its still mostly the same album and it’s brilliant and fun, and ok, Looser, Geek or Whatever is a bop.

(Although I always kinda liked that Jeremy didn’t have a typical big “hero song” because he keeps mentioning how he isn’t a hero and it was kinda ironic that his own show refused him the hero treatment, but the song is solid.)

This cast is EVERYTHING. I’m sorry all previous casts, I love you and I respect you but i really think the British cast is (so far) the peak? Obviously as I said I don’t have the full picture to compare, but honestly these guys are all so good and I can’t imagine anyone else in these roles, they set the bar so high. Yes, even Michael. Omg I’m so sorry George Salazar! This role is his in a very special way, and I feel blasphemous saying this! But that’s what makes Blake Patrick Anderson so special, because I didn’t think I will ever be able to accept another Micheal than George Salazar. But from the first moment Anderson appears on stage, you don’t think of George Salazar. This right here is a Micheal and that’s it. I think he’s slightly less... Manic, than Salazar, and more caring, but also more stubborn, and nerdy. My friend said after the first act the character’s problem is that he’s a bit too likeable and it’s almost unbelievable he would be a social outcast and she was right. The dude is so damn likeable! So charming, so positive. And then Micheal in the Bathroom hits and omg does it hit. Also Blake Patrick Anderson has a really long name is very pretty. A+ snack. I’m in love. Scott Folan is, uh, I don’t really love him vocally... Ok I liked him until Loser Geek of Whatever. I don’t know, maybe it wasn’t his day. Or maybe that song is just written for Will Roland and no one will ever measure up? Tbh I haven’t seen Roland sing it live so who knows, maybe it is one of those songs that’s hard to perform without yelling a bit. Praying circle for the West End cast album? However Scott Folan’s acting is a masterclass. He’s so awkward in the first act, so sad, but also sweet. Actually I said i didn’t love his singing but when his voice cracks all over in his first few songs it’s superb and also his “Christiiine~” is really beautiful and lovely, so, dunno *shrugs*. And then in the second half he totally sells his confidence and assholer-y and like... They seem like two different jeremys, the squipped and un-squipped one. But ultimately he just gives such good-kid vibes. He seems like the perfect midpoint between Will Connolly’s shy Bambi and Roland’s geeky recluse. This Christine is absolutely feral. Like, you have no idea. Some people commented on the video of I Love Play Rehersal from the rehearsals that this Christine is not chaotic enough, so I’m seriously worried how chaotic Stephenie Hsu was? :D In any case Miracle Chance I thought was perfect, the ideal mixture of quirky but relatable, sweet but strong. Also she is hilarious. I’m pretty sure she got the most laugh out of the audience, not just because the actress’s absolutely perfect comedic timing but also that role is so well written. Like you really can’t get the full idea of this character until you watch the show, you know? It’s very layered, but each layer is easy to get so she makes a really fun character to watch. The Squip is hot. Like so hot. And his costumes are wonderful. And I know I’m not the only one who didn’t love Jason Tam’s accent as Squip and like... I think I know what he was going for but it just doesn’t work for me. This Squip is a lot more like Eric William Morris, just more hot. Oh yeah I mean the dude is fantastic actor too, and his voice is something impressive, but mostly I was just thinking “hot” whenever he was on stage :D James Hameed’s Rich is vocally stunning. By far the best Squip Song I have ever heard. Also he has Pickle Rick tattoo?? It’s fucking brilliant I HATE IT! :D Millie O’Connel is perfect of course. She has such a presence on stage. It was hilarious when she came out after the show, with her hair down and make-up off and said hi and people mostly kinda ignored her cause... She’s really a hurricane on stage and when she dials it down just a notch I really think people don’t connect her to her stage persona :D

(Also like, massive kudos to The Other Palace’s stage door, cause they allow you to just hang around the bar where the cast has to go through to leave the place, so no dirty alleyways stage dooring in rain and cold and possible pickpockets around.)

I really loved the staging, and it’s very small, very minimal, which isn’t something I normally like, so well done! They definitely dialled back from the Broadway (the bean bags are back!) and honestly the minimal props and simple set really suit this show. It adds to that almost-like-a-really-good-school-play charm. But also they have this massive LED screen as the background so they can change and move and animate their backdrop and it’s honestly so impressive. The artwork is so perfectly in line with the show’s aesthetic. And it’s building up and up towards the show’s climax which I thought was pretty subtle and pretty neat creative decision.

Ugh this is so long I didn’t think it would be so long :D But I have one criticism I cannot not mention. And I kinda always had this, but seeing it live it jumps out on me more - I don’t feel Jeremy and Christine :| I mean don’t get me wrong. The actors have amazing chemistry, their added song is the one that I actually really like and it makes sense, there’s so much more meaningful interaction they have in the show than the songs wold suggest. But. It still doesn’t quite sit well. Besides the fact that I don’t think the show’s narrative is about Jeremy getting the girl - that’s not really his character arc. But also, although they’re not incompatible, he gets the girl he doesn’t even really know, and she definitely doesn’t know him. I think I would prefer if they just stayed friends at the end, but if there had to be romantic conclusion... Well, I mean who doesn’t ship boyf friends, but seriously if Michael was a girl I’m pretty sure he’d be the romantic endgame for Jeremy. You know the type, the old friend who was by the protagonists side and believed in him all along? Yeah. But besides that, i was surprised to find I kinda liked Jeremy with Brooke too? I mean they have the same problem as Jeremy and Christine, with not knowing each other and all that, but at least it’s mutual, and they seemed to have a spark. But maybe it’s just because I unexpectedly really, really loved Brooke (she doesn’t have much space on the album and no one ever really talks about her, why does no one really talk about her???). She defies a lot of her archetype, she seems like such a sweet person. I guess I would just like to see more of her, and more depth to her, which a romance with the protagonist would’ve given her.

But tbh the show devotes a lot more time than I thought it would for Christine and Jeremey’s relationship to develop and it isn’t unrealistic, so it ended up being a pretty minor issue, which i though would be a bigger one.

Tl;dr (oh my god why is this so long????) this show is everything I wanted and more. The West End cast is amazing, charming and delightful and each of them is perfectly cast to really embody their character, while giving some fresh outlook on characters I thought I knew very well and filling very big shoes of the original cast I thought couldn’t be replaced. Also I didn’t talk to any of them but they spend a long time hanging out with the fans after the show and seemed genuinely super nice and pleased with the love the show is getting. The book is more than an equal partner to the music I already was in love with (also Joe Iconis was at the show I saw! I didn’t talk to him because I’m me and I will forever regret it!). The Other Palace’s staging and direction is wonderful, and the choreography is impressive and very on brand with the rest of the show, very modern, very electro and robot. I enjoyed every second and the standing ovation at the end was well deserved.

Just to re-affirm how much I loved this show - just few days after seeing it I booked a ticket to go see it again almost immediately lol. So if anyone is seeing it this Wednesday 26th Feb and you can telepathically pick me in the audience come say hello!

(Or like, drop me a message like a normal person if you’re also going alone and want to meet with someone to seem less like a weirdo! :D)

#ramblings #i have a life #be more chill #bmc #be more chill west end #i love musicals! #musical theatre #review #i guess? #it’s pretty much just me yelling what a good time i had

[write-away-from-here]

Writeblr Re-Intro

Hey! I want to redo my intro because a lot of things have changed since the first one so here we are. So here goes nothing:

Basic Stuff

- I’m a 18

- I like to write poetry and short stories

- I’m a lesbian

- I’m autistic

- I really want to get published someday

WIPs

- A poetry book (currently) called Of Ink and Pages

- A novel that has no name and it’s kinda on hold, but I promise it exists and I want to start posting about it

Special Interests

As an autistic person I have special interests and sometimes I post about them so it seems important to put them here.

- Percy Jackson (this is a big one)

- Harry Potter

- Writing

- Politics/Human Rights

Trigger Warnings

For the bigger triggers I’ll put warnings at the beginning and a “read more” button before the actual content. I will also include more warnings in the tags. Also! Please message me and tell me if you need a trigger warning for something I didn’t already tag. Currently my trigger warnings are...

- Suicide

- Death

- Self Harm

- Covid-19

Random Things

- I really love my girlfriend so I have a lot of posts about her and I’m not sorry lmao

- I try to post consistently but I’ll be real, that doesn’t happen a lot

- I’m considering putting stuff about my novel wip

- I’ll be happy to make informational posts about...

     - Autism

     - Sexuality

     - Coming Out

     - Any of my special interests

- I’m in model UN

- I play clarinet and sax

- I sing and do theatre

- I’m an advocate for mental health at my school

That’s all! I’ll be deleting my old intro post because it’s no longer accurate.

Oh, and if you’re a writeblr or blog about my special interests you can comment on this post and I’ll check out your blog :)

#write-away-from-here #writeblr #writeblr into #writblr #writblr introduction #poetry #wip #lgbt #lesbian #autism #autistic #actuallyautistic #percy jackson #pjo #politics #sapphic #reintro

[patovpran]

I don’t know if you’re still taking fic prompts for TwoAn (or TwoUn or TooAn 😂) but if you do, could you write one based on the sentence “Did I interrupt something ?” and make it angsty with a happy ending if you can but anything else is fine too ! Have a nice day 💕 ~bldramagalore

Again, sorry for keeping you waiting but here it is. I had like 3 drafts for this but decided to keep it short. Maybe I'll post the other plans I had in the future too. I hope you like it and have a nice day too!

This kinda has canon stuff, kinda not but I hope you don't mind it.

And yes, their ship name is a mess (like them)

---

Two stared at his camera, afraid to turn it on and see the photo again. He knew what it represented and he was too afraid to face it. The theatre room and Un's smile were engraved in his mind for a week now and he wishes he isn't scared to admit the warm feeling that spreads around his body when he sees it.

He needed a break. He needed something to take his mind off of his feelings and just let him relax. Usually that was photography but now it was just a regular old thing, drinking.

The gangsters were quick to gather at a nearest bar. Khai and Third tried their best not to act all couple-y but failed miserably, Bone was teasing them restlessly with Two mostly doing the same except for when he was looking around and staring at pretty girls. The reason why he never approached them was screaming at him from the back of his mind so he drowned the voices with alcohol.

„I'll go grab us more beer.“ He announced and made his way through the crowd. Despite his well alcohol tolerance, he was a bit more than just tipsy but he wasn't planning to stop anytime soon. Or so he thought.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the man that occupied his thoughts right in front of him. The problem? The problem was that there was another guy, nobody Two recognises, pressing him against the wall and flirting with him.

While Two stared, Un turned to look in his direction and his smile was replaced by a suprised face. The other man stopped talking and moved so that he could see what grabbed Two's attention.

„Two.“ Un said so quietly that it couldn't be heard over the music.

„Did I interrupt something?“ Two glared at the man who still had his body close to Un before he backed off a bit but glared back. Un stepped in between them to block the stare down and crossed his arms over his chest.

„Is Lynn here?“ Un ignored the question and attacked with another with same connotations as Two's. It was evident that Two wasn't expecting it. After a moment of shock, Two grabbed Un's hand and pulled him through the back door so they could have a talk without having to shout over the music.

The adrenalin muted the effects of the alcohol and Two felt like he had a cold shower. He wasn't sure what he was going to say to Un but he just knew that he needed him to be away from that dude.

„Who was that?“ Two didn't really care but it was only thing he could think of to say at the moment.

„I don't know.“ Un shrugged, watching Two with a poker face. „A dude.“

„So what? You say you like me but now you're here letting some random guy be all over you?“ Two wasn't shouting but his voice was filled with such bitterness that suprised both of them. Un's face soon twisted into an angry expression.

„Well I'm sorry…“ He stepped closer to Two, staring him down. „…not all of us have a high school sweetheart to confess our undying love to!“

Two deserved it, he knows, but he wasn't prepared to face the feeling angry Un caused in him. He felt disgusted and disappointed in himself. Yeah, he did a stupid thing with Lynn instead of admitting what he felt for Un but he never released how much it must've hurt for Un.

„I was confused.“ Two confessed to which Un laughed with the same bitterness Two had before.

„You were confused…“ Un run his hand through his hair. „…Is that all you have to say to me?“

„What do you want me to say?“

„Tell me the truth.“ Un poked him on the chest. „Did you think you might have feelings for me at the moment you asked her out?“

„Yes.“ Two said after a short pause.

„Did it hurt when you saw me with that guy?“ Un glanced at the door before staring intensely at Two who felt so small under his gaze. His breaths were shaky as he responded.

„Yes.“ He nodded. „It hurt a lot.“

„Good.“ Un responded before turning to walk back into the bar but Two immediately rushed in front of the door and blocked Un's way in.

„No!“

„What?“ At this point, Un was just tired. He's been loving Two for so long that now he doesn't know what to feel with him.

„I like you.“ Two said confidently. „I really like you. Please, give me a chance to make it right between us."

„Two…“ Un began but stopped when he saw Two waving his hand around.

„Listen, I know I messed up. I know you must hate me for the Lynn thing. I know it hurts to know that I was aware of your feelings but scared to admit mine and I hurt you.“ Two talked and moved closer to Un until he was able to take his hands into his own. „But please, let me love you properly now.“

Two breathed out as if a rock was lifted off of him but his heart was still beating fast from the nervousness of expecting Un's answer.

„If you think for a second that I'm not dragging your ass to hell if you only think about pulling something as stupid as that again…“ Un intertwined their fingers. „…You're wrong.“

„So that's a yes?“ Two grinned.

„Yeah…unfortunately for me, I'm still in love with you.“ Un teased.

„Yes!“ Two cheered before hugging Un. Nothing like a little jealously to make you admit your feelings, huh?

#it's 4am so i'm sorry if there are any grammar mistakes #i'm falling asleep just writing this #enjoyy #theory of love #tol #twoun #twoan #tooan #tooun

[callboxkat]

Merry (part 1)

Author’s note: This’ll probably only be two or three parts, unless I get inspired. Either way, this first part would probably work as a one-shot. Happy birthday, Virgil!

Warnings: This first part doesn’t really have any. Just some food mentions and mild-ish selective mutism. It’s pretty fluffy, to be honest.

Word count: 2470

Look for links to part 2 and my writing masterpost in the notes!

...

December, 2017

Patton was excited.

He absolutely loved throwing birthday parties, and it had been a while since he’d gotten to do so. He was especially eager because the last friend of his to have a birthday had been Logan, whose birthdays were never as fun as, say, Roman’s. It wasn’t that Patton preferred any of his friends over the others—of course he didn’t! Logan was one of Patton’s favorite people in the world, but he just wasn’t as receptive to Patton’s efforts as most of their other friends, which made him a little sad. He didn’t mean to be selfish about it, but it was always more fun when the person whose birthday it actually was was as excited about it as Patton.

He thought back to Logan’s birthday, which had been on November 3rd, just over a month ago. Knowing their friend, Patton and the others had tried to keep the celebrations minimal: just the six friends together at Roman’s house for cake, small presents, and a few games of Mario Kart on Roman’s console. Logan had been flustered by the attention; and while he was clearly trying to hide that he was pleased, he kept trying to insist that the party’s motivation didn’t make any sense.

“Patton, this is all highly unnecessary—I am only a day older than I was yesterday. I have not suddenly aged by an entire year. Really, all of this celebration is rather frivolous.”

They had all still had a fun time, of course! And Patton wouldn’t change Logan for the world.

Even so, this birthday was particularly special: it would Virgil’s first birthday since they had met him; and, according to Logan, he was turning eighteen! He would officially become an adult! That fact required celebration.

Patton was slightly ashamed to admit that he had nearly missed the date. Had it not been for an offhand comment by Logan about the upcoming milestone this month, Patton probably wouldn’t have known until after the date had passed. Logan hadn’t known the exact date of Virgil’s birthday, but some quick internet searching had gotten Patton his answer. December 19th—a Tuesday, only two days before winter break officially began (the school ended that week on a Thursday for reasons unknown to him). Patton was immensely glad that his friend’s birthday didn’t fall during the break. That would make things so much harder to plan!

Even though that was happily not the case, Patton had some work to do. He wanted Virgil’s day to be perfect.

…

A week before his birthday, Virgil received a package in the mail. It was fairly large, and at first, Virgil had assumed that there had been a mix-up at the post office. When he found out that his father had sent it, though, things made more sense. Virgil’s dad always got him a birthday present, no matter how tight money was. It made sense that he would put in even more effort this year, since his work and geographic distance kept him from coming to visit for the occasion.

On the side of the box, written in black sharpie, was a note: “Do Not Open Until Dec 19!!” The message was surrounded by simple line drawings: a party hat, a cupcake with a candle stuck in it, a smiley face, and a gift box. Virgil’s dad was no artist, but it made the just-shy-of-eighteen-year-old smile.

He put the box under his bed, so as to not be overly tempted to open it early, but he made sure to shoot a thank-you text to his dad so that he would know the present had arrived.

His dad, of course, immediately called him. Virgil didn’t mind: he actually really enjoyed talking about their days. Virgil’s dad still called him most days, in fact, even though Virgil had been in college for several months now.

“Hi, Dad,” he said, picking up on the second ring.

“Hey, Virgil! You didn’t open your present yet, did you?”

“No, of course not,” he laughed. “I can read.”

…

Everything was planned and ready.

Virgil still seemed to think that none of his friends knew about his upcoming birthday, and judging by how he was acting, he planned to keep it that way.

His birthday was tomorrow, after all. If Virgil had wanted any sort of effort to be put in to celebrate by the others, he would have told them earlier. Or, at least, he would have done so if he wanted them to know that he wanted that.

