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closer-stars · 3 years

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Fall of the Kingdom

Member: Hongjoong Word Count: 4.4k (mmmm) Genre: it’s just... Dark... and drama. Content: Demon Hongjoong’s got a war but he needs to feed on humans first. Mentions of explosions, violence, blood, suicide ideation (only brushed upon, nothing in detail i promise). Note: This idea came to me after seeing rocker hongjoong and that Iconic dark smile he does. Also this was technically done in one go cause I was Feeling the Inspiration so forgive me if it’s messy. Also this was just an Excuse for me to indulge in an interest of mine. Taglist: @barsformars @miniyeo @hwaberrykiwi @jwyfldr @fvae @yeotlny @inkigayeo

“I’ve become so numb, can’t feel you there.

I’ve become so tired, so much more aware.”

There was something about this new song that made you feel breathless, as if all the frustration and pent up anger has been sucked out of you. Just like the song, you feel a little numb. It was a good thing you were sitting down too, you could barely feel your own legs after that song. If there was a song to describe what your life has made you feel, it would be this song. There were days where you didn’t feel real, if you were still capable of feeling emotions, if you can still reach the expectations of people put onto you.

Silence passes over your earphones and that’s when you realize that the song had ended, loading the next video. You quickly stopped autoplay and had the video play again. This time you had to get yourself to watch the music video. The vocals alone had put you through an array of emotions you didn’t think you could still feel. You weren’t ready for what the video was about to give you. His smile was alluring as if promising you that you are something. His gaze reminding the viewers of strength innate in them even after years of mistreatment from life. To have an artist properly encapsulate all the emotions in you just had you hooked. You wanted more.

No.

You need more.

‘By. Hongjoong.’

You’ve never heard of this artist before. Is he new to the music scene? There’s next to nothing about this Hongjoong online. Just this song on what you assume is his YouTube channel. Just a few thousand views for now. There are a few comments, praising him for his music and his looks (you had to admit, he does look quite attractive.) but not much for you to go about. For now, you drop a like and subscribed to the guy’s channel.

Within the next few days, the views rose to the millions. Comments in various languages were pouring in, all of which seemed to be praise. The comment section has become a forum, people asking others about him. Even you were reading comments hoping for more information. The only sign that he was a real entity behind the screen was the description on his video.

It wasn’t there when you first viewed the music video.

“Hello there. I am Kim Hongjoong. This is my first single, Numb. Please look forward to my future releases!”

He stayed true to his word. Over the past few months, his following has grown. He doesn’t have any other social media account except his Youtube and Instagram (that was only opened recently). While there was a distance between him and his fans in terms of interactions, his music made up for it. His music much like his first single, stayed consistent for being for an audience who have been ignored by life, who struggle for a break. Say My Name, his second single reached a million views within two days. Much like the title, more and more people are talking about him. His music is played in shops and restaurants. It’s hitting the top of the charts and staying there for weeks. He never leaves the Top 10 at least.

People assumed he was going to be a one hit wonder, a lot of independent artists are. But he’s proven them wrong, not through posts on Instagram but through consistently dropping song after song. Songs that remain stuck in your head for weeks to come until he drops another one. The new one being better than the former. He was only getting started. The media and general public have called him a digital monster. Yet, despite all the songs he’s released, no one knows who he really is. Any interview he’s done with the media only scratches the surface of his musical process and his personality. There’s more to him, you’re sure but you just couldn’t place what that ‘more’ is.

People were already commenting on his social media and making posts begging for him to do a concert, or any sort of live performance. Surely his music would sound much better in real life?

On the other hand, there were those who weren’t into his style. They assume and point fingers at him for being someone who associated themselves with the Anti-Christ due to his heavy imagery and music. It’s an age old argument with no solid proof to back it up. Any tongue that speaks against Hongjoong’s music was quickly dealt with by his fans. Though you didn’t like the way they dealt with the opposing views, they had it coming.

After Horizon’s release, he dropped another video. Not a music video, but it seems like him talking to the camera.

“Hello everyone. This is Kim Hongjoong.”

You didn’t think he would speak in such a soft tone. He was dressed head to toe in black, very reminiscent and consistent with his music style, not that you expected anything different. It just seems to fall in line with who he is from what you’ve seen.

“To everyone’s delight, I will be doing a countrywide tour within the next few months. The dates, venues and where to buy are in the description down below. I hope to see you there.” He doesn’t say anything else, but the corners of his lips curve, a charming smile, very much unlike the dark heavy gazes and grins he dons in his music videos.

The video announcement quickly gains views and comments. Foreign fans weeping for an opportunity they can’t experience, begging him to visit them too. Local fans were celebrating in the comments, excited to hear his other hits, especially his debut song, Numb.

To your delight, he’s doing a show near your area. You had to see this guy in the flesh. What better way to deal with your frustrations than with live music? There’s something about his music and him that gives you such an emotional high and that was from just the screen, what more if it were live? You immediately got yourself a ticket, before it got sold out.

Two months before D-day.

--------

Hongjoong has been monitoring the numbers and interactions done on his posts. It’s easy to see how delighted he is. Even with next to no information about him, he managed to garner a loyal following not only here but internationally as well.

Here’s the thing with this Kim Hongjoong. He’s not human. Not in the fandom praise for his superb skills in music making, no, he’s not from the human realm. Instead, he’s a demon. A demon that feeds on the frustrations of humans. Those wronged by life and society were the most susceptible to his charms. Every night, he walks through the streets, unrecognized by the public. ‘How stupid.’ He thinks as they pass by him without batting an eyelash. He can smell the catharsis of those who listen to his creations. It’s only then that he can point out those who carry bitterness in their hearts, otherwise he waits.

He feels himself get stronger with each passing day. Soon, he’ll be able to show why he’s one of the Greater Princes of Hell. Lesser demons and humans as his soldiers? How delightful would it be to have the damned souls work for him. Surely it would make Wooyoung jealous but he delights in his jealousy.

Was he worried that he won’t get as strong as he wants to? Not at all. Nothing to be worried about when the numbers show just how much people have become an avid follower of his regardless of distance.

Now one might wonder why he does this. What else other than to prove to the beings above him that the ones that call the shots with humans are beings like him? The fearful physique and near perfect mentality of the angels are what pushes people away from believing in redemption. Meanwhile him? He and his fellow demons look like anyone else, save for the striking eye colors and sharper than usual teeth. It’s easy to creep on humans when they deem you as one of them.

He’s careful though, making sure no one recognizes him by his voice when he’s out with the humans. The glamour of being “mysterious” does more than what his peers expected. With the concerts coming up, it makes it easier for him and his fellow demons to find potential hosts to continue their work.

He’s not foolish.

--------

It’s D-Day and you made sure you looked decent for a long night. In the months that led to this fateful day, you’ve made friends with those who were also fans of Hongjoong. A lot of them were chaotic, but it was something you’ve come to accept. There were always going to be fans that would start a fight for the sake of their favorite artist. While you weren’t one of them, you weren’t one to stop them either should they start fighting someone. Who are you to tell them what to do when you blind yourself at the face of violence.

The lights dim, thick smoke pour from the sides and Hongjoong enters the stage much to the roaring of the fans. They chant his name over and over. It almost feels like a prayer with how fervent they are.

His cocky grin graces his features, with a wave of his hand, the cheering grows louder. It’s loud enough to make the venue feel hot and sticky from the energy.

This is what he wanted.

“Hello everyone! I hope all of you are prepared for the best night of your lives.” He coos into the mic. You could already hear a few women shrieking for his attention to which he gives.

The show stars and entire venue feels like it’s shaking from the constant jumping from the crowd. For a split second, you were a little scared of how the ceiling might cave in from the collective jumping. The chants from the fans are reaching a feverish high. The volume and emotion behind the voices of people who seem to have suffered the same life as you: mistreated, ignored, kicked to the side. All of them want to be heard, to feel as if someone understands.

Hongjoong does. Just not in the way they expected.

Somewhere through the show, you lose sight of your friends. All of them have managed to reach near the barricade, hoping to get a fleeting touch of his hand. As if his touch would be the solution to all their problems. Hongjoong stays near the edge of the stage but never does he go near the crowd, much to their desire to be closer to him.

‘Fools.’ The thought is hidden behind a dark smirk. Some on the side have decided to argue, saying that his smirk was for them and not the other.

Everything feels suffocating; the smoke from the smoke machine, along with the pulsating bodies as if moving as one around you. You feel lightheaded, overwhelmed but heavens be damned because at the same time, you feel so alive. It feels like the crowd is moving as one to Hongjoong’s voice. Despite the suffocation, everything feels so right.

The safety is short lived. To the side, you see a fight breaking out between two guys. You couldn’t clearly see what’s going on but you could tell that punches were being thrown from either side. It’s gotten to the point where the bouncers had to kick them out of the venue, the crowd filling in on the gaps of where the two once were. The show carries on, but you opt to stick to the back to stay out of the still brimming chaos within the crowd.

He’s not fazed by the violence the erupts in the crowd. He lives for it actually. It’s what he wanted to happen. All the emotions concentrated in one room, nothing could beat this feeling. Not even a seat in Heaven could replace the feeling of pleasure he receives from his followers.

The show ends with his debut song Numb. You never left your spot near the exit, you can only imagine the chaos if you left with the crowd of people once the show ends. He blows a few kisses to the crowd, bidding them goodbye and that he’ll see them soon. Whenever that might be.

You leave the premises when he leaves the stage. Time to avoid the crowds.

He stays inside the venue, taking in all the emotions and catharsis as much as possible. It’s the aftermath that always tastes the best. The dazed feeling of his followers as their emotions crash from such a high cathartic moment. The surplus of violent catharsis momentarily has his eyes turn white. It’s rather difficult to keep the human facade when you feel the power surge through your body. Unfortunately, keeping the facade of a human while taking what you need in order to become stronger makes it much more difficult. Such a prison can only take so much.

After all, should the people hold onto their bitterness, it can only give way to violence.

A fellow Greater Demon, a being who named himself Jongho for the sake of normalcy, somehow eyes the still lingering crowd with interest. “You’ve outdone yourself once more. The last you did this was centuries ago wasn’t it?” He can still taste the left over frustrations, such shall be left with the people. Give them some time and that small seed becomes something bigger especially with what Hongjoong still has up his sleeve. The last time Hongjoong had tried to look for a host, disaster struck the nation and forced him into hiding until recently. “What are you going to do with the left overs?”

“That’s right. I failed to find a potential host back then. The potential hosts I wanted just disintegrated into ashes.” He mutters. It’s thanks to him the phenomenon of spontaneous human combustion came to light. He straightens himself up, his eyes flashing white as he tries to contain the energy he has absorbed. “As for the leftovers, let the people keep it. Chaos shall ensue with what I have next.”

“Did you find someone now?” The plan Hongjoong has doesn’t matter to Jongho. What matters is that Hongjoong finds a potential host. That won’t suffer the same fate as those in the past.

He remembers you, clearly staying towards the back, always turning a blind eye to the violence that was around you and he grins.

--------

The cool air outside the venue was a needed break from everything. It’s only then that you realize how hungry and exhausted you are. Truth be told, after that concert, you could probably sleep for a week with how physically and emotionally exhausted you are.

But first things first. You need to eat.

You find yourself in a fast food restaurant. It was the only thing you could stomach after such a long day of running around with friends and an emotionally charged concert.

There weren’t much people in the establishment. Only two tables were occupied and they were clearly people who didn’t attend the concert. You sit by the corner, busying yourself with your burger and nuggets. The iced fruit juice could tide over your thirst until you head home.

You look up when you see someone enter the premises. If it weren’t for your quick reflexes, you would’ve dropped your food.

It’s Kim Hongjoong. Only he’s already out of his stage clothes but his makeup still gives him away.

There’s nowhere to hide from his view. Instead, you look down and focus on your meal. You try to eat as fast as you can even at the risk of choking. It’s too much for your poor heart. You who went through adrenaline, frustration, anger, then relief in one day. To be in the same establishment as The Kim Hongjoong was too much for you to keep up with.

“Is this seat taken?”

You look at the feet then look up. You try to hide the fact you could recognize him but from the sound of his chuckle, you failed. You gesture to the seat across you as you try to chew slowly. Kim Hongjoong is in front of you. Surely this is just a dream?

He chuckles softly at how you’re staring at him still. “Yes I’m real.” He says as if reading your mind. He finds your shy nature a little endearing, just what he needs for his plans.

“I thought you would still be in the venue…” You admit softly as you try to eat slowly this time. Surely it would be rude to finish before him now that he had just started eating?

“I never agreed to any meet and greet so I managed to leave the premises early.” He explains. It’s whiplash how soft his mannerisms were compared to his music. “What’s your name? You were in my concert weren’t you?” He asks, gesturing to the neon band wrapped around your wrist.

Before you could deny anything, he catches you red handed. You relent to his wishes and tell him your name. “How could you even see me? I was at the back.” Surely he couldn’t see you through all the blinding lights.

He just shoots you a mischievous wink. “I have my ways, dear.” He leads the conversation for the rest of the time, asking you how you found him, your thoughts about his music, and so on. It felt like you were just talking to an old friend who just made it big. You felt at ease with him.

You look at the time and nearly jump out of your seat. “Crap, it’s late. I have to go..” You admit, dejected at having to cut the conversation short. Hongjoong had other plans though, he stood up, grabbing what’s left of his fries and his iced coffee.

“I can give you a ride home. Where do you live?”

This is too good to be true.

--------

On the ride home, he asks you about yourself, your life, how you find yourself holding up despite everything. You admit that you have a hard time holding yourself up, even having daydreams of the unspeakable. That mere idea puts a frown on his face. The stoplight turns red and his fingers immediately tip your chin up to make you look at him in the eye. The tip of his thumb brushes against the bottom of your lip and in your shock of how fast he moves, your mouth is left slightly open.

“Don’t.”

There’s something in his tone that tells you to not go against his words. It’s perhaps better to not divulge your daydreams, so you promise that you won’t.

