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good-things-do-happen-dean · 3 years

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have some horrible evil fucked up, inspired by this post by @angeltiddies ❤️

There’s a horrible sound that’s really an absence of sound, the sound of nothing, and an unsettling black-not-black goo that comes from nowhere, and then Cas is here-not-here, still standing in front of him but not quite. And then he is being consumed by the something-nothing-empty retreating back into nowhere and Dean can’t fucking move from the wall even to grab for the sleeve of Cas’ coat.

And then there is a flash of light.

It’s too bright to even squint against after the not-darkness of the Empty, but Dean is relieved as he closes his eyes. Smite that fucker, Cas. Smite it right out of fucking existence and we’ll. We’ll. I’ll say.

When he opens his eyes, the room is empty. Not Empty. Just regular old empty, except for himself and the chair and the devil’s trap and the fucking shelves at the front of the room full of useless shit that can’t help him get Cas back.

Dean doesn’t realize there’s sound in the room again until he hears someone crying and realizes it must be him. He still feels…frozen. Or, not frozen exactly, but like he’s swimming through mud. Or just that he’s alone in this fucking room and Cas is gone after he, because he.

He swallows. Looks around. Sees.

The wall that nothing-not-nothing had appeared from, that Cas had disappeared…through? into? beyond? is covered in something slick and black. His phone rings, jarring and horribly normal, and he lets it, transfixed by the inky stain. It doesn’t move and neither does Dean for he doesn’t know how long. His phone rings several more times before he can muster the energy to actually look at the screen to confirm that it’s Sam calling. Still, he doesn’t answer.

And suddenly he rocks up to his knees and then to standing, joints screaming at him for holding that huddled position for so long, because he swears the stain rippled.

Dean is across the room with his hands in the stuff before he fully realizes what’s happening. If he can just reach through—

But there is no through.

His fingers scrape against the wall underneath and it’s just a fucking wall covered in oily black goo. He pulls away like it burned him, suddenly, overwhelmingly needing it gone. Dean tears off his jacket and is about to wipe at the wall with it when he sees. Oh. There’s. Cas left a.

He folds the jacket almost reverently, setting it in the chair with care, then removes his overshirt and sets to wiping down the wall. He should go and get some towels probably or a sponge and bucket, but he can’t leave this room because what if. If.

The stain wipes away pretty easily which makes him feel fucking sick. He doesn’t notice it, them, at first, since he’s trying to make sure none gets stuck in the grout. There’s something under the stain, something…familiar and horrible and suddenly Dean can’t clean fast enough. It kind of sloughs off the shirt he’s wiping the wall with and splats to the ground, probably kicking back up to splash all over his shoes, but that doesn’t matter.

Dean stumbles back and away from the wall when he sees and suddenly he’s back on his knees on the sandy shore by the lakehouse. After they burned his body and collected the ashes, Dean had gone back to the shore by himself. He wanted the sand Cas’ wings had burned into. He wanted to bury Cas whole. But the wing print had blurred. Clean sand had blown over the burnt grains, mixing together until it wouldn’t be recognizable to someone who didn’t know. And Dean had let himself, not hope, but wonder. A little. When Cas had come back, Dean remembered the wing print being erased and prayed thanks to something that it hadn’t been permanent.

Now, here, in the Bunker, he rubs at the outline of Cas’ wings burned into the brick under the Empty’s leftovers. If it just rubs out. If he can wipe it clean. Maybe.

It doesn’t, and he can’t.

When he finally answers Sam’s call, his hands are shaking and scraped and stained black. He doesn’t say anything other than, “On my way,” and pulls his jacket back on over his t-shirt, white-knuckling his now-frayed overshirt when he realizes the bloody print on his sleeve now sits directly over where he used to wear it on his skin.

He has to go. He has to meet Sam and Jack and figure out what the fuck to do now, but he stops at the door, one hand on the handle, and turns back to the wall that Cas will never come back through. Hands shaking, he walks back to it. Hesitates. Presses his forehead against the now-clean brick between the wings as if they might tear away from the wall and wrap around him.

They don’t.

And Dean locks the door behind him.

#SORRY.#mine.fic #spn posting #truly genuinely sorry about this one but the brainworms would Not let me go

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blacksdale · 3 years

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it’s my move, fight or flight

a crappy zoyalai fic

sh: zoyalai college au ao3

“And why, exactly, do you want me to study for this final with you?”

“Because Nazyalensky,” Nikolai smirked, spinning before he fell back onto the grey couch cushions, “you’re the smartest one in our class besides me, of course. And yet I still feel as if I am going to fail this final.”

Zoya tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned away from him, setting her books down on the coffee table. “What makes you think I can do any better on this final than you?” She gave him a look up and down: blond hair slightly tousled, a mischievous glint in bright hazel eyes, arrogant expression across his annoyingly flawless features.

“Tsaritsa, please give yourself some props.” He laid back on the couch, hands behind his head, legs stretched out to take up all of the space. “I may know the material, but you’re the only that comprehends any of what Morozova spews during lectures and to not fail this class, I need that knowledge.” His eyes flicked over to her for a brief moment before returning to the ceiling.

She allowed the ice forming around her heart to settle in.

“Can it, Lantsov,” she walked over to him, poking his chest. “And if you want my help,” she chided, “no more calling me ‘tsaritsa’.” Zoya left him and went to her kitchen, determined to ignore for at least some time before they had to study.

“As you wish, darling.”

She whipped her head around to see him smiling, hazel eyes still full of mischief. “I said,” she warned, though she blushed, “to can it!”

This was going to be one hell of a week.

–––––

About two hours in was when Nikolai realised how truly beautiful she was.

She had invited him to come at four. Now it was only 6:15, and he thought up the list of things he liked about Zoya: she liked her coffee with milk, no sugar; she wrote titles in black ink and information in blue when she took notes; her eyes calculated the room when she was thinking something over; she held her chin with her hand and tapped a finger on her jaw when she was trying to remember something.

He could no longer think with her in front of him. Her blue eyes matched the night sky outside, just after the sun had set. The moonlight from the window caught her features like magic, bringing a silver outline to the thick lashes that fanned over the light brown of her cheeks, the curve of her full lips, the glossy black of her waving hair that had fallen over her shoulder. She kept reaching up, pen in hand, to push back her glasses that repeatedly fell from the small bump on the bridge of her nose. She was so smart too, even her insults towards him were clever.

“Lantsov,” he heard, “did you hear my question?”

Saints, she was going to ruin him. And she would have no idea at all.

“Lantsov!” Someone shouted as he saw hands clap in front of his eyes, attention snapping back to reality. He saw Zoya again, back in the actual room and not just his thoughts.

He propped his elbow on the table, placing his chin in his hand as his eyes drifted from her to his notebook and back. “Yes, dear?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Don't dear me, I was asking about the structure of actin filaments,” she said, her tone unsure.

His eyes flicked to his notes. “Double helix, love,” he told her nonchalantly.

“Good,” she exhaled as she closed her textbook. “I think that’s enough now.” Crossing her arms, she stood up and nodded toward his book bag next to the chair.

Nikolai looked up to meet her blue eyes. “Lovely spending time with you, tsaritsa.”

“You can leave now.” She rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Dear, our night has only just begun.”

She marched up to him, looking like she was getting ready to pull a punch, though he didn't think she could do that much damage considering she only reached his chin. “Our night?”

“Of course, do you think I would not take you out to dinner after this?” He grinned at her, earning a scowl in return. “It won’t be anything too personal, just dinner and dessert and banter. Maybe afterwards you will not have such disdain for my presence.”

“Good luck with that,” she scoffed. She walked away from him and, to his surprise, reached for her black parka, shrugging it over her shoulders.

“Tsaritsa, where are you going?”

She rolled her eyes once more, wrapping a light blue scarf around her shoulders. It complemented her eyes in a way that made his heart clench. “I never said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Well, lucky for you,” he laughed, “I’m paying, so you can eat as much as you want.”

She turned the door handle, sighing with relief. “Good.”

“I’m always glad to, tsaritsa.” He took the door from her, holding it open for her to walk through. “Good to go?”

Her sharp blue eyes trained a glare on him once more as she pursed her lips, making his heart do somersaults in his chest. “This better be good food, or you’re going to owe me.”

–––––

He took her to a hole-in-the-wall a few blocks away, the door painted a dark maroon. “Where did you take me?” She questioned.

“Just go inside dear,” he was smirking again. “I promise, you’ll love it. It’s my favourite.” His hazel eyes were bright as always, as though he was always planning. Planning what, she didn’t care to know.

“You better not have brought me to someplace weird.”

“Have a little faith,” he said, “and the faster you go inside, the faster you get food.

“I hate you.” She told him, her tone and expression deadpan.