What a weird sentence, Patton thought.

Regardless, while it had taken some planning, everything was ready for his friend’s birthday. All Patton needed to do was work on his own present.

He sure hoped Virgil liked it.

…

Today was Virgil’s birthday. He was officially eighteen. Finally, an adult.

He had class, obviously, since it was a Tuesday, but he had the day off of work. He planned to use the afternoon mostly to just relax, although he did have some plans. Talyn had invited him to see a movie at four, a couple of hours after their and Virgil’s last class. Apparently, they’d been planning to go with Joan, but their schedule had filled up, and Virgil was one of their only other friends who was a fan of the horror genre.

Until then, though, Virgil planned to go about his day like normal. He attended class and sat with his friends as usual; thankfully, none of them seemed to know that today was any different than any other. Virgil was glad. He hadn’t wanted his friends to feel any pressure to put something together for him.

After school, he decided to open his present.

Virgil dug the package out from under his bed and carried it out to the kitchen, relieved when he set it down on the counter. It was quite heavy, whatever it contained. He smiled at the note scribbled on its side, then grabbed a pair of scissors and got to work removing the packaging tape. When he got the box open, Virgil had intended to grab the birthday card first, but the gift immediately grabbed his attention.

It was a coffee-maker, brand new, fancier than he was accustomed to.

Virgil oh-so-gently lifted it out of the box, staring at the machine in almost reverent awe. He set it carefully on the table, like it was made of glass.

“Um, what is that?”

Virgil looked up to see his roommate, Remy, standing in the doorway between his bedroom and the main room.

“It’s a coffee-maker.”

“I can see that, but gurl, since when can you afford one like that?” Remy made his way over, staring at the machine in shock.

“It’s a present from my dad,” Virgil admitted.

“You are 100 percent, absolutely letting me use it. This is non-negotiable. I’m putting it in the roommate agreement,” Remy said seriously. “Wait—a present? For what? Christmas isn’t until next week.”

“Um. It’s sort of my birthday?”

Remy lowered his sunglasses and regarded him over the rims, eyebrows raised in shock. “It’s your birthday? You cannot just, like, spring that on me! I don’t have anything for you!”

Virgil shrugged, embarrassed. “…I, uh, I didn’t expect you to care.”

“What! This is slander! Come on,” Remy said, grabbing Virgil’s arm and pulling him to his feet. “We’re going to get you some coffee. My present to you.”

“Uh… not to sound un—unappreciative or anything, but…” Virgil indicated the coffee maker he had literally just unwrapped.

“Coffee grounds, dummy, for the machine.” Remy rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Now get your shoes on and let’s go!”

Virgil let himself be dragged along, weakly protesting that he had to be back by four, since he was going to see a movie with a friend.

“Yeah, yeah, you will be.” Remy grinned, opening the door to the apartment building and pulling his roommate towards his car. “Get in, Grinch, we’re going shopping.”

…

At four o’clock, Virgil arrived at the library, where Talyn was waiting to pick him up. They smiled, pushing off of the little half-wall lining the walkway, and approached. They had recently dyed their hair a bright green, presumably for the upcoming holiday; and their stylishly done makeup had accents of red and gold.

Virgil wanted to tell them that they looked nice, but for some reason giving people compliments, even in a completely platonic way, was intimidating. So, he settled for a half-smile and a “hello”.

“Ready to go?” Talyn asked cheerfully.

The two of them were going to see a new horror movie that had recently come out. Apparently, Talyn and Joan had been planning to go together, but something had come up in Joan’s schedule, and so Talyn had an extra ticket. They had asked Virgil to come in Joan’s place, without asking him to help pay, and they didn’t even know it was his birthday! Virgil hadn’t told anybody, except now for Remy.

They arrived at the theatre, and Talyn made use of a gift card they had to get each of them some popcorn. They claimed to have found it when cleaning their room about a week ago. Virgil wasn’t sure if he believed this, but he decided to play along. It was really nice of them to pay.

The movie itself was pretty good. Virgil probably wouldn’t see it again, but it wasn’t bad. He really liked hanging out with Talyn, honestly, more than watching the actual movie. Before it had started, during the previews, they told him a funny story about their mom’s naming choices with a cat she had adopted—apparently, her first choice had been “Cosmic Charlie”.

“I—I don’t know, that seems like a quality name to me,” Virgil had said, grinning shyly, when they told him this.

“Oh, of course. It’s so unique, you know? But we kinda helped her figure out that Odin might be a better name.”

“Fewer syllables,” Virgil had agreed, nodding knowingly.

“Exactly.”

“No other reason for the name change, I’m sure.”

“Nope!”

Virgil smirked, pausing to eat some popcorn. “Does she just have the one cat?”

“No, my family has three. The other two are Boy Cat and Girl Cat.”

Virgil, who had just taken a sip from his drink, nearly spit it out. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah… but that wasn’t her. I named them when I was a kid.”

Virgil laughed. “That’s great.”

…

On the way home, Talyn checked the time on their dashboard, hummed, and then glanced over at Virgil. “Do you mind if we stop at Patton’s apartment on the way? I have to pick something up.”

Virgil shrugged. Why would he mind?

Talyn drove to Patton’s apartment building, which Virgil hadn’t actually been to before, and parked on the curb. “Why don’t you come with me? You know Patton: we’re probably going to end up chatting for a bit.”

Virgil nodded, shrugging again. He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. The two of them walked up to Patton’s building—a stark contrast to Virgil’s own, but most of his friends wouldn’t know that. Roman was still the only one of his closest friends who had visited his run-down apartment building, and Virgil had made him promise not to tell the others about it. He didn’t want them to judge him for it, or worse, to pity him.

Talyn and Virgil were about halfway between the street and the building when Virgil paused.

“Wait, isn’t that Logan’s car over there?” he asked, pointing towards the sleek black car parked a short distance down the block.

Talyn followed his gaze, paused for a second, then said, “Maybe? I’m not sure. It’s a pretty common car.”

Virgil frowned, but he let Talyn lead him up to the building. They pressed the button beside Patton’s apartment number, and he buzzed them in almost immediately.

Walking down the hallway towards Patton’s apartment, Virgil cleared his throat, and then spoke uncertainly, his voice wavering and soft. “This—this was all p-planned… wasn’t it?” He wasn’t sure what made him more anxious to say that, that Talyn might be upset that he figured it out, or that he might be wrong and was about to have a very awkward conversation.

Talyn turned to grin at him, and then reached up and knocked on the door.

Relief flooded through Virgil, accompanied by confusion and, admittedly, a bit of excitement. The door swung open, and a chorus of voices greeted him.

“Happy birthday, Virgil!”

…

Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan, Talyn, and Joan all sat around Patton’s kitchen table. Virgil, seated before a chocolate birthday cake, was sure his face was bright red as everyone else sang the happy birthday song.  The moment was made all the more embarrassing by two specific friends: Roman, of course, was being way too extra with his singing, adding riffs and changing octaves far more than should have been possible in such a short song; and Logan, meanwhile, sang in such a manner that, if he didn’t know any better, Virgil would have thought he was doing really awkward beat poetry.

The song finally ended, and Virgil leaned forward, blowing out the candles.

They enjoyed the cake after that, and then Patton insisted that they all watch Virgil open his presents.

“Wait—presents?” he repeated.

“Well, it is a birthday party,” Roman pointed out. “Presents are generally included.”

“Yeah, but… you didn’t have to do that. You already….” He gestured around at, well, everything.

“We know we didn’t have to,” Patton assured him. “We wanted to.”

Virgil didn’t have much choice in the matter, so he opened the gifts. They were already bought, he told himself; and it would be rude to refuse. Plus, he was secretly very happy that his friends had done all of this for him.

From Logan, he got a gift card, which he claimed was intended for some audio books that he believed would be calming for him. He had gotten the idea from the large pair of headphones that Virgil carried around in his free time.

From Talyn and Joan, who had already set up the outing to the movies for him, he got a pack of Tarot cards. When he asked about it, Joan shrugged and claimed that they’d thought of him when they saw it at a shop.

Roman gave him a poster of Jack Skellington from Nightmare before Christmas, already framed. He seemed incredibly pleased by Virgil’s shocked expression.

“Dude, how much did you spend on this?” he asked, wide-eyed.

“Don’t worry about it,” Roman said, grinning.

And from Patton, he got a little black, gray, white, and purple friendship bracelet, handmade, and a card that Patton had clearly drawn himself.

Virgil liked the gifts, but he absolutely loved his friends.

...

College AU tag list:  @patton-loves-coloring @starryfirefliesbloggo @purplesoul-at-hogwarts  @lotusthatexists-festivestyle @quoth-the-sparrow @awesomelissawho @amuthefunperson @faithfreedom @heck-im-lost @gayfandomsaremything  @bunny222 @syndianites @astraastro @momolinia @captainswan618 @hamilin-manuel-miranda @goldenkiddos @afilhadehades-blog @virgeofselfdestruction @theresneverenoughfandoms @iris-sanders-athena @super-magical-wizard @rainbow-sides @thefallendog @fanficptsd @zodiac-awesome @lookitsthatquietgirl @soft-boy-patton @nerd-in-space @pearls-of-patton @ab-artist @angered-turtle @im-so-infinitesimal @enby-kiddo-with-a-blog @raygelkitty @dr-gloom @whats-going-on-kiddos @spider-parker14 @oh-star-how-the-mighty-fall @fillyourteacup @kittiebrick

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #college au #merry fic #ts fanfic #sanders sides fan fiction #technically two hours late but shhhh

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Try, Try Again (pt. 2)

Hi all! Chapter 1 of this fic got a really positive reception, so I’d like to make sure I thank everyone that left a like or a nice comment. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! 

Also, I’ve got an AO3 account now, so this fic should be available there as well sometime soon.

(Chapter 1)

Chapter 2 (2847 words)

“Ok, good buddy,” Rex gestured down the ship’s cavernous hallway. “Let me give you the tour.” Emmet nodded mutely, and the two began walking deeper into the bowels of the ship.

It was a truly awesome sight. Emmet felt like he couldn’t even begin to describe how incredibly cool this ship was. Everything around him seemed to whir and buzz and shine. Even the floor beneath him hummed in time with the heartbeat of the engines, their electrical power streaking around him in bundles of glowing conduits. High above them, the looming ceiling was nearly obscured by a network of criss-crossing catwalks, upon which amorphous, shadowy figures were moving quickly back and forth.

“Are those,” he asked dumbfoundedly, “real velociraptors?”

“Oh yeah.” Rex replied with a sly smile. “Turns out, raptors make a killer spaceship crew. You’ll get the chance to meet most of them while you’re here.”

Emmet squealed in excitement. “Really?!”

“Yup,” Rex answered as they turned a corner, entering an even larger room. “This,” he explained, “is the main hangar bay.” Around them, multiple small spacecrafts sat scattered about, all of them in various stages of completion. Huddled around one of them was a group of raptors, clearly hard at work repairing the little ship.

“Could I- Can I go meet them?” Emmet asked, pointing as subtly as he could towards the dinosaurs.

“Of course! Why don’t we get some introductions out of the way?” Rex clapped a hand onto Emmet’s shoulder and steered him over towards the maintenance crew.

“Emmet,” Rex started, “I’d like you to meet Reacher, Mace and Jean-Claude.” He turned to the raptors. “You three, I’d like you to meet Emmet.”

The raptors screeched back various greetings; although, the one wearing a welding helmet, presumably Jean-Claude, was rather muffled.

“Hey everybody,” Emmet gushed. “I’m like, super pumped to meet all of you.”

The raptors smiled up at Emmet as friendly as they could. Being velociraptors, their smiles consisted mostly of bared serrated teeth and a sense of predatory instinct, but Emmet didn’t really seem to mind.

“Alright, time to move along.” Rex began leading Emmet out another door in the hanger bay. “Keep up the good work, crew,” he shouted over his shoulder as they exited.

“Where are we heading now?” Emmet asked.

“The main surveillance room. It would take to long to show you every place on this ship, so I figured we could save sometime by heading there.”

At the end of this hallway sat a set of elevator doors. Rex pressed the button marked “up” and, no sooner than he had done so, the doors flung themselves open. Stepping inside, Emmet could see yet another raptor. Eagerly he hopped into the elevator carriage to introduce himself.

“Hey, there!” Emmet crowed. “My name’s Emmet. What’s yours?”

“SHARON.”

“It’s super nice to meet you, Sharon. Where do yo-” Emmet choked mid-sentence, as the elevator had begun ascending at an incredibly rapid pace. Above the door, the floor numbers were dinging on and off in a frenzy. Trying not to fall over, Emmet reached out, grabbing onto Rex’s vest.

Rex, who was seemingly have no issues maintaining his balanced, chortled. “Sorry buddy, probably should have warned you about the Veloci-Lifts, huh?”

Emmet didn’t trust himself enough to open his mouth, so he settled for a few, vigorous nods.

When the elevator finally stopped, Emmet staggered off, still clutching onto Rex with one hand. Behind them, Sharon pressed another button inside the lift and the thing took off with a tremendous whoosh, soaring still higher into the ship.

Once he’d regained his bearings, Emmet began to notice that this floor seemed to be filled with nothing but large, swiveling monitors, each of them twisting to look at the two new arrivals. In the center of the room, another raptor sat comfortably in a desk chair, munching away on a doughnut.

“This is the surveillance room?” Emmet asked in a subdued whisper.

Rex nodded, and pointed Emmet towards one of the larger screens. The image was kind of grainy, but he could still make out a room filled with shelves and cabinets that the raptors were navigating around with mixed success. “This here is weapon hangar 37, where I keep all the laser guns that go ‘pew-pew’, and this,” he tapped at the screen and the image flickered to a slightly different room, “is weapon hanger 432, where I keep the laser guns that go ‘neee-yow’.”

“An important distinction,” Emmet concurred heartily.

Rex tapped the screen again, and this time the image shifted to show a large auditorium. A wide, blank screen hung in front of the cushy-looking seats, most of which were filled with members of the crew.

“A movie theatre?” Emmet asked eagerly. “Do you guys have the film adaptation of ‘Honey, Where Are My Pants?’”

“That’s a hard no.” Rex shot Emmet a sidelong glance. “We only stock cool, mature films. You know, PG-13 kinda stuff.”

“That’s pretty hardcore.”

“Heh, not as hardcore as this!” The image changed again, revealing a smaller room stocked with a variety of workout machines and dumbells. Raptors in headbands and legwarmers were diligently lifting their weights and helping spot each other.

“Man,” Emmet muttered as he leaned in to look at the monitor curiously. “Those raptors must be really strong.”

“Pshh, not really,” Rex explained. “I had to get rid of all my really heavy weights because they were making it too hard for the ship to take off.” Rex flexed, displaying his substantial biceps and inadvertently leaning against the screen.

“Wow! Do you really have a slide in here?” Emmet cried, staring at the new image with eager fascination. “How fun is it?”

“Excuse me? Nothing on this ship is fun, kid. That right there is a tactical chute, which is way, way tougher than a slide.”

Emmet didn’t look particularly convinced. “What exactly makes it tougher?”

“I painted flames on the side.”

“That doesn’t-”

“Moving on,” Rex pressed the screen more forcefully than was perhaps necessary. “Here’s the barracks.” On screen, a number of raptors were shown sleeping peacefully in their bunks. The resolution wasn’t the best, but Emmet thought one might have been holding a teddy bear. He leaned in to look closer, but the image changed again too quickly to tell for sure.

“What’s this one?” Emmet asked. The new room had been nicely furnished with a sitting area, a kitchenette, and a few vending machines. It looked almost out of place considering the other rooms he’d seen.

“Oh, that’s just the break room.” Rex grumbled. “It’s super un-tough, so you won’t spend much time in there.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Eh, it was one of the raptor union requirements.” Rex shrugged half-heartedly. “I didn’t want to fight them on it. Plus it got Conan to stop using my mini-fridge.”

Emmet nodded seriously. “I see. I see.”

“Oh, here we go,” Rex declared as the image shifted into an aerial view of a huge room, filled to the brim with dinosaurs working at computer stations. “This is the main control bridge. We’ll be heading up there next.”

Emmet groaned. “You mean we’ll have to take the elevator again?” Rex just laughed in response and started pulling Emmet back towards the lift doors.

This time, Emmet managed to get ahold of the handrail before the lift started screaming its way upwards. Now that he wasn’t tipping over, the ride was a lot more enjoyable. It was a little bit like a roller coaster even.

Seeing the doofy grin plastered across Emmet’s face, Rex couldn’t help but think back to the first time he’d met himself. That version of Emmet had been just as impressed by the ship, the cool gadgets, and even Rex himself. It was validating in a way, to know that Rex had succeeding in becoming the best, the coolest, and the most ideal-est version of himself. For a brief moment, he considered the possibility of just staying on the ship with Emmet. Maybe this time, things would go right. This time, Emmet would see that Rex was right.

No, Rex thought, his smirk sinking into sneer. I won’t make the same mistakes twice. I’m Rex Dangervest. I don’t scare away from a tough situation or a risky plan. I’m tough enough to do this.   

Eventually, the elevator came to a halt, and the doors hissed open to reveal the bridge. A few raptors looked over at their arrival curiously, but the majority remained focused on their work. Behind the rows of desks and computer monitors, the giant window displayed a picturesque view of the harsh desert outside.

“Oh my G-O-S-H gosh!” Emmet cried. “This is the coolest moment of my life. Which is saying something, because I once saved the world.”