He flashes a warm smile at you just in time for the stoplight to turn green.

You don’t know that he’s already imparted a bit of his essence into you. ‘Humans, how gullible.’

---------

By the time he drops you outside your apartment complex, you’ve exchanged contact details. Both sides hope to stay in touch as much as possible. “Thank you for the ride! Stay safe on the road!” You say as you jog inside.

The male watches you enter the premises of your complex before driving off. Jongho materializes on the seat you left. “How was it?”

The grin on Hongjoong’s lips tells him everything he needed.

---------

Time has passed and the two of you have been talking consistently day in and day out. The genuinity of the bond was something that made you feel like life was a little bearable now. Shitty but still bearable thanks to Hongjoong and his music. You’ve admitted to him how your life hasn’t been the best and how his music has been something helping you through.

It’s radio silence by next week. No matter how many messages you send him, you receive no sign of him reading it or a response. You genuinely feared losing someone you considered a friend (and a crush but let’s not talk about that). Did he just ghost you?

The silence stretches into months, and the happiness you felt in the previous weeks have disappeared, morphing into the familiar dread you’re too familiar with by now. You’ve accepted the fact that he may have just ghosted you but the radio silence on his youtube channel tells you there’s more to just the regular ghosting.

“BREAKING: Rock icon, Kim Hongjoong has been deemed missing. More info to come at 5PM.”

Something in your stomach drops and you look around you. Hongjoong had already amassed a large following over the past year. In this room alone, you could assume there were ten fans. All eyes were glued to the tv screen. In the distance you hear a loud explosion and sirens, you get out of your seat immediately, leaving the premises. What the fuck is going on?

By the time you stepped foot outside the restaurant, someone comes barreling towards you. Isn’t this the same guy that caused a fight in his concert? You could recognize steely eyes anywhere, but what was his name? The more important question is, why does he look so bloodied and dirty? Also, what was he running from? The two of you stare at each other for a moment before the police have come chasing after him. You’re left with no option but to give way to his chasers.

It’s better to head home than to stay out any longer at this rate.

“BREAKING: Suspect of the explosion earlier today has been caught along with his accomplices.”

Finally back at home, the news outlets have been trying to keep up with the sudden influx of events. Kim Hongjoong has been missing for five days. The explosion from earlier was made by a Kang Yeosang who is, coincidentally, also a fan of Hongjoong. It’s already known everywhere that a fan of Hongjoong is good enough of a cult member. Now Hongjoong might not have mentioned anything about a better land or the second coming like most cult leaders but with the amassed following he has despite his disappearance, they might as well be a cult.

There’s speculation on social media as to what exactly had happened to Hongjoong but nothing is for certain. Fanbases are trying to find Hongjoong’s whereabouts only to come up empty. Fake accounts are popping up, proclaiming themselves to be Hongjoong, giving false leads to anyone who believes.

Some fans have resorted to violence, hoping to get back the artist that they think genuinely understands them. It’s a warzone online and in real life. You’re seeing posts, unsure if they’re real or not, of fans wishing they were the ones that disappeared instead of Hongjoong. Overwhelmed with everything, you shut off your phone and bury yourself in your bed. His music plays faintly and it’s the only thing that’s holding you to the real world.

Everything else doesn’t feel real.

As each day passes, there’s another case of violence and death. It’s got the city by its neck with how rampant the chaos has been. The only way you’re staying sane through it all is through your detachment to all the violence that runs amok around you.

“BREAKING: a 22 year old man caught dead after pretending to be the missing artist Kim Hongjoong online. More information on the found mass burial site to follow at 6PM”

You’ve busied yourself by searching the internet for other artists, hoping to find someone to fill in the hole Hongjoong has left. None of them do the job the way Hongjoong does it. You try to call his number, hoping for something.

“The number you have dialed is out of use. Please check the number you have dialed and try again.”

Please let this just be a dream.

You had a restless sleep that night, tossing and turning. Your dreams were wrought with Hongjoong’s voice, screaming for your help. His voice surrounds your helpless figure until you stop in your tracks and scream out in pain. You’re jolted awake and you feel your body drenched in sweat and fear. “Hongjoong, where are you?” You plead softly, utterly helpless.

The leads regarding Hongjoong decrease as each day passes and fans and the general public have resigned themselves to the fate that he had died. Some of his fans have gone their own ways, though their chaotic ways have never faltered. You on the other hand, still tried to find traces of him despite not knowing a lot about him.

---------

On the other side of the city, Hongjoong watches the news from Jongho’s living quarters. He’s delighted to see the stress and fear from regular humans. A little variety from the stress of his followers. It’s a good thing he left some violence behind with his followers, those who have nothing to lose do cause the best havoc. Maybe he should keep that Yeosang guy alive to learn a few more tricks. He doesn’t need to tell his followers what to do. Just disappear at the height of his fame and let them do the work.

He takes a shot of vodka as he continues to watch on. Jongho splayed on the couch, watches as well. “What do you think?”

“Perfect. I think Lucifer would be delighted in this. I can already tell my legions are growing with the amount of deaths.”

“How soon will the war be then?” Jongho’s legions are already waiting for his word. His human body appears to be a lot tankier than expected.

“Give my host three months, their nature is perfect in amassing followers around the globe.”

--------

You have another dream that night, a familiar voice with that addicting smile. “Hongjoong?” You call out, running wherever his voice is coming from. “Hongjoong where are you?!” You call out again but he doesn’t reply, he only giggles at how strained you are to look for him. While it’s perfect to strike when they least expect it, it’s also just as good to strike when they’re at their weakest.

You somehow manage to find him. He looks a little different now, stronger, and something about him doesn’t feel human. He sits on a throne, painted white with obsidian sprinkled upon the back. He doesn’t seem affected by how distraught and confused you look. In fact, he actually laughs at your face at how pitiful you look. He gives you a set of instructions. All of which point to a war that only heaven and hell can conceive.

“Only then can you find me, my dear. Don’t let me down.”

Your eyes glow white when you wake up. Who are you to deny his wishes?

#my writings #ateez fanfic #lmao this was such a fucking mess #but the brain went BRRRRR #also yes SHC was a thing there are records about it but it's been disproven in science lol #tw violence #tw blood #cw suicide ideation

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remywrites5 · 5 years

Note

Oh I love all of your drabbles and always go through your feed to make sure I didn’t miss any! Could I get a meet-ugly for wolfstar? Like something goes horribly wrong but it makes them meet and laugh?

Remus was sitting in the chairs by his terminal waiting for his plane. He’d finally snagged a spot near an outlet so that he could charge his phone. He had passed out the night before without charging it and was just lucky he’d remembered to set his alarm or else he might have missed his flight. The term was over and Remus was on his way back to Wales for the Christmas Holiday to visit his parents. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing his dad, as he’d gotten enough chilly silences for a lifetime, but his mum would kill him if he elected to stay in London for Christmas.

He had already scrolled through all the usual social media apps and watched a few Youtube videos. With nothing better to do, Remus opened Tinder with usual amount of trepidation. Lily had forced him to sign up for the app, claiming it wasn’t as bad as he thought. It had led to a few awkward dates that usually resulted in Remus getting ghosted, and a few even more awkward one night stands that also led to Remus being ghosted. His track record wasn’t the best.

He was scrolling through, trying to remind him of what Lily had said. “Not everyone is going to have your same interests, Remus. You have to give people a chance.” Remus thought he had given quite a few people a chance and that hadn’t exactly worked out for him. No matter how much he tried he couldn’t swipe right on someone whose entire profile was pictures of them at the gym.

His finger hesitated over a picture of someone who absolutely couldn’t be real. He had long, dark hair that fell well past his shoulders and grey eyes that Remus thought must have been either contact lenses or photoshopped. High cheekbones and sinful lips the man looked like a model. Remus was not about to get catfished by a picture that was probably of someone famous that he just didn’t recognize. Besides, what kind of a name was Sirius anyway? It was obviously fake.

He swiped left. Not today, Satan.

“Hard pass on that guy, huh?” Someone said from above Remus. “Ouch.”

Remus glanced up and the first thing he noticed were grey eyes. He felt his own eyes widen in surprise as he took in the rest of the guy standing in front of him. It was the guy he had just swiped left on. Here, in the flesh, very much real. “Oh my god,” he said, feeling a blush of embarrassment rise to his cheeks.

“I’ll try not to take it too personally,” the guy said, sitting down across from Remus and crossing his legs.

“I-I didn’t – “ Remus said, tripping over his words from his absolute mortification. “I-I thought…”

“It’s okay,” Sirius said, realizing quickly that Remus was struggling and letting him off the hook. “You don’t have to explain.”

“I thought you weren’t real!” Remus said, finally able to get the words out and saying them a bit louder than he’d originally intended.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m just that stunning, huh?” he joked, sliding an elastic off his wrist and putting his hair up into a messy bun.

Remus swallowed thickly. “You have to be careful with stuff like this,” Remus explained, pretending that seeing Sirius’ hair up like that wasn’t doing things to him. “You see a Tinder profile with a name like Sirius and the picture looks like you…it doesn’t seem all that realistic, does it?”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Okay, I’ll give you the name, it’s been a pain in the arse my entire life.”

Remus found himself leaning forward in Sirius’ direction. “Mine’s not much better,” he assured Sirius with a knowing grin. “Remus Lupin.”

Sirius grabbed his bag and moved, sliding into the seat next to Remus. “Nice to meet you, Remus Lupin. I’ll have to remember the name so I can tell my mates all about the guy who broke my heart at the airport.”

Remus ducked his head down. “I don’t think it’s anything as serious as that.”

“Oh you wound me,” Sirius said, clutching at his chest. “So what’s your chat up line on Tinder? Anything good?”

“I usually say hi my name is Remus.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “No wonder you’re still on there.”

“Well what’s yours then?” Remus challenged, bumping his shoulder against Sirius’ lightly.

“Usually something like call me Jaffa cake because I’m looking like a snack!”

Remus burst out laughing. “I can see why you’re still on there too.”

Sirius smirked. “Call me biscuit because I wanna be filled with your custard crème.”

Remus laughed even harder, doubling over and clutching his sides. “Oh god, I can’t breathe!”

Sirius laughed with him, Remus’ mirth spurring him on until neither of them could stop laughing. By the time Remus calmed down he had tears in his eyes that he quickly wiped away.

“You’re mental,” he informed Sirius, shaking his head.

Sirius slung his arm around Remus’ shoulders and pulled him in close as if they were about the share a secret. “It runs in my family,” he said, whispering against Remus’’ ear and making Remus shiver. “In fact it practically gallops.”

Remus turned his head slightly and looked into Sirius’ impossible grey eyes. “Okay Cary Grant,’ he teased, recognizing the Arsenic and Old Lace reference.

Sirius’ eyes lit up when Remus called him out. “Fuck, it’s a real shame you passed on me. I think we would have been good together.”

Remus bit his bottom lip nervously. “Maybe considering we’ve met in real life, we could skip the whole talking on Tinder thing and go right to having each other’s numbers?”

Sirius considered it for a moment. “You’re not going to give me a fake number, are you?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Remus insisted. “Besides, I’m the one who initiated it. Why would I do that if I was just going to give you a fake number?”

Sirius hummed. “Good point. Although I’m already so wounded by you it’s difficult to think rationally!”

They swapped mobiles and Remus programmed his number into Sirius’ phone before handing it back to him. “Really?” he said, seeing what Sirius had put in his phone. “You labeled yourself as Sex God Sirius Black?”

Sirius shrugged. “Oh ye of little faith.”

Remus blushed. “I’m changing it the first chance I get.”

“No!” Sirius said indignantly. “You’re going to deny my claim as a deity? That’s very rude, Remus.”

They called for Remus’ flight to start boarding and Remus found himself disappointed that he couldn’t continue talking with Sirius. At least there was the promise of more conversations to come.

Remus laughed and got to his feet. “Fine, I’ll keep it. But it’ll be under review after the first time we shag.”

Sirius’ jaw dropped. “Remus! Now you’ve put quite a bit of pressure on me for our first time together.”

Remus grinned and bent down so he was mere inches away from Sirius’ face. With a courage he didn’t know he had, he just barely brushed his lips against Sirius’ and enjoyed the little inhale of breath he got in response. “You put the pressure on yourself by programming that as your name in my phone. I’ll have expectations now.”

Sirius rose to the challenge Remus had set down. He grabbed Remus by the front of his jumper and kissed him fiercely. Remus put his hands on Sirius’ shoulders to steady himself as they snogged in the airport. When he finally pulled back, he was breathless with kiss-swollen lips. “I have to go,” he said softly.

“Don’t go to Wales,” Sirius begged, tugging lightly at Remus’ jumper. “Wales is rubbish. Stay here with me.”

Remus chuckled. “What are you even doing here then if you’re staying in London?”

“I’m going to Paris for the week to visit my uncle Alfie,” Sirius explained, pressing kisses along Remus’ jawline.

“Then you’re not staying here either,” Remus reminded him in amusement. “Unless you’re offering to whisk me away to Paris.”

“Now there’s an idea.”

“Sirius, no,” Remus said, laughing softly. “Absolutely mental.”

“Fine,” Sirius said, pressing a kiss to the corner of Remus’ mouth, “I’ll let you go if you promise to be back for New Years and be my date.”

“So now I’m to be held hostage, is that it?” Remus joked, nipping playfully at Sirius’ bottom lip.

Sirius balked. “No, I just – “

Remus silenced him with a kiss. “Yes, I’ll be your date for New Years. Now will you let me board the plane, please?”

“Fine,” Sirius said, releasing his jumper. “Text me?”

“I will,” Remus promised, straightening up and fixing his jumper where it had gotten a bit rumpled from Sirius holding it. He grabbed his bag before getting in the queue to get on the plane. He gave Sirius a smile and a little wave before he disappeared through the door.

He had just found his seat when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and smiled at the name on the notification.

Sex God Sirius Black: I’d like to put an unexpected item in your bagging area.

Remus chuckled and shook his head.