“You won’t soon enough.” He mused, tilting his head to the side, arrogant smirk still on his face.

She crossed her arms and whipped her head to look at him. “That’s quite a bold statement to make.”

“And you will see,” he pushed open the door, “that I’m right.”

Her eyes widened as she stepped into a dimly lit room, the walls painted a deep crimson with golden silhouettes of flowers. Instead of normal lighting, the ceilings hung with lanterns, the design of a sun carved out to let the light shine through. She turned around to find the entrance was surrounded with a border of its own, intricate designs carved in the wood.

Nikolai took her hand and led her to a booth near the window, looking quite satisfied while she took in the mesmerising surroundings. She heard him ask from in front of her, “Happy, Nazyalensky-”

“Mhm.” She nodded. He may only be a friend, but at least he was a good one. “Happy.”

He grabbed her hand and led her to a table with two red cushions. They sat down and made small talk for a bit about finals and clubs they were in. They complained about Morozova's nuisance of a class after the food came, and commented on his remarks of giving tests with no advanced notice.

“I swear,” Zoya told Nikolai before shoving a piece of chicken in her mouth, “I'm gonna strangle him.”

He nodded in agreement. “After the final.”

She high fived him. “Good plan.”

After they finished and he paid the check, they walked along the streets of the city in the direction of her apartment. Now that she was fed and could think, Zoya realised she was actually beginning to like him. Her heart had started doing one of those stupid palpitation things when he smiled or got excited about something, and whenever his eyes lit up and the gold around the centre started to glow she would immediately want to go to him.

He was cute, she realised.

Saints, he was so cute.

She hated it. She hated him. And most of all, she hated how easily he had managed to change her opinion of him and his stupid perfect blond hair. She was done with him after the final. He would not mess with her head anymore after that and she would make sure of it.

But right now she needed to figure out what someone else's coat was doing around her. Especially since she was already wearing her own. “Nikolai,” she interrogated, realizing as she looked next to her that he was just in a sweater. “What is your jacket doing on me?”

He shrugged. “You looked cold, tsaritsa.”

“I'm fine,” she told him, pulling his jacket tighter around her anyway, “why would you think I'm cold?” Maybe she was shivering and couldn't feel her fingertips, but she would survive.

“Love,” his eyes trained on her suddenly, a line of worry coming between his eyebrows, “your lips are purple.”

“Why are you looking at my lips?”

“I'm hailing us a cab.” He raised a hand.

She crossed her arms, half out of annoyance and half out of the need for warmth. “I'm not going alone in a cab at night.”

“Of course not, I'm coming with you.”

“Excuse me?”

He smirked. “Well, my things are still there. And you honestly didn't think I was just going to let you keep that coat. I need it too. And it was expensive.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as a cab pulled up to the curb in front of them. “You get your shit. You leave. Got it?” She poked his chest, clutching both the jackets tight around her.

He laughed as he opened the cab door for her. “Wouldn't dream of anything else.”

–––––

He showed up the next day at her apartment, beaming.

The door opened for him to find a tired Zoya, her hand coming up behind her glasses to rub her eye. She was in a blue hoodie and grey joggers and blue fuzzy socks, her dark hair frizzy as if…

“You just woke up,” he asked, “didn’t you?”

She looked up at him, eyes half-lidded but still glaring. “Why do you care?”

“Dear, I can come back later if you want,” he offered.

“No no, don’t,” she told him, her voice still scratchy from getting out of bed. “I don’t want to have to deal with more of you than I have to.”

So she still hated him. Great.

“What do you want?” She asked, tone deadpan as she shoved open the door.

“Well,” he told her, “I want to study, but if you wish to do something else, I would not be opposed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” was all she said in return.

He replied, smirking. “I'll make note of that.”

“Just come in,” she told him, rubbing her cheek, “so we can just get this over with.” She let the door swing open so he could come inside.

Even dead tired, she still looked gorgeous. Her cheeks still looked a bit puffy, as well as her lips, and her messy hair was unnervingly attractive to him. Everything about her made him want to cup her face in his hands and place a light kiss on her nose before letting her fall asleep in his arms again.

They set their notebooks down on her coffee table once more, going through the basic terms once before studying in silence, this time more comfortable than the last. He was starting to get used to the fact that Zoya wasn’t the type for conversation, that she preferred to work in silence when she could concentrate. But he felt a need to check on her anyway, so fifteen minutes later he went to ask a question about something he already knew, just for an excuse to talk.

“Tsaritsa–” he went to say, before realising her face had crashed into her notebook and she was, in fact, asleep.

Nikolai smiled at her, though he knew she wouldn’t see it. He got up and lifted her so that she lay across the couch now, making sure her head was cushioned by a fluffy grey pillow. After grabbing a blanket off the armrest and placing it over her, making sure she was comfortable, he packed up his things. He placed a light kiss on her forehead and she stirred, one of her hands lazily resting on his forearm. He reluctantly shoved it away.

“You’re not making this easy for me, are you?”

He left a note for her saying he would come back tomorrow, and five dollars for coffee so she could wake up.

–––––

He had come over every day since their first time studying. It wasn’t that she wanted him to leave her alone; she quite liked having him around. They were fast friends, and somehow their friendship only kept moving faster. She had gotten to know him very well over the past few days, talking about their families and such, more of what they were studying.

But she knew better to get truly attached to him and his charm because he would let her down eventually. Just like they always did. And the sweet gestures he kept making weren’t helping to quell her feelings either. Most guys she had normally assumed what she wanted: clothes, jewellery, and the likes, but none had ever cared to leave her money for things she actually wanted. Like coffee. No guy had ever bothered to leave her coffee money.

She felt her heart sink as she heard a knock come from her door that night.

“What do you want?” She asked, tone deadpan as she shoved open the door. He showed up in a grey sweater and blue jeans, signature smirk still on his face, hazel eyes still teasing her.

He set down two to-go cups on her coffee table. “I also bought hot chocolate from the cafe you told me about last night.”

Zoya felt the blood start to rush toward her cheeks, quickly turning to face away from him. “You remembered?”

“Why would I not?”

She chuckled. “It’s just a small detail.”

He sat down on her couch again, once again taking up all the room so he could stretch his legs. “Only for you, tsaritsa.”

“I said not to call me that,” she reminded him.

He propped his head on his hand, tilting it just the slightest bit so his golden hair caught in the sunlight. He was just trying to torture her, wasn’t he? With his stupid sweet gestures and the buying her food and his stupid perfect hair and gorgeous hazel eyes–

No. She couldn’t think of him like that.

“Admit it, tsaritsa,” he said to her, “you find my quips adorable.”

She ran a hand through her hair, rolling her eyes. “No part of you is adorable, I promise.”

She expected another witty remark in return, some arrogant response. But when she looked towards, she saw that he was silent, eyes focused directly on her as a piece of black hair fell into her face. Oh, he was not pulling this with her.

“Nikolai,” she warned, walking over to him, “don’t pull this shit with me. I can tell when people are making fun of me, and I do not take kindly to it I assure you.”

He blinked rapidly before smirking again. “I would never make fun of you, dear, I promise.” He stretched his legs across her couch again. Great. He was making himself at home as well as driving her mad.

Because his being annoying was definitely the only reason why he was driving her mad.

“Just get started so we can study and you can go home.” She playfully pushed his chest.

“As you wish, dear.”

They spent a good hour reviewing in silence, with Nikolai occasionally looking up from his notes to ask her a question. As of now, they had a good routine in place: only talk when necessary, let Zoya drink her coffee. And it would all be perfectly fine.

“Tsaritsa?” He suddenly piped up from beside her.

“What?” She asked him, making sure to not look up from her notes.

“Get up.”

Her attention left her notes as she lifted her eyes to glare at him, but smiled anyway. “And why should I do that?”

“Because,” he stood up, “my brain is fried from all the membrane proteins I’ve had to memorise. And I think we should dance.”

Oh no.

“You’re insane,” she laughed. “The exam is in half a week.”

He pressed play on his phone before setting it down on the table, a song she didn’t know beginning to blare from the speakers. “And yet,” he mused, gaze glossed over her, “I still can’t concentrate.”

Nikolai grabbed her hand and pulled her from her seat, catching her in his arms a split second later. When Zoya looked up, she realised she was flush against him, meeting his eyes as he looked down. One of his hands held hers, the warmth of his touch causing her thoughts to blur, and the other wrapped around her waist, keeping her close as her heart started to beat faster. Her eyes flicked to the stars through the window, though she knew they wouldn’t guide her. She needed a way to stay sane. She thought of her work–yes, bio–and what they were supposed to be doing. Studying, right. They were just taking a break? They had done a lot of work, after all. Looking at notes for an hour straight did fry your brain, now that she thought about it.