Rex snorted, before quickly regaining his composure. “Emmet, I’d like you to meet the best pilots in the universe. I’d trust each and everyone of them with my life. Except for Rambo.” Rex turned to glare at a raptor standing at the water cooler who returned his gaze with equal animosity.

“Ooooo-kay, then.” Emmet sidled past Rex and began peering at the main console. “Man,” he exclaimed. “I never realized how many buttons a spaceship came with. Benny would love this!” He turned to look back at Rex. “Can I press any of them?”

“You can press any of them that you want. That’s part of being tough, Emmet. Taking control of a situation and just pressing every single button your little heart desires.”

Gleefully, Emmet practically danced up and down the dash, pressing nearly every button available. Each one seemed to beep or glow in their own unique manner, which only served to delight him further.

“Okay,” he panted. “What did I actually do?”

“Nothing.” Rex replied.

“What?” Emmet’s delighted grin dropped.

“The ship’s grounded, Emmet.”

“Oh,” Emmet chuckled, “I mean, yeah. I knew that. Obviously.”

The lift doors suddenly clattered open, interrupting Emmet’s poor attempt at saving face. A raptor stepped out into the room, carrying a bundle of something over to where Emmet and Rex were standing.

“Good work, Ripley.” Rex took the delivery from her, holding it up to reveal a dark blue uniform with a bright orange swatch across it.

“Whoa,” Emmet couldn’t help but admire how cool the outfit was. “What is it?”

“It’s your spacesuit, Emmet.” Rex rolled his eyes. “You can’t honestly expect to travel on this ship without one, right?” He pushed the suit into Emmet’s hands. “Now why don’t you go try it on?”

Beside him, Ripley screeched. “FOLLOW ME.”

“This is gonna look so awesome,” Emmet muttered to himself as he followed Ripley into the lift.

As he watched them leave, Rex’s smile faded, his expression quickly taking on a more serious complection.

“Bullet,” he called out, and a raptor with a clipboard and headset came over to stand by his side. “I need to talk to you about… The Contingency Plan.”

“THE ONE WHERE WE RUN AWAY, GET CONCEALING FACIAL HAIR, ADOPT NEW NAMES AND ACCENTS, AND BEGIN A NEW LIFE AS NON-TRADITIONAL COLLEGE STUDENTS, OR DO YOU MEAN THE OTHER CONTINGENCY PLAN?”

Rex stared blankly for a moment. “I- I obviously mean the other one.” He fixed Bullet with a scruntixing look, “Is that first plan even one I’ve ever suggested?”

“NO,” Bullet replied, “BUT I THOUGHT IT’D BE HELPFUL TO CLARIFY.”

Rex sighed, running a hand down his face. “Of course, you did.” He turned to face the raptor. “Could you just... write down the actual plan? I need all the raptor on board to be ready to go when I give the signal.”

“GOT IT, BOSS.”

Bullet walked back to her station, scribbling furiously at her clipboard and leaving Rex alone with his thoughts. Emmet seemed to be enjoying his time on the Rexcelsior, which was good. And the raptors had all been briefed on the general plan, so that they all knew what needed to be done in order to toughen Emmet up. This new plan for Our-mom-aggedon was perfect. Utterly flawless. Rex had only established The Contingency Plan because he’d more than learned his lesson about planning for unlikely outcomes. That’s why, he thought to himself. That’s the only reason.

“Hey, Rex!” Emmet leapt out of the elevator, and, watching him nearly bouncing in excitement, the smile came back to Rex’s face easily. “Rex,” Emmet asked, “do I look tough yet?”

“That’s an affirmative, buddy.”

Emmet beamed. “Do you have a spacesuit too? What does yours look like? Are you going to put it on?”

“Well,” Rex shrugged. “Mine’s pretty much the same as yours, except that I won’t be needing mine.”

Confusion twisted Emmet’s brow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m afraid I can’t stick around, kid. I just came onboard to give you the tour. The raptors are gonna take care of the rest.” Rex smiled genially, hoping to less the disappointment.

“Oh,” Emmet’s face fell. “I was… really hoping that we’d hang out some more, that’s all.”

“Well,” Rex forced out an upbeat tone. “That’s just the way it’s gotta be. I mean, after all, someone’s gotta tell your friends that you didn’t just run off, right?”

“I guess that’s a good point.” Emmet’s crestfallen expression seemed at odds with his agreement. Once again, Rex entertained the tempting notion of staying on the ship. After all, training Emmet seemed a much more welcoming task than stepping foot into Apocalypseburg.

“Well,” Rex found himself saying. “Even though I can’t stay, we can still maintain communication with each other.” Striding over to one of the equipment cabinets bookending the dash, he opened the door and retrieved two radios.

“Here’s yours.” Rex passed one of the devices to Emmet. “The raptors all know how to use them so, uh, if you have any questions then just ask anyone.”

“Thanks, Rex.” Emmet looked down at the radio with adoration. Abruptly though, his expression shifted slightly as a new thought occurred to him.

“Hey Rex, uh, just for curiosity's sake, how long is the toughness seminar supposed to last?”

“A week,” Rex answered quickly. “Uh, give or take, that is. It depends on you really. But,” he grinned widely and leaned closer towards him, “you’re a pretty fast learner, right?”

 “I’ll do my best!” Emmet returned Rex’s smile.

“I know, buddy.” Rex straightened himself and turned towards Ripley, who had been getting uncomfortable standing there unaddressed for so long. “Meet me in the super secret antechamber in two minutes. Bring the stuff.”

“ON IT, BOSS,” Ripley screeched and trotted out of the room.

“Hey, what was-”

“Emmet,” Rex interrupted. “I’m giving you free range of the ship starting now, okay?”

“Really?” His previous question vanished from Emmet’s mind, quickly superseded by the literal stars in his eyes.

“Really.” Rex gestured towards the elevator. “Now, why don’t you go make yourself at home.”

“Ok, Rex.” Emmet ran back into the elevator. “I won’t let you dow-!” His shout was cut off abruptly as the doors slammed themselves shut.

Taking a moment to steel himself, Rex began making his way to the super secret antechamber. The ship didn’t really have many private rooms, but this one had been necessary. After all, only a fool would leave relics lying out in the open.

With a practiced hand, Rex found the false panel in hallway 2-J and tapped out the intricate keycode. The panel receded into the surrounding wall, creating an opening into the dark room. As he stepped inside, the lights flicked on, revealing his motley collection.

The most prominent object, resting in the center of the room on a raised table, was a large permanent marker. The black, felt-tipped pen had been crucial for Rex’s transformation, but it wasn’t what he was looking for right now. Instead, it was a nearby tall plastic vial that housed the substance that Rex needed - yellow paint.

His hand steady, Rex dipped the applicator into the viscous liquid and, turning to a close by reflective panel for a mirror, applied the paint carefully, so as to hide his new facial features. With broad strokes he covered up his stubble, thinned out his eyebrows, and obscured his sharp cheekbones.  

Next, he brushed his hair. He’d long since lost his hairbrush, so he used his fingers as best he could to part his disheveled mop of hair into the same, neat style he’d worn for so many years.  

Moments later, Ripley entered the room, carrying with her the final piece of his disguise.

“Perfect,” Rex murmured as he took Emmet’s work clothes from her. “Excellent work.”

“OF COURSE.” Ripley screeched, and turned to leave.

It only took a few seconds for Rex to shrug on the new clothes, leaving his own in a heap on the floor. His new plan was finally beginning to come together now.

He stole one more look into the mirror before he left.

Emmet looked back at him with an unreadable expression.

We won’t have to do things the hard way this time, Emmet, he thought, not unless you force my hand again.

#the lego movie 2 #lego movie 2 #tlm2 #tlm2 spoilers #rex dangervest #emmet brickowski #more characters will show up next chapter I promise #also im serious about the nice comments and stuff #that really meant the world to me #<3

[phanlight]

The Boy on the Blue Moon Dreams of Sun

prompt: dan is a theatre kid who hasn't had his first kiss but has to kiss someone for a show. he doesn't want his first kiss to be wasted so he tries to get it done properly beforehand & he meets phil and w/e you can take it from there!!!

““Tell you what,” Phil leans into him, and Dan can smell his cologne. “We’re gonna come back up here again, okay? And you’re gonna tell me about yourself. Properly, this time.

Dan frowns. “Isn’t that what we’ve spent the past ten minutes doing?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. “The only difference being next time we do this, I’m going to ban you from saying the word ‘acting’. So I can hear about you, the real you, and not whoever you pretend to be for a living.”

-

GUESS WHICH BITCH IS BACK AND WRITING AGAIN (spoiler: IT ME)

I thought it was about time I branched out a bit and tried my hand at a theatre au. This was so much fun to write (albeit kinda hard as despite being a literature student my Romeo and Juliet knowledge is a little subpar lmao lets hope I at least sort of did it justice tho) and deffo has more than ur daily dosage of angsty teenage actor!dan so look forward to that. thank u to the lovely anon who prompted me with this! (also yes i’m still relying on ptv lyrics for my song titles after 3 years sh)

Also I’m sorry if the writing in this is a lil inconsistent. I started this fic literally over a year ago and abandoned it for ages before finding and continuing it again. The first half was written in literally like mid 2016 (from which point my writing has obv improved a lot) and since then I’ve been working on it sporadically so if it feels like halfway through my writing style suddenly changes then that’s why OOPS soz

This was not supposed to be this long im so sorry wtf 13k ??? fuks sake

It’s the first time Dan’s ever been pissed off with being cast a lead role in a play.

He usually loves it – he loves the attention, loves having a ripped up script full of highlighted lines and more soliloquies to memorise than he can even keep count of. He shines under the warmth of the spotlight, lapping up the attention like a hungry cat, and when the applause ripples throughout the audience at the end, he can’t get enough of the sound.

It’s just- well, there’s one problem with his part.

It’s nothing he has against Romeo, not necessarily, and the piece itself is okay – Dan’s copy of the popular play in question is already crumpled with annotations; small post-it notes spilling fluorescent colours out of every crease (studying English literature alongside Drama always comes in handy as far as Shakespeare is concerned) and Romeo has a decent amount to say.

The problem is, he’s going to have to kiss someone.

Dan Howell, the one who snaps up almost every single role he auditions for, the one with a clay personality that can be moulded perfectly into whatever role he’s going for next, the one who lives the stage and breathes the lights, who was once described as ‘the heart and soul’ of the local theatre, is going to have to kiss someone.

And believe it or not, Dan Howell, the same seventeen-year-old who breezes through auditions leaving a flutter of girls at his feet, the same guy who was once rumoured to have made out with three people at the Les Miserables afterparty and the same guy who once had to reject two people in one night, has never actually kissed anyone before. Not properly, anyway.

Granted, he’s been extremely close to it a fair few times – having been in and out of auditions and callbacks since the age of about five, he’s come into contact with a considerable number of roles that involve love interests; only last month was his character Eddie supposed to kiss the love of his life, Alexandra, in the back of a car at a drive-in cinema. It was a play that one of the drama students had written; set in the fifties, all red-and-white ice cream parlours and hand jives and high school dances and Marilyn Monroe posters. Dan had enjoyed playing his part, and not just because it was the only opportunity he’d get to sport a black leather jacket (though he did decide leather looked really quite hot on him after that play. It’s almost a shame he’s vegetarian), but because the minor obstacle could, like every single other time, be solved with a stage kiss. Just a few seconds of his back to the audience, being agonisingly close to someone else’s lips, before pulling away and raking though his mind to try and remember the next line. It’s always worked for him, every time.

Except for this. Because the director, a Lucy Howcroft with a loud voice and a bossy personality, has only gone and booked them the Round at the Old Vic theatre. Which would be fine, of course it would; it’s one of the most popular theatres in the city and the theatre group is going to get a huge reputation for this afterwards, but it’s not so handy as far as stage-kissing is concerned. When you’re being stared at from every angle three-hundred-and-sixty degrees around, there’s no way you can get away with only partially leaning in to kiss.

“Are you sure there’s no way around this?” Dan had insisted when he’d stolen a moment after rehearsal to talk to Lucy. She’d been clearing her desk – a papery mountain range, and had looked a bit too busy to talk, but Dan would rather discuss this with her one-on-one instead of having to voice his feelings with twenty other pairs of eyes staring at him.

“For someone who just bagged yet another lead role, I would’ve thought you’d be a little more gracious than this,” Lucy had muttered, snapping a file shut. “I didn’t have to cast you, y’know.”

“It’s not- I am grateful, you know I am, it’s just-“

“Is there a problem with the casting of Juliet?” she’d offered, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Dan had insisted. “She’s fine.”

“The costume, then?” she’d tried. “I’m not a bloody mind reader, Dan. Help me out a bit here.”

Dan had shut his eyes and taken a deep breath, trying to comb the tangle of words in his head into some kind of coherent sentence.

“I mean- I just- the venue,” he gulped. “It’s- there’s a bit of a problem.”

“What about it?” Lucy sighed, irritation tracing the edges of her tone. “I fail to see what’s so problematic about getting a slot at the Old Vic of all places, but if you have any objections, then do enlighten me.”

“It’s not that, it’s just-“ Dan gulped, not really too sure how far he’s going to get with this. The bitterness already in her tone didn’t sound at all promising. “I don’t know. Do we have to perform in the round?”

“Christ, is performing in one of the most popular theatres in London that much of a chore?”

“No, no, I just-“ he gulped, trying to work out how the hell he’d word this without sounding like a twat. “I’ve never really… you know. Performed in an environment like that before.”

“You’ve been acting for twelve years,” she said bluntly. “I’m sure you have enough experience to be able to deal with a round stage instead of a rectangular one.”

“But- like, isn’t the round meant for- like… you know, Greek plays and shit?”

“It used to be,” she’d said, taking care to apply extra emphasis on the past tense. “Since when were you so hung up on the traditions of theatre, anyway?” she’d added after a pause. “Only last week were you totally in favour of the idea of having a rap battle in the middle of Othello.”

Dan had frowned, because that wasn’t really fair – sure, a rap battle isn’t exactly a common feature of Shakespeare’s plays, but no one could deny that Louis, playing Iago, was pretty good at freestyling whenever a mic was thrown in his direction. Despite not adhering to the conventions of traditional English theatre, it certainly made the play more entertaining.

“It’s just gonna be- you know. It’s gonna take some getting used to,” he’d mumbled instead.

“You have three months to get used to it,” she’d pointed out. “I’m sure you and the rest of the cast will have familiarised yourself with it by the time the production comes around.”

“But- the round is traditionally meant for-“

“Look, if you’re going to get so archaic about it, I can always build a time machine, book the open-air Globe for, like, sometime four-hundred years ago, and you can spend the next three days picking rotten tomatoes out of your hair,” she said. “Does that sound better?”

“They only did that to bad actors,” Dan had pointed out. Lucy rolled her eyes.

“And you know what makes a good actor, Dan?” she retorted. “Flexibility. The willingness to branch out of your comfort zone.”

Dan had sighed. He’s not going to get anywhere with this, is he?

“You know what?” he’d finally shaken his head, defeated. “Forget it.”

She watched him turn on his heel with a raised eyebrow. “See you Tuesday, then? First read-through of the script is at eleven in the morning.”

“See you then,” Dan muttered, not even bothering to turn around.

He let the door slam behind him.

It’s not that Dan doesn’t want to kiss anyone – (quite the contrary, really. He loves the idea of it, loves the thought of someone’s lips pressed up against his, the world slowing down around them and his heart feeling like fire. He’s always tried to incorporate that feeling into his acting, letting his passion leak into every character he’s cast, but when the stage lights are off and the curtain is down, his attraction to his colleagues ends there) – it’s just- well, he doesn’t really think he’s found the right person to share the real experience with, yet. His fellow actors and actresses aren’t unattractive by any means, but he doesn’t look at any of them and find himself struck by the desire to taste their lips and whisper incoherence into their ears like Eddie was supposed to do in the back of that car.

Seventeen, and still hasn’t had his first kiss. Still doesn’t want to waste it, at that.

Pathetic.

-

Technicians don’t get paid enough, Phil thinks.

He’s spent the day holed up in the trap room, devouring what was left in the back of the fridge (including a half-opened pack of Doritos that tasted like they expired about five years ago) and puzzling over this fucking broken light board that everyone had very kindly left him to take care of. It had already taken him over half an hour to get one of the chunky old Mac laptops up and running again (seriously, who in this day and age is still using an iBook?) and even then it only really half-functions – a handful of keys are missing, the trackpad only ever seems to work when it feels like it, and there’s a huge hairline crack right across the screen. Phil’s spent so long cursing through gritted teeth and smacking the table in frustration every time the damn thing freezes that it wouldn’t come as a surprise if he ended up contributing to those cracks by the end of the day. Maybe that’s how they ended up there in the first place.

“You alright?” the door suddenly opens and a voice – Nick, Phil presumes, breaks the aching silence that the room has been blanketed in for the past four hours. Finally, Phil sighs, feeling a pinch of anger melt away. Human company.

“Been better,” Phil mumbles, popping a couple of grapes into his mouth. Been better, he scoffs to himself. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t been worse.

“Chuck me a coke, will you?” he pulls up a chair and puts his feet on it, perching on the edge of the table. Phil heaves out a sigh – that involves getting up – but musters up enough energy to lean over and yank the fridge open. He tosses him a can, and Nick catches it expertly.

“Nice of you to show up,” Phil rolls his eyes. “Only four hours late this time. That’s an hour and a half off your personal best.”

“They said they didn’t need me here ‘till three,” he protests, popping the can open and taking a few gulps. “They said you had it all under control.”

His sentence is punctuated by a burp. Phil grimaces.

“Under control,” Phil snorts. That’ll be the fucking day.