Remus Lupin: Dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. I rescind my offer to be your date on New Years.

Sex God Sirius Black: NOOOOOOOO

Remus Lupin: Also an unexpected item makes it sound kind of rapey.

Sex God Sirius Black: It’s unexpected because of how large it is.

Remus Lupin: They all say that.

Sex God Sirius Black: Haven’t you learned not to doubt me?

Remus Lupin: I think you have a tendency to over-exaggerate.

Sex God Sirius Black: Me? Never!

Remus Lupin: Plane is about to take off. Talk to you later. Plonker.

Remus arrived in Wales less than an hour later. When he got off the plane, his mum was waiting for him and pulled him into a big hug. His dad was nowhere to be found but that suited Remus just fine. He was in the middle of hugging his mum when his phone went crazy with notifications buzzing.

“My, aren’t you popular!” Hope said with a grin.

Remus pulled his phone out. He had fifty-five text messages from Sirius. Shaking his head, he followed his mum out to the car and read them on the way home in between answering questions from his mum.

Sex God Sirius Black: I miss you already.

Sex God Sirius Black: Come back I want more kissing.

Sex God Sirius Black: Fuck, my flight is delayed three hours.

Sex God Sirius Black: I’m bored! Come back!

Sex God Sirius Black: This is a real injustice, Remus. I’ll never forgive you for abandoning me in my hour of need.

Sex God Sirius Black: Just kidding I forgive you.

Sex God Sirius Black: Do you want to get coffee because I like you a latte.

Sex God Sirius Black: Is that one better? More your speed?

Sex God Sirius Black: Fuck this is intolerable.

Sex God Sirius Black: I realize now that I’ve sent you way too many messages and you’re going to be very worried about giving me your mobile number.

Sex God Sirius Black: GO BIG OR GO HOME!

Sex God Sirius Black: I wish you could respond. I like talking to you.

Sex God Sirius Black: How long does it take to get to Wales?! I could swim there faster than this!

Sex God Sirius Black: In case you were wondering, I swiped right on you.

Sex God Sirius Black: Because I’m not a HEARTLESS MONSTER.

Sex God Sirius Black: And I thought you were cute.

Sex God Sirius Black: Although I need to teach you how to take better selfies. You’re absolutely pants at it.

Sex God Sirius Black: The selfies will just be for me though. No more Tinder for you!

Sex God Sirius Black: Or at least I hope.

Sex God Sirius Black: I’m thinking about deleting it myself. Is that too fast? I wouldn’t want to put any more expectations on this than I already have.

Sex God Sirius Black: Bollocks.

Sex God Sirius Black: I deleted it. It’s not like I can’t download it again, right?

Sex God Sirius Black: You probably think I’m a crazy person.

Sex God Sirius Black: Not probably. You definitely think I’m a crazy person.

Sex God Sirius Black: I’ll stop now and leave you alone before I scare you off.

Sex God Sirius Black: Well that lasted all of ten minutes.

Sex God Sirius Black: I went and got a Pumpkin Spice Latte at Starbucks because my chat up line made me want one.

Sex God Sirius Black: Yes, I am 100% that bitch.

Sex God Sirius Black: I hope you don’t think less of me, Remus.

Sex God Sirius Black: Not sure how you could though.

Sex God Sirius Black: I think I’ve probably scared you off. I have a tendency to do that.

Sex God Sirius Black: Not that this kind of thing happens to me a lot.

Sex God Sirius Black: Fuck!

Sex God Sirius Black: Sorry. I’m freaking out a little bit.

Sex God Sirius Black: I like you.

Sex God Sirius Black: Why was it so acceptable for people to write love letters back in Jane Austen time to people they hardly knew but it’s weird if I bombard you with text messages after meeting once and a few snogs?

Sex God Sirius Black: Mr. Darcy wrote Elizabeth Bennett a letter and it was romantic as shit!

Sex God Sirius Black: Did I just make myself Mr. Darcy in this scenario?

Sex God Sirius Black: I feel like you’re much more a Mr. Darcy type than I am.

Sex God Sirius Black: and hey we met because of a misunderstanding!

Sex God Sirius Black: I don’t have a bunch of sisters though. Just a brother named Regulus. We don’t really talk.

Sex God Sirius Black: My Uncle Alfie is sick. Colon cancer. I don’t normally see him for Christmas and just spend it with my friend James.

Sex God Sirius Black: Reg wouldn’t even come with me to see Alfie even though it’s probably going to be his last Christmas.

Sex God Sirius Black: Doesn’t that fucking suck?

Sex God Sirius Black: I’m sure he has his reasons.

Sex God Sirius Black: I don’t really get on with my family.

Sex God Sirius Black: Fuck this is some heavy shit. You running for the hills yet? Blocking my number?

Sex God Sirius Black: Sorry. This isn’t what you signed up for.

Sex God Sirius Black: I’m a bit of a hot mess.

Sex God Sirius Black: Emphasis on the hot.

Sex God Sirius Black: Sorry. I couldn’t help it.

Sex God Sirius Black: I’ll leave you alone until you can actually respond to me.

Sex God Sirius Black: Just know it’ll be difficult for me.

Sex God Sirius Black: If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes have not changed, but one word from you will silence me forever.

Sex God Sirius Black: Okay, I’m really done now.

Remus read them all and then went back and read them again. He tried not to laugh out loud because he didn’t exactly want his mum asking him questions. He didn’t want to share the fact that he had snogged a stranger at the airport and then given him his number. He didn’t think his mum would approve.

Remus Lupin: Oh my god!

Sex God Sirius Black: Moony!

Remus Lupin: What?

Sex God Sirius Black: I was bored so I was thinking up a nickname for you.

Remus Lupin: And that was the best you could come up with?

Sex God Sirius Black: Don’t be mean. I was distraught without you!

Remus Lupin: Yes I can see that.

Sex God Sirius Black: Well you’re texting me so I hope that means I haven’t frightened you off.

Remus Lupin: I was slightly alarmed when my phone went crazy in my pocket. But you won me back with the Jane Austen. I do identify with Mr. Darcy because I too hate speaking to people I don’t know and unnecessary dancing.

Sex God Sirius Black: You spoke to me.

Remus Lupin: Rare exception.

Sex God Sirius Black: Aww that makes me feel special.

Remus Lupin You should.

Sex God Sirius Black: I do

Remus Lupin: I’m sorry about your Uncle. And your brother. And your family. That all really sucks.

Sex God Sirius Black: Thanks. I’ll go into my sordid tragic backstory some other time. But for now my plane is boarding so you get to suffer the way I did.

Remus Lupin: At least I’ll suffer silently.

Sex God Sirius Black: Rude!

Remus Lupin: Have a safe flight.

Sex God Sirius Black: We’ll always have Paris.

Remus Lupin: Here’s looking at you, kid.

***

Remus Lupin sat outside with Sirius on the front steps of Sirius’ flat that he shared with James. He was cold and a little bit tipsy, but happier than he could remember being in quite a long time. Their gloved fingers were intertwined as they waited for midnight and the fireworks to start.

They could hear people counting down but Remus’ world narrowed to just Sirius. His nose and cheeks pink from the cold, his head covered with a beanie he’d stolen off Remus. They’d texted continuously over the holiday and since they’d both returned to London, Remus’ life had been filled with Sirius. They fit, in a way Remus had never felt he did with anyone else. Sometimes it made his stomach twist painfully at the thought that now he had something to lose.

But Sirius kept coming back, greedy for Remus – his time and his attention – and it eased the anxiety Remus felt. He thought back to that day at the airport and how he had almost missed this. He’d never been so happy about a mistake before in his life. He wasn’t sure if matching with Sirius on Tinder would have had the same effect that meeting him in person had. But then again, the overwhelming force that was Sirius Black felt kind of inevitable. Maybe they would have ended up here regardless of which was Remus swiped.

“You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” Sirius said at five seconds to Midnight.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Remus teased at three seconds to Midnight.

Smiling, they both leaned in towards each other, cold lips and warm mouths as they greeted the New Year together.

#wolfstar #I write things #anon prompt #long post #sirius black x remus lupin #flirting #kissing #tinder #texting fic

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ash-clarington · 3 years

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WHO: Ash & Dani ( @daniharperdominant ) WHEN: forever ago WHAT: rooftop p2- getting to know each other; that was never posted?? WARNINGS: -

Eleven-thirty had rolled around too quickly. Ash got into bed at around nine and had been struggling to even begin to get sleepy, she had been thinking too much. Too much of wondering what was going on in the new semester at her departed school. It was hard to keep in contact with her friends there, the few she had. Everything there hurt too much. Before the submissive could get sucked into another twenty minute unsolved mystery video, Ash swiped away at youtube and pulled up her texts. She hesitated over Dani's name, considering the option. Dani was, nice but not in a sickly way that made Ash want to vomit. And she was a strong Dominant, or she at least pretended well. Ash didn't really doubt it though, their scene together had settled her for a while, for that week, and not once had she felt unsafe or unengaged. So she sent the text, waited for the order, and head to the roof in and oversized hoodie she had stolen from a friend. His name still sewn in on the tag with a big J as a reminder of him.

Dani had been pleased to hear from Ash again - their scene had been great for her, and it meant the world that not only had the quiet submissive enjoyed herself, she'd even reached out as instructed when she got back to her room. It felt like progress, even if there was no defined end goal - whatever Ash was looking for, Dani intended to let her find it in her own good time. It wasn't her job, nor her responsibility, to define that. It was a pleasant surprise to hear from her, and Dani quickly packed up a couple of beers from her fridge and a blanket before heading up the roof, pleased to find the other girl already waiting there. "Hey, you," she greeted with a smile. "How are you tonight?"

Ash was halfway through a cigarette when she heard the door click open behind her, she waited until Dani spoke to turn to look at her, hair flying in her face. "Hey." She returned, took another drag and put it out. "I'm..." Ash hesitated for a slight moment, deciding how truthful to be. "Better than last week, Miss." She didn't add the thanks to you. Ash didn't need anyone thinking they held power over her, none that was personally sewn anyway. She was a submissive after all, the power balance itself didn't phase her. "Why are you up late again?" She asked, more directly than the Dominant had.

A smile, slight but there, flickered across Dani's face. She wasn't going to make a big deal of the answer, or ask for more details, but it was still nice to hear that Ash was doing well. "I'm really glad to hear it," she nodded before offering a cold beer. "I don't sleep all that well." The admission was honest, and she wanted Ash to know she was being open. "I slept too many places that I couldn't afford to close my eyes for long, and I got used to just getting an hour or two where I could."

Ash took the beer, thanking Dani politely, and twisted the top off. She leaned her weight to the right, peering over the edge. There was an incredibly strong urge to let the bottle cap drop over a group of people, presumably returning from town, below. Striking the thought, Ash pocketed it instead and leaned against the outer wall to take a sip. It was cold, and perfect. "You were homeless." Ash observed aloud, watching Dani. "Before you came here?"

Dani cracked open her own, taking a long sip and sighing with satisfaction as the cold liquid coated her throat. She hadn't realized quite how much she needed it until just that moment. "I was. Not the whole time, but for a while. My parents weren't all that big on having a lesbian for a daughter, and they didn't want me at home anymore."

It wasn't something Ash could remotely relate to but she absorbed the information and sipped her beer. "Must have been hard." She said, trying to imagine herself in that situation. Her father was strict but she didn't believe he would ever abandon her, not like that.

"It was," Dani agreed, taking another sip of her beer. "But at the end of the day, I'm glad. I'd rather have lived through that than lived with parents who didn't want me. I couldn't have spent that long hiding who I am, and I refused to crawl back into the closet for their comfort. I'd never have been able to look myself in the eye again."

Ash looked over at Dani, watching her as she spoke. She admired her conviction, Ash didn't know if she would have the strength to fight back or pull so far from her parents like that, despite her families strains, it sounded impossible. The brunette held up her beer to Dani's in a silent cheers to that. the woman seemed relatively sane for someone who not very long ago it sounded had very little structure in her life. A breeze swept through past them, not cold but enough to give Ash a chill, she lowered herself to the roof ground, sitting with her knees up, and leaned against the siding wall to hide from the wind.

Dani raised her bottle as well, thankful for even the silent toast. She didn't make a big deal about her own struggles, because she knew that she had it better than a lot of people did, but it was always nice when someone was willing to give her a bit of acknowledgement, to concede that she'd gone through a lot and come a long way. When Ash shivered, Dani moved closer and sat down beside her. She didn't talk about what she was doing, because that might break the magic of the moment and drive Ash off, but she unfurled the blanket she'd brought and draped it over both of them.

The shared blanket was accepted easily, Ash didn't mind sitting so closely to Dani. In fact she hardly even noticed. "Where did you live before?" The submissive continued to question, trying to picture it. Strange how they'd barely known a thing about each other and yet Ash vividly remembers Dani's lips on hers while the swell of her orgasm was still subsiding. The more information she got though, the more of a mystery the Dominant seemed.

It was a bit of a relief that Ash didn't resist the blanket, because Dani didn't want to have to fight to keep the submissive covered up and warm. "Austin," she smiled. Ash wasn't one for unnecessary conversation, and Dani was learning to keep it to a minimum with her. "That's where my whole family lives...lived, now that my sister and I are both here. How about you, Ash? Where did you live?"

"Boca Raton" Ash replied, the sound of it tasting dull in her mouth. She'd never really fit in, not at school, not at home, and certainly not with the sunny beach city attitude. "My parents are Devereux alums." She added. Ash had tried to avoid her father wishes in attending, trying to get out and as far away from her home state as she could but, it hadn't really worked out that way in the end. He always did seem to get his way.

"Oh - you're not far from home, then," Dani observed. "I think you're the first person I've met who had parents that went here." She offered it as a point of interest, and not for any further conversation. Dani was very content to let Ash lead things, so if she had more to say on the subject then that was fine, and if she didn't that was fine too. Instead she sipped her beer in silence.