Getting lost in this wouldn’t be so bad now, would it? It was just a dance. They were friends. People did it all the time platonically. She heard the song playing softly as her cheek fell against his shoulder.

We were barely 18 when we crossed collective hearts It was cold, but it got warm when you barely crossed my eye And then you turned, put out your hand And you asked me to dance

A few minutes later she woke up. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. She wouldn’t let herself. Not when she lifted her head and met his gaze, the gold around the centre of his eye almost entirely swallowed by his pupil save for a thin, bright outline that faded into the dark brown of coffee. Not when his hand went to cup her chin and her eyelids flickered against her cheek. Not when her lips met his halfway, and it took almost all of her to pull away.

I knew nothing of romance

“Nikolai–” she protested. She had a life to live, things to do. She would not give in. Not now. Not ever. Not with him. But he still had her in his arms, his breath still ghosting her lips.

But it was love at second sight

“Tomorrow.”

Then he was kissing her again, and Zoya lost herself to the sweet, sweet delirium that came with lips soft on hers. One of his hands tangled in her hair, causing any thoughts she still had to dissolve until all she knew was the way his hands caused all of her to go warm as he held her, the way he tasted of cinnamon and cardamom when his lips opened for her. She felt her arms come around his neck, bringing him to her so she could deepen the kiss, and he picked her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist, determined to be as close to him as possible. She broke away for just a moment, so she could look into his eyes to see a fire burning in them that wasn’t there before. She ran a finger along his cheekbone while his lashes fluttered shut, one of her hands cupping his cheek while the other ran through his silky golden curls. Their lips crashed together once more, causing her to melt with each passing second. They fell on the couch, tangled in each other until they were both breathless from the kisses. Until they knew nothing except the other person, who in turn only knew them, and the comfort with each other that eventually brought them sleep.

–––––

For once, Zoya didn’t look frustrated. As if all of her stress had left her.

Nikolai awakened to find she had fallen asleep against his chest, his arms still wrapped around her shoulders. She had one hand laid on his collarbone, slightly scrunching his shirt fabric. He didn't know what time it was, but her eyes were still fluttering with dreams, and he did not wish to disturb her. He lifted a hand to reach for his phone, however, he was met with resistance as he saw tired blue eyes look up at him.

Saints, he was done for.

She had her usual look of worry on her face again, the dark circles under her eyes still prominent. But for once, there was no malice. Just worry.

“Please don't go,” was all she asked before she fell asleep again.

He knew it was the morning now. Another day, another life to get back to, another ten thousand tasks to finish. But right now, he was just a guy. And she was just the girl who he was hopelessly in love with.

So he stayed.

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filledwithtomorrows · 5 years

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oh yeah by the way I wrote a fic!! Drifting Down and Away is a sappy little sleep/wingfic that is very indulgent and fluffy. many thanks to @phaleazir for the late night chats abt this and everything else!

#mine #fic #talks #good omens #ineffable husbands #mine.fic

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sodamnprctty · 6 years

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look how far we’ve come, my baby

rating: g

tags: fluff, introspection, reminiscing

words: 2.2k

summary: after the ii show in la, dan and phil have a little heart to heart over pizza

read on ao3

Fans scream with surprise as red and white confetti explodes from cannons at either end of the expansive stage. Phil shoots a giddy, knowing look down at Dan from atop the piano as they harmonize the end of their catchy closing song.

They each give a small bow when the song finishes for the second time that night. They run to the very front of the stage to wave frantically at their audience, shouting thank you for coming’s and we love you’s all the way to the fans in the very back of the crowd.

Passing Dan on his way to bid farewell to fans he had yet to thank, Phil catches a glimpse of Dan’s infectious grin and the slight gloss that covers his brown eyes. He feels a tightness in his chest that he knows he’ll have to contain until they are back in their hotel room. Pride.

They run back towards the white grand piano, still waving as the platform pulls them away from their endlessly adoring audience. As the screen lowers to conceal them from view, Phil lets out a breath he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding and Dan takes his hand in response.

Phil’s eyes trail from the familiar, sweaty hand gripping his up to meet his boyfriend’s face, which is still turned towards the theater. Dan’s eyes are shining like Phil had only seen a handful of times before and he looks the slightest bit stunned. It’s an expression that signals to Phil that Dan is genuinely proud of himself, astonished at the life he has created.

Phil stares for a while before bringing Dan’s hand up to his mouth and placing a gentle kiss on the soft skin covering the back of it. Dan breathes a shaky breath in and brings his face into Phil’s full view. His face is wet with sweat and tears and his wide smile reveals crinkles in his eyes and dimples in his cheeks. His eyelashes look even longer and darker than usual thanks to the water in his eyes and Phil thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

_____

Dan places the key card into the lock and pushes the door open with his left hand, his right occupied with holding Phil’s. They are greeted by the recognizable smell of a fresh hotel room as they drop their luggage near the foot of their beds.

“I’m gonna hop in the shower,” Dan alerts his boyfriend, “D’you wanna call for pizza?”

Phil nods happily. “What kind?”

“Whatever you want,” Dan raises an eyebrow, “as long as you get all the dips.”

Phil grasps at his chest in mock offense. “I’m hurt you would think I could possibly forget!”

“You are such a drama queen,” Dan fonds, leaning into Phil clumsily for a kiss. He feels his boyfriend’s smile against his own and hopes this warm fluttery feeling in his chest lasts forever.

Dan sighs when he enters the bathroom. The sweet surreal feeling of a night that is sure to be retold for years to come lingers in their hotel room. Cliche as it is, Dan feels like he’s living in a dream. His heart is full and his smile everlasting, knowing every move he has made and is yet to make tonight will remain a permanent memory for him and so many others.

Dan lets the steaming water run down his face and hold his curls to his forehead. He hadn’t felt this way after the big Hollywood show during their first tour, and he can’t quite place what’s changed.

Perhaps it’s the heightened honesty of this show. It being different every night makes him feel even closer to his and Phil’s viewers, with whom he had never connected in this way before.

Perhaps it’s the thinner veil he and Phil have placed over their relationship over the past few years. The shameless flirty banter littering nearly every upload, the little fond affirmations they were no longer compelled to edit out. The feeling that the fans had caught on, and the fact that he felt perfectly okay with them knowing. More than okay. Comfortable, even. It felt infinitely more comfortable than just five years ago, and that made him so damn proud. Proud of himself, and proud of Phil.

Phil. It always comes back around to Phil. Dan often wonders what his life would be like if he hadn’t relentlessly tweeted at his favorite youtuber all those years ago, before “youtuber” was even a word. He wonders if he would have finished school, if he would have been stuck at a job he hated. If he would have ever fallen in love with anyone else.

He couldn’t imagine sharing this life with anyone but Phil. Mainly because this life is entirely due to Phil. Phil, who encouraged him to start his Youtube channel in the first place. Phil, who reassured him his videos were good enough, that he was good enough. Who always reminded him how much he meant to him. Phil, who gave Dan the foundation he needed to finally learn how to love himself.

_____

“Thank you,” Phil shoots a grin at the courier as he scoops the towering stack of food into his arms.

Phil sets the boxes on the tiny hotel desk before meeting Dan on the bed. There’s a fresh bed right beside him, but tonight is too damn special for them not to cram their long bodies and copious amount of food onto one mattress. There is no way Phil is putting any distance between himself and Dan tonight.

Phil sinks into the plush of the duvet and brings his pyjama-clad legs under him to match Dan’s position.

“Before we eat, there’s something I want to tell you,” Phil exhales, sounding slightly more formal than he had intended.

Dan visibly sits up a little straighter. “Okay…” his voice wavers worriedly.

“Don’t be worried,” He places a hand on Dan’s knee, giving him a reassuring smile. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m super super proud of you.”

Dan rolls his head back in relief, the dimple in his cheek revealing itself to Phil. “I know that, you idiot.”

“No, Dan, like… like sincerely. Doing the show with you tonight made me think about how much we’ve grown and … and how now is so different from when we could hardly even do a YouNow together without feeling…” Phil had way too many emotions about this night to form them neatly into words. “... I dunno…”

He lets out a nervous, breathy laugh and scrubs his hand down his face. Why is it that, after almost nine years together, he still manages to make a bumbling fool of himself?

“Scared?” Dan finishes, looking down at his own hands. The dimple in his cheek had become deeper and his voice cracks like he might cry.

Phil feels his pulse quicken. He really hopes this is a happy cry. He grabs Dan’s hand and runs his thumb over the smooth skin there.

“Dan?”

“How do you do that, Lester?” a light, high pitched laugh escapes Dan’s lips. “How do you always know exactly what I’m thinking?”

“What d’you mean?”

Dan is still looking down at his hand, now being caressed by Phil’s. The corners of his lips lift the tiniest bit. “I was thinking about it when I was in the shower, like, how much everything’s changed and how far we’ve come and all. It’s like everything we’ve always wanted is coming true and it makes me so so happy, and… proud.”