“What did they leave you here to do?” he frowns.

“Only fix this entire fucking thing,” Phil nods over to the stupid light board. God, he’s sick of the sight of it. “Beats me what’s wrong with it. I’ve only just managed to get this dinosaur up and running,” he gestures to the corpse of a laptop in front of him, “let alone look at that.”

“Fuck me, man,” Nick sighs out a heavy breath. “If I knew, I could have come in earlier to help you out a bit. You should have texted me.”

“It’s fine,” Phil sighs even though- well, it’s not, really. There’s only so many hours of broken technology and out-of-date food one can take. “It’s not your fault,” he adds truthfully.

“They’re twats sometimes, aren’t they?” Nick lowers his voice, despite the fact they’re literally underground here, beneath the earshot of everyone.

“I’ll say,” Phil widens his eyes, trying to click something and- nope, it’s fucking frozen again. “For fuck’s sake. They’re all bloody loaded, too. You would have thought with the money they have, they could fork out a little for equipment that at least half-functions, right?”

“Yup,” Nick sighs. “Guess bookings for overpriced fancy-ass theatres are higher up on their agenda, though.”

Phil can’t argue with that. Apparently they’re going to have to wire up something in the Old Vic, of all places, next week. Phil dreads to think how much hiring that place out for even a few hours is going to cost, let alone booking it for three nights.

Probably more than enough to buy a better fucking laptop.

-

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she.

Be not her maid since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but-“

“No- no,” Lucy holds up her hand. “Come on, Dan. More emotion than that. You’re telling the love of your life that even the moon is envious of her beauty. At least pretend to put some passion into it.”

Dan rolls his eyes – only the fourth time he’s had to repeat this fucking soliloquy in the past fifteen minutes. He’s pretty sure he’s only one “no, no, it’s too (insert adjective here)” away from giving up with this whole thing altogether. He’d rather have played Benvolio anyway.

“Come on,” Lucy continues. “We’ll take it from Be not her maid…”

Dan shuts his eyes, scrapes up the remaining traces of his sanity, and takes another breath.

“Be not her maid since she is envious.

Her vestal livery is but sick and green,

And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off!

It is my lady. Oh, it is my love.

Oh, that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that?

Her eye discourses. I will answer it.—

I am too bold. 'Tis not to me she speaks.

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they retur-“

“No, no-“ she interrupts him again and for fuck’s sake, at this rate, Dan won’t even need to spend any time in his bedroom going over his lines. He’s pretty sure he’s memorised half of the monologues already just from recapping in rehearsals alone.

“Come on, really feel it,” she pleads. “You can’t say something as romantic as that with a face like yours – you’re literally saying that two stars in the sky have gone away and they’re asking Juliet’s eyes to shine in their place until they return.”

Dan balls his fists, ready to snap back that yes, he’s fully fucking aware of what’s going on in the play thank you very much, in case she hadn’t forgotten he did actually study it for three separate exams and subsequent exposure to the text in question has made him rather familiar with the occurrences currently taking place, but they’re all interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Lucy huffs, mildly irritated.

The door knob jitters, then twists.

“Hiya,” a black-haired boy nods tiredly, pushing through the crack in the door. Dan immediately recognises him – one of the tech guys, he thinks, but he isn’t entirely certain. He’s never really spoken to any of the crew before; they tend to keep well out of the limelight (they’d rather control it instead).

“Everything okay?” Lucy asks, before turning to Dan and Alexandra (his Juliet). “You two, take five. Be ready to take it from the top.”

They both relax and take a seat on one of the upturned wooden boxes. It isn’t until Dan takes the weight off of his legs he realises how much they’ve been aching – fuck, he really needs to get back to that gym.

“Any luck?” she says to Mr. Black-Hair. He’s holding a laptop that looks as if it’s seen better years, never mind days, and a long cord of wire that snakes around his fist.

“Nothing at all,” he sighs, flicking a strand of his fringe out of his eyes. His hair looks as if it hasn’t seen a hairbrush for days, but there’s something about the way it sits shaggily on his head that kind-of suits him (Dan wishes he could pull off messy hair – he only attempted ditching the straighteners once and spent the rest of the day wondering if any birds had mistaken his head for a nest).

He doesn’t realise he’s been staring until he catches the tail end of Alexandra’s sentence and realises he hasn’t actually been listening for the past minute or so.

“What was that, sorry?”

“I asked you how you were finding Romeo so far,” she repeats.

“Hm? Oh yeah, yeah- he’s fine,” Dan says, not taking his eyes off of Mr. Black-Hair. He’s lost the thread of their conversation (he’s no lip reader) but by the looks of it, it seems as if there’s a problem with one of the laptops.

“Are you sure?” Alexandra frowns. Dan looks at her, but his glance is soon pulled back to the technician.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She shrugs. “You don’t really- I don’t know, you just don’t seem to be… you know. That into it, y’know?”

“Wait-“ Dan shakes his head, trying to focus on their conversation instead of the one a few metres away from. “Hang on- what? What makes you say that?”

She raises her eyebrows, as if to say ‘really?’. Dan’s expression remains carefully blank.

“Come on, Dan. We wouldn’t have had to repeat this stupid scene like, five times if you were actually into it. I’ve seen you do way better than this.”

“Oh, not you as well,” Dan groans, deflating. He’s pretty sure that exact sentence had fallen from Lucy’s lips not so long ago. He’s sick of hearing it, sick of having to sit and listen to people tell him that he ‘can do way better’ and ask ‘is everything all right, Dan? Nothing bothering you, is there?’ because he’s just ‘not himself’ at the moment.

That’s the most ridiculous one, he thinks, because for Christ’s sake, he’s an actor. He’s never himself.

“No, I don’t mean it like that,” Alexandra says, backtracking. “You know I don’t. I just- I think I overheard Lucy say you had a problem with something or other last week?”

“Did you,” Dan mumbles, unable to keep the bitter sarcasm out of his town. Alexandra remains unfazed.

“What was that about, though?” she remains unfazed. “Nothing to do with the casting, is it?”

“You really think it’s to do with the casting?” Dan stares at her in disbelief, before scoffing. “Yeah, like, I’m gutted to have bagged the lead role alongside you at one of the best theatres in the country. How am I going to cope?”

Not entirely truthful, but not a complete lie either.

“Just making sure,” a grin tugs at her lips, and she flicks a curl of red hair behind her shoulders. “I don’t have much of a problem with it myself, to be honest.”

“That’s reassuring,” Dan smirks sarcastically, but his tone is fairly benign. There’s certainly no denying she’s fucking gorgeous and it’s really no wonder she’s Juliet – she has hair the colour of a sunset falling down her back in ruby curls, emerald eyes framed by a curl of long eyelashes and cherry red lips that stretch into a wide smile whenever Dan cracks a joke, giving way to a small dimple on the side of her cheek. Her skin is pale, the colour of moonlight, almost, and he idly thinks, just for a fleeting second, that the moon probably would be jealous of her. She’s beautiful.

“Certainly don’t have a problem with getting to snog you in front of a thousand people, I must be honest,” she adds, and Dan’s stomach drops and his grin vanishes. Shit.

He wrings out a laugh, internally wincing at how false it sounds. “Yeah, I- um-“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” someone mutters a few footsteps away from them. He snaps his head up, and Lucy plus Mr. Black-Hair are hunched over the desk, clearly getting nowhere with the absolute disaster they call an iBook.

“Wait- what’s the problem?” Dan suddenly gets up. He feels a little bad for leaving Alexandra so abruptly so he throws her a little apologetic ‘be right back’ glance, but he can’t help it – he might actually be able to help, here.

He shoves down the other voice in the back of his mind, the ‘or rather you’re just grabbing at any opportunity to avoid any potential conversation about the kiss you fucking wimp’

“It’s okay, Dan, sit back down. I’ll be with you both in a second,” Lucy calls over her shoulder.

“No, really,” Dan insists. “I know a thing or two about Macs. I have one myself, and-“ he catches Lucy drawing in a breath, ready to protest, and he regrets the spill of words almost as soon as they come out – fuck, why can’t he just keep his mouth shut? – but Mr. Black-Hair turns around, an eyebrow quirked upwards.

“Really?” his stare is the colour of ice, the sky on a December morning, but it’s weirdly warm at the same time.

“I- uh, yeah,” Dan stutters when he remembers how to talk again. “I’ve always had Macs. They’re great when they decide to work, but they can be a bitch when they begin to act up, and-“ he cuts himself off with an awkward shrug, “yeah.”

“Tell me about it,” the technician smirks. “This bastard-” he nods to the chunky white rectangle in his arms, “took me like, half an hour to boot up alone. And now it’s been frozen for like- twice as long as that. I’ve only had chance to type in my password so far.”

Lucy’s still standing in the middle of them and it’s getting a bit difficult to ignore the stony glare burning into Dan’s peripheral vision right now and even harder to avoid eye contact with her, but it doesn’t stop him from offering some help, albeit rather inappropriately timed.

“I- um, have my MacBook with me if that helps?” Dan offers, trying not to feel the heat of his blush when Mr. Black-Hair looks straight at him. “I mean- if you don’t need it that’s fine, but like- it’ll function a bit better than that thing,” he shrugs. “I dunno. It would probably save you a lot of time.”

“Really?” he raises an eyebrow. “Like, with you right now?”

“Yeah,” Dan says. “I mean – I haven’t got my charger on me, but it’s on, like, eighty percent. Should be fine.”

“I mean-“ he throws a permission-seeking glance, towards Lucy, who Dan is pretty sure would be having steam coming out of her ears would it be humanly possible. She fixes Dan with a hard stare, a real ‘go on; be my guest’ look that’s always comes across as more of a dare than permission, a challenge for his conscience, but he can’t help an apologetic smile tugging at his lips.

“It’s cool with you, right?” his lips say before his mind catches up.

Lucy rolls her eyes in defeat. “If you absolutely must. But only- only because I could do with the extra time to independently go over one of Alexandra’s soliloquy.”

His face breaks out into a grin, and he’s not that sure why. “Thanks, Luce. I owe you one.”

“Don’t you make a habit of this, though. Remember; this is your own rehearsal time you’re sacrificing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dan calls over his shoulder, trailing off. Mr. Black-Hair holds the door open behind him, and suddenly they’re out of the rehearsal studio and walking in a weird mutual silence sitting in a strange middle ground between comfortable and uncomfortable, across the car park and over to the actual theatre.

“Are you alright to do this, yeah?” Mr. Black-Hair (Dan seriously needs to come up with more imaginative mental nicknames for people) breaks the silence on their walk down to the trap room.

“It’s no problem at all,” he smirks as another wooden step groans under his foot. “Anything to get out of rehearsal.”

Dan’s never really been here before, never touched the underground territory where the technicians lurked, but there’s something about the atmosphere of this place that grips him.

-

Half an hour passes, and Dan couldn’t really tell you why he’s still sitting down here, still sitting on a revolving chair with a rip in the upholstery, under half-broken beams, tables that look like they’re seconds away from collapsing, and a lot of weird technology that he’d never even attempt to get his head around (seriously – do they even need this many buttons?). He’d given his laptop to Black Hair to receive a very emphatic ‘thank you, like seriously you’re a fucking lifesaver if I spent a second longer with that piece of shit I really don’t know what I would have done’ and the job had been done in seconds. Since then, a casual conversation had been struck up and Dan finds he doesn’t actually want to go back upstairs just yet.

“You two sounded really good in there,” Black Hair comments. They’d been talking about the play. “From what I heard, anyway.”

“Thanks,” Dan says, trying to ignore the quiet blush that warms his cheeks. There’s nothing quite like someone complimenting his acting. “Clearly not good enough for Lucy, though.”

“Few things are, Dan,” he sighs, and Dan only finds it half-weird that this guy knows his name, but Dan doesn’t actually know his. It’s unnerving, sure, but nothing he’s a stranger to. “She’s been on at you all morning.”

“Yeah,” Dan pauses, before adding an apologetic “sorry, I- um, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“It’s fine. I’m Phil,” he grins, and Dan thanks his lucky stars there’s finally a name to put to the face.

Dan studies him briefly, and frowns. “You do look familiar, actually.”

“Yeah – I do all the donkey work downstairs,” he grins. “You may have seen me emerge from the cave every now and then.”

Dan chuckles, deciding there and then that he likes Phil.

“Doesn’t it get lonely?” Dan asks, studying the square lights looming above them, one of which he notices is stuttering slightly, flickering on and off every now and then.

Phil shrugs, not taking his eyes off of the screen. “Kinda. But I mean – I have my little crew down here, y’know? There’s five of us. We just like- keep each other company. Help each other whenever we need to,” he glances at Dan. “Oh, and sneak up to the theatre and watch you guys every now and then.”

Dan giggles. “Brilliant. Must be a nice little community, though.”

“Yeah, it is,” Phil hesitates. “Or perhaps ‘support group’ might be a more appropriate term. For the poor sods who have to put up with shitty laptops and gross food.”

Dan laughs, and helps himself to another Dorito.

-

“Okay, right- Dan, sorry if this sounds a bit weird because- like, we’ve pretty much only just met, but like- um- I was wondering if you wanted to-“

“Phil,” Dan cuts him off. As an actor, there’s something about hearing people stutter and ramble without really saying anything that tends to grate on him. “I’d love to.”

“Really? Well, I-“ Phil stops and frowns. “Hang on a second. How did you know I was gonna ask you to hang out?”

Dan shrugs like he hasn’t spent the last thirteen years mastering the sciences of body language and speech and how they can be applied to the acting world. “Lucky guess, I suppose.”

Phil smiles. “I mean- would you? Like, really?”

“Of course,” Dan says.

“Well yeah, like- I don’t have to be home for a while yet, and I have a car so we could just like- drive around for a bit? Go to town if you want?”

Dan smiles, and repeats what he said before he even knew what Phil was going to say.

“Yeah. I’d love to.”

-                                          

It’s a bit of a weird result to come out of lending his laptop to a stranger for a while, but it’s how Dan finds himself spending the evening sat in the passenger seat on the top of a car park roof, blasting some weird indie song from the depth of Phil’s Spotify and watching the sun sink further behind the buildings, painting the sky warmer with every slow minute that passes on the dashboard clock.

They’d had a drive around the city together, sometimes talking, sometimes letting lulls in the conversation give way to thoughtful silences, both of them tapping away to Phil’s music taste, but Dan thinks it’s been about fifteen minutes since either of them last said anything.

“So,” Phil is the first to break the silence. He flicks the last of his cigarette out of the window (Dan had insisted on rolling down the windows before he did that – there’s no way he’s going home stinking of an ashtray). “Tell me about yourself.”

Dan looks up from his phone at that, his heart thudding.

“You what?”

“You know,” Phil’s gaze doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on the view in front of the windscreen. They’d picked a spot at the very top of a multi-storey car park overlooking everything, leaving the city a pool of lights and colours and life far beneath them. “I don’t really know you. So tell me about yourself.”

“I- um-“ Dan gulps. This wasn’t really a question he came prepared for. He shrugs. “I don’t really know what there is to tell, if I’m honest.”

“Oh, now come on,” Phil presses. “Just- anything. Your hobbies. Your life. Your dreams. What you want to be when you’re older.”

“I feel like I’m in a bloody job interview,” Dan chuckles. Phil’s lips quirk upwards in response.

“You are. I’m interviewing you to see if you’re fit for the job of being mates with me.”

“The ‘job’?” Dan frowns. “Like it’s a chore?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Phil grins. “Now, come on. I wanna hear about you.”

Dan gulps, silence falling for the first time in a while.

“I- um, well I think my hobby is probably pretty obvious, for a start,” Dan begins. Phil rolls his eyes. “And what I wanna be when I’m older, too. I’m gonna do a degree in Drama, I reckon.”

“What else are you into, then?”

Dan stops for a second. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on,” Phil presses, flicking his lighter and sparking up another cigarette. “You must have other interests besides acting. You got a girlfriend?”

Dan clams up. “Um- no.”

“Oh. Boyfriend, then?” he quirks his eyebrows, and Dan shakes his head miserably.

“Afraid not.”

“Glad we established that,” Phil smirks, but Dan doesn’t really smile back.

He chews on the inside of his lip, having a staring contest with a pair of headlights sliding across one of the roads beneath them.

“What music are you into, then?”

Dan swallows, trying to think. It’s like someone’s scraped over his mind with an eraser, rubbing out his interests and his life and his personality, all pencilled in with weak lines.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs. “This and that. I like whatever this is,” he nods to the Spotify track on Phil’s phone. “Bit of Indie, it’s good. Oh, and I love- what are they called? Pink Floyd?”

“Floyd’s good,” Phil agrees. “And Nirvana.”

“Yeah,” Dan gulps, feeling another silence probe the conversation.

“You into the Smashing Pumpkins?”

Dan shakes his head.

“Oh, okay. Slaves?”

Dan shakes his head again.

“Genesis?”

“Never even heard of them.”

“Cobalt Night?”

Dan shakes his head again

Phil cackles. “Oh Christ. You do realise I made that last band up?”

“Oh god,” Dan can feel his cheeks burn peony. “I’m not doing myself any favours here, am I?”

“Don’t worry, I’m only messing with you,” Phil says. “I think it would be more embarrassing if you said yes, to be honest.”

“True,” Dan shrugs, feeling Phil’s stare burn into his side profile. He sits back further in his seat, keeping his stare.

“You’re not really into much, are you?

Dan shrugs.

“I’m more into Musical Theatre, really. Ever since we did a production of Hamilton I haven’t really been able to get that rap out of my head,” he chuckles.