Unfortunately not. Ash thought to herself and took a long sip of beer. They sat for a while, it was easy, and Ash found herself gravitating toward Dani, their shoulders pressed together beneath the blanket. After a while of comfortable silence, and another beer each later, Ash finally spoke again. "Do you see yourself claiming before you graduate?" She asked, then followed up quickly "There's no pretense to that." before her cheeks could go rosy.

"I didn't think there was," Dani promised. She felt comfortable pressed up against Ash, and the silence that they'd sat in was the good kind rather than the bad - the kind where no one needed to talk, but they both knew the option was there. "I don't like to say for sure, because you never know what'll happen, but I'm hoping so. How about you? Thinking you'll have found a claim before you leave?"

Ash felt her stomach turn and she shifted, pulling a little back and into herself. "That is the plan." It certainly was. It was what was expected of her but at this point, Ash didn't even know if she still wanted it herself. She did before but now the submissive felt cautioned and maybe more than a little apprehensive of the idea. Not that there was much of a choice. Ash could choose to never enter a claim again but the world wasn't set up for someone like that. It would be a lonely existence that she knew. "I guess that's why we're all here."

Dani frowned as Ash seemed to move away. Clearly that had been the wrong question, or phrased the wrong way, and suddenly the progress they'd made seemed to have all evaporated. "It is and it isn't, I'd say. Some people expect to leave here with a claim, some people are here to prepare for the possibility later. Nothing wrong with it either way."

"Maybe I should start seeing it that way." Ash let slip, humming it under her breath before finishing off her beer. At that current moment it didn't matter and Ash overwhelmingly felt like she didn't want to talk anymore. She set her bottle down and tipped her phone out of her pocket to check the time. "We should go to bed."

"I don't want to tell you what to think. It's something you need to decide for yourself, not hear from me." When Ash checked the time Dani took the chance to stretch. "Only if you want to. I can grab us another beer, if you want."

Ash's flight response coiled in her chest and she was ready to spring. The brunette had nearly already begun to stand but she made herself stay. It was her own fault for breaking the silence, for always letting her mind wander there, and her inability to make up her own mind about her opinion on the matter. It frustrated her. Perhaps frightened a better word. "One more." She finally agreed and the submissive worked to settle herself, and accepted the drink with a murmured thank you.

Dani wasn't truly sure that Ash would choose to stay, because she was unpredictable and hard to read - in a good way. But when she breathed out agreement to one last drink, Dani couldn't deny that it made her happy. "One more," she agreed, passing over a cold bottle and opening one more of her own as she settled back against the wall. "Are you going to the fair in town?"

Ash gave a shrug and took a long swing. "I've been invited to the haunted house sunday night." She said. Festivals weren't all bad, there were sweets and if Ash found the weather to be nice she would probably do some sketching. "It does give us something to do." She admitted, glad for what promised to be a quieter campus through the week with plenty of the students enjoying out enjoying it.

"Oh cool. That should be fun - haunted houses can actually be good if they're done right." Dani smiled and sipped her beer, nodding in agreement with Ash's point. "Yeah, exactly. It's a little break from campus life, with a few things to do that we usually can't. Anything else you're going to check out? You a fan of fair food?"

She shrugged again. "Not really. I'm more of a chocolate person." Ash said with a quirk of a smile. "Although I do enjoy the kettle corn." Truthfully Ash like the smell more than actually eating it but if she were choosing fair food, while she'd happily nibble a bit of someone's funnel cake, it was all she was really in for. The brunette distracted herself with her drink, and she sagged back into the blankets---and Dani. Despite the effort of conversation the beer and the atmosphere was making Ash warm and, finally, a little sleepy. She leaned against Dani, recalling the other night in the Dominant's bed as she lay her head on the woman's shoulder.

Dani grinned. "I'll remember that the next time we have one of these rooftop meetings, I'll be sure and bring some chocolate." When Ash rested against her she tried not to react too obviously or move too much, despite how much it meant to her. Since their first scene, when Ash had rested against her, it had become something that made Dani feel a little bit triumphant. She knew she wasn't a perfect Domme, or a perfect person, but she was proud to know that Ash trusted her enough to relax a little. All that she did in response was to adjust the blankets a little, making sure they were both warm, and settle quietly against the wall.

#dani harper #f2f: dani harper #para

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dvp95 · 5 years

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quiet on widow’s peak (1)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, youtuber phil lester, dan howell is not a youtuber, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.2k (this chapter & total) summary: Phil's got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story. Bingo squares: met on tumblr

new wip? NEW WIP.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The wind is loud in this one. That's frustrating, and it makes Phil's job a lot harder, but he can't control the weather. Be cool if he could. He does his best to level out his voice and the background noise of Mother Nature before he settles in with his good headphones and really cranks the volume.

It's even more annoying to listen to the alternating crackle and whistle right in his ears. Phil has dealt with worse during this whole process, though, so he finds the strength to power through it. He listens to the full thing three times, scribbling a few timestamps down on a Post-It pad as he does. He takes a break after that, does some stretches around his tiny bedroom and tiptoes out to get a snack without waking the whole damn house, and then he's right back in his apparently ergonomic office chair to subject his ears to more of this nonsense.

Wind, wind, and more wind. And sometimes just Phil's own voice. Nothing of note.

Phil is about to give this video up as a loss altogether when he hits one of the final timestamps and... can't figure out what that noise is.

For the first time since he opened this file, Phil grins. He exports the clip and plays around with it in Audacity. Some videos are always more fun than others, and Phil had felt like he was slogging through this one until now.

"Do you hear that, Theodore?" Phil murmurs. The tiny cactus on his desk, thankfully, does not respond.

It sounds like a person. It sounds like a person, whispering, and it definitely isn't the wind, and it isn't Phil's own voice, because he's in the middle of a question in this clip.

Phil might just be going crazy from sleep deprivation or wishful thinking, though. He pulls out his phone and texts the only group chat that doesn't cause him anxiety, which is comprised of the housemates that he actually gets along with. Anyone up? he asks, adding a single eye emoji for good measure.

Even though it's gone two in the morning, he gets immediate responses from all of them. A string of vaguely dirty emojis from Chris, a simple yeah from Sophie, and a cheerfully morbid did you know that insomnia leads to an early death? from PJ.

Wanna listen to a noise for me?

Within three minutes, Phil's bedroom is full of people in various states of sleepiness. All of them are in ridiculous pyjamas - including Phil - and PJ's hair in particular has taken on a mind of its own. Phil's room isn't really big enough for all of them, so there's some awkward shuffling before PJ claims the office chair. Phil sits at the foot of his bed with Sophie and Chris on either side of him, pressed close against each other's shoulders. It's a good thing he likes these people.

"I mean, it isn't the wind," is PJ's confident opinion. "Did you have anyone with you?"

"No, it's just me and my camera against the world," says Phil.

"No need to be a twat," Chris informs him. He taps at PJ's upper arm, impatient. "Let me have a go, then, if there's something there."

Chris is famously bad at hearing things in white noise, but PJ acquiesces the seat easily enough. Phil laughs, watching them do a weird step dance around each other in the small space between Phil's bed and desk.

"I can't hear any specific words," PJ says as he flops down across Phil's pillows, making himself comfortable. Phil just nods, because neither can he.

"How d'you know it's a person, then?" Sophie asks. Her voice is probably the only one soft enough for the hour. Their other housemates hate them for their frequent all-nighters, but Sophie is kind and quiet enough that she slips under the radar.

"You'll see for yourself."

When Sophie goes to respond, Chris interrupts in a hilariously loud voice, as if he's forgotten that having headphones on doesn't mean they can't hear him. "It's some kind of ghoulie or ghostie! I can barely fucking hear it, Philly, why didn't you mic it?"

"Why didn't I mic the ghost?" Phil asks, bewildered. Naturally, Chris doesn't hear him.

Sophie taps Chris on the shoulder and stands, leaning over his shoulder as she takes her turn listening to the sound clip over and over. Chris spins in the chair a few times and gives Phil an unhinged sort of grin.

"You got something this time," says Chris. He sounds like he's having just as much fun as Phil is, now that there's actually a thing to listen to besides his own voice and the loud, loud wind.

"I think so," says Phil. "Why didn't I mic the ghost?"

"I'm saying it would make your job a lot easier if you mic the ghost, yes."

"If I could mic a ghost, I'd be a millionaire."

"Then you better get on it, eh?" Chris laughs, spinning a bit faster. Phil has never seen the man sleep. It's a little bit worrying.

"Sure," Phil says, giving up on trying to teach any logic to someone who's clearly long lost their hold on it. "Next time I spend all night in a graveyard, I'll mic any spirits that might be hanging out."

"Shut up," Sophie tells them, mild.

Chris mimes zipping his lips, wrapping an easy arm around her waist, and PJ laughs.

For the first few months they all lived together, Phil had struggled to keep up with whatever dynamics were going on between the three of them, but he's long since given it up as something he's not going to understand.

After a moment of quiet, Sophie nods. "I hear it," she tells them. Even with the headphones on, she's quiet. "It's not words, I wouldn't put any subtitles over it."

"Yeah," PJ agrees. "Just let your audience duke it out in the comments like they always do."

"Thanks, guys," Phil says, feeling a sort of warmth sink into his shoulders. He notices that Chris is pulling up another application and half-heartedly protests. "Chris, you don't need to edit this one for me. I still haven't paid you for the last video." Or the one before that. Or the three or four previous. Phil has it written down somewhere.

"Don't be stupid," Chris hums, already clicking around erratically. It makes the editor in Phil want to scream, but he has to admit that Chris manages to find more weird visual stuff to isolate than he could on his own.

"I feel bad," says Phil, chewing his lip.

"I've told you," says Chris, "you can pay me back in chores and sexual favours."

PJ's slippered foot knocks against Phil's hip, and he grins brightly when Phil turns to him. "You know, I do have a bit of a laundry backlog."

"Funny thing, that," says Sophie.

Biting back a laugh, Phil shakes his head. "Alright, alright. Everybody leave their laundry in front of my door tomorrow."

"That's a no on the beej, then?" Chris asks, raising a single eyebrow and pointing dramatically at Phil. It has been near two years of this, and Phil is still too afraid to ask if it's a joke.

It's not as if Phil's answer would change if it wasn't a joke, because he's not interested in Chris, and he's especially not interested in becoming entangled in whatever nonsense his housemates have gotten themselves into. But, still, he might be kinder about letting Chris down if he were being genuine.

"That is a no," Phil confirms. "But I will wash your pants."

"Kinky," says Chris. He turns back to the screen and makes an incomprehensible hand gesture. "This is pretty shit. You know that, right?"

Yeah. Phil does know that. It's getting harder and harder to have the same optimism in every video that he'd had when he first started recording his wanderings around the supposedly-haunted places of Rossendale. He'd brought the camera with him when he left, but might have left that optimism behind. Phil only kind of believes in supernatural things - the way he only kind of believes in giraffes or true love - but it's been more fun than anything else to pick up a camera and try to find some evidence.

He's been doing this since he was nineteen, though, and he's getting a little bored by the formula of it all. Go into a haunted place, try to communicate with the spirits, pick up some garbled words or creepy noises, highlight visual oddities like orbs, and let the internet tear it all to shreds. Honestly, he'd have more fun making proper horror at this point in his life.

Phil shrugs and pulls his knees up to his chest. He wants to hide away from the sympathy in Sophie's eyes, from Chris' blunt words. "Yeah. I'm getting kind of... I don't know. Restless."

"Maybe you should ask people to submit things again," PJ suggests. "That went well last time."

It had, actually. Phil had needed to sort through a lot more ridiculous stories and obvious hoaxes than usual, but he'd found some nuggets of gold in all that hay. Or however that saying goes.

"People did like having their stories read out," Phil says slowly. "I'd just need to be extra sure that nobody's, like..."

"Ripping off r/NoSleep," says PJ.

"Yeah, exactly."

"We can help," Sophie says, and Phil could cry at how easily PJ and Chris agree with her.

He really doesn't deserve to have such great people around him. They've got work and lives of their own, but they're always happy to spend time crowded around Phil's computer listening to weird noises together. Phil sometimes wonders what they get out of it. Do they just like helping him, the way he has fun holding the boom for PJ's films or testing Sophie's concoctions? Or are they just as fascinated as Phil by the weirdness of it all? Do they want to see the cool instances of paranormal activity, too? At this point it feels nearly impossible to ask.

"That's going to be a lot of washing pants for me," Phil sighs. He doesn't know how to thank them, not when they always just wave it off.

"Sure is," says PJ. "But you should... ask the audience!"

"Your Chris Tarrant is pretty good," says Phil, only a little surprised by it. PJ's voice is as much of a tool to him as the rest of his body, and it's one he's always been skilled with. The impressions still tend to catch Phil off guard sometimes.

PJ tips an invisible hat. "Thank you, thank you, I'll be here all week."

At his friends' not so gentle encouragement, Phil makes a few posts on his socials to ask his followers for new creepy things to explore. It might be the middle of the night in Brighton, but he has a feeling that Chris isn't leaving his desk until he's found every instance of an orb or strange shadow in the fifty minutes of currently uncut footage.

It seems like Sophie is on the same page, because she excuses herself to make tea for everyone. PJ leans over Chris' shoulder and watches the clips without sound, his lips moving as if he's murmuring to himself.

Sometimes this feels more like a group effort than Phil is comfortable with. He's never been very good at asking for help. As grateful as he is, he still itches with the need to take back control of the situation. He uses the slow trickle of fan submissions to distract him from that feeling, because all three of them do make his videos better when he stops being so possessive over his footage. Phil flops onto his back and scrolls through the incoming emails, tweets, and Tumblr messages to see if there's anything promising.

For the most part, the answer is a resounding no. Some things are blatant lies - there are countless ripoffs of films or novels that Phil happens to be familiar with, a few things swiped from creepypasta or subreddits, and his usual amount of conspiracy theorist fans insisting that some high profile person or other is a lizard - but most of it, to Phil's dismay, just doesn't grab his attention the way he wants it to.