Phil’s heart does that flippy-over thing it does when Dan gets sentimental. Or when Dan does just about anything.

Phil brings his free hand up to his boyfriend’s cheek, “I actually wanted to thank you for that. For getting us to this point where it just feels… good. Comfortable.”

The way Dan nudges into his palm sends the familiar feeling of fuzzy fondness into his chest and stomach. Butterflies.

“Thank me ? You’re absolutely ridiculous. This was definitely all your fault”

Dan laughs that breathy laugh again, and lifts those pretty brown eyes to look into Phil’s. He can hardly take it. How does this man get more gorgeous every minute?

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Dan,” Phil insists, taking a more serious tone and dropping his hand from Dan’s face.

“I mean, you’re the one who finally convinced me to do this,” Phil gestured up to his hair, “You’re the one who made me feel confident enough to start being more myself, you know? You said I didn’t have to be, like, AmazingPhil all the time, and now look where we are. You wanted to be more open with our audience and you…”

Phil braced himself for the utterly mushy thing he was about to say, “You made me feel brave enough to follow you.”

He wipes at the newly-fallen moisture under Dan’s eyes. They were going to a really lovey-dovey place tonight, and Phil liked that. It felt right.

“This is so stupid,” Dan wipes his hands over his face and rubs them dry on his pyjama bottoms. “I was gonna thank you for everything but I didn’t wanna be too cheesy.”

Phil laughs. “You think that wasn’t cheesy? You must have a really high bar set for cheesiness, Howell.”

Dan giggles at his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Y’know…” Phil starts, “you could still do that.” He pokes Dan’s side with his elbow playfully. “Like, thank me for everything or profess your undying love to me or whatever.”

Dan shakes his head and chuckles. “Later, the pizza’s getting cold.” He shoots a cheeky look at his boyfriend, “Priorities, Phil.”

_____

They rearrange the food boxes on the bed for a proper Insta story post. They had to commemorate this night, they knew the fans would be expecting some sort of celebration on a night like this.

Phil pulls his phone from his pocket to record the story, fixing his hair and straightening out his glasses before hitting record.

“We are celebrating finishing the LA show-” he starts, expecting Dan to complete his thought.

He does so cheerfully, “the only way we know how!”

Phil flips the camera to show the food they ordered what feels to be years ago, way too much for two people.

“Yaaas” he hums as he pans the camera to display the two pizzas, two boxes of sides, and, of course, Dan’s dips.

“Yaaaaaaassss” Dan repeats after him in a goofy high-pitched voice. Phil can’t help but giggle as his heart fills with warmth.

Phil leans to the side to place his phone face down on the side table, the rest of the night is just for them.

_____

“So…” Phil voices through a mouthful of pizza before swallowing, “Your little speech.��

“Oh! Right” Dan straightens his spine and clears his throat. He puts on a dramatic voice, “Sir Philip Lester, to whom I owe-”

“Daaan” Phil groans.

Dan giggles, wiping his hands with a napkin. “Fine, fine. I was thinking about what my life would be like if I had never met you, I mean, yeah, you’re the one who got me to start Youtube in the first place, but even more than that… If not for you supporting me through, like, everything ,” he draws out the word for emphasis, “I wouldn’t be the person I am now, and I doubt I’d even like myself if it hadn’t been for you liking me first.”

“There you go again, not taking credit! You’re the only person who could make you love yourself Dan, not me.” Phil refutes reassuringly.

“It isn’t about taking credit!” Dan blurts.

Phil’s eyes widen in surprise at his shift in tone.

“Sorry,” Dan softens, “what I mean is… I guess it’s both of us. Dan-and-Phil, y’know? We’re only in the place we are now, touring the world being the fullest versions of us we’ve ever been because we’re Dan-and-Phil… Does that make sense?”

Phil reaches out for his boyfriend’s hand, careful not to spill the dips they have precariously sat on the duvet. “Of course it does. Like, everyone came tonight to see us, together . They say it all the time don’t they? We complete each other, Dan. Two halves of a whole idiot.”

Dan giggles and pushes Phil’s knee away from him. “Hey, this whole idiot made a pretty amazing life for ourselves though, haven’t we?”

“I’d say so,” Phil sighs, allowing himself to get lost in those big brown eyes he loves so much.

They’re deep like chocolate, and they always just look so kind. So warm and inviting. Phil follows the light splattering of freckles along his cheeks down the bridge of his nose to see those soft pink lips turned upwards into a fond smile. He could melt.

“Booo,” Dan drones, snapping Phil out of his trance.

“Booo,” Phil nods in agreement.

Together they clear the mostly-empty boxes of food off of the bed, ultimately deciding to sleep in the cleaner bed tonight for lack of crumbs and greasy residue. They climb into bed, Dan tucking himself snugly under Phil’s arm and nuzzling into his chest. Phil places a kiss into Dan’s soft curls. Bellies full, they drift to sleep ready to take on the world the way they do best: together .

#hey i wrote something woohoo #mine.fic #shut up camryn #phanfic #ii spoilers #kinda? like VERY MINIMAL only if people are avoiding the la surprise #phanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #phan #dan and phil

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cutieunidentifiedremains · 6 years

Text

The Egyptology Club for Non-Majors and Face Thieves

title: The Egyptology Club for Non-Majors and Face Thieves pairing: Yuugi/Atem rating: currently G, will later rise to Explicit summary:

"They say if we die together, we'll be reincarnated as twins," Yuugi says.

"I don't want us to be twins," says Atemu. "I want to be alive, here, with you."

◯◯◯

A series of interconnected drabbles and short stories set in a university AU. Puzzleshipping. Childhood friends, friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, all the good stuff.

a/n: Been rewatching DM. I wanted to write a cutesy AU where the boys (TM) end up happy together. Let's do this. There'll be pining on the way. Oh, and porn! There will definitely be porn. At some point. Also, I have no idea if these drabbles are going to end up in chronological order or not, so there's that.

Chapter 1 is below. I’ll probably post each chapter individually on Tumblr as well as on AO3.

read on ao3

Yuugi Mutou and Atemu El-Sayed attended the same kindergarten.

During recess on the first day, a bigger boy— six years old, cowlick, already missing a front tooth, you get the picture— accosted Yuugi under the jungle gym for his Juicy Juice.

Atemu was sitting on top of the jungle gym gazing out over the playground with the weary malaise of an aged king surveying his sovereignty. He heard Yuugi’s weak, pure “hey”, looked down, assessed the situation, decided that it was not fair, dropped down from the monkey bars like a mercenary, and rabbit punched the motherfucker.

That night, Yuugi Mutou went home and told his grandfather, eyes sparkling, “Jiji, today I met a boy with my face.”

They had not been apart since.

The next day, Atemu began teaching Yuugi how to play chess.

#puzzleshipping #yuugi mutou #pharaoh atemu #yami yuugi #mine.fic #reblogs and kudos and likes are all really appreciated if you like the fic!!#^^#the egyptology club for non-majors and face thieves

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lesbenoits · 6 years

Text

merry late secret santa!

working title: that kaider fluff thing for secret santa

word count: 4008

author’s notes: oops this is late and not very good but i hope u enjoy this incredibly cheesy kaider fic with zero (0) plot! for reference, they’re both human, cinder still has a metal arm and leg due to an actual hovercraft accident, iko is human and is great, and cinder is 20 and kai is 22. happy holidays @kindasortaameyzing !!

The world was soft around the pair, the edges of their vision blurring. They could be asleep, were it not for Cinder’s fingers tracing designs on his bare chest, flowers and stars and swirls, tying the earth and the sky together with her fingertips. Her body was molded against his, the fine sheets draped across his waist and her body. She brushed her thumb across the freckle just below his collarbone, pressing against it for a moment. Kai’s hand moved against her shoulder, drawing her closer. Cinder presses up against him willingly, burying her face against him.

They stayed like that for a long time, his arm around her, their bodies pressed together like they had been made that way, two halves of a whole. Her legs tangled with his, his soul tangled with hers. She hummed against his shoulder, tapping her fingers gently.

“Kai,” she said finally, her voice soft, content, “what do you think it’d be like if we weren’t… us?”

A crease appeared between his brows. “What do you mean?”

“I just mean… what if I wasn’t the lost Lunar princess, just a normal Earthen girl? And you weren’t the crown prince, just Kai. Where do you think we’d be?”

“Hmmm,” he contemplated. “I mean, I’ve thought about it before, I guess. Abstractly. I think we’d be us, just a little bit of a different us. You know?”

“Yeah.”

A pregnant moment passed, the faint rise and fall of their breathing the only noise to pass through the room.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just wondering.”