“Right,” Phil sits up a little bit and clears his throat. “Well we’ve established your music taste and your hobby. Who are your favourite actors, then?”

It’s like someone’s flicked a switch inside Dan. His eyes light up.

“-and Leonardo DiCaprio, oh my God, don’t even get me started on him. I mean- who wouldn’t fuck young Leo? Have you even seen him in Titanic? And Romeo and Juliet too, Jesus Christ he’s gorgeous. He’s so fucking gorgeous. I’m not gonna do Romeo’s role any justice when he’s my competition, am I?”

Phil just nods and says the odd ‘hm’, listening to Dan’s stream of consciousness.

“-and Helena Bonham-Carter, what a fucking legend, man. She’s just- her character is just so versatile, you know? I mean- there’s a good reason she’s in literally everything, and that’s because she’s fucking amazing- have you seen Fight Club? You must have seen it, it’s incredible. She’s incredible. It’s a bit of a mind fuck if I’m honest, what with the split personality thing and everything, but- oh God, Brad Pitt is so good in it too. And he’s pretty hot, I’m not gonna lie. Well, until he grew out his hair and looked a bit like a farmer. But- where was I? Oh yeah, Helena Bonham Carter-”

“She was good in Sweeney Todd, too,” Phil comments, and he’s off again.

“-like, that was the first time I ever saw Johnny Depp act, and by Christ that film creeped me out. I mean- I was only like, seven when I watched it so of course it was gross, like, what seven year old watches people do- you know, that, to paying customers? I feel sorry for the poor sods who just went in there wanting to give their beards a trim. But- yeah, they were both really good in Sweeney Todd. I had a bit of a crush on Helena- and Johnny too, for that matter, I mean come on, who didn’t? But then I found out Johnny Depp is a bit of a dick in real life so I went off him after that. But Helena’s still cool, obviously.”

“She’s good, yeah,” Phil nibbles at a protruding hangnail on his thumb.

“And- oh god, who’s another good actor? Oh, don’t even get me started on Morgan Freeman. Absolute fucking legend. Like, oh my god. Him and that other one- god, what’s his name? The guy from Donnie Darko?”

Dan’s brain is moving far too quickly for Phil to keep up and he has no idea what the correlation between Morgan Freeman and Donnie Darko is, but he gives it a shot anyway.

“Jake Gyllenhaal?”

“Yes. Yes, oh my god, that’s the one,” Dan’s face breaks out into a grin. “Fuck, Donnie Darko. What a film, man. My friend has a tattoo of it, and-“

It continues like this, Dan chatting nineteen-to-the-dozen and Phil counting the glitters of passion in his eyes, before they’re both interrupted by a buzzing on Dan’s lap.

“Oh shit,” he grabs his phone. “It’s my mum.”

Phil doesn’t know what she’s saying on the other end of the line, but judging by Dan’s apologies it sounds like he’s stayed out here for a little too long.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles, tugging on his seatbelt. “Lost track of time a bit, there.”

“Clearly,” Phil grins.

“This was good, though,” Dan says. “Like, really good. Thanks for, you know. Suggesting this.”

“Tell you what,” Phil leans into him, and Dan can smell his cologne. “We’re gonna come back up here again soon, okay? And you’re gonna tell me about yourself. Properly, this time.

Dan frowns. “Isn’t that what I’ve spent the past like- hour doing?” he glances at the clock and shit, has it really been that long? It’s pitch black outside, the only light coming from the glitter of the city beneath them (shit, it really is beautiful from up here) and he was supposed to be home forty-five minutes ago.

“Yeah,” Phil says, starting up the engine. “The only difference being next time we do this, I’m going to ban you from saying the word ‘acting’. So I can hear about you, the real you, and not whoever you pretend to be for a living.”

-

The next few days pass in a blur of line-learning, enduring Lucy’s lectures about how he just ‘isn’t putting enough ‘oomph’ into it, come on now, we’ll take it from the top one more time’ and Dan has to act like he actually gives more of a shit about what Romeo’s saying right now than what Phil had said in that car a few days ago. He has to act like it isn’t what he’d been reciting over and over in his mind, the words digging grooves into the back of his mind and making themselves at home.

He has to act like there’s more to his fucking life than acting.

-

The next time Dan sees Phil, they’re both cooped up in a control room eating lunch in a companionable silence; Dan going over his lines and Phil puzzling over these two wires that are, according to him, sly bastards that won’t fucking go in these holes Jesus Christ, to which Dan had shut his eyes and prayed to god no-one outside the room had caught that out of context. There’s a huge control panel, rows and rows of buttons and sound mixers and, as Dan had very accurately christened them, “slidey-things” in front of them. He has no idea what any of this stuff is, no idea what a “cross-fader” is or what the hell a “submaster” is supposed to do, but every now and then Phil will casually lean over and flick a switch or press a button and a stage light beneath them will change.

“What’s up?”

Dan looks up from his script. He’s been poring over his lines for so long he’s pretty sure stripes of yellow highlighter are now permanently inked into the back of his mind, now.

“What? Nothing.”

Phil swings his legs off of the bar they’d been resting against. They’re halfway through sharing a KitKat (Dan had taken a trip down to the Co-op at the beginning of the lunch break and returned with a bag so heavy with food it had left a dent in his hand, insisting Phil can’t be living on stale crisps his entire life) and watching a rehearsal, one Dan doesn’t have to be in for once, through a pane of glass.

“You’re going to have to do better if you want to convince me, Mr. Theatre Kid,” Phil reaches over to the bowl in front of them and plucks a grape from the stem. “I thought you were good at acting.”

“What do you want me to do; leap up and perform a jig?” Dan turns a page, the paper rustling a bit too loudly. “I’m fine, Phil. Stop reading into things too much.”

Phil stares at him. “You’re sat there with a face as long as my leg, and I’m reading into things?” he quirks an eyebrow. “Be careful. If you stare at that page any longer it’ll probably burst into flames.”

“Shut up,” Dan mutters, the edge in his voice a little too sharp for it to slip by as a joke.

Phil does.

Dan sighs. “Sorry, I just-“

“Rehearsals getting to you?” he suggests softly. Dan doesn’t plan on letting the real problem slip; Christ, he can only imagine the havoc that would ensue if it got around that as well as obsessing over acting he’s also never actually kissed anyone, so he quickly takes Phil up on that.

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I mean- Romeo’s a good character to play, I guess, but he does have an awful lot to say.”

“You’ll be okay,” Phil reassures him. “You still have months of time left to memorise your lines. When’s the play?”

“Seventh of February,” Dan says. Two months from now.

“There we go,” Phil says. “You have plenty of time yet.”

“I guess so,” Dan shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve done this millions of times before,” Phil says. “You’ll be fine; I know you will. You’re a natural.”

Dan wishes he knew the half, he really does, but there’s just something about Phil’s smile that makes him almost want to believe him.

-

Dan manages to tell Phil a little bit more about himself next time they’re on the roof together, and in return, he learns a bit about Phil too.

“Well, when I was acti-“

“Nuh-uh,” Phil interrupts him. “No acting talk, remember?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “It’s relevant to what I was gonna say. It’s an important part of the story.”

“Wherever the hell you can fit acting into a story about you and your friends getting drunk and stealing a supermarket trolley because you couldn’t afford a taxi, I’d be very impressed.”

“You’d be surprised,” Dan grins, and that was the only time acting came into conversation that night.

-

Dan learns Phil is eighteen, that he’d failed his driving test three times before passing because he was driving on the wrong side of the dual carriageway, and swears he’s going to give up smoking next year, he promises. He learns that his favourite colour is blue because he likes the way the colour skates across the ocean water in the summer, and that he used to be scared of dogs before his parents got him a puppy for Christmas, a bouncy Labrador called Daisy with a love for the sun and walks down to the beach.

“I fucking love dogs,” Dan beams.

“So do I, now. Took me long enough,” Phil agrees, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Daisy’s so cute, oh my god. You will love her.”

Dan doesn’t say anything, but there’s something about the definite use of ‘you will’ that he likes.

He, in turn, finds that he does have some thoughts and feelings and dreams hidden away in there, beneath the façade of scripts and stage lights and acting. He finds he does have stuff to say, stuff that isn’t always attached to a web stringing back to the theatre. He tells Phil all about his cat, Ozzy (a little shit who takes great pleasure in knocking all his belongings off of his desk and sleeping on his laptop, but he loves him anyway) his annoying next-door neighbours who don’t seem to see any problem with blasting ABBA at three in the morning, and they manage to find common bands they both like. Oasis is playing when the sun sinks, the sky darkens, and the city lights up beneath them.

“God, I love this one,” Phil mumbles, his speech obscured by the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Don’t Look Back In Anger. It’s one of their best.”

“Oh god, yeah,” Dan agrees, tapping along to the chorus. “That and Stand By Me. Oh god, and Champagne Supernova, too.”

Phil grins at that, and leans forward, picking his phone up from the dashboard. Before Dan has a chance to question him, the chorus stops dead in its tracks, and an acoustic softness follows the sudden silence, a series of guitar chords that are just that bit too familiar. He grins.

“I always think the intro sounds a bit like Wonderwall,” Phil comments, putting his phone down and leaning back in the seat.

“Yeah,” Dan sighs, leaning back in his own seat and turning his gaze to the city beneath them, staring at lights and roads and buildings until they pool into a hazy amber blur in his vision.

How many special people change,

How many lives are living strange,

Where were you while we were getting high?

Slowly walking down the hall,

Faster than a cannonball

Where were you while we were getting high?

 Someday you will find me,

Caught beneath the landslide,

In a champagne supernova in the sky.

Someday you will find me,

Caught beneath the landslide,

In a champagne supernova;

A champagne supernova in the sky.

They don’t say anything, instead letting Liam Gallagher do the talking, but sly glances are exchanged from under brown fringes and black eyelashes.

-

“Nice up here, isn’t it?”

It’s only until Phil breaks the silence they’ve lapsed into that Dan realises the song has drawn to a close. He slides his gaze from the city and over to Phil, over to his thoughtful stare skating along the skyline, the ruffled sweep of black hair coating his fringe, and the orange glow of a cigarette tip poking out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes flicker over to Dan’s.

Dan looks back over to the city.

“Yeah.”

“I always come up here.”

“I can see why.”

“Yeah, well. Sometimes a little look over the city is just what you need to clear your head. It just puts everything in perspective, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dan swallows. “It really does.”

There’s a litter of thoughts and worries in his mind, buried deep and multiplying with every day that drags past, every day that pulls him closer and closer to the production, to the hundreds of burning stares in the audience seats, to his colleague’s lips. He’s been longing for a break from it. Just a few hours of silence, a few quiet moments that don’t have to be spent combing over every single thought in his head, thinking and thinking until it inflates into anxiety, spilling into the pit of his stomach and clawing at the edges as it goes.

And the more he counts the city lights, the more he feels the cold night air stroke his cheeks and the engines reverberating around the car park levels beneath them, the more he reckons a more few nights up here. It’s the remedy he needs; just him, Phil and the lights.

Their eyes meet seconds after, and Dan can feel the question he’s vowed to ask Phil before the end of the night already beginning to rest on his lips, on the cusp of speech.

“When can we do this again?”

-

The late nights begin to pass more frequently in a spinning blur of city nights, passenger seats and conversations, all whispers and cold air and stolen glances. Dan can feel himself unravelling like a threadbare blanket, his carefully constructed personas and characters fraying at the edges with every hour spent up on the top of the city with a boy whose lips spill truths like water, and it isn’t long until Dan finds cracks in his paper personalities and begins to feel more and more honesty begin to seep through. He finds that no, he doesn’t have to spin false anecdotes like cotton and lie about his interests and find a way of linking everything back to acting, hooking every little quirk and element to his personality back to the stage. He doesn’t have to impress Phil with his knowledge of Hollywood throughout the years and he doesn’t have to act like he loves things he’s never actually heard of and he doesn’t have to lock his feelings away and throw away the key.

He doesn’t have to pretend.

-

It’s all okay until they fall onto the topic of previous relationships.

It’s been a good night. They’d visited the car park again, but this time without the car (it was warm enough to leave it in the driveway and make their own way up the concrete staircases, glass bottles in plastic bags clinking around their legs). They’d situated themselves in the very same parking space, the one second to the right and next to a beacon, but they’d traded car seats for a picnic blanket, headlights for phone torches and gear sticks for bottle openers.

“Yeah, like- fuck, she wasn’t a good kisser at all, was Mary. I mean- we were in year nine and she tried, bless her, and God knows so did I. But you know, with that as my first impression of kissing, when it was over I was like ‘what the fuck is all the fuss about?’” Phil chuckles, and Dan pretends to grin.

“Yeah, I mean-“ he shrugs, staring down at his lap. “I’ve had my fair share of bad kisses in my time.”

The ease with which the lie rolls off of his tongue almost takes him by surprise. It’s been a while since he’s lied about himself to Phil, and it feels strange.

“I can imagine,” Phil says, before frowning. “But you’re an actor. So you must be an excellent kisser, right? What with all the practice you guys have.”

Dan frowns, looking up from his bottle. “You what?”

“Oh come on. I saw what went on in the back of that car last term. Eddie and Alexandra. That play involved more lip-on-lip action than the fucking Notebook.”

Dan smiles at that, remembering the play adaptation they actually did of that when he was in year ten. He doesn’t quite know whether to laugh or cry over the sheer amount of starring roles he’s had that are heavily eloped in some kind of romantic storyline.

“Us actors have our techniques,” he says carefully.

Phil’s eyes widen at that. “You do? Like what?”

Dan shrugs, taking another sip of beer. “Oh, you know.”

“No, I don’t know,” Phil shuffles closer, a flicker of eagerness in his cerulean stare and shit, Dan’s beginning to regret opening his mouth now. “Come on. What techniques do you have? I could use a few tips myself.”

Dan raises an eyebrow, his eyes firmly locked onto the spread of amber lights in front of them.

“I doubt you’d ever want to use these kinds of techniques on anyone,” he says, a hint of humour drying his speech. “I imagine stage-kissing on a real date would be quite a deal-breaker.”

“Stage kissing, huh?” Phil widens his eyes. “How does that differentiate from a real kiss, then?”

“Well,” Dan takes another sip of his drink, his vision beginning to slow down. “First of all, it’s not really a kiss at all.”

“Huh?” Phil frowns.

“I mean- not usually. There are different kinds of stage-kisses, but most of them don’t involve, you know,” he smirks, reusing Phil’s rather vulgar term of “lip-on-lip action”.

“So you guys don’t actually kiss?” Phil asks.

Dan shakes his head. “Nope.”

“But-… how does that work?”

Alcoholic courage swims through Dan’s veins at that. He glances at Phil.

The words are a whisper, a dare almost, and it isn’t until Phil nods that Dan realises he’s actually said it out loud.

“Want me to show you?”

“Yeah, go on,” Phil’s tone is casual, soft almost, but his eyes are glittering.

“Okay, well- come over here,” he beckons.

Phil does as he’s told, shuffling up on his knees until he’s facing Dan.

“One of the actors needs to have their back to the audience,” Dan says. “So, let’s say the wall over there is the audience,” he nods over Phil’s shoulder to the stretch of concrete watching them.

“Alright. The wall’s the audience. Now what?”

“Now,” Dan gulps, feeling his heart begin to pick up the pace because shit, this is really happening now. “So, what you do is, like, just lean in normally for a kiss, but stop just as your lips are about to touch.”

Phil scoffs. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Look, do you want me to show you or not?”

“Nah, nah, I’m kidding,” Phil says. “C’mon, then. Show me how it’s done in Hollywood.”

“You dick,” Dan mumbles, but he’s leaning in.

Phil gets closer, his face begins to crawl up to Dan’s until their noses are brushing and his fringe is a tickle on Dan’s cheek and his breath mixes with Dan’s own, warm and languid through parted lips and fuck, Dan’s heart is really thudding now. His legs feel like jelly and his lungs feel like fire and there’s something warm and fiery swirling in the pit of his stomach, something alien, something that he’s certainly never felt before with any other colleague he’s come this agonisingly close to kissing.

They stay there for what feels like minutes, lips hovering, warmth tingling and the city still thundering beneath them, and it’s Phil who pulls away first.

“Impressive,” he smiles, eyes glittering with nonchalance. “Frustrating, but impressive. Is that your go-to one, then?”

It takes three swigs of beer to calm Dan down before he can speak again.

“I mean- um, yeah. Though sometimes if you’re, like, sitting really far over to the side in the audience you might be able to tell that they’re not actually kissing, so,” he shrugs. “It just depends on the stage, I guess.”

“Right,” Phil nods, swigging from his own bottle. “You, er- you mentioned a few other types, right?”

The thought of coming that close to Phil’s lips again sends the strange flame of warmth flooding back into Dan’s stomach. He all but chokes on his mouthful of drink.

“Er- yeah,” he stutters. “There are a few others,” he gulps again and shit, what’s up with him?

Dan doesn’t really know what’s happening, doesn’t know why being within a metre radius of this guy is already making him feel far more than he’d ever felt with any colleague, kissing or not, but it doesn’t stop him from beckoning the older boy over and showing him kiss number two, their lips locked together with nothing except Dan’s thumb in between them. He can feel the warmth of Phil’s mouth against his skin, the hot movement of Phil’s breath through his nose and the tickle of his hair against his cheek again. When he parts his mouth, Dan feels the tiniest touch of lip against his. It’s only the very corner and can’t have lasted for longer than a millisecond, but the feeling comes back like a spark to a flame and he’s beginning to find it difficult to balance and oh, shit.