Sophie comes back with tea and snacks. She leans her head against Phil's shoulder and watches him cycle through his apps, fact-checking idly and sighing every time something easily proves to be a hoax. Her hair smells like coconut and she makes a soft humming noise every time she lifts the mug to her lips. Her presence alone, small and warm and supportive, is enough to keep Phil from throwing his phone across the room and having a right sulk about how his career is in a tailspin because nobody makes ghosts like they used to. At some point in the night, Sophie's breathing evens out to the point that Phil thinks she's asleep, but then she reaches out to tap a tiny finger to his screen.

"What's this, then?" she murmurs.

Phil has been zoned out entirely for at least fifteen, and he blinks back into reality. There's a new message in his Tumblr inbox, one that seems like it must be over the character limit for asks. He must have submissions turned on or something, that's the only possible explanation for an actual essay being sent to him. It's barely broken into paragraphs with very little punctuation and no capitalization, and Phil has been staring at screens for far too long to try and parse this on his own.

"Can you please make sure this isn't, like, the entire Bee Movie," Phil asks, handing Sophie his phone with only a slight twinge of anxiety. He trusts her not to go snooping, but. Still. "I need to pee."

"Mhm," Sophie hums, already apparently lost in whatever stream-of-consciousness has been dropped into Phil's inbox.

The floorboards in this old Brighton house creak, and Phil has always envied some of his housemates for being able to sidestep the noises. It doesn't seem to matter how long he lives here, how much he tries to avoid making any noise, it's like the floorboards are determined to creak under Phil's weight. He winces as he passes two bedrooms whose occupants surely don't appreciate creaking outside their doors at such an ungodly hour.

At least he doesn't run into any walls this time. The nightlight in the bathroom at the end of the hall is the only thing lighting Phil's way, and he tends to stub his toes on absolutely nothing in this kind of semi-darkness.

When he makes his - very, very creaky - way back to his own room, he's bewildered by the scene that greets him. PJ and Chris have joined Sophie on his bed, and all three of them are poring over Phil's phone as though they're looking at a map to the Holy Grail.

"Hello," Phil says slowly, closing the door behind him. It creaks, too. "You aren't going through my pictures, are you?"

"No," Sophie and PJ chorus without looking up.

"You got nudes on here or something?" Chris asks with a mild sort of interest, clearly also too engaged in Phil's phone to put his all into the flirting.

"I don't," says Phil. It doesn't sound convincing, even though it's true, and he waits for Chris to tease him about it some more. When he doesn't, Phil has to admit that he's curious. "So I guess it isn't a meme or something?"

That makes them look up, in almost comedic synchronicity. Sophie blinks a few times, as if she's coming back to herself. She holds out Phil's phone and shakes her head.

"It's not a meme," she says. "And near as we can tell, it's genuine."

Phil joins them and takes his phone back, adjusting his glasses. His bed really wasn't made for four people, but his housemates have never had any personal space amongst themselves, and Phil isn't one to say no to human contact when he isn't getting it anywhere else.

The message is just as hard to read as it was at first glance, but Phil puts his brain to work. If his friends are reacting like this, it usually means he's in for something good.

hi ok so the thing is that this is completely ridiculous and i dont think its what youre looking for at all but theres a building near my uni thats got a ton of stories around it and it only started happening like this year like it isnt an old obviously haunted type of place but theres a lot of weird shit that goes down there so i found all the references to it online that i could and ive summarized them here (w/ sources ofc im not a dick) and its all just this side of strange so it seems like the sort of thing you might be interested in ok here we go SO

And it goes on like that. Phil feels his eyebrows raising as he clicks the provided links in the following walls of text, which are exactly what they're advertised as. Not a single rickroll in there. Just a handful of posts on Reddit and Facebook and independent blogs about various experiences people have had with a particular abandoned building in -

"I know this place," Phil says, surprised. He looks up at PJ's grin, Sophie's wide eyes, Chris' palms rubbing together in exaggerated interest. "I've been to parties here. Well, okay," he corrects himself before his friends can do it for him, "I've gone with Martyn to parties here and left early."

"Yeah, it isn't far out of Manchester," PJ hums. He bounces in place a bit, like he's suddenly energized enough to go jump on the soonest train up north.

"It didn't seem that weird," says Phil. "It's been a few years, I guess, but it wasn't even that scary."

"Sounds like it's only just started, though," Chris pipes up.

Phil isn't sure how much he likes that. The idea of a place he's been a few times, half an hour from his childhood home, being so suddenly full of haunted activity feels... weird. Still, it's catching his interest in a way that nothing else has in months, so.

"I'll look into it some more tomorrow," he decides, glancing at the time. His brother is probably still awake, to be honest, but Phil doesn't want to be that guy asking 'hey, do you remember the Wilkins place?' before dawn has even broken. Again. He has definitely done that sort of thing in the past. "I'll have plenty of time while I do, what, seventeen loads of laundry?"

"Something like that," PJ laughs. "Want us to clear out?"

As nice as the company and help has been, Phil still feels a rush of relief at the concept of being left alone again. He nods, still scrolling idly through the Wilkins place submission.

It hits him, very literally, too close to home to ignore. He wonders if his fan knows that, if this is somehow an elaborate prank that will end up just wasting Phil's time, but he's too curious to leave it alone. He'll just have to ask around, see if anyone else has heard these murmurings.

Til then, maybe he ought to try and get some sleep. Phil's computer, still open on the editing software, tempts him.

Well. What's another couple hours at this point?

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #qowp..... mayhaps i made a mistake w this title......#quiet on widow's peak #YES it's another marianas title what are you the marianas title police?#bingo

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cardandpixel · 4 years

Text

9 Board Game YouTubers I Follow & Why (plus a few others)

In the literal dim and distant past when I started boardgaming (honestly, the biggest threat was tallow wax on your board), the internet was still accessed by whatever IP address you could remember off the top of your head (there’s no place like 127.0.0.1 as they sayI) - and the only TikTok was the clock ticking, waiting for half of Louise Nurding’s left leg to download only to realise it was Anne Widdecombe and you’d hit the wrong link on a BB. Boardgames had some quiet and shady corners of the internet, in those same Bulletin Boards, there was one for HeroQuest and Space Crusade when they came out. But sadly, if you wanted to see a boardgame being played or learn the rules, you either had to go round to your friend Tim’s house where he had a new chits-for-days wargame going, or sit down and actually read the rulebook yourself. As a result, I bought some interesting games in my time, including a game called Operation Overlord - a mighty chit-tastic WW2 N African campaign monster that I bought in desperation from the Games Workshop in Manchester on the first morning that it opened in 1979 (?) as we were so far back in the queue that there wasn’t a space marine to be had for miles. But now, we have a plethora of kindly folk available on our blistering shiny Windows NT 486sx machines to inform and delight us in full 8-bit glory. Everything from reviews, buying guides, rules tutorials and even painting & crafting guides, we can be bathing in just about whatever aspect of board or wargaming we so desire in an effort to stave off the clattering realisation that it’s been over 3 months since we spent any quality time with another breathing soul outside our houses. The question gets frequently asked on boardgame FaceAche forums “What YouTube channels are worth my time and why?” so in an effort to throw my own towel into that controversial ring, here’s my pick of probably 9ish, maybe more by the end, but let’s start with 9 in no particular order..... 1) 3 MINUTE BOARDGAMES

One of the first board games ‘er across the table (TM) and I bought together was a copy of Gloom from a little games and comic shop halfway round the world in Hamilton NZ, Mark 1 Comics. As we were achingly close to moving to NZ a few years ago, we’ve kept up with many aspects of what might have been our life over there, so it was a delight to discover Jarrod (and now Stephanie) on YouTube, a friendly and familiar accent reviewing board games. But it’s not just the NZ vibe that I love, Jarrod does a great job of cutting thru the hyperbole and bloat often associated with trying to keep YouTube vids ‘long for the algorithm’ (ugh) and just gives very pragmatic reasons for a game either joining or leaving his collection. He has a great approach, and it’s nice to see him finally on camera instead of the disembodied voice. Great reviewer, and Stephanie is utterly hilarious. 2) THE BROTHERS MURPH

Mike & Nick are two of the most engaging brothers on YouTube let alone just in the boardgaming community. Their series on thrift shop finds has dredged up some hilarious and often tragic specimens from the grand days of Palitoy, MB and Parker Games. They are also masters at ‘speed reviewing’ often piling reviews of 50 or 60 games into the same number of minutes. I think I favour the ‘don’t outstay your welcome’ approach to YouTube in general, and the Brothers Murph are at great ease with this philosophy and yet they take on simple party games thru to the heaviest euros with the same distillation equipment, and yet their reviews are never trivial or throw away. We had the chance to chat to Nick at Airecon this year and he was a lovely guy, slightly blown away by the fact that people liked his channel. He’s also an awesome artist too.

3) ACTUALOL

There are many reviewers on the web who have cost me a fair amount of money, the worst being Zee Garcia, however, a close second is Jon Purkiss aka Actualol. Jon has a terrifying gift for finding games, and especially ridiculously affordable games, that I buy on spec and then end up absolutely loving. Jon has a light and breezy style which is instantly engaging - I also really want his comfy chair (surely in exchange for a nice review on here Jon???). His videos are tidy and concise and yet still convey a deep enthusiasm and joy for games. His reviews very clearly portray what the setting of the game is and what you’ll be doing, without getting embroilled in the rules. He always has great footage of the game on the table (please reviewers - look at the ratio of your face to the game you’re talking about - less than 10% game and i’m walkin’) and often favours the less pricey end of the market which suits me fine. Brilliant games I love thanks to Jon include: Second Chance, Magic Maze and Ninja Academy

4) OUR FAMILY PLAYS GAMES

There’s not much to be said about Mik & Starla Fitch that cannot be gained from watching a mere 3-4 minutes of their channel. For sheer exuberance aimed squarely at a love for bringing families together via our glorious hobby, you cannot top these guys. If you are ever - EVER - feeling slightly lacklustre about gaming or losing your mojo for whatever reason - heck if you are just feeling slightly down, treat yourself to 10 minutes in the company of these two excellent human beings. Their reviews and playthru’s have all the humanity you need in a game and after five minutes you are thinking “Is the US too far to go just for a gaming evening?” We’d both utterly love to sit across the table from these lovely people and just play, and I can’t say that about every reviewer, I’ll be honest. Their reviews are often centred around unloved classics (watch their vid dedicated to why they love Catan as an example - you’ll be clicking Buy Now before your know it) and also some great quirky unknowns that I’m trying to hunt down even now. They’ve just had a brilliant couple of boosts from both a spot of Good Morning America recently, and becoming reviewers for the mighty Dice Tower. I’m immensely grateful for a tweet by Rodney Smith for pointing me in their direction, my social media is a much brighter place with the Fitch family in it.

5) RAHDO RUNS THROUGH

“Heeeeey Everybody”. One of the first board game reviewers I ever caught on YouTube was the inimitable Richard Ham aka Rahdo. And I’m so glad I did. I would genuinely never sit down and try and learn a game from one of Rahdo’s playthrus, they are what I imagine being in a wind tunnel full of 50 tonnes of feathers is like. BUT and this is crucial - if I want an idea of what a game is going to feel like to play, there is no finer deliverer of the remote game experience than Mr Richard Ham. His unique ability to explain how a game is going to work, turn by turn; the decisions you will make; the things you’ll have to consider; the short and long term goals; are all brilliantly covered in one of Rahdo’s videos. His ability to make different choices for his ‘ghost partner’ Jen (who does exist in real life, we have bought jewelry off her, she’s lovely) also adds a real dynamism to the games, showcasing the flexibility in a design for different play strategies. Rahdo tends towards 2 player games and usually at the heavier end of the scale, but if there’s a game you are thinking of buying, check Mr Ham out first!

6) WATCH IT PLAYED

It’s often been said that Canadians are some of the politest folk on the planet, but when it comes to ranking Canadians, well, I’m sure they’d be too humble to rank each other so I’ll have to. Rodney Smith is the loveliest man in the world. There, end of article. But it’s true. We’ve been watching Rodney since we first got confused about the rules for Mice & Mystics (which we still got wrong but that wasn’t Rodney’s fault) and his ever chirpy, ever positive approach to his rules rundowns is utterly remarkable and frankly, enviable. And it’s his attention to detail and clarity for explaining rules that have rightly made Rodney one of the most important resources in the gaming hobby. If you have ever struggled over a rulebook and haven’t raced to Watch It Played, I will guarantee you will have spent far longer on that rulebook and lost way more hair than you ever needed to. We had the great honour of playing Rajas of the Ganges with Rodney at Airecon in 2019, and I mugged up on the rules sooo much. Regular imbibers of this rag will know my sloth for reading rulebooks is legendary but fortunately ‘er across the table (TM) loves them. But, for the 3 days running up to our trip to Harrogate, I did nothing but read that rulebook - this was THE Rodney Smith, you can’t get a rule wrong with Rodney. But of course, nerves kicked in and I could barely remember the rules of Snap, but the nicest man in the world could not have been nicer. Really, quantum mechanics has proved it. He was just the same man off the computer telly. Funny, engaging, warm and happy to chat as well as play (which I was also really nervous about doing!), if you don’t watch Rodney, are you really internetting?

7) TABLETOP MINIONS

“Pachow” From boardgames to wargames. As well as my slight addiction to cardboard, my other opiate overlord is 28mm plastic miniatures. Specifically those involved in tabletop skirmish games like Malifaux, 7TV, Fallout Wasteland Warfare, GuildBall and a smattering of others. Though recently more focused on the frankly insane amount of content being released by Games Workshop, Tabletop Minions is presented by the splendid Uncle Atom. (In fact, I identify his content so much as Uncle Atom’s stuff that I honestly had to double check the name of the channel for this article!). My plastic habit uncle (sounds so wrong, but so true) has possibly the gentlest delivery of anyone on the internet. It’s not so much content, as therapy. I know the net is awash with AMSR channels at the mo, but if you don’t want to listen to some overmonetized southern californian with some bubble wrap and a large capsule condenser mic, just hop over to TTM and listen to the Uncle for 5 minutes. He’s like a soothing bubble bath of content about painting figures, philosophy of the hobby, general art & design principles, and great life advice. He also wears a fez.