He hummed gently, considering. “It might have been easier, but I like this us.”

“Me too.”

“You should sleep, darling.”

“Yeah,” she echoed. “You too.”

“Mmmhmmm. Goodnight, love.”

She pressed a kiss to his shoulder before closing her eyes, her head on his chest, letting the rise and fall of his breathing lull her to sleep.

*~*~*

Cinder wiped a greasy, gloved hand across her forehead, attempting to unstick a chunk of her hair from her face. Stars, it was hot.

“You know that doing that doesn’t actually make you any cleaner,” the girl propped up on the workbench behind Cinder’s counter pointed out. “The grease is just on your face now.”

An exasperated sigh escaped Cinder, but a smile curled across her lips despite herself. “I’m a mechanic, Iko. I’m supposed to get dirty.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Iko waved her hand dismissively. “I’m just saying! What if, like, a celebrity walked in here?”

Cinder snorted. “Right. Who’s going to walk in, the prince?”

“You never know!”

“Uh-huh. Hey, hand me that wrench, will you?”

Iko passed the wrench to Cinder without complaint. “You are the best mechanic in New Beijing. Not the cleanest, but definitely the best.”

“Hey!” Cinder laughed indignantly, throwing an extra bolt at her friend, who ducked it, grinning unashamedly.

“Sunken to throwing things, have we?”

“Well, I’d have you know —”

Someone behind the pair cleared their throat, and they instantly quieted.

“Excuse me — so sorry to interrupt, but is this Linh Cinder’s?”

The voice belonged to a young man, maybe a year or two older than Cinder, with shiny hair and almost perfect features. His dark brown eyes were ringed by long, dark lashes and his hair stuck up a bit in the back, but he managed to make it look endearing. His lips were pink and pouty, wearing an apologetic smile. All this with a child balanced on his hip, the little girl smiling toothily, hair braided into two stubby pigtails.

If Cinder could have gotten any warmer, she would have. “Um, yes, this is she.”

“Oh, hi! Nice to meet you.” He extended his free hand.

“Um.” Cinder glanced down at her grease-stained gloves. She pulled one off gingerly, shaking his hand. His palm was warm and dry, his grip friendly.

“Hi!” The little girl exclaimed. “I’m four.”

Cinder gave her a little wave. “Hi. I’m twenty.”

“That’s so old!”

“Lei, be nice!”

Cinder laughed gently. “That’s okay. What can I do for you?”

“Well, when Lei was little, she had a nanny android? Kind of? Thing is, it was a really old model, and now it’s stopped working. I called the company, and they just said to replace it, which would usually make sense, but Nainsi has a bunch of recordings and pictures from when Lei was little, and, well, you know.” He leaned in closer. “Government secrets.” Cinder’s eyes widened, and he broke his serious facade, laughing. “I’m kidding. It’s pure sentimentality.”

“Usually I would recommend replacing the model if it’s that old, but in this case, I can see what I can do. I’d probably have to see the physical model to be able to do anything, though,” Cinder replied. “Can you bring it in?”

“Yeah! I’ll have to check my schedule, but I can probably bring her in in a few days,” he replied, beaming. “Thanks so much!”

Cinder offered him a small smile. “No problem. Just bring her in during my work hours, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great. I really appreciate it. Looking forward to seeing you again.” He shifted, lifting Lei higher on his hip. “Say goodbye, kiddo!”

“Bye!”

Cinder waved her fingers at the little girl and her toothy smile. “Bye.”

He waved again and left Cinder’s shop, Lei on his hip. She sank against the counter, smiling against her will.

“Oh my stars, Cinder!” Iko spoke suddenly, having been silent throughout their entire exchange.

“What?”

“He was so cute! Don’t you think so? And,” she added, “he was clearly into you.”

Cinder’s ears grew red. “What? No. I mean, like, objectively he wasn’t horrible, but he wasn’t — and anyway, he definitely wasn’t flirting with me. He has a kid; he’s probably taken or married or something. So.”

Iko raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Did you see a wedding ring?”

She furrowed her eyebrows, trying to remember whether or not there had been a wedding band on the warm hand she had shaken. “I don’t remember. Maybe not, but I’m not sure.”

“Well, I noticed, and he wasn’t. So he isn’t married. Plus, he’s pretty young. She might not even be his kid.” Iko cocked her head. “She was really adorable, though.”

Cinder hummed her agreement. “Yeah, she was.”

“Anyway, you can just ask when he comes back.”

“What? No! Iko, how could I possibly phrase that? It’d be so unprofessional.”

“Cinder. Since when has this place been professional. Like, ten minutes ago you hit a girl’s portscreen against the counter to see if that would fix it.”

Cinder huffed indignantly. “And it did!”

“Okay, true. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Cinder blew a piece of hair out of her face. “I’m still not asking him, though.”

“I can do it for you. ‘Oh, tall, dark, and beautiful stranger! Would you happen to be taken? Because you see, my friend here with the grease stain on her forehead is totally into you and would like to take you home and help you get some of that parental stress ou-ouut!’” The pitch of Iko’s voice rose several octaves as she ducked the screw Cinder threw at her.”

“You are not saying that. And just because I think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I want to jump into his bed,” Cinder said.

“That could have hurt me!” Iko protested. “Oh, and you admit he’s attractive?”

Cinder spluttered, her ears and cheeks heating up.

*~*~*

Two days later, the tall, dark and — yes, Iko — beautiful stranger and his daughter were back, this time with a large, non-functioning android in tow. He set the heavy, pear-shaped body on the counter, wiping a slight sheen of sweat off of his forehead. Iko, who had insisted on sticking around for the days he might come back, sat on the workbench Cinder didn’t use.

“Hey,” he said, a bit out of breath. “I swear she’s heavier than she looks. I’m not that weak. But she’s here, as promised.”

“Thanks. Oh, wow, she is old,” Cinder replied, already examining the android on her counter. “Where did you find her?”

He laughed sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. I don’t know, actually. I think my sister got her second-hand somewhere a few years ago.”

“I haven’t seen this model in years,” Cinder commented, opening the control panel on the android’s back with a tiny screwdriver.

“Do you think you can fix her?”

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t make any promises, but if I run a few diagnostics, that’ll probably reveal the problem. With older models like this, it’s usually the issue of newer software being run on old tech.”

“Huh.” He furrowed his brows. “That’s weird. I don’t think she’s been used in about three years or so.”

“Hmm.” Cinder fiddled with a few wires in the control panel, poking at a shiny chip in the back. “Do you have a few minutes? I can take her to the back and run a few tests if you have a minute.”

“Yeah, no problem.” He leaned up against the counter. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” She heaved the android over her shoulder, pulling it into the back room to plug her into one of the machines back there.

“Hi,” Cinder heard Iko say, “I’m Iko, Cinder’s friend. And you are?”

Cinder held back the urge to roll her eyes. Iko.

“Oh, I’m Kai,” he replied. “Nice to meet you.”

Kai. A good name, Iko would have said. Nice, a bit older, but in an attractive, old film way.

“Likewise. Your daughter isn’t with you today? She was adorable!”

“Oh, she’s not mine. Well, kind of. She’s my sister’s, technically, but she’s not really in the picture much anymore, and I was around, so, you know.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss; I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, how could you have? And she’s not dead; she’s just not really around. Life happens.” His voice got a little tighter, and Cinder’s chest constricted, hoping Iko would get the hint.

She apparently did, as she didn’t press. “Well, she’s adorable. Lei, was it?”

Kai laughed, a sound he made often, and one Cinder enjoyed. “Yeah. She’s a handful, sometimes, but she’s adorable.”

“Mhmm. She really is. Looks like you, too!”

“Thanks. We get that a lot, actually.”

Iko giggled. “I’m sure you do.”

Iko, what are you doing?

“Anyway,” Iko continued, speaking louder this time. “It’s just you and her, then?” Her voice was loud, and tone pointed, and Cinder flushed.

A slightly uncomfortable chuckle. “For now, yeah. It’s just her and me. I don’t mind, though,” he added on hastily. “She’s… she’s my world, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. She seems like she’s just the sweetest. Cinder, back in there, she actually --”

Shit. Cinder twisted the last two wires together, then burst through the curtain separating her workroom from the rest of the shop. “I’m back, sorry! Iko, thanks for entertaining my customer,” she said, elbowing her friend in the side.

“Yes, we were just getting to know each other a bit,” Kai said, running a hand through his adorably messy hair as he shifted his weight against the counter.

Cinder bit her lip. “That might be good because I’m not totally sure I can fix this in the next half hour or so. Some of the wirings are pretty ancient and rusty. It’s fixable, don’t worry,” she interjected as Kai’s expression fell, “but it might take me a few hours. Um, if you give me a number I can reach you at I can let you know when she’s ready?”