They break apart, eyes searching each other’s, and it’s the first time Dan’s feeling like this post-‘kiss’ without having to throw on a character like an old shirt. He doesn’t have to follow anything up with someone else’s speech, with a fake accent and a stupid costume and a mannerism that doesn’t quite fit.

For once, he doesn’t feel like he has to act.

Phil narrows his eyes after a few silent seconds, fighting back a smirk.

Dan frowns, the post-stage kiss high beginning to melt away.

“What?”

“Is that seriously it?” Phil says.

“Yeah,” Dan moves away, trying to ignore the surge of electricity he had felt upon edging within a few millimetres of the other boy’s lips, the city a roar beneath them.

“I don’t know why I feel so disappointed,” Phil smirks. “From where I sit, looking at you lot doing all your stuff down on the stage, it looks a whole sight more realistic than that.”

Dan looks back out to the city.

“Yeah, well,” he says, feeling his heart slow down. “Acting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

-

“So. You and Alexandra, eh?”

Dan glares at him. Dawn is beginning to throw pastel colours into the blackness of the sky. It’s still dark enough to see the stars, fainter twinkles against the sweep of indigo above them, but it’s light enough for them to see each other, to make out feint outlines of faces in the low pre-sunrise light, eyes half-lidded and shadowed from the sleepless hours. It must be pushing four in the morning, and they’ve been here since eleven o’clock, leaving their parents with promises that they’re spending the night round each other’s houses to make a few preparations for the play.

(If reciting Romeo’s Balcony Scene soliloquy through giggles and slightly drunken slurs counts as preparation, then at least half of that promise is true).

“We’re not an item,” Dan mumbles, taking a drag from his cigarette. It tastes strange, kind-of like dirt and ash and tar and he’s not a smoker and probably never will be, but Phil had offered him one and- well, fuck it.

“I know,” Phil says. “But you guys are performing in the round, aren’t you?” Phil narrows his eyes, and Dan swears he leans an inch or two closer before whispering, “your stage kisses won’t work from that angle, I’m telling you.”

“Don’t remind me,” Dan shuts his eyes. So far he’d been doing quite a grand job of pushing that worry to the back of his mind, burying it deep into his consciousness. The whole reason he’s up here altogether is to escape it.

Phil hesitates.

“What?” he asks. “Don’t you want to kiss Alexandra?”

Dan gulps, the taste of alcohol souring on his tongue a little.

“It’s not that,” he says. “I mean- a kiss is a kiss, right? It’s all part of the job, and-“

“But you don’t fancy her,” Phil says.

Dan frowns. “Well- no, of course not. She’s a colleague.”

“I know,” Phil says. “It makes a difference though, doesn’t it?”

“What does?”

“Kissing someone you don’t fancy. It’s weird.”

“Tell me about it,” Dan mumbles. It’s getting harder and harder to maintain this lie. “I- er, yeah. I usually stick to stage-kissing on the job, to be honest,” he shrugs. “It’s just easier than kissing someone you don’t really have feelings for.”

“Have you never, you know, properly kissed anyone before, then?”

Dan takes a deep breath. Lies can flow like water when he wants them to; he’s a master at concealing the truth behind a blanket of fabrication and deception, but there’s something about talking to Phil that makes falsehood sour on his tongue.

He lets it out in a deep sigh, feeling his chest deflate and his heart thud. Fuck it.

“You know what?,” he begins. “No. I haven’t. I don’t know if you can tell, but- yeah. I dunno, I guess that’s why I’m so stressed about this shit with Alexandra. And like- I know that probably makes me a fucking loser for never having kissed anyone at the age I am now, and probably even more of a loser that I want my first one to be with someone special, but- fuck, I don’t know,” he swallows, feeling the knot of anxiety in his chest loosen a little. “No. I haven’t. Okay?”

Phil doesn’t say anything. He bites his lip and averts his eyes down to the neck of his bottle. He fiddles with the loose cap, letting it fall through the spaces between his fingers with a sharp clink.

Dan doesn’t like that, doesn’t like the silence. The knot returns.

“What?”

“I- er- that wasn’t really what I meant,” Phil finally says.

The knot tightens.

“What do you mean it’s not what you meant?”

“I meant have you properly kissed anyone on stage before,” Phil glances up. “Not in general.”

Dan’s stomach drops. Oh fuck.

He open his mouth, but no speech follows. No amount of words can haul himself out of his hole now. Shit.

“I mean-“ he finally speaks again after a silence, and there’s a tremor in his voice that he desperately tries to smooth over. “Oh, shit,” he deflates, feeling the pit of his stomach begin to churn due to the abundance of the night’s alcohol. There’s no point trying to clamber out of the hole he’s just dug himself. He’ll only deepen it.

“Have you really never kissed anyone?” Phil asks in a quieter voice, but he doesn’t sound surprised. Or humoured. Or any other emotion Dan had feared. Just… curious. “Like, at all?”

Dan gulps, the beer a sour swirl in the pit of his stomach. Maybe the sixth bottle was a mistake.

“Well there’s no point denying it now, is there?” Dan finally mumbles, his eyes fixed on a dent in the concrete not far from where they’re sitting. “No. I haven’t.”

The gentle thrum of city engines fills the silence between them, and the three seconds Phil doesn’t say anything for might as well have been days.

“Yep,” Dan breaks the quietness once it borders on unbearable. “There you go. You think I’m a fucking weirdo now, don’t you?”

“Not at all,” Phil replies, and his voice is unusually calm. Dan looks up, his eyes meeting a soft expression, and for some reason he really didn’t expect Phil to react like this.

“So-“ Dan shakes his head. “What? You’re not gonna take the piss? Laugh at me? Say I’m a fucking weirdo that only lied to you to try and look cool?”

The truth scratches his heart, but it needs to be said.

“Why the fuck would I laugh at you?” Phil frowns, and there’s something about the sincerity in his voice that, beneath the turmoil, Dan finds weirdly comforting.

“I mean,” Phil begins. “I’m surprised, don’t get me wrong. Only because you’re an actor and- well, let’s face it, you’re fucking gorgeous too, but-“ he shakes his head. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m the first to say I’d much rather make sure my first kiss means something. If anything, I agree with you on that.”

“You’re not pissed off that I lied to you?” Dan gulps down another mouthful of lukewarm alcohol.

“Of course not, you twat,” Phil says. “I mean, I get why you did, but there was no need to. Really.”

“I know,” Dan sighs, picking at the label on his glass bottle until the paper frays at the edges.

“Wanna know something?” Phil says, his eyes not moving from the soft sweep of stars above them, dimmed by the early morning light.

Dan takes his eyes away from the sky. “What?”

“If you’re a liar, then so am I,” Phil tells the stars.

Dan frowns. “You what?”

Phil’s eyes flick back down to earth, meeting Dan’s gaze. “I lied too.”

Dan gulps, his heart thudding. “About what?”

Phil forces a chuckle, but it’s drained of humour. “Do I have to spell it out to you? I haven’t kissed anyone either.”

The words ring in Dan’s ears moments after, Phil’s voice an echo above the roar of the city below.

“Wait-…” is the only word that passes Dan’s lips in the next passing minute or so. “But-…”

“Yeah,” Phil shrugs. “Turns out you’re not the only one, are you?”

“But-…” Dan shakes his head. “Why did you lie about it too?”

Phil just shrugs and says, “same reasons you did.”

Dan tries, he really tries, to comb through the tangle of confusion in his mind right now, but the best response he can come up with after a moment or two of silence isn’t the most articulate.

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Phil agrees, and they descend into quietness again.

“Shame, isn’t it?” Phil is the first to break the silence. “That we feel the need to lie about that.”

“It’s society’s fault for making us feel as if being over the age of about fifteen without having shoved a tongue down anyone’s throat is a failure.”

Phil grimaces. “I’ve never understood the attraction of that, you know. Like, I get making out and stuff, but why would you want to literally devour the person next to you? When I saw kissing scenes as a kid I thought they were actually trying to eat each other.”

“I know,” Dan takes a sip of beer, the alcohol slipping down with a little more ease now. “It sounds grim. I don’t know how people do it. At least with acting on stage you don’t have that problem.”

“True,” Phil mirrors his actions, pulling his drink away from his lips and tracing the rim of the bottle with the tip of his thumb, staring down the tube-shaped glass into the remains of the flat beer, swimming lukewarm and flat at the bottom of the bottle. Only when he glances up a few seconds later does Dan realise he’s been staring.

Dan smirks.

“What are you grinning at?”

“Just-…” he shakes his head and shit, he’s definitely had enough to drink tonight. He can feel the alcohol-induced honesty begin leaking through his parted lips and he knows he’ll probably end up saying something he’ll regret tomorrow morning but- oh, fuck it. “The thought of you having never kissed anyone. It just- doesn’t make sense to me like- look at you. How?”

He’s not really sure where the line between a compliment and a very sorry attempt at flirting is drawn but he’s pretty sure he’s fallen somewhere in the middle.

Phil’s gaze lingers a few seconds too long. “I could ask you the same thing. I mean- come on, look at you. A guy like you must have been drowned in opportunities.”

They’re both a bit too drunk, a bit too cold and there’s something about the atmosphere of an empty car park at fuck-knows-o’clock that warps reality just a little. Dan blinks and the city lights don’t unblur and he feels a bit like he’s in a dream.

“Yeah, I-…” he shrugs. “I’ve had my fair share of offers, I won’t lie.”

“I’ll bet,” Phil interjects, and Dan rolls his eyes.

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t either,” Dan rolls his eyes, but he’s smirking. “I just-… yeah, I dunno. I didn’t really wanna waste it, but I never really found someone I liked enough.”

“That’s nice, that is,” Phil says, and though Dan scours his tone of voice for a trace of sarcasm or mockery, but Phil’s eyes glitter earnestly. “No, like, really. Most teenagers just, you know, dive straight into it. Slam their face against anything with a pulse that crosses their path. But the fact you care enough to wait,” he glances up, eyeing the boy beside him carefully. “That’s rare. Kinda admirable in a way.”

“Were you the same, then?”

Phil nods without any hesitation. “A hundred percent.”

Dan nods understandingly, taking another sip of beer, and the two of them watch the town sleep for a quiet moment before Phil speaks up again.

“Oh, come here,” he stretches out his arms. “You look like you’re seconds away from hypothermia, for Christ’s sake.”

Dan leans into his chest, closing his eyes and snuggling into the Topman denim of Phil’s jacket. “I don’t really think a car park roof is the most suitable drinking spot,” he mumbles, his speech slightly obscured by his rattling jaw.

“Not at five a.m. in December at least,” Phil says. “It’s a lot nicer in summer, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Dan says, and the indirect promise that they’ll come out here and do this again makes Phil smile.

It’s quiet, serene and blue, and Dan loses count of the minutes that drip by until he hears Phil’s voice again, shattering his trance dancing on the fragile edge of drunken consciousness.

“Dan?” it’s only a half-whisper, but it still makes him jump.

The younger boy turns his head, his brown hair tousling against Phil’s denim chest until they’re eye-to-eye.

Phil lowers his gaze, but this time his eyes don’t flicker back up to Dan’s. Dan parts his mouth in response, but before he can say anything, there’s a surge forward and a soft pair of lips on his.

A jolt of adrenaline, shock, and a general ‘holy-fucking-shit-this-can’t-be-happening’ feeling shimmers through his body as he kisses back, and despite his embarrassing inexperience when it comes to anything remotely romantic, his lips move perfectly in time with Phil’s, their mouths melting together in flawless harmony.

Phil’s the one to break away, and Dan misses his lips the second the cold morning air touches his mouth. He frowns, studying Phil’s expression half-hidden by his mop of black hair, but the older boy refuses eye contact.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I don’t know what came ov-“

“Don’t apologise,” Dan cuts him off immediately, his hand hovering over Phil’s arm in quiet protest. “Just-…” he gulps. “Do it again,”

Phil’s head snaps up, his eyes boring into the brown stare in mild confusion.

“Please,” Dan mouths, and Phil doesn’t need to be told twice.

They kiss for longer, deeper, slightly parted lips and slow breathing and the teal glow of 5am light and shit, this was certainly worth a seventeen year wait. Phil’s lips feel like warmth and taste like tobacco and he feels a gentle comb of shy fingertips through his hair and yep, he can definitely see what all the fuss is about now.

When they break apart for the second time, all blushes and broken breaths, they’re both grinning. Phil drops his gaze with a bashful chuckle.

“Well,” Dan breathes. He’s still sitting close, their upper arms touching but neither of them really wanting to move away.

“Well,” Phil says, almost in agreement. They’re bathed in silence once again, but this time it’s comfortable.

“I’m not gonna lie,” Dan begins, looking out over the city. “That was definitely worth the wait.”

Phil tilts his head down, their noses almost touching. “Yeah?”

“For sure,” Dan cranes his neck up a little and pecks Phil’s lips again. The other boy grins, pulling his jacket further over Dan’s shoulders.

“We’ll have to do this again sometime then, won’t we?” Phil’s eyes glitter.

Dan grins, glancing at the view spread in front of them. The sun is beginning to awaken and there are fewer streetlights illuminating the land below and it’s cold and wow, they should really think about heading home soon. Dan hasn’t checked his phone in hours and he’s sure it can’t be running on anything much more than a measly four percent.

“Definitely,” he says, then hesitates. “Although, well.”

“Well what?”

Dan flicks his eyes up at the boy above him, tired brown against weary blue.

“Perhaps next time we should choose somewhere a little warmer than a car park,” he says in a soft voice, before adding, “I can barely feel my arse right now.”

Phil bursts out laughing, and then a pair of lips are on his for the third time.

-

The next couple of weeks rush by in a flurry of rehearsals, meetings, crumpled scripts and weird costumes that itch around the collar. Dan and Phil spend most of their time three storeys apart, meaning secret rendezvous up in the control room or down in the trap room are often necessary. The closer the big day creeps, the hotter the atmosphere becomes with stress, so it’s nice to leave the tension with the stage and the equally tense co-workers and escape for a bit.

“For fear of that, I still will stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart aga- oh for fuck’s sake, you’re not even listening.”

Phil looks up from his phone, a giggling smirk still lingering on his face. “Huh?”

“Come on, Phil. You said you’d go through this with me and you’re sat there playing around with bloody Snapchat filters.”

“Sorry, sorry – I am listening, it’s just-“ his eyes flicker back down to the screen in front of him. “That’s hideous. Who even makes these filters? I look like a toe.”

“Can unflattering photos of you not wait five minutes until I’ve finished this? We’re literally nearly done anyway. We only have, like, one more paragraph to g-” Phil interrupts him by flipping the phone around to face the other boy. A bald, rather unsightly version of Phil with weird eyes stares back. Dan’s eyes widen in horror. “Fuck, that really is hideous.”

“I know,” Phil shudders. “I didn’t even know my face could do that,” he glances back at the screen and pulls a couple of experimental faces. “Would you still be with me if I looked like that?”

“Nope,” Dan replies semi-seriously, rolling his eyes when Phil pouts.

“What about if I looked like this?” Phil turns the phone around. He looks a lot better this time, but a little bit too much like an animal. Dan’s never really understood the national attraction towards ‘dog filters’.

“Probably. The ears might get in the way a bit, though,” he chuckles, before urging, “now come on. We haven’t got long left now.”

Phil agrees, albeit reluctantly. He swings his legs off the table, grabs Dan’s battered highlighted mess of a script sitting in front of him and they pick up from where they left off, something about ‘worms that are thy chamber maids’, ‘everlasting rest’ and ‘inauspicious stars’ (whatever the fuck that adjective means). They last a grand total of fifteen seconds before Dan’s voice is interrupted by a shriek of laughter.

“Oh, fucking hell that’s bad!” Phil cackles. Dan groans, wondering for a fleeting second where the best place to launch Phil’s phone might be.

“That’s it,” he loses it, suddenly leaping across the table and swiping the irritating rectangle of interest straight from Phil’s hand. His smile vanishes in seconds.

“Aw, what?!”

“You have five seconds to put this stupid fucking thing away, or else it’s going out there,” he points to the window behind them. Phil follows his gaze, his eyes widening. They can see the majority of the town from up here. That’s a long drop.

He turns his head back around. They’re nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye.

“Fine,” Phil smiles, the tips of their noses brushing together. “But just so you know, seeing you angry just makes me want to kiss you more.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide his smirk. “Are you still gonna want to kiss me when your phone ends up on the ground?”

“What do you mean ‘when’? I’ve put it away now,” he points to the bulge in his back pocket.

Dan fixes him with a glare.

“Come on,” Phil leans forward as Dan leans back. “Just one?” he pleads, his eyes big and blue.

He shakes his head and pulls away, a grin curling at his lips. His eyes flicker back to Phil, a brown gaze that lingers too long.

“Afterwards,” he says in a voice like velvet.

Phil rolls his eyes, flopping back onto the chair. “Fine. Bloody hell, it’s like being back at school.”

Dan pretends not to hear that last comment. “Come on, we’ll take it from “world-wearied flesh…”

Phil’s phone doesn’t move once from his pocket after that. The promise of Dan’s lips after rehearsal is more tempting than any filter some dumb app has to offer.

-

“How do I look?”

Phil eyes him up and down, a smirk playing at his lips. “Hot.”

The comment receives a soft punch to his upper arm.

“Behave,” Dan turns back to the mirror, twining a lock of perfectly sprayed hair that he was specifically instructed not to touch around his fingers. “Are you sure? I feel like I look like a-“

He’s interrupted by a pair of soft lips for a few seconds.