8) GIRL PAINTING

“Hello Tchoobies!” I painted my first 28mm figure when i was about 12ish - it was, ironically, a space marine of some sort - the old clunky Ral Partha ones. It looked terrible, but each model got a bit better till I stopped for some reason a few years later. When I got into Malifaux a few years ago (ie decades, several of them, later), I knew I was going to have to get back into painting; heaps of grey plastic does not a skirmish game make. (Little did I know I would have to revisit my microscopy days either when assembling damn Bayou Gremlins!) Two channels were recommended to me, the Esoteric Order of Gamers (more later) and Girl Painting. EOG put me on the path to believing I could paint again, but Alexandra at Girl Painting actually made me believe I could learn to do it well. GP’s approach to painting figures, terrain and vehicles is based on solid art theory. Her explanation of colour relationships and the colour wheel is something I can quote to this day. All of the techniques that I lean on so heavily in day to day painting both for table and display I learnt from Girl Painting. Correct use of washes, wet blending, non-metallic metals, shading, drybrushing, highlighting, model reading, all of it from studying intently, often with a brush actually in my hand while watching the channel. I cannot recommend GP enough if you want to put paint to plastic. Whatever your ability, you will learn something from this hidden gem of a channel.

9) ESOTERIC ORDER OF GAMERS

Another dang fine antipodean and another slightly unusual channel. I have a terrible, terrible memory when it comes to rules. In our early days, we also had a a lot of games with seemingly very over-bloated rulebooks - FFG games basically. I suddenly realised what I wanted was to lift the lid of a box and find in the lid, a summary of the important stuff i needed to remember about the game. Apparently I was not the only one. In 2013 a chap known as Universal Head started publishing an amazing series of rules summaries which condensed down some of the bloatiest rulesbooks down to often one or 2 pages of A4. It was a (pardon the pun) gamechanger for me. I can’t count the number of games in our collection that have a friendly sheet of A4 now as the first thing you see when you open the box. They are brilliant. And he’s still doing it to this day. I would argue that the more useful leg to his activities is the website rather than YouTube channel, but his channel does have the aforementioned brilliant figure painting tutorials, unboxing videos and some crafting stuff. The website is definitely the place for the rules summaries and also a fantastic resource for build-it-yourself foamcore box inserts. Though Folded Space have now made box inserts pretty affordable, there’s still no feeling like the satisfaction of building your own, and I would argue that some of EoG’s designs actually make more sense than some of the Folded Space ones anyway. AND THE OTHER ONES (Who probably don’t really need the exposure, but hey, only 11 people probably read this so......) Why aren’t these on the list above? Just because I wanted to highlight some of the more marginal channels above or more specialist rather than the pure reviewers. SHUT UP & SIT DOWN Possibly my favourite channel on YouTube, whose name sounds more like a menacing Yorkshire greeting than a boardgame channel. SU&SD seem to be a real Marmite issue on the board game communities. And I genuinely don’t understand it. Yes, their reviews are often really funny but honestly, if that’s all you take away then you are missing some amazingly detailed and thought provoking work. Quinns and crew’s reviews are some of the most measured and balanced reviews in the gameyverse. Their reasoning for the conclusions they come to are incredibly well thought through and often very surprising based on the tone of the rest of the review. They have steered me to some games I would never have looked twice at and steered me away from some very shiny games that I might have blown a lot of money on otherwise. Flagposting great alternatives is also a signature of their reviews, and that again has often lead me to some fantastic games. We don’t always agree (their recent review of 10 Oink Games was savage imho) but we always disagree for the right reasons. Again, I would argue their website is actually a better overall resource, especially their podcasts which are superb, but all their content is fantastic.

in a highly similar vein I would add NO PUN INCLUDED. Efka & Elaine produce some of the most thoughtful and intelligent boardgame review content today, and often for some of the deepest and most complex games. The joy of boardgaming is that it is highly subjective and there are lots of times when NPI like/dislike a game that I do/don’t, but they are engaging and warm enough as presenters to hit you with a gentle subtext that says “It’s ok - I know we like this game, we get that you don’t, it doesn’t make any of us bad people, just people y’know, have a sandwich with us” Efka criticising a game reminds me of when Dennis Healey once described an argument with Geoffrey Howe as being ‘savaged by a dead sheep’, though not in the cynical manner of the original. The criticism is loaded with that crucial dose of ‘hear me out’ that is sadly lacking in 90% of all other reviewers out there. Efka & Elaine are no GoggleBox reviewers, they are the real deal - they genuinely understand how games work and why. The sheer moral turmoil that Efka expressed over the cultural issues in Rising Sun was some of the most thoughtful YouTube content I have ever seen. I just wanted to do a little shout out to Johannes & Sunniva at BOARD GAMING RAMBLINGS - I don’t have as much to say as they are relatively new on my radar, but I have really enjoyed their content so far and find them to be like one of those adorable gaming couples that you might see every once in a while at your gaming group and have a blast with, and then not see for months and go “Awh - I really miss Johannes & Sunniva - where’d they go?” that feeling, you know the one. Adorable, with a hint of the esoteric. Also, a quick but important mention to the other titan of boardgame rules explanation that is Paul Grogan of GAMING RULES!. Like Rodney Smith, Paul is meticulous about rules explanation and is really clear and simple to follow, even for very heavy games, which Paul tends to do more of than Rodney, which is probably why I end up watching Paul slightly less, but certainly not for any less quality. Paul has such a reputation in the industry that he now works closely with many designers and publishers to help craft the best rulebooks around as a consultant. So that’s it - congrats for making it through folks. Didn’t think it was going to run this long, but turns out.... I quite like a lot of the YouTubers I watch - who knew? Until next time... happy gaming y’all.

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hellagayweird0 · 5 years

Text

Memories

A/N: My tag list (including forevers) is open!! If you’d like to be added to the list, please send me an ask or msg letting me know! Thank you!!

A/N #2: This is for @spnskinnyballs 500 Follower Card Challenge! The character is Rob and the prompt is Home Movies.

A/N #3: Anything in italics = videos

Word Count: 1608

Characters: Reader, Rob, Scout the dog, Rich (mentioned), Matt (mentioned)

Pairing: RobxReader

Warnings: There’s nothing but sweet, sweet fluff here

“Found it!”

You happily strolled into the living room, a flash drive firmly in your grasp. Your husband glanced over at you, his face instantly changing from neutral to confused.

“Found what?”

You made your way over to the couch, grabbing your laptop and sticking the flash drive into a USB port. Rob sat up and adjusted his place next to you, interested in whatever you were doing.

“You’ll see in a second.”

Your tongue peeked out from between your lips as you concentrated on navigating through the many files on the tiny stick. Finally, you sighed contently, leaning back against the couch, glancing over at Rob as the first video started playing.

You could barely see his eyes because of the glare on his glasses, but you could tell they were completely lit up. A smile spread across his face as he watched the bright screen.

---

“Say hi to the camera, Robby!”

Rob turned towards you, instantly laughing when he saw the camcorder pointed at him. He waved dramatically, his wide grin making you blush.

“So, first day in the new house! I wanted to document the journey from just moving in to fully furnished.”

You started to walk around the barely furnished living room, moving the camera every few seconds in order to capture the entire room.

“And just imagine, we’ll be able to look back at this when we’re old and grey.”

You giggled.

“I’m sure we’ll age like a fine wine.”

His arms immediately flew around your shoulders as he gently kissed your cheek.

“I know you will, that’s for sure. You’ll never stop being this beautiful.”

You jokingly groaned, squirming from his arms and running into the kitchen.

“Nothing except the stuff soon to be in our fridge should be that cheesy, babe.”

His low toned laugh echoed throughout the bare rooms as he followed you. Multiple boxes had been piled in the middle of the kitchen floor, and upon seeing them, you were filled with a mixture of excitement and dread.

“Oh, I had forgotten about unpacking for a split second. We still have a few boxes in the car and more on the way tomorrow. This will undoubtedly take a while.”

You slowly swung your arms in Rob’s direction as he opened one of the smaller boxes.

“We can ask Rich and Matt if they can come over to help. They’ve been offering to ever since we announced we were buying this place.”

Rob grabbed a pan out of the box and placed it in front of his face.

“What are you doing, you goof?”

You laughed as he moved the pan from his face to his shirt, making random faces as he repeated his actions.

“You’re such a dork, Mr. Benedict. And that’s why I love you.”

---

A large Australian Shepherd puppy came bounding towards you as you pulled out your camera. He bumped into your leg with his nose, signaling he was ready to be pet.

You softly rubbed his head and back, a huge smile plastered on your face.

“Hey there, big guy. How are you liking your new home so far?”

Scout barked as he licked your hand.

“I’ll take that as a positive response.”

“Hey, buddy!”

Scout turned his full attention to Rob as he strolled in the fully furnished living room. Scout’s tail began to wag intensely as the man approached you both.

“You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?”

A short laugh left your mouth as Scout started to dart around the room, clearly not empty of energy. Rob waved his hands playfully at the pup, making Scout’s wild movements even crazier.

“Don’t get him too worked up, Rob!”

You squealed, taking a few steps back so you could capture everything that was going on in your living room.

“I’m trying to get rid of all his energy.”

Rob got down on the ground, resting on his knees. Scout instantly started to lick his face, making the man laugh.

“Thanks for the bath, Scout.”

He gently tried to push the dog’s face away from his, but Scout was too determined. Before you could really register what was happening, Scout knocked Rob onto his back, placing his two front paws on Rob’s chest.

Your eyes went wide as you started to giggle uncontrollably.

“Trying to get rid of all his energy, huh? How’d that work out for you?”

Rob smiled as he glanced up at you, seeing the grin that you held on your face, the camera still pointed at them.

“I didn’t know he was that strong. I’m still getting used to him and he’s only a puppy.”

Scout continued his assault of love on Rob, occasionally kneading his paws into his chest.

“Yeah, but he’s also an Australian Shepherd. Those guys are tough and will do anything to get some love.”

Rob squinted his eyes at you, trying to push Scout off of him. After a few seconds, he was successful, finally able to sit up.

“Listen, big guy, I love you, but you need to not attack me when I’m just trying to pet you.”

You laughed, reaching your free hand out to help Rob up. He took it, groaning as he got to his feet. Scout kept barking, upset that his innocent attack was halted.

“Your dad is right, sweetheart. You gotta be gentle, okay?”

You leaned down to run a hand along the pup’s soft fur, scratching his head. In response, he gave your cheek a quick lick, making you quietly yelp.

“That’s better.”

---

“Robby, if you make a mess all over this kitchen, I swear that you’re going to be the only one cleaning it up.”

Rob continued to jolt the pan in his hand upwards, making the pancake in it fly into the air. He was having too much fun.

“I’m being careful, I know what I’m doing.”

You aimed the camera at him, laughing from behind it.

“You just learned how to do this from a YouTube video twenty minutes ago and this is your first attempt. I don’t think you can blame me for being nervous.”

His face was practically glowing as the fluffy cake landed safely in the pan once more. Scout sat beside him, his tail going crazy. He was eagerly waiting for the food he smelled to splat on the floor.

“Trust me, just one more flip.”

Stress sped through your whole body as Rob flung the pan up one last time, the pancake soring upwards. At that moment, it was like everything moved in slow motion.

Time quickly returned to normal as the small cake landed with a smack….on the floor. Rob let out a cry of frustration as Scout barked happily, scooping the treat into his mouth and running into the living room.

You struggled to breathe as your mind replayed the events that had just occurred. Rob just stared at the ground, reminded of where his creation was just moments before. Finally getting control of yourself, you made your way over to the defeated man, placing a hand on his shoulder and a light kiss on his nose.

“Hey, at least Scout got a little special something for his first Christmas.”

A slight smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“It was going so well.”

He sounded so sad, but somewhat jokingly sad.

“I know it was, but like I said, that was your first try. You have more batter, you can try again. But I’m sticking to my word. I’ll still be mad at you if you get pancake batter all over our newly remodeled kitchen.”

The man let out a soft laugh, turning his attention back to the scene of the crime.

“Can this video not make it into the ‘things we show our kids’ pile?”

You grinned, a slightly mischievous sparkle in your eyes.

“I mean, who knows... it might ‘accidentally’ get added into the mix….”

Your voice trailed off, making Rob tilt his head and squint his eyes.

“You wouldn’t dare, Mrs. Benedict.”

“Oh, I would, Mr. Benedict.”

---

The video cut right after Rob lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your figure, making you squeal and laugh.

Sighing, you turned your head toward Rob, who had the biggest smile on his face. His shining sapphire eyes met yours, his smile not fading.

“And there’s plenty more where that came from. This was only one folder on this tiny thing. I don’t know why it grouped all the videos together weird like that though.”

Rob chuckled, sliding an arm around your shoulders as you snuggled into his warm body.

“I’m glad you found that. I had completely forgotten about those videos.”

“I had too, until a few days ago. It just popped into my head that we still had them somewhere.”

Resting a hand on Rob’s chest, you glanced up at him.

“It nice to look back at memories. Especially the ones with you.”

Rob tilted his head down, placing a kiss on your temple.

“I thought you hated cheesy.”

You playfully hit his chest, sitting up slightly.

“That wasn’t cheesy!”

“It was a little.”

Jokingly scoffing, you crossed your arms.

“Fine, maybe it was, just the tiniest bit.”

Rob grinned as he reached a hand towards you.

“I love you, Y/N. So much. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Red covered your face as you smiled, falling back into his arms.

“Who’s the cheesy one now?”

Chuckling, Rob slowly started to rub your shoulder.

“But I love you too, Robby. More than you could ever know.”

Thank you for reading!! Feedback is always appreciated!