“That sounds great. Here,” Kai said, pulling out his portscreen, “this is the best number to reach me at.”

“Great,” Cinder echoed. Great? Isn’t that what he just said? Stars, she needed to get a grip. He was just an attractive customer. Who she just exchanged numbers with. For business purposes. It was strictly business, even if he had beautiful, dark eyes she could just about melt in, and continued to do that casual-yet-sexy lean against her counter, which was more than a little distracting. And he was single. Probably. Her beautiful, single customer. Who first met her when she had grease smeared across her forehead.

He opened his mouth a little, then shut it, a small smile spreading across his cheeks. What a smile it was. “Just, uh -- thanks so much. From both Lei and me. I’ll see you soon?”

“No problem. Yup. See you.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Look forward to it. He’ll look forward to it.

*~*~*

“Cinder, this is the fourth time he’s come in with a broken portscreen that isn’t actually broken. He’s clearly into you,” Iko said through a mouthful of instant noodles.

“Or maybe he’s just really bad with technology.”

“Cinder.”

The pair congregated on Cinder’s couch for their weekly gossip-slash-binge-web-series-slash-eat-until-they-couldn’t-move session. Usually, they tried to cook actual food, but Cinder had a backlog of orders and repairs to do, not to mention attempting to find a college in New Beijing that offered a good engineering program and wasn’t, like, ridiculously expensive, and still allowed her time to keep regular hours at her shop. Her head started hurting just thinking about it. The point was, they were eating instant noodles cooked in Cinder’s microwave tonight.

She took a bite of her noodles, chewed, and swallowed. “See,” she pointed out, “even if I did like him, which I’m not saying I do, he’s my customer. Like, we message each other sometimes, but it’s always out work stuff. How do I break that barrier?”

Iko cocked her head to the side. “Are you serious? He’d be fucking overjoyed if you texted him to say hey. Or you could just ask him out. Skip the rest of the awkward flirting stuff. Seriously, this is like high school all over again. You like him; he likes you. That should be enough. You guys are adults, dammit!” She stabbed her noodles definitively. “Ask that boy out.”

Cinder mumbled protests into her noodles. “Yeah, yeah. Want to not talk about boys and watch trashy reality television instead?”

“Always.”

*~*~*

“Did your portscreen break again?”

“Um…. no?” Kai gave her a sheepish smile, holding out a small silver square. “It was my holoscreen projector remote this time. I can’t get it to work.”

Cinder raised an eyebrow. “Did you try changing the batteries?”

“Oh, oops! No, that must be it. Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

He didn’t move, just stood there, awkwardly running a hand through his hair.

“Um, so --” Kai began.

“No, wait --” Cinder interrupted.

“My portscreen hasn’t actually been broken --”

“I’ve wanted to say this for a while --”

“I just wanted to see you --”

“I really like you and, um --”

“Would you go out with me?” they finished together.

For a moment Cinder stared at him, and he stared back. The corner of Cinder’s mouth twitched up, and they burst out laughing, doubling over as peals of mirth washed over them. The moment one would begin to sober, they would look at one another and begin all over again.

*~*~*

The lanterns and twinkly lights strung up around the market gave off a pinkish glow, coating the night with an ethereal luminance. The couple flitted around the festival, stopping to admire handmade jewelry or, in Cinder’s case, a booth full of tech. “Look!” she’d exclaimed, holding up a tiny, robotic bee. “It’s so clever! All the little wires and look, this bit must have taken so much coding!” She trailed off as she noticed Kai staring at her, cheeks pink with excitement over the mechanical creature. “What?” she asked, covering half of her face self-consciously.

“You… you’re just… wow.” His eyes were wide and lips slightly parted as he stared at him and oh, stars, she wanted to kiss him.

She ducked her head in embarrassment and pulled him along to the next booth, leaving the model bee behind, although the urge lingered.

Cinder wasn’t totally sure when they had started holding hands -- it was sometime after the hot chocolate but before the juggling performance -- but there they sat, Cinder gingerly resting her head on Kai’s shoulder with his hand in hers, watching a musical trio perform an acoustic version of a popular song she couldn’t quite place. A few couples, mostly older people, slow danced on the makeshift dance floor in front of them (the makeshift dance floor being the dirt in front of the performers, illuminated by the lights strung above). His thumb moved gently over her hand, and she was content to stay like that forever.

Her date, apparently, was not. “C’mere,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “Let’s go dance.”

“Oh -- no,” Cinder protested. “I’m a mechanic. I don’t know how to dance.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “Nobody does. Just kinda sway with the music.”

“I -- oh, all right.” She allowed Kai to lead her to an unoccupied corner of the dance floor.

“First you put your hands around my neck like so, and I put my arms around your waist.” With this he placed his hand gently around her waist, pulling her a bit closer. “Then you move a bit closer,” he whispered, “and you dance.”

“Sway, you mean?”

“Mhmm. Who knows how to dance?”

“It’s overrated. This is… this is nice.”

“I agree.”

They stood like that, spinning slowly and gently swaying side to side, Cinder’s hands on his shoulder and his hands on her waist -- which were, by the way, gentle and soft and yet still burning into Cinder’s sides because it was him. They chatted quietly for a few songs, careful not to disturb the other couples -- oh, stars, was she thinking of them as a couple? -- before settling into comfortable silence. Once Cinder worked up the courage, she laid her head on his chest. Kai instantly pulled her closer, resting his chin on top of her head.

A new group of performers took to the stage in the dying twilight, this band playing softer, instrumental music. There were no words, but Cinder felt this music stirring something inside of her. Or maybe that was how close Kai was holding her, his hands on her waist and his lips were so close and his eyes and oh, stars, he was going to be the death of her.

“Cinder?” he breathed, his voice soft, soft below the music.

“Yes?”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

“So do it.”

Looking back, Cinder wasn’t totally sure who moved first, but she knew that she went on her tiptoes to reach him and his eyes closed and his hands moved from her waist to cup her face. The kiss was so tender, searing into her soul as his lips moved against hers with the music all around them. They broke apart, a little breathless, but smiling nonetheless. Kai smiled that shy smile again, the one from the first day they’d met, and Cinder rose up to kiss him again, this kiss shorter, more symbolic than anything.

Kai was the one to break the silence, but Cinder wasn’t entirely sure whether or not his mumbling was intentional or not.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Oh, it’s stupid.” He flushed. “I said that I’m glad you’re not an old man. Like, when someone recommended you as the best mechanic New Beijing, I imagined a grumpy old man with a bad back, not… you, you know? I’m sure glad you’re you.”

Cinder ducked her head before smiling up at him again.

“Me too. I’m glad too.”

*~*~*

“Kai. Kai. Are you okay?”

Kai glanced up from his portscreen for the fourteenth time, checking for any new messages. Dark half-moon circles hung under his eyes, betraying his exhaustion. He rested his head in his hands across the table from Cinder. “Yeah, I’m fine, just -- you know Lei’s mother? My sister?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Not personally, but you’ve mentioned her, yeah. Why?”

Kai sighed. “You know how she left Lei to go to Europe? She’s still there, apparently, and she got into a hover crash. There was a drunk driver, I think. They found my name in her portscreen, and they called me and she’s in the hospital. She’s fine, like, she’s going to make it and everything, but she had to have a blood transfusion, and she’s going to be there for awhile and just -- I don’t know.” He broke off, burying his face in his hands. “We don’t really speak, but she’s still my sister, you know? And I just -- I need to see her. To make sure she’s all right and has a place to stay and she’s not always the most responsible person, so I’m just worried.”

“Oh, Kai. When did you find out?”

“Just this morning. And I can’t go, because there’s no one I trust whose around to watch Lei for five days or so, so I’m stuck here. While my sister is almost comatose in the hospital in fucking Europe.”

Cinder grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly. Her mind whirred, mentally going through her schedule and Lei’s and four days, she had four days, she had as many days as Kai needed. “I can watch Lei, if you want. I understand if you don’t want to leave her, but if she doesn’t mind hanging out in the shop with me… she’s more than welcome to stay with me. Or I can stay in your apartment, if she’d be more comfortable. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Kai’s eyes widened in gratitude. “You’d do that? Just for a few days? Are you sure? That would be amazing. Honestly. So amazing.”

“Yeah, of course,” Cinder said. “I like Lei, she’s great. And I spend enough time around her already; it’d be no trouble at all. Seriously.”

“Cinder, I cannot thank you enough. And Lei seriously adores you; she’d love spending a few days with you. Just -- thank you so much. Thank you.”

She squeezed his hands, smiling tenderly. “Of course. No problem. Go to your sister. I’ve got this.”

*~*~*

“Okay, I’m about to say something really cheesy,” Kai warned her.

Cinder propped herself up on her elbow to look at his face. “Go for it.”