“That’s really not helping the nerves,” Dan breathes once they break away.

Phil grins. “You look fine. You know you do. Now quit playing with your hair before Alexa sees.”

Dan doesn’t think Alexa, the make-up artist, is capable of seeing anything that isn’t within a thirty-centimetre radius of her own face right now. She’s been hurrying around backstage all evening; powdering this, curling that, flitting from actor-to-actor so quickly it makes Dan out of breath to even watch her. She certainly hasn’t done a bad job though, he thinks, as he inspects his reflection. A slightly dishevelled, 15th-century version of himself stares back, all weird leather and burgundy velvet and wow, perhaps he should sport an Elizabethan tunic more often.

“Suits you,” Phil smiles as if he’d read his mind. Dan adjusts the collar accordingly.

“D’you reckon?”  

“Yeah,” Phil eyes him up and down again. “Most people here kinda look like twats in their costume, but you really actually pull that off.”

“Um- thanks? I think?” Dan smirks, frowning at his reflection. He doesn’t mention it has anything to do with his long-standing ability to morph into literally anyone he likes (he’d often been described by many make-up artists as having a “chameleon face” which he hopes is a reference to his adaptability to blend into multiple characters as opposed to resembling a lizard), and instead accepts the ever-so-slightly backhanded compliment.

“What are you doing down here?” someone with an updo the size of Jupiter asks Phil, sauntering past in something that really rather resembles a cupcake. Phil was right, Dan thinks. They do look a bit ridiculous. “They need you upstairs in five minutes.”

“Oh shit,” Phil glances at his watch. “Okay. Gotta go before Nick kills me.”

“Alright,” Dan smiles, pulling him in for a quick hug.

“Good luck,” he whispers into his shoulder. “You’ll fucking kill it.”

Dan tightens his grip around his arms. “Thank you.”

The word has multiple other meanings, and judging by the glitter in Phil’s eye when he pulls away, he thinks he understands every single one.

-

That night, Dan lavishes in warm spotlights and painted wooden sets resembling palaces and balconies, and he feels alive.

That night, the finest Elizabethan literature spills from his lips, flowing as easily as water, his voice shaping every monologue, soliloquy and duologue perfectly.

That night, there are another pair of lips on his; only this time painted red and totally professional. It feels strange, alien, and not a single trace of the spark in his heart that Phil’s lips ignite can be found, but it’s work. It’s courage.

And that night, someone up in the control booth watches through the pane of glass over all the light boards and buttons and wires, and smiles.

As if it’s been almost a year since my last oneshot??? Wtf this must CHANGE I’m getting back into writing (properly this time I swear) so there’s a lot more where this came from. Feedback is always appreciated whether it be good or bad so pls let me know how you found this! Feels so good to be doing this again u have nooo idea holy shit <3

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phan au #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #dan and phil #i really hope this is ok i'm so nervous about posting lol #pls pls pls let me know what you think #it's been a while since i've written fic properly i rllly wanna get back into it

[itsmarianstories]

✨🔍Focus🔎✨

Boxer Jungkook, Dancer Jimin

2. Part: Jimin visits Jungkooks fight for the first time

A/N: I’m so done right now... I had this all already edited and this whole post finished when my laptop collapes and now I have to do everything again. I’m not gonna edit this chapter a second time sorry, now you gotta keep up with my mistakes :’) Also this can probably be read seperately? I think? Though it would make more sense to read the first part first. Anyways it’s not as long as the first part but therefore there will be a third part ;)

Word count: 4.594

Focus.

Un, deux, trois, quatre

Glissade, assemble, sous-sus, pirouette

His body drumming in tension, all muscles working and keeping his every move under total control. No finger is moving in a way it's not supposed to.

He is drilled to perfection, by his mother, his teacher and himself. It's what he did for all his life. Flying through the air, looking almost weightless and light, although his feet hurt, his legs burn and his lungs beg for air. A smile is plastered on his lips, keeping up the mask. Like a statue, strong, perfect, cold.

His eyes are fixed in the huge mirrors that cover the three walls in this studio, watching his own moves like a hawk. Everyone else, including his teacher has already left but he prefers it like that. The hours where he has the studio completely for himself are the best, he can completely focus on himself, he has all the space he wants and he can dance the way he wants.

He loves ballet, it's his passion, what keeps him going on some tough days but sometimes it's also what pushes him down. When he can't get a certain move right, or when his emotions are too overwhelming to push them down behind that mask of perfection. On those days he likes to blast his favourite songs and just let lose, close his eyes and move to the beat.

However, not today. In two weeks they have their showcase and Jimin performs in four pieces. Two group performances, one duet and one solo. They are already practicing for this showcase for almost a year now and although Jimin knows the sequences by heart now, there are still parts which are not perfect yet.

There will be critics at the show and if Jimin is good enough he might be allowed to choreograph his own pieces, get his own group and teach a class. Actually he doesn't really want to teach a class, he knows no one would want to train under him. Jimin is a perfectionist and he would drill his students to the absolute highest level, even he himself can't meet his standards so how could others?

The music stops and Jimins body stills. Well, more or less. His chest his heaving with heavy breaths and his legs tremble slightly. Sweat his running down his skin, literally everywhere, his arms, legs, neck, spine, forehead.

Jimin stared at himself in the mirror for a few seconds before he went to the corner where he left his stuff. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and neck. Deciding that it was enough he grabbed his things and quickly went to the shower. After cleaning his body he threw a quick glance at the time.

Jungkooks fight is in two hours, it will take Jimin probably about 40 minutes to get to the address so he should get home soon to get ready.

He isn't really sure what that is, this evening. Like, is it a date? A meeting between friends? Just a dude watching another dude fight?

Nonono, Jimin get a hold of yourself. The way Jungkook pressed you against your own wall in your own entryway definitely wasn't a moment between 'dudes'. This has to mean something, right? Right?!

The dancer sighed while pulling the hood of his sweater over his head. After that incident a few days ago he stopped taking the shortcut to his apartment which means his way home will take almost 20 minutes instead of 10. It's annoying but Jimin never wants to experience something like that ever again. He can't imagine what would have happened if Jungkook hadn't passed by coincidentally. Or if he hadn't been nice enough to actually stop and bother beating those guys up for him.

He is pretty sure Jungkook expected a girl, considering his reaction when he saw Jimins face. Who can blame him, it's not a situation that many young men find themselves in.

A few days ago he had read a story about corrective rape but couldn't imagine it really being a thing. Like why would you want to fuck someone you are disgusted by? It doesn't make sense but he figured that most horrible things don't make sense.

Thinking about that while walking home alone isn't really helping so he falls into a slow run, trying to get home as quickly as possible.

Once home Jimin quickly changes, does his hair and may or may not apply a hint of make-up, just on his eyes and lips.

He quickly texted Tae to let him know he was ready and waited for the knock on his door. Slipping on his sneakers, checking his phone, key and wallet he opened the door.

“Hey loverboy, ready?” Tae grinned at him and Jimin smacked his shoulder.

“Shut up!” He mumbled, feeling the blush creep onto his cheeks. They left the building together and called for a cab. Jimin fiddled with the hem of his oversized jacket. He didn't like to admit that he was nervous. Obviously because of the fight. He had no idea what to expect and the way Jungkook sounded while texting he was a bit worried about Jimin being there. That's why Tae is here after all.

“I can't believe you made me do this!” His best friend said.

“Not only are you dragging me to a box fight, though you know fairly well how much I dislike violence! You also make me third wheel at your date!”

“It's not a date.” Jimin contradicted.

“Shut up it is a date. You may deny it and that Jungkook guy may be too dense to realize it, but I know.” Jimin rolled his eyes.

“Right. I forgot you are the human version of Cupid.” Tae winked at him and Jimin shrugged him off.

They arrived at the location soon later and Jimin gulped when he saw the big old brick building. People where lingering around on the street, holding plastic cups with beer, smoking cigarettes (or smth like that? He wasnt so sure) and talking casually. Most of them men, men who resembled thos guys who attacked him a few days ago in a frightening way. Suddenly he regretted putting on make up and wearing a jacket without hood to hide his pink hair. Might as well write “gay and proud" on his forehead.

Tae was right next to him and although he didn't like violence at all he looked more intimidating, being tall and build with a red bandana in his hair.

Jimin is really questioning his sanity right now. What made him think wearing a pink bomber jacket with transparent stripes on the arms was a good idea?

They passed a few groups on their way inside and so far no one really paid them any mind but as soon as they entered the hall heads started to turn in their (his) direction. Jimin wondered whether he should text Jungkook that he was there now but he didn't want to distract or bother him before his fight so he decided against it.

He overheard a few people talk when they passed them by.

“Do you think he will win again?”

“Nah he is too young. The other one has way more experience.”

“I don't know man he is a pretty good fighter. He won almost every fight until now.”

“He is trained by Agust D right?”

“Yeah, he's his best student.”

Jimin didn't exactly know why, but the things those guys said made him feel proud. Hm, weird.

The inside of the building kinda resembled a really small theatre. The ring was in the middle like a stage and chairs were circling it in long rows, only interrupted by a few aisles.

“Do you want to drink something?” Tae asked but Jimin shook his head.

“I'm good. I'll go get us seats.” He said. Tae nodded and left to the bar, leaving Jimin alone in the mass. The dancer turned and searched for two free seats, preferably somewhere in the front. He is small and he wants to see after all. People gave him looks when he passes them and he saw at least two or three who looked disgusted. It made Jimin shrink in himself, trying to disappear in his jacket. He lowered his eyes, not looking anyone in the eye and possibly offend them.

He found two seats in the second row and quickly made his way over there. He took his phone out in case Tae texts him about the seats when he noticed someone sitting down next to him, on the seat that was for Tae.

Jimin looked up and saw a man, bald with a white beard covering his double chin. He looked (and smelled) sweaty, wearing a black ACDC shirt and a cold chain around his neck. He looked like he jumped right out of a movie as cliché as it was. The man stared at him and Jimin gulped. This can't mean anything positive.

“U-Uhm...” He started, wanting to tell the man that the seat was taken but he was cut off.

“You know princess, this is not a cosmetic studio.” He snarled, his breath reeking of beer and cigarettes. Jimin wanted to snap back, put him in his place, telling him to fuck off and that 'no shit Sherlock, actually I expected someone to come and give me a manicure' But since the incident in that alley and being the small boy that he is, it would be so easy for the other to manhandle him.

Jimin didn't know why but Jungkook popped up in his mind and somehow it gave Jimin a hint of braveness. He didn't want to be the clichéd small baby boy who can't do anything for himself, who clings onto his sugar daddy, pouts his plumb lips and cries when he doesn't get what he wants. He is strong and independent and he can take care of himself for fucks sake. (It may also help a little that there are so many people around, this dude will probably not do anything in front of so many will he?)

Jimin didn't want to provoke him unnecessarily so he simply stated that “Sorry, this seat is taken.” And he was proud when his voice didn't shake.

“What are you doing here, huh? Do you even know what this here is?” Jimin sighed internally and rolled his eyes.

“A drama staging?” It slip out too quickly for Jimin to hold back and he saw the nostrils of the man flare and how his lips were pressed in a thin line. Oh this is not good.

“Go home princess. Play with your dolls and let the real men do their things.” He growled and Jimin wanted to tell him that the dick between his legs showed that he was indeed a 'real' man but he figured that would cross a boarder he didn't want to see the other side off.

“Why is it bothering you if I just quietly sit here and watch the fight? I'm not contagious you know.” Jimin said, trying to keep all the anger and annoyance out of his voice. The man didn't know what to answer to that, his mouth opened and closed again like a fish on the dry.

Tae chose to come back in that very moment, standing tall over the man and radiating a dangerous atmosphere, which is funny if you know what a clingy teddy bear Tae usually is. But now he was obviously pissed and it probably helped that his voice is naturally deep and rich for it made it sound more intimidating when he said

“I think you are sitting on my seat.” The man looked up at him, then at Jimin and back up at Tae until he grumbled something in his beard, took a sip from his beer and finally left.

“Are you okay?” Tae asked when he took the seat the man left just now. Jimin nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, I guess it's my own fault for, you know, dressing like this.” He said with a smile.

“What are you talking about? You have every right to dress in whatever way you please. Their stinky asses are just jealous of your confidence.”

“Pfft, what confidence?” Jimin scoffed. Tae wrapped and arm around his shoulders but didn't say anything because he knew that way Jimin would think about it way more. And before they could talk about it any further spotlight switched on and drowned the ring in yellow. A small man appeared with a microphone in hand. He greeted everyone and asked them to go to their seats. It became quiet real quick and the man in the ring started to announce the fighters, talking about their weight and previous fights and he was basically screaming everything. Probably to hype up the crowed but Jimin thought it was a rather primitive way to do. Yet, it seemed to work and Jimin couldn't say he was surprised.

After a few minutes the first fighter entered the ring. The crowed cheered and whistled and the man raised his fists as if he was bathing in the praise. The fighter was probably about 180 cm tall and build, wearing nothing but the lose shorts and gloves on his hands. He was laughing confidently and Jimin hoped that Jungkook would wash the dirty smug of his face. Something about the attitude and the atmosphere of this guy made Jimin uncomfortable. There was another man walking behind him, carrying a towel and a bottle of water, probably something like his assistant? Jimin had no idea.

The man with the microphone started talking again, now about Jungkook and Jimin couldn't help but pay a little more attention. He hyped him up just as much, talking about how great he his for his young age and how many fights he has already won. Jimin was nervous.

And then Jungkook entered. Instead of enjoying the crowds cheers he simply walked towards the ring, his body hidden by a black silk robe and his face covered by a hood. Jungkook had someone carrying a towel and bottle as well, a small rather slim man with silvery hair. Other than the first boxer, however, Jungkooks assistant(?) Was walking beside him, an arm behind his back a bit like a bodyguard and he was whispering things to Jungkook. Jimin wondered what it might be but it was way too loud and he was too far away to eavesdrop.

Jungkook entered the ring as well and finally got rid of the robe, handing it to the man with silver hair. Jimins mouth fell open. Sure he knew Jungkook had a nice body from when they slept on the same bed or their little “moment" in his entryway but seeing it like this in its full glory was... different.

His muscled were toned, obvious poking out under his tanned skin. The light of the spotlights made him glow and Jimin honestly just wanted to lick his abs Jesus Christ.

Jimin noticed how Jungkooks eyes started to wander over the auditorium, searching for something. Or rather someone. His heartedbeat picked up and suddenly his palms became strangely sweaty. Jimin gulped and took a shaky breath. Damn shit why was he so nervous all of a sudden?

He watched as Jungkooks eyes scanned the crowed and came nearer and nearer towards him and then his eyes landed on him and their gazes locked and Jimin could swear that for a few heartbeats long the whole room was empty except for them both and it was deafeningly silent. Jimin held his breath when a small smile spread on Jungkooks lips. He could hear his own heart beat loudly in his hears and he lifted his hand for a small subtle wave which caused Jungkooks smile to become bigger. Jimin smiled back and then the silvery haired man petted Jungkooks back, asking for his attention. The boxer ripped his eyes away and turned to his assistant who continued to tell him whatever.

Jimin finally released the breath he was holding and noticed that Tae was staring at him.

“I feel dirty.” His best friend said.

“Huh?”

“It was like watching a live porno. Seriously you still have drool on your chin.” Tae teased, acting as if he was wiping it away with his sleeve. “Disgusting.” He muttered and Jimin pushed him away, smacking his hand from his face.

“Shut up!” He snapped, face burning.

Moments later the fight began and Jimin could see an immediate switch in Jungkooks attitude. He was concentrated, focused on nothing but his opponent. He observed the others movements, studying him and waiting for him to make the first move.

Jimin had no idea about boxing but even he could see the difference between those two fighters. Jungkooks opponent still looked rather cocky, grinning and looking at Jungkook like he was a small boy. However, that grin faltered after Jungkook dodged the first hit.

As a dancer Jimin knows what a focused body looks like, he can see the tension, the control over every muscle. It’s a bit as if Jungkook would dance, dance around his opponent, provoking him and irritating him. And it's working. The other fighter became more and more reckless with how much angrier he became. It was somehow funny to watch.

After a few minutes Jungkook finally started to hit back. His movements were so quick and smooth, it reminded Jimin so much of ballet it was fascinating. He never really associated with this sport before getting to know Jungkook so he had no idea what to expect. He always thought boxing are just to men beating each other down but what Jungkook was doing in that ring right now was a profession. Jimin could see the training, the sweat and ache he invested to get this kind of control. It made Jimin feel so much closer to Jungkook because he basically felt the passion Jungkook had towards his sport. It’s the same passion he has for his own and ain’t gonna lie, that’s a huge turn on.

The fight continued with both fighters landing a few good hits and every time Jungkooks face or stomach connected with the opponents glove, Jimin jumped slightly and clenched his hand harder around the armrest of his chair. Yes, he was in awe over Jungkooks fighting, but that doesn't mean he didn't worry about him.

Jimin couldn't say how long the fight actually lasted, for him the time flew and crept at the same time but when Jungkook landed a good hit against his opponents temple the man finally went down. The crowed cheered and watched excitedly if the boxer will get ip again but ten seconds passed and he was still on the ground. A loud ring sounded through the hall and Jungkook raised his hands over his head triumphantly, grinning and rotating to look at the crowed. His eyes, again, landed on Jimin and they beamed at each other before the man with the microphone appeared again, ending the fight and announcing Jungkook as the winner. The silver haired guy hopped in the ring, a huge gummy smile on his face as he pulled Jungkook in a hug and handed him towel and water bottle. It was cute to watch them interact because Jungkook looked at the man with so much fondness and admiration, relishing in the praise like a child who proudly showed off a good grade to his parents.