#skinnyballscards #rob x reader #rob x y/n #rob benedict #rob benedict fluff #rob benedict x reader #rob benedict x y/n #fluff

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maybeformepersonally · 6 years

Text

Fic: Coincidences mean you're on the right path

Title: Coincidences mean you're on the right path Author: maybeformepersonally Rating: G / General Audiences Summary: Dan had been watching Amazingphil since he was a teenager. He never thought they would actually meet, of course, and so he is understandably surprised when Phil walks into the room. Word Count: 4055 Author’s Note: Written for the Phandom Fic Fest Bingo, for the square “Fandom AU”. This is a canon divergence AU where they never met in 2009, and Dan never started making videos or became an internet cult leader. Now, it’s 2018 and they unexpectedly cross paths. Read on AO3

Dan’s had a stressful day at work, to say the least. This, coupled with staying up much later than he should have last night for an impromptu, ill-advised Netflix marathon is almost enough to tempt him into skipping the gym for the day. Almost, but not quite, as he knows he’ll struggle to fall asleep if he doesn’t tire himself out. It’s for a noble cause, he tells himself, and drags himself there, albeit grudgingly.

He’s in a mood today. It’s the only reason why he’s dragging his feet, really. He knows he’ll get into it as soon as he starts, that’s what always happens. And he understands how crucial exercise is for his mental health. It really has helped a lot since he’d taken it up two years ago. He allows himself a pout and some internal grumbling about it anyway.

Well, as it turns out, he will never be so grateful for his hard-earned discipline, for if he had caved to temptation, he would have missed out.

He’s quite at home in the machine room, doing his own thing with headphones on, as usual, jogging on the treadmill, when none other than Phil Lester, a.k.a. Amazingphil, a.k.a. the star of an embarrassingly large amount of Dan’s teenage fantasies (and also an occasional star of a few current ones), struts into the machine room and sits down on the fucking Leg Press Machine directly in Dan’s line of sight.

Dan barely avoids faceplanting on the treadmill in shock.

The next thirty minutes are a test to his already frayed nerves that Dan wouldn’t have expected to pass, but somehow he managed to play it cool and he doesn’t stare too obviously (he hopes) nor does he make a complete fool of himself in front of his kind-of-celebrity crush (he thinks), dealing a fatal blow to his self-esteem and ruining one of his favourite places to unwind in one fell swoop.

They’re both wearing headphones, and he’s still starstruck and a bit shocked that Amazingphil of all people just walked into his regular gym in a tight green t-shirt that brings out his eyes and tight black shorts that bring out… other assets, so he doesn’t even try to strike up a conversation. He’s too nervous, anyway, he’d probably embarrass himself, and then he’d be out of a gym because there is no way he’d come back here if that were to happen. He doesn’t want to have to scope out gyms again, that way lies madness.

So Dan finishes his set, grabs his things, and he nods to Amazingphil as he leaves. And he doesn’t go hide in the bathroom for a little freak out; he can freak out at home, like a functional adult.

Now, Dan isn’t the huge fan of youtube he used to be when he was a teenager, but he still follows a few channels religiously. Amazingphil and PhilGAMES are the only ones he has the notifications on for, because he may be a grown man and a professional these days, but Phil still holds a special place in his heart. (So what if he never got over his teenage crush, have you seen Phil’s smile? He’s only human, and there’s nothing wrong with a harmless crush on an unattainable sort-of-celebrity. Sue him.)

***

Phil came out officially a few years ago, but it’s been pretty obvious that he was bi from way back on his early days of youtube, so when he tries going to the gym and decides to make a video about what a disaster it was, he doesn’t think twice about going on a rant in the video about how as he was leaving, he saw the most gorgeous man working out and he may or may not have decided to get some exercise on the machines instead of running away because he wanted to stare at this earthly Adonis for a little while.

“And that’s the story of how I went to the gym, almost died because I was too socially anxious to tell the instructor the workout was too intense for me, went to hide in the bathroom to catch my breath for 15 minutes, then went to run away without saying goodbye, saw the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on and felt compelled to man up, go back to tell Leon that it wasn’t working out for me and that I’d like to try the machines so that I could go at my own pace, then embarrassed myself by being the most unfit person in Britain in front of a fitness god with the face of an angel. But hey, I least I got some exercise in! Also, I may be going again just to see if I run into him again. Not to talk to him, or ask him out, I just want to bask in his beauty. What’s the bi equivalent of a useless lesbian? Because that’s me. Oh, I know! A disaster bi. I’m pretty sure I’ve read that somewhere,” he ends with a laugh.

“That’s not creepy, right? Is that creepy?” he asks PJ later. PJ laughs at him, but reassures him that so long as he’s respectful and doesn’t stalk this guy or something, it’s fine. And really, Phil probably couldn’t be a creep if he tried. He’s too polite, and also too good a person to actually put his own selfish desires above someone else’s comfort.

Slightly reassured, Phil goes back to the gym again to try his luck. He wasn’t completely serious in his video, he’s not going to keep going to the gym to stare longingly at this guy. He’s hoping to talk to him at some point, feel him out (metaphorically!) to see if he may be interested. He’s not going to just ask him out out of nowhere, but maybe, if he seems like he might be receptive to it…

***

Dan does have a little freakout as he goes back home, but then life goes on, and he doesn’t see Phil again in the gym for the rest of the week. He figures it’s probably a fluke. Phil has mentioned repeatedly in his videos that’s he’s terribly unfit and that he doesn’t enjoy working out at all, though he’s tried a few times to get into the swing of it. That’s probably what happened, he’s tried it again (it isn’t lost on Dan that it’s the middle of January, and Phil has joked that getting fit is always one of his New Year’s resolutions), but he’ll probably get bored soon.

The big freakout comes four days after, when he gets a notification that Amazingphil has uploaded a video called “Why I should probably not go back to the gym… but will anyway”. He’s glad he waits until he’s home to watch it, because whatever he was expecting (oh god, will he mention the awkward nerd who almost fell off the treadmill when he walked in and kept sneaking looks at him? Shit, did I make him uncomfortable?), it was not this.

Phil wasn’t even going to try the machines? He was walking past and saw Dan and stayed to stare at him?? He thought Dan was attractive? Very attractive even? He was thinking of coming back to stare at Dan some more?? Was this even real? Was he just building up a story to make an entertaining video? What was going on? Was this real life? Oh god, he actually goes on a minute-long rant about how gorgeous Dan is and he might have to go scream on a pillow, what is his life. Dan had looked in the mirror when he went home after the awkward gym kind-of-encounter that day; he’d finished an hour long session of exercise and he’d looked it. He was tired and sweaty and he’d worn his too big grey exercise t-shirt that day. He’d looked like the exhausted, emo-adjacent, sweaty rat that he was, what was Phil talking about?

***

The next time, Phil tries talking to him. Nothing too ambitious, just some small talk.

He takes his chance when the man stops the machine he’s on and steps away, pulling his headphones off and into his backpack.

“Hey, um, hi,” Phil says and gives a little wave. “Sorry to bother you, I just signed in last week and I was wondering if you’ve been coming here for long?”

The man looks a bit surprised, but not bothered, to Phil’s relief.

“Oh, hi. Yeah, a bit over a year?” His phone beeps and he looks at it distractedly, but he keeps talking. “Since I moved in to London, really.” He puts his phone back and turns his attention to Phil again. Phil beams at him.

“Oh, that’s great!” he maybe sounds a bit too excited about that, but he’s a bit nervous and he’s glad the guy is volunteering information and seems to be okay talking to him. “I don’t know much about gyms, or exercise, as you can see,” Phil joked, waving his right arm to encompass himself, illustrating his unfit condition, “so I thought I’d ask someone for… suggestions, I guess? If that’s okay”.

The man looks surprised again for a second, but then he looks him up and down appreciatively and once he’s made it all the way up to Phil’s eyes again, he declares, “I don’t know that you need any. I think you look great”.

Phil is startled into a quiet laugh and he can feel the blush on his face, but he can’t be too bothered given the current situation.

“I’m Dan,” the man smiles at him, and Phil suddenly feels like a deer in the headlights. Oh god, he has dimples. The humanity. He’s actually a thousand times more attractive when he smiles, how? Phil has the urge to do something stupid. He powers through it, but he’s taken a critical hit, and he probably comes off as extremely weird through the rest of the short conversation. Not that he isn’t weird. He’s made a whole series of youtube videos about it. It’s part of his core branding.

“I’d be happy to give you some tips, or whatever it is you’re looking for,” Dan starts, then his phone beeps again, and he interrupts whatever he was going to say to check it, again, then sighs. “Sorry, I’d love to help you out right now, but I really need to go… deal with this client.” His phone makes another, different sound, and Phil can see Dan isn’t happy about it, but then he shoves the phone away and when he turns to Phil again, he has a small, shy-looking smile on his face. Phil is a goner.

“If you want... I come here every day from six to seven or so, except Sundays. If you come around that time, I’d be happy to help you?” The words lift into a question, into an invitation that Phil can take or leave.

Phil recognises that it’s a very open invitation. If he actually wants help and nothing else, Dan would probably indulge him. If Phil was uncomfortable and didn’t want to run into him again, he now knows what time Dan comes and can plan around it to avoid him. And if he wants something else, like, say, misuse his gym membership card to come flirt with a gorgeous guy he met in the machine room…

Dan is picking up his stuff, conspicuously giving him some breathing room, and Phil realises he might have come off as uninterested, which is the opposite of what he wants to do now that Dan’s flirted with him first, so he smiles and brings out the bedroom eyes.

“That’d be brilliant. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

Phil’s gratified to see Dan looks affected, if the searing look he throws his way is any indication, but after a few seconds, his phone beeps again and he’s moving to leave.

“Good,” he says, his slightly crooked smile giving Phil ample incentive to stick to his New Year’s resolution for once. “I’ll see you around, then”.

Now, because Phil is a useless bisexual, it is only at this point that he realises he’s never offered his name, and Dan is turning to leave, so he blurts it out.

“My name’s Phil, by the way!”

Dan stops, turns back to him and gives him another one of those devastating smiles, the kind that brings out his dimples, and Phil may be swooning.

“Phil,” Dan says, less as if he’s trying out the word and more as if he’s relishing in it. “I look forward to seeing you again”. The he turns and actually leaves.

Phil is left alone in the machine room, staring at the door Dan left through and smiling like a lunatic for the next couple of minutes.

***

“Okay, I have a confession to make,” Dan starts before they even open the menus.

“Okay?”

“Please don’t take this the wrong way. I just… feel like I need to tell you this if we’re actually going to do this.”

Okay, now Phil is a little worried, but he’s open to hear Dan out on whatever it is. He really likes Dan an unreasonable amount for how recently they’ve met and how little time they’ve spent together. He’d like to think he’s an open-minded person, and so he quickly decides that he’ll be kind no matter what it is that’s making Dan look this nervous.

“Okay. I’m listening.” Phil wants to hold Dan’s hand to maybe put him at ease, but he’s not sure if that would help or make things worse, so he refrains.

“Right. Okay.” Dan takes a deep breath. ”Um. Okay. I… knew your name. That day we talked for the first time. And the time before that, really, when I first saw you in the gym.”

“Okay?” He doesn’t know what Dan is hinting at.

“I know who you are, I mean. I’ve known who you are since 2006, when I first became obsessed with Youtube.”

Oh.

“Oh.” Phil wasn’t expecting that, but he’s not sure why something like that would make Dan this nervous, so he figures there’s more. When Dan doesn’t elaborate, but rather keeps looking at him in silence, Phil tries to break the ice. “So, you used to watch my videos?”

Dan relaxes a little as Phil smiles at him. “Yeah. I was a huge fan, actually.” He still looks nervous, so Phil decides to throw caution to the wind and move to hold his hand anyway. When he reaches out and threads their fingers together over the table, Dan gives him a questioning look, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he moves his thumb to gently rub Phil’s hand, and manages a shaky smile.

Did he think Phil was going to be upset that Dan liked his videos as a teenager? Or that Phil maybe wouldn’t want to date someone who used to be a viewer? That was crazy. This was actually great, as it meant Dan had to have some idea of what he was getting into, dating a youtuber. It also meant Phil wouldn’t have to explain Youtube to him, or his nosey audience, or why there was a good chance their dates would be interrupted by people asking for a picture with him. The only reason Phil had chosen this restaurant for their first proper date (flirting at the gym didn’t count as proper dates) and had gone for a private room was so that he could get the explanation out of the way before that happened.

“I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he reassures Dan. “That’s actually really flattering. Though I wonder what I did to lose you as a viewer,” Phil jokes.

Dan winces and says. “You didn’t.”

Now Phil’s eyebrows shoot up, but he still doesn’t pull his hand away. It gives Dan the strength he couldn’t seem to gather before.

“I started watching you early on, and watched you all through college. I used to watch a lot of youtube then. I gradually stopped watching Youtube as a whole when I graduated and got a job, as a result of a mixture of lack of time and waning interest, but there’s a few channels I still check out every once in a while. Yours is among them.”

Phil squeezes his hand reassuringly, and grins. “Do you follow my social media accounts?”

“Um. Yeah. Instagram.”

Phil grinned warmly, “Really? So you like looking at me. Good to know.”

Dan made an embarrassed little noise of protest, but he couldn’t really argue. “You’re nice to look at.” He was blushing a little, but he was also looking him in the eye now, shy but determined. Phil got distracted by the little rosy patch that formed right over his jaw.

“Do you follow me on twitter? Or on Tumblr? Do you troll the IDB forums?” Phil is full on teasing him now. It seems highly unlikely that Dan is one of his most invested fans; in fact, the idea is kind of hilarious. And also kind of hot. He might revisit that idea later. In private.

Dan laughs, “No, and no, and I don’t even know what that last one is, do I want to know?”

“It’s a fan forum. It’s… very comprehensive. There’s a lot of information and speculation going on there. You know, actual fandom stuff.”

Dan scoffs at that, but he’s still smiling, so Phil counts it as a win. “I’m not in the fandom. Ha, I wouldn’t have even had the time for it until recently, with the way I let work take over my life. Just… you know. I watch your videos.”