“This is seriously like a fairytale. Like an old Hallmark movie or -- I don’t know. It just feels like a fairytale or something.”

She laughed, gently pushing against his side. “A fairytale, huh? Does that make you Prince Charming?”

“Excuse you; I’d make a great Prince Charming. I could totally pull off a horse and crown and… what do princes wear? I don’t know, but I could pull it off. Ride in and save the princess from aliens or something.”

“I am no damsel in distress.”

Kai laughed. “Definitely not. You’re, like, a badass princess, but people don’t know you’re a princess. A long lost princess posing as a mechanic, and a good mechanic too. Then I, the extremely handsome prince --” Cinder rolled her eyes in endearing exasperation at this “-- would come into your shop one day and totally fall in love with you at first sight. Then we’d have a long and complicated adventure story, and you would definitely save me from aliens at least once.”

“I like this reality, but that’s really sweet.” She pressed a kiss to his lips before burrowing under the blankets once again.

“I like this reality too. I wouldn’t want any other one.”

“Mmm. Me either.”

Cinder like this, liked pressing a kiss to his beloved and gently bitten lip, liked walking with Lei between them, holding their hands, liked coming home from class or work and being greeted with a kiss, liked going on double dates and being cheesy together, liked staying up late on weekends after Lei was in bed to binge their favorite web series and eat fast food, liked kissing his lips and collarbones and stomach and all of him, liked falling asleep pressed against him with Lei fast asleep in the other room.

She didn’t need daring rescues or royalty or aliens because him, Kai -- that was all she wanted. In any reality.

#kaider #mine.fic #linh cinder #kai #the lunar chronicles #tlc #fic

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ggukmiin · 5 years

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The Great Orphanage Escape

Title: The Great Orphanage Escape

Author: Gobi17

Rating: Teen

Summary: Jin has spent his whole life at the orphanage; dodging blows, in fear of the leery manager, being worked to the bone while caring for his little family of seven.

How will he raise three teenagers, two eight-year olds, and a baby out in the real world while constantly watching his back?

He's about to find out. The Great Orphanage Escape begins tonight.

Note: ot7. no ships. jin centeric. sweet sweet sweet and painful, brotherhood and family orphange au fic. its set sometime in the Victorian age as well. goshhhh please read this magnificent little thing. it will break your heart and mend it at the same time. bangtan is the cutest and strongest family :’( <33333

#if a one yr old happy baby jungoo who calls jin 'din' doesnt sell u idk what will #i wanted to protect every single one them. my b a b i e s. my sunshine children!!! ugh #pls read #fic rec #jazzys fave #jazzys fic reccommendation #ot7 #chaptered #rating: t #mine.fic rec

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purgaytorysupremacy · 6 months

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and the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape / I looked over it and I ached

Dean Winchester has spent his whole life cleaning up his father's messes. Now that his little brother, Sam, is settled in California and Bobby's got a handle on the garage, they convinced Dean to finally do something for himself. After a chance encounter at the Air Force recruitment fair Sam dragged him to, Dean got hooked on air traffic control, and he gets stationed at Kansas City Tower for his final leg of training. There, he has to impress his on-job instructor Castiel Novak, the ex-Air Force captain who piqued his interest in ATC in the first place. (And only in ATC. He swears. Those blue eyes and dark hair and stupid hat have nothing to do with it.) If all that wasn't hard enough, just one week into his OJT, Dean gets a call telling him his father is dying and has to move back home to live out his final days—which could be more like years.

Dean has to decide whether to continue to let his life be defined by his father's mistakes and his misguided obligation to everyone else, or if he's brave enough—and strong enough—to find a life in his own shape.

start reading now on ao3!

#new chapter coming out tomorrow!!!!!!!#supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #destiel fanfic #ao3 fanfic #read on ao3 #a life in your shape fic #dean winchester #castiel #john winchester hate club #bobby best dad singer #fanfic #fanfiction #mine.fic #it's got planes! and nerdy end notes from me about why they use paper strips but also ipads!#this one's got a lot of the effects of john's childhood abuse of dean so just mind the tags and all that #but it's more about recovering from it than spotlighting it. or i hope so.

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dearlymoriarty · 7 years

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bring it, bitch

#sense8 #sense8edit #gif #wolfgang bogdanow #lila facchini #sense8 edit #wolfgang #sun bak #kala dandekar #capheus onyango #will gorski #riley blue #mine #mine.f

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estranhogabriel · 7 years

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You could be mine.f

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good-things-do-happen-dean · 2 years

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merlin is…drunk. not drunk, but drunk. although who can blame him, when he actually only goes to the tavern with arthur, and sometimes gwaine. not that arthur knows that. he’s had his three-quarters of one flagon of ale to arthur’s two, and he keeps getting distracted by the cut of arthur’s tunic, the strong line of his jaw.

arthur says, “merlin,” and he drags his gaze up to meet arthur’s. have his eyes always been this blue? “merlin.”

“hm?”

“have you been listening to me?”

“ah. mm. well—“ but arthur tips his head back and laughs, which is even more distracting.

“you haven’t,” arthur says without heat, well, without malice. there’s something in his eyes that merlin can’t quite understand.

“i have!” merlin insists, even though he hasn’t and he knows arthur knows he hasn’t.

arthur rolls his eyes. “let’s go.” he tugs at merlin’s neckerchief once, which makes merlin’s world go a little soft around the edges.

“yes. go. yes.,” merlin says, just managing not to topple over his not-quite-empty flagon.

he says, “arthur—“ when they’re cutting through the narrow street behind the forge, not expecting arthur to turn to face him as quickly as he does. merlin stumbles and firm, warm hands catch him. “arthur?”

“merlin.”

they are standing very close, very conveniently near a rather sturdy wall. merlin swallows. “arthur,” he says, bringing a finger up to poke at arthur’s chest.

arthur doesn’t step away and neither does merlin. in fact, merlin sways closer, just a little, mostly on accident. mostly because he might be a little drunk, but it’s arthur’s gaze on him that’s intoxicating. merlin flattens his palm against arthur’s chest, right over his heart.

and arthur reaches up to tuck a lock of hair behind merlin’s ear. except his hair isn’t long enough to do that, so what really happens is arthur traces the shell of his ear with gentle fingers, then rests his palm against merlin’s cheek.

“you can. if you want,” merlin says, a little breathlessly. “kiss me, i mean. if. well, i’d like you to, if you…also. want?”

“i do.”

the smile arthur gives him then is small and soft, and then, and then, and then.

merlin sinks into the kiss, lets arthur cup his cheeks, stroke his hair, break away and whisper sweet nothings into his ear. arthur. prince arthur whispering sweet nothings. crown prince arthur pendragon of camelot whispering sweet nothings into his ear. merlin grins widely at arthur (crown prince arthur pendragon of camelot, the royal maybe-not-so-much-of-a-prat-anymore) so widely he aches from it.

“let’s go,” he says.

“let’s go home,” arthur corrects, slipping a hand into merlin’s.

“let’s go home.”

#WAH sorry for having merthur derangement during destiel week…….as if it’s my fault!!!!!#mine.fic #ship.merthur #bbc merlin fic #merthur fic #alcohol cw #mild!

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blacksdale · 3 years

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haunted

a crappy zoyalai fic

sh: zoyalai angst, sad, hurt/comfort tw for memories of little palace battle ao3

“Zoya!”

She blinked, bringing herself back to reality as the carriage shook along a road that belonged to nowhere. She took notice of her surroundings, double-checking to make sure she wasn't back in her thoughts anymore. The walls of the carriage were still of red velvet and not black and silver, the seats still made of light grey cushions. She could see the snow-covered pine trees through the window, the green of the needles peeking through.

“Nazyalensky?”

She turned her attention forwards, finding herself staring into the warm hazel eyes of her kings. He had too serious of an expression on his normally smiling face.

“Yes, your Highness?”

“Did something happen?” he asked, lightly touching a hand to her arm, causing her to freeze for just a moment. She pulled away from him quickly, placing her hand on her other arm.

“Why would you assume that?”

“You seemed quite lost in thought. I thought something might be worrying you.”

She turned her attention towards the window, staring out at the winter scenery. “Nothing is worrying me,” she lied, “It's just been a long journey is all.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, resting his chin in his hand as he leaned towards her. He gave her a quick look up and down. “We can stop if you need it. I can get you something to eat or drink.”

“No need to worry,” she assured him. “We should get back to the capital anyhow. Genya and David are waiting for us.”

He sighed, leaning back against his side of the carriage. She took a glance at him once his gaze was focused on the window. The dark circles under his eyes had worsened. She could still see the gold around the centre that dissolved into the dark brown of his hazel eyes. It still had the sparkle in it, which she was glad had stayed. A sign his optimism was still present even though the situation of their country looked grim.