They left the ring together and the crowed cheered again. People were petting Jungkooks back in congrats as he walked back to the changing rooms.

Earlier that day Jungkook had told Jimin were it would be best for him to wait until Jungkook would be ready after the fight so now Jimin jumped up and pulled Tae along. Out of the building and around it just as Jungkook had described, to get to the backdoor where Jungkook would leave through. He was nervously jumping up and down, while Tae was leaning on the brick wall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, growling things about “euphemizing violence" when the door opened.

Jimin basically jumped into Jungkooks arms. The younger let out a surprised noise but was quick to smile and wrap his arms around Jimin.

“Wow what did I do to deserve this enthusiastic greeting?” He chuckled. Jimin pulled back slightly and looked up at him.

“Duh, win the fight obviously.” He answered. Tae scoffed next to them, causing Jungkook to look into his direction.

“Oh right, Jungkookie this us Tae, Tae this is Jungkookie.” Jimin introduced them.

“Oh hi, you must be the platonic soulmate.” Jungkook said and extended his hand but Tae only narrowed his eyes at him until Jimin stabbed him in the side with his elbow in a silent 'be nice!' Tae rolled his eyes and finally took Jungkooks hand.

“Yeah, hi.” Jimin sighed at that.

“Give us a second.” He said and pushed Tae around the next corner.

“Tae why are you being mean?” He wanted to know.

“I'm not being mean, I'm being suspicious. He is a boxer Jiminie, violence and fighting is a daily thing for him. I just don't want you to get hurt.”

“Jungkookie would never hurt me, ever! He saved me, I can't believe we are even talking about that!”

“That he saved you doesn't mean he can't ever lose control. What if you have a fight some day and his 'hand slips', huh? You don't know this guy but you are already acting as if you two know each other for years.”

“I know him better than you do!” Jimin almost yelled. His best friend opened his mouth again but Jimin hold up his hand to shush him.

“Tae, I love you but you are being unfair, right now. You always talk about not judging books after their cover but now you are doing exactly that just because you dislike violence and he is a boxer. I think it's best of you go home for today and once you got over your prejudices you will see how sweet he is.”

“Jiminie-" Tae said, taking a step forwards but Jimin shook his head.

“No, just go home.” Tae sighed but eventually listened. Once he was out of sight Jimin turned and went back to Jungkook who was awkwardly standing where he had left him.

“Sorry, about that.” Jimin said sheepishly.

“It's alright, he us only worried about you. That's a good thing.” Jungkook said but Jimin rolled his eyes.

“He is acting like a mom and there is nothing to worry about anyway.” Jimin said. They made their way away from the building. It was silent for a while until Jungkook opened his mouth again.

“Jimin, I'd never let my hand slip.” He said seriously and Jimin smiled up to him, taking his hand.

“I know.”

They went in a small restaurant and ordered so may dishes, Jimin had no idea how they should possibly finish all that. They talked about everything and nothing for a while, making silly jokes and giggling into their hands to not disturb the other customers. One time Jungkook made a joke while Jimin took a sip from his drink and it caused him to choke. He had coughed and blushed furiously but Jungkook had stared at him with so much affection and tenderness it made Jimins heart bloom.

“You were really cool tonight, by the way.” Jimin said at one point and the beam Jungkook gifted him with was worth all the uneasiness and trouble he felt earlier when he had first entered the old gym hall.

“Thank you!”

“You like boxing very much, don’t you?” Jimin said and Jungkook tilted his head to one side.

“Yeah, I guess, why?”

“No, it’s just… I could see it. The passion you have, you know? I think it’s why you were so superior to your opponent. He was fighting to impress others, you are fighting for yourself.” Jimin mumbled but blushed when he noticed Jungkooks intense gaze. “Ah, sorry, I don’t know if that made any sense… I just-“

“No, it’s fine, you are right. I’m just surprised you could see this, even though you aren’t familiar with boxing.” Jimin shrugged.

“I think on some level boxing is pretty similar to dancing. You need the same control over your body, the tension, the knowledge how to move…” Jimin explained and for a few moments they stared at each other in silence.

“Wow, usually people think boxing is just about how is the strongest and has the harder hits. The only one I can talk to about boxing like this is my coach. You don’t know what a turn on it is that you sit here and casually talk about boxing like you did it all your life.” Jungkook murmured and Jimin blushed, biting his lip. Usually he would avert his eyes and stare at the ground in embarrassment but now there is something between them that makes Jimin feel save. So instead of feeling shy, he feels excited. He used that to be a little bold, leaning over to Jungkook and whispering

“You don’t know what a turn on it was seeing you in that ring, all naked and sweaty.” Jungkooks eyes widened and Jimin could see how his pupils dilated.

“You know, it would only be fair if I could see you dancing too now.” Jungkook said.

“My studio actually has a showcase in two weeks, if you really want to I can get you a ticket.” Jimin said, blush still prominent on his cheeks. It’s not that he is embarrassed about his dancing, he knows he is good at what he is doing, but knowing that Jungkook will be there watching him was… exciting.

After they finished their food they took a walk through the city. Jimin always liked taking walks through the night but he didn’t do it since he moved to the city because he never felt save enough, but now with Jungkook by his side it was like mothing could ever hurt him again.

The taller had an arm securely around Jimins shoulders, keeping him close and Jimin had snuggled into his side, enjoying the warmth that radiated off of Jungkooks body.

“Jimin?” Jungkook said at one point and Jimin hummed, signalling him to keep talking.

“Is this… like uh… was… was this a date?” Jimin couldn’t help but smile at how adorably nervous Jungkook sounded. He looked up at him and stood on his tip toes to press a kiss on the boxers cheek.

“I hope so.”

Jimin didn’t know for how long they paced through the dimly lit streets but after a while they ended up in front of his apartment building. He didn’t want Jungkook to go but he also didn’t want to rush things.

“I had fun tonight. Thank you for letting me see this.” Jimin said. Jungkook shook his head with a smile.

“Thank you for coming.” They smiled at each other and before Jimin could react Jungkook had leaned in and pecked his lips once, twice. After the third time Jimin grabbed his collar and pulled him in to kiss him properly. He felt Jungkook smile against his lips and bit it playfully, tugging on it and running his tongue over it afterwards. Jimin pulled back with a grin when Jungkook groaned.

“You are evil.” The younger said and Jimin shrugged amused.

Jungkook left after another few kisses and soft ‘goodnight’s.

#bts #fanfiction #focus au #focus 2 #park jimin #jeon jungkook #dancer jimin #boxer jungkook

[this-is-big-lady]

Swipe Right part 4/10

part 1, part 2, part 3

Hey guys! Here’s a long chapter to make up for the filler that was part 3, and to celebrate the last day of my second year of uni! (except for exams...) Fun fact, all of the courses that are mentioned in here are actual courses offered at my university, some of which I’ve taken. And all the places are real places on my campus!

A piercing alarm woke Davey from his dreamless sleep. He threw an arm over his eyes, groaning as he rolled over to fumble blindly for his phone. Begrudgingly rubbing his face, he squinted at the bright screen, stabbing at the stop button before the alarm finally switched off. He lay on his back with a huff, seeing the gentle morning light slipping through the gaps at the sides and bottom of his curtains, and stretching to wake up.

Davey stared at the ceiling for a few moments before he remembered the events of last night and sat bolt upright, scrambling to see if he had any new messages from the night before. He did, but none from the person he wanted. A couple from his family group chat, his mum wishing him well for the new week and Les sending him a picture of the new book he picked up from the library, and a couple from guys on tinder, but none from Jack. He dragged his hands through his hair in an effort to remove some of his bed hair, and pulled himself out of his bed.

He padded into into the kitchen only to be greeted by sunshine in human form, Crutchie. Through a mouthful of toast, Crutchie managed to articulate a “good morning!” to Davey, to which he simply replied, “do you always have to be so fucking chipper in the mornings?” Crutchie swallowed his toast and smiled in response, and Davey rolled his eyes and turned to make his own toast.

Thankfully the two boys didn’t live too far from campus, so after Davey finished his breakfast and had a shower, the friends walked to college together before they headed off to their respective classes - Drama on Stage and Screen for Davey, and Social Policy for Crutchie. They always enjoyed the walk, it meant they could complain to each other about what the day’s classes had in store for them, or they could grab coffee if they’d been up late studying. Crutchie’s lecture hall was on the way to Davey’s, so they said their goodbyes and Davey continued to his classroom.

30 minutes into the class, Davey couldn’t be more bored. He loved this class, but the topic of today’s lecture wasn’t capturing him. As the lecturer droned on about how Disney adapted Beauty and the Beast from its original French fairy tale, his phone dinged in his pocket. He scrambled to turn it onto silent, and checked the notification: Jack sent you a new message. An involuntary squeak of surprise came from his mouth, and he swiftly apologised to the people around him who turned to look at the commotion. His cheeks quickly went bright red, and his heart was pounding as he opened the message. Even though he felt guilty for ignoring his lecturer, this couldn’t wait.

His message said, ‘I’d love to talk to you about art sometime, but it’s pretty difficult to talk with the masterpiece ;)’

He openly gaped at the message, his blush travelling to his ears and burning his face. Did Jack really just insinuate that he, Davey Jacobs, was a masterpiece? Even if it was a cheesy pick up line coming from the fact that he listed art as one of his interests in his bio, Davey couldn’t quite believe anyone would have the balls to send him that.

Davey spoke too soon, as a second message quickly appeared under the first.

‘But seriously, I’d love to talk with you sometime. Does coffee tomorrow sound good?’

He felt like he could faint. His heart was pounding a million miles a minute and Davey swore the people sitting around him in the lecture theatre could hear it. He laughed a little to himself - more like a tiny exhalation of air - as he realised that Crutchie was right. Jack came to him first! When he managed to calm down enough that his hands stopped shaking from the adrenaline, he texted Crutchie that something urgent happened and that he needed to skip his next class to meet him. Crutchie’s tendency to do anything for his friends meant he’d definitely meet him in the quad area between their two buildings, and that’s what the duo agreed to do.

When the lecturer dismissed Davey’s class, he was the first one out the door and speed walked to the tree in the quad. Crutchie took a minute longer to reach the tree, but was panting a little, so he obviously went as fast as possible to see what was so urgent that he had to skip his Learning Sexualities course.

“Wha- What happened?” Crutchie projected as soon as he was in earshot. Davey’s smile from ear to ear showed that it clearly wasn’t a bad thing, but Crutchie was confused. Normally when someone said something was urgent, it meant it was bad. So why was Davey smiling?

“He messaged me!” Davey all but yelled. “You were right! I didn’t do a thing and he… Jack messaged me!” He boy was bouncing on his toes, a bubble about to burst from too much excitement.

Crutch slowed down to a stop in front of Davey, processing the information. “You mean to tell me, that you texted me in the middle of a lecture - something you never do,” Davey’s head nodded furiously to prove Crutchie’s point. “And then told me it was urgent, which it probably wasn’t, because a boy messaged you on a dating app you downloaded last night?!” Davey was a little stunned at the hint of anger mixed in with Crtuchie’s surprise. He started to scuff his shoes against the dirt , and mumbling out an apology. “Well, yeah, Crutch. I guess I shouldn’t have done that and I’m sor-“

“No, don’t finish that sentence.” Crutchie hated seeing Davey like that, doubting himself and feeling like he’d done the wrong thing. He was genuinely excited for his friend, he was just surprised at the un-Davey like behaviour. Even if he was missing a lecture, he knew it was important to his friend for him to be here. Crutchie took a step closer to Davey, waving his bum leg over Davey’s feet in order to get his attention from where he was studying the ground. When Davey looked up at him, he simply asked, “What did Jack say?”

Davey’s eyes lit up as he fished in his pocket for his phone and he excitedly blurted out, “He called me a masterpiece Crutch! He really did! And he asked me out for coffee tomorrow, isn’t that exciting?!” Davey thrust his phone into Crutchie’s right hand, letting go of the hand hold of that arm’s crutch, and scanning the two messages for himself. He smile back at his friend, and with a laugh in his voice said “That’s so great Davey, I’m so happy for you!” Davey bobbed a little side to side, a telltale sign that he was genuinely happy. “Well, what are you gonna reply, loverboy?”

“Reply? I… I don’t really know.” Davey’s smile faltered a little and his bobbing slowed. “I was kinda hoping that you’d help me, Crutch.” The younger boy couldn’t help but smile up to Davey - he’d never seen his normally hyper-focused friend get so torn up about someone. Even if it had been less than 24 hours, this kind of distraction from his constant work and worry would be good for him. “Of course I’ll help you Davey! But if Jack can wait overnight, he can wait for the next two hours. You know how much Trudy hates it when people are late to her class!” Crutchie gave the phone back to Davey who was elated to hear that his room mate was going to help him out.

Crutchie started to head off to his lecture that would be starting any second. He was going to be late and probably get called out by his lecturer for it, but he knew that it’d be worth it if it meant he got to help Davey. “Lunchroom in the Human Sciences Building, 1pm, okay?!” He yelled over his shoulder as he walked away, and saw Davey throw him a thumbs ups in acknowledgement. This was going to be a long day for Crutchie.

As he walked into the lunchroom, Crutchie could see Davey peering at his phone’s illuminated screen and picking at his fingernails. It was a bad nervous habit of his that he could never seem to break. When he reached Davey’s table, he tapped him on the shoulder, taking the boy of his reverie, even if he jumped a little. “Oh hey, Crutch. How was class?” Crutchie sighed as he slung his bag off his shoulder and plonked down on the seat next to Davey. “The usual, y’know. It was Learning Sexualities, so just lots of gay kids yelling at each other under the guise of a ‘class discussion’. At least it’s an easy pass.” Davey chuckled a little at Crutchie’s exasperation. He definitely knew the feeling of sitting through a painful class. “Anyway,” the blonde boy continued, “have you thought about what you want to say?”

With a sigh Davey nervously ran his hand through his hair and stared at the two blue message bubbles that were staring back at him. “I mean, it’s a fairly simple message right?” He looked at Crutch for approval, and he nodded back at Davey with a smile. “I should just say that coffee tomorrow works for me and ask where. I can do that.”

A few quiet moments passed as Davey’s affirmation hung in the air, and he made no move to do what he said he would. “So, do it” Crutchie prompted. He noted that Davey’s hands shook a little as he held his phone. Nerves. More silence.

“What if he kills me Crutch?” Davey’s eyes were pleading as he looked at his friend. This was Davey’s first foray into the dating world, his nerves were understandable. Good thing then that he had the ever optimistic Crutchie on his side.

Crutchie placed his hand softly over Davey’s hand longing onto his phone. “That would put a real dampener on his project, Dave.” This was met with a groan from the nervous boy, who clearly though that his friend’s attempt at humour wasn’t funny. “I’ll tell you what, how about I sit in the coffee shop too? Not at the same table, of course, but I’ll be there in case you need an easy way out. How does that sound?”

Davey’s eyes flicked between Crutchie’s face and his phone as he was processing the request. “That sounds… good.” Davey visibly relaxed at the reassurance that his best friend would be there to look after him, to which Crutchie patted him on the back. “Excellent! Now, all we have to do Dave, is accept Jack’s invitation!”

Davey took a deep breath to steady his hands and typed out a quick message to his virtual conversation partner, and showed Crutchie for approval. “‘Tomorrow sounds perfect. When and where works for you?’,” he snuck a smile at Davey who was back to picking at his nails, waiting for the go-ahead. “It’s perfect Davey! And it’s…”He looked back down at the phone at tapped the send button, telling Davey when the sent symbol appear. “Sent!”

Davey opened his mouth in panic to protest, and Crutchie slipped his index finger over his friend’s mouth to silence him. “No protests, Jacobs. I simply did what you didn’t have the balls to do.” After a moment, Davey pushed away the wrist resting under his chin, simply noting, “fair enough.”

The boys dug into their lunches - mince pasta with a very generous helping of cheese for Crutchie, and chicken sandwiches for Davey. They bitched back and forth about their classes and upcoming assignments. Thankfully they were coming up to a two week break, so they had time to relax a little and do their course work at a slightly more leisurely pace. In the middle of Davey’s animated monologue about masculinity in Beauty and the Beast, a lecture he received last week in his literature course, his phone sounded from where it was placed next to his lunch box. His heart leapt into his throat as he saw Jack’s message notification from Tinder. The monologue came to a screeching holt as he scrambled for his phone and unlocked it. Crutchie sat and watched an elated expression spread across Davey’s face.

“The Starbucks opposite the church on the south end of campus. 2pm… Oh my god Crutchie I have a date!” Davey’s eyes widened with excitement and he clutched his phone close to his chest. Crutchie couldn’t help but laugh, Davey was just too damn excited and it was the best thing he’d seen all week. “Not so loud, Jacobs!”

Only a few people had turned to look at the outburst Davey had made, but the boy was on cloud nine and couldn’t care at all. He quickly typed out a reply - Sounds great, I’ll see you there :)

“I guess I have a date with a coffee and my social policy essay too,” Crutchie added with a lilt and a smile. Davey jumped up and walked over to his friend, leaning down and wrapping his arms around Crutchie’s torso, resting somewhat awkwardly on his shoulders. “You’re seriously the best, Crutch. Was would I do without you?” The smaller boy patted Davey’s arm, and stated the obvious. “You certainly wouldn’t have a hot date tomorrow, I can tell you that.”

#javid #davey jacobs #crutchie morris #jack kelly #newsies #newsies fanfiction #tinder au