“And you follow my Insta,” Phil reminded him.

“Okay, that too.”

“Is that why you watch my videos? Because you think I’m ‘nice to look at’?” Phil teases.

“Well, I mean, that certainly helped,” Dan answers candidly, and damn it, now it’s Phil’s turn to blush. “But I wouldn’t have kept watching if you weren’t also hilarious. You’re just fun to watch, you know?”

Phil is thinking this is all immensely cute when it dawns on him what his next to last video was. “Oh no. Oh no, god, you still watch my videos.” His hand is gripping Dan’s like a lifeline in mortification.

“Yeah…?”

“Mfph,” Phil says from behind his other hand. Which he is trying and failing to hide behind. His right hand hasn’t even tried to let go of Dan’s, so Dan doesn’t panic. Mostly.

“You saw my video, didn’t you? The gym video? Where I go on and on about how fit you are?”

“Yep;” Dan answered cheekily.

Phil moaned in embarrassment behind his hand and Dan laughs. It sounds about as beautiful as he is, which is saying a lot. Okay, Phil may be a bit smitten, but he thinks he has reason to be, all things considered.

“Instant favourite. How do you think I managed to find the guts to flirt with you?”

At that, Phil peeks out of his hand.

“I wasn’t sure if you even meant it, but. I mean, I know you must exaggerate or even make up part of your stories to make them entertaining for an audience. But. I mean, you did go on for about two minutes about how gorgeous I was, so,” Dan laughs a bit under his breath and Phil is so charmed he finally pulls his hand away from his face. “I figured I probably had a chance if you ever showed up in the gym again.”

“I meant it,” Phil tells him. The way Dan is looking at him, joy and affection and attraction (a look that would later be dubbed ‘Heart Eyes Howell’ by Phil’s fans), prompts Phil to admit “...I actually had to reshoot that because I went on quite the lengthy rant about it the first time. And then I had to cut some of it from the take you did see, so that it wouldn’t jar the flow of the video.”

Phil is blushing again, but Dan looks thrilled, so he doesn’t mind too much.

***

Amazingphil posted “Life Update! Amazing Boyfriend? (Not Clickbait)”

“Hi guys! So, a lot of people have been asking about this on twitter - *zoom in* and everywhere else *laughs, zoom out* so I thought I’d let you know what’s been going on in my life.

Yes, I’m dating someone. Yes, it’s a guy. Yes, I’m very happy about it and you all should be grateful I have some self-control because if I had immediately given in to the urge to gush about him, you’d all be sick of it by now. *laughs*

So, anyway! In this video, I’ll tell you a little about how we met, and I think some of you will be pleasantly surprised to find out that I’ve actually mentioned him before in a past video.

Remember when I said this? [clip of the gym video where he talks about how his struggles in the gym led him to stumbling upon the Most Beautiful Man In The World.]

Weeeell… *looks to the side*

I did go back, as it turns out, and I didn’t see him again. But I was already there, so I might as well do some exercise, right? So I did, and nothing happened, and I came back home tired and sore and slightly disappointed.

But then! The next time I went, I caught him just as he was finishing his, like, workout day, or whatever it is that people who exercise regularly call it, and I thought to myself, ‘Phil. This is your chance. Just talk to him. Make some small talk. No pressure, just some casual human interaction. Just a chill talk with the most attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life. Nothing to be nervous about! *laughs, closes his eyes and shakes his head at himself*

So, I give myself a little pep talk, I pluck up my courage, and I. Go. Talk to him! *celebratory music*

And what does he do? *Phil enunciates, giggly* What does he do as I start talking to him, just trying to set up a friendly, relaxed atmosphere? Just opening up the lines of communication, you know, some casual bants? Do you know what he does? He immediately, shamelessly, flirts with me. *Phil laughs again*

I was… shook.

So, we talked a little but then he had to go - which I was actually grateful for because by that time I was freaking out internally and I didn’t want to make a complete fool of myself - but! We arranged to meet again, in the gym.

And the next time we did meet, I asked him out. On an actual date, not just… hanging out in the gym so that I had to awkwardly try not to embarrass myself as I work out in front of him even though I’m terrible at it.

So, long story short, we’ve been dating since then. *celebratory music*

So now you know. I am officially dating the Most Beautiful Man In The World.

*soft background music stops* Not even kidding, he’s the most attractive person I’ve seen in my life. It’s kind of surreal.

*music resumes*

So! I know some of you guys have been asking to meet him, as it were, and I have good news for you! I will be making a video with him soon, probably in the next week, so look out for that! Also, *zoom in* be nice to him, please, he’s wonderful and I’m really happy he’s in my life. Let’s not drive him away, yeah! *laughs*

*zooms out* I’m kidding! He knows you’re all crazy, I told him all about you guys. And he seems ready to adopt you all anyway, so that’s alright. The poor bastard.

Anyway, that’s it for today! I hope you all have a great day! Please press like if you liked the video, I actually want to know if you guys enjoy this type of casual life update... talk-type thing and if I should make more of these. Click the subscribe button if you want to see more of me, and click the notification bell to be told when I post a new video! Check out my gaming channel! And I’ll see you guys soon! Byeee!”

#PFF Bingo Fest 2018 #phandom fic fest #phandom fic fests bingo #phanfic #phan #am i writing now

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wiccamoody · 6 years

Text

Alright, under the cut is my ii review. It's very long and divided into sections because I'm like that.

The audience

I'm starting off with the easy bit. So something I didn't entirely expect (but kind of did at the same time? Usually I'm pleasantly surprised by these kinds of events) was how old I felt. I'm 19. I'm practically a baby. I shouldn't ever feel old unless I'm surrounded by kindergarteners. But besides people's parents and a few people who I could tell were my age or older, everyone was so young. I mean, duh, I'm pretty sure the average age in the phandom is like 16 or something, but it was wild to me, though maybe that's because I've curated the shit out of my fandom experience. And this wasn't a bad thing at all! The only bad thing about feeling 'old' was that people letting out ear splitting screams at literally nothing was giving me a headache and made me roll my eyes at multiple points (ahem, I think screaming when you see the empty stage that we've seen a million times before is a bit much, but maybe that's me being grumpy). Otherwise, it was really, really nice to see such a diverse and lovely group of people come together and just have fun. I wasn't dancing at any of the songs or whatever (but you bet your ass I sang my heart out when WTTBP was playing), however it was really cute to see people in such good moods. It's one of my favourite parts of fandom events. I was glad that this one wasn't like some events I've been to where people are dicks to everyone is they aren't friends with. Everyone just seemed so nice and happy, and I really felt a sense of community there too, which was lovely. Also, even though I've said this several times, it really was so lovely to meet @lesterchuu and @astudyinfondness. They were so lovely and it was great to meet people off the internet.

Okay, now that we've got the fluff out of the way, let's get to the meat of this review: the show.

Dan

To put it plainly: Dan was acting. I'll get into why Phil was but also "wasn't" acting, but it was very clear that Dan was playing ~Daniel Howell. He had a few character breaks, like when he smacked his leg into the stage twice and almost said fuck both times. He also fiddled with his mic a lot, and I don't know if that's giving his hands something to do while Phil's talking, or if it was actually bothering him, but it was something I noticed.

Speaking of mannerisms, I was surprised to see how, for lack of a better term, 'campy' Dan's body language can be. He also walked very awkwardly across the stage a few times, which made me laugh.

Anyway, Dan was really interesting for me to watch because he was so in character the whole time. His 'Dan' voice is something that kind of bothers me after a while (which is why I like his liveshows the best out of his solo content), and while I didn't get bothered by it during the show, I was extremely hyper aware of its presence, which was the main thing that made me go "Oh Dan's really acting right now". Maybe that should be super obvious since I've listened to audio clips of the show before and know that it's 90% scripted, but I suppose I wasn't expecting it to be so obvious to me when I was watching it. Also, it was incredibly jarring (but also pleasant, in a way) to hear Dan's cackle irl. Along with that, Dan's facial expressions were always 'turned on'. Besides when he fixed his mic, whenever Phil was talking he looked full of energy and rearing to go. Dan's dedication to his character kind of took me out of the loose narrative of the show because of how obvious I found it to be, but I know that's just me over analyzing things since I generally find Dan's mannerisms so interesting to watch. He did a really great job though.

Phil

I found Phil so much more interesting to watch through the whole show. Phil was definitely acting, but it was different from the way Dan was acting. Dan had the pacing and energy of someone who has to stay in a relatively emotionally stagnant character, while Phil came across very similarly to how he does in his videos. It was definitely played up a bit more because he's still acting in a stage show (side note: they must have decided to get some training before this one because they were a lot less stiff than in tatinof. I've only seen the youtube red version of it, but even then their acting was Not Great in it compared to this time around), but he felt more true to the Phil we see on the gaming channel and in liveshows than Dan did.

I think a lot of Phil's behaviour in this particular show was influenced by how exhausted he seemed to be that day. He looked tired in his instagram story, and on stage he definitely had a more neutral face than Dan did when Dan was talking. There were a few moments where I could see Phil falter and watch his expression shift to his 'Done' face, but it was only for a split second every time (yeah, I barely looked at them when they were talking. I was mostly trying to see what they looked like when the other was talking because for some reason I feel like that's more telling. Maybe I'm weird idk).

I'm not sure if he always sits for the simulation bit, but the fact that Dan didn't made me think that they usually stand so I think the tour was really starting to take a toll on him near the end there. He also popped a few squats and swayed his hips a lot which was amusing to me. Oh, and a bit that I found hilarious was after he got off the wheel and was undressing, he bent over so his ass was facing the audience while Dan was talking and everyone cheered which cut Dan off. Phil was struggling to get the suit over his shoes too so he kind of waddled into one of the wings but the spotlight kept following him. Eventually he just sat down on the stage and pulled it off, but I thought it was a funny moment (even if it's something that happens at every show where Phil's on the wheel).

Something else about Phil that really shone through here, similar to how it is in videos but not to the same extent, is how naturally funny he is. Again, it wasn't to the same extent that it is in videos since he's acting, but some of their little ad libbed moments were so much better because of Phil's quick humour.

Dan & Phil

Something I noticed right away was that their dynamic was far from the flirty and silly one we get on dapg, or even in joint videos/liveshows. I expected this since the show is mostly scripted, so that's fine, but it was still very obvious to me the entire time. They didn't bounce off of each other in the same way they do in videos of course, but god they work so well together. The show didn't change my perception of them in the slightest, but it did make me see how much of a unit they really are. This was something I was very aware of before obviously, but seeing it irl made it a little more concrete, which was interesting. They really are the perfect package deal together and for each other. Their dynamic made me crave more from them though. The inner workings of their relationship are so interesting to me, and while it's far more likely than not that we'll ever get even the smallest glimpse into that part of their lives, it has me intrigued. But more on that later.

Moving onto the extremely superficial portion of this section, I was surprised to see how...similar they look to how they appear in videos. I was close enough to be able to see their sweat and whatnot, and I found it odd how they actually do look like they do online. I realise how ridiculous that sounds, but it was something that was running through my mind. The way they move their bodies was really quite awkward at times, but honestly I relate and I had a feeling they would be a little awkward in some bits. There was a moment when Dan looked right at the spot where I was sitting for a long time (obviously not directly at me, but in a spot either right in front or behind me--maybe he zoned out) while he was talking about something. I think it was during the real conversation section because he was sitting down, but I really didn't hear anything either of them were saying because my mind was like "wow his eyes are a really nice shade of brown" haha. In short, they're both pretty. Oh, and I could definitely see Dan's nipples the entire time.

The show & what I took away from it

To sum up my feelings in a few words: I really enjoyed myself! I had a lot of fun, but all it really did was make me crave a real conversation with them. This show was not nearly as enjoyable to me as a video or a liveshow, and I didn't expect it to be. I knew that it was going to be formulaic and that there would be a few moments that I would genuinely adore, but otherwise it was just going to be a fun time where I spend way too much money and get to see them 25 feet away. That's not a bad thing, either. I'm okay with that. I went in knowing that nothing revolutionary is going to happen because this show really isn't about me as a fan, or my fabricated one-way friendly connection to them, or what I want from them. I'm simply there to enjoy myself and explicitly support them monetarily, which is expected and fine. And I also never anticipated this show to be mind blowingly spectacular or anything, concept and script-wise. I don't expect that from Dan and Phil ever, and that's really not why I watch them. I'm definitely here because their chemistry is like nothing else and I find their relationship so fascinating. I think overall as someone who wasn't anticipating much and who had spoiled themselves as much as possible, seeing it actually exceeded my expectations. And it's a big plus in my book that it actually was a lot better than tatinof (but that's a whole other post tbh). The only thing that really annoyed me was the way fic is treated, but this happens in every show so I was expecting it, though it didn't stop me from being unimpressed. Oh, and I didn't appreciate being constantly shamed for voting for the craft videos. We all know that's where their content peaked.

I'm a little frustrated by how much it made me actually want to get to know them though, like I said earlier about being intrigued by the inner bits of their dynamic. I've said this for years, but I'd really love to have a long chat with them over coffee or drinks. I think it would be interesting. But that's a pipe dream and a half so this will definitely suffice.

I adore how queer the show was too. The fact that they're comfortable enough now to travel around the world with so many queer references in the scripted parts of their show makes me really happy for them.

Overall, I left the show in a good mood and feeling really fond of them. It was a nice time.

#i'm sorry for how fucking long this is #i could have gone on for longer #but this is like 2k words #ii spoilers #ii van #i'll stop annoying everyone with my ii posts now lol #i think i'm done

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lostpioneer · 6 years

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Can’t Sit Down and Write? Same Dude

Alright, buddy, I’m going to lay this out flat on you, whoever you are. I’m absolute garbage at writing. I don’t just mean skill, I mean all aspects- Commitment, focus, grammar (though I try my hardest,) and pretty much anything you can think of, I’m bad at. I probably have more unfinished writing ideas than I have days left on this Earth, and I can never dedicate