How long would they last pretending it was all okay?

–––––

They spent the rest of the ride making small talk and discussing possible trade deals they could make with the Kerch. All of it amounted to nothing, as they as a country had nothing to offer. But discussing it didn't hurt, especially with the new technological developments that scientists were making in labs. One day maybe, they could be back on their feet.

One day.

When they arrived back at the palace, Nikolai and Zoya went their separate ways. She went back to her chambers, ate dinner, sat on her couch flipping through papers having to do with her students at the Little Palace. All of it to try and keep her mind off of worse things.

Things Nikolai now suspected.

How could she have slipped like that? In front of anyone, let alone him.

But now that the topic was in her mind again, her thoughts seemed to unwillingly drift back. To the day the fold had expanded, the day she had run back to her town to find everything and everyone she knew had been killed for nothing other than the Darkling's thirst for power. The massacre at the Little Palace that had killed all of her friends and people she didn't know but still mourned for. Because she could have saved them. She had fought her battles and fought as best she could, but still it resulted in nothing. What could she have done differently? It was something she pondered every night. If only–

A knock came from her door.

She sighed. “What do you want?” She sounded a lot more defeated than she wished. She walked toward the door, already resenting the person who had come to her at this hour. It was almost midnight. “If you have more forms,” she turned the doorknob, “just leave them outside.”

Her eyes widened as she realised Nikolai was the one waiting there, holding nothing except what looked like a fresh cup of hot tea that smelled of cinnamon. He looked less like her king and more like a commoner, in nothing but pyjama pants and a sleep shirt, blond hair messy as if he had run his fingers through it too many times.

He grinned at her. “May I come in?”

“The sun set eight hours ago.” She opened the door for him anyway.

“I'll take that as a yes,” he said, walking in and glancing around the room. He took a seat on her couch, setting down the cup of tea on the coffee table. “I thought you might want some. I put some honey in there, no sugar or milk.”

He remembered.

“Nikolai,” she accused, crossing her arms after turning to face him, “why are you here?”

“Is a king not allowed to see his general anymore?” He leaned back into the cushions, making himself at home. Just great.

“Not this late, he isn't.”

“Dear Nazyalensky,” he put a hand to his heart, “you hurt me.”

“And I will do it again,” she rolled her eyes, walking closer to the couch. “Why are you here?”

His eyes began to calculate the room around him. “I told you,” he said, “I wanted to see you.” He smiled, though this time it was less genuine, which he didn't seem to realise.

She walked closer to him, giving her signature glare. “Why,” she asked curtly, “are you here?”

“I'm just checking on you,” he said, smiling again, “seeing how you are.”

“Late at night.”

“Plenty of people would beg me to be in their chambers at this hour.”

“Enough with the bullshit,” she retorted, throwing her hands up in frustration before crossing her arms again. “Checking on me why?”

“You,” he said, worry coming through his voice. “You seemed like something was troubling you. In the carriage.”

“Why is that any of your concern?” She snapped as she turned away from him, picking up her papers and walking urgently across the room. “I've said nothing to indicate I'm anything other than fine.”

Nikolai paused for a moment to stand up and walk over to her. He stopped when he was only a few inches away from her, placing a warm hand on her cheek and tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes.

“Zoya,” he said, quiet but firm, “I know that isn’t true.”

She stood frozen for a moment or so, distracted by the comfort that came with his hand cupping her cheek. For just a second, she felt the sudden urge to lean into it, to drop her defences for once and just fall into him. But she snapped back to her senses, stepping back so he was no longer so close to her.

Because who knew if he would catch her anyway?

Hurt began to fill his gaze as she stared at him from a foot away, feeling a pang where her heart was. Her memories of every day she had battled, fought, lost someone, came flooding forward. A lump began to rise in her throat, her eyes starting to prickle as an unwelcome heat came to her cheeks. She held her papers tighter, lower her gaze, pushing past Nikolai to set the papers down on the coffee table. “Go,” she demanded, her voice weaker than she had anticipated.

“Please.”

She turned to Nikolai, the tears welling in her eyes. She did her best to blink them back as she looked at him. His gaze turned from hurt to shock as he saw her condition, finally, switching to one of a sad sort of compassion and something else she thought looked like protectiveness, though she was probably making it up. How did she slip in front of him, let him see her like this? It was the one mistake she had promised herself she would never make.

He pleaded to her, the pain seeping through his voice, “Let me stay.”

“I said to go.”

“Dammit, Nazyalensky!” Nikolai shouted that part, bringing all of her attention to him. “How do you survive?” he then asked. “Every day we get more terrible news, and you voice only of its inconveniences. Never the worry it caused anyone, just how it puts off more important tasks. I ask how you are after hearing it, and you tell me you’re perfectly okay.”

He didn’t understand, he never would. He was a king, who grew up with everything, who always had someone to talk to. He was never stupid enough to voice his worries to the whole of Ravka, but he had the assurance that those in his inner circle would always be there to listen and never use it against him.

He took a deep breath. “We currently have a monster who’s caused you unbearable amounts of pain living in a dungeon in the Palace, and yet you act as if nothing has changed.”

“I have to!” She yelled, marching up to him as tears streamed down her face.“I have to,” she repeated quietly. If I don’t then who will? If we are all consumed by dread, we can’t work, and if we can’t work,” she began to punch his chest, though she was too tired to do any damage, “then nothing gets done and we never stop worrying.” Her voice finally started to crack. “Everyone will have to go through what we did, and no matter how much you distract yourself with your work, it will come back to haunt you every day of your life–”

Zoya felt herself crash against Nikolai, his arms suddenly wrapped tight around her. She exhaled and felt the tension in her shoulders release, pressing her forehead into his chest as she finally let the tears fall free. A rush of emotions rose to the surface, causing her to fist her hands in his shirt to ground herself because she could no longer hear her own thoughts. Her breathing was still erratic as she felt him press a kiss to her hair.

“My ruthless Zoya,” she heard him murmur.

She sobbed, interrupting her usually silent cries, and felt her legs buckle, half from long-term fatigue and half from the overwhelming memories and feelings that had suddenly claimed her senses. One of Nikolai’s arms moved under her knees as he picked her up and held her against him. She felt too much right now, his arms around her the only thing bringing her comfort. She would remember the next morning that this was not proper, for her to feel this warmth and safety with Nikolai, for him to even be there at all. But right now she could not think; she could only feel his arms around her, the security she felt after dealing with so much danger that she didn’t know if she would ever feel it again. Her eyes were closed as she cried, and she didn’t bother to ask where he was taking her or why he had carried her because then she would have to hear her own weak voice when she would rather just let the tears fall silently anyway.

He set her down somewhere soft, she realized he sat her on what she realized were her blue couch cushions. She reached for the pillow closest to her, clutching it to her chest. She felt Nikolai sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. Zoya rested her tear-stained cheek on his shoulder. She let go of the pillow, wrapping her arms around his torso almost instinctively, moving closer so she could lean back against him. His other arm came around her, his hand moving to rest in her hair as she nestled her face in his neck, his fingers running gently through her midnight-dark waves.

“In the carriage,” she breathed, “I thought about if I had been one of them.”

He continued tracing patterns with his finger up and down her arm. “One of who?”

“The ones at the Little Palace.” She told him, her voice breaking as she remembered all her friends, the ones who never got to see her now. “There were too many.” There was no battling the monsters, though they did try to fight; it just mattered how fast you could run from them. She thought of lively Marie, who had gone too early. “It could have easily been me. And yet I was lucky. And still, we lost too many even with all they did to try and survive.” She wondered what her friends would say if they saw her now, a leader of Ravka. A girl who had helped build up a country again. A girl who had survived, despite the odds that had been stacked against her. A girl who was still here, somehow, and she didn't know how or why.

Nikolai tightened his grip on Zoya. “I had to watch my brother bleed out,” he exhaled. “It haunts me every day, knowing that if we had time to get him proper care, he may have lived. Without an arm, yes, but lived nonetheless.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I used to dwell on that,” he told her quietly, “But we are not the ones who caused all of it. The violence, the torment, the chaos. That was the Darkling, not us.” He pressed a light kiss to Zoya's forehead. “We are the ones who made it through.”

For a while, they sat together in silence, tangled in each other's arms for the comfort they had both been craving, knowingly or not. Nikolai continued to stroke her hair, soothing her aching heart and her racing thoughts, occasionally pressing a kiss to her hair as she held onto him for dear life. Time no longer felt relevant, the night dragging on, and eventually, they were both tired of waiting for it to end. Better to rest, ease their minds for once.

She welcomed sleep when it came. And just before she drifted off, she felt Nikolai’s lips against her forehead.

“My dearest,” he whispered, the last thing she heard.

It was the first time in months that she finally slept easy.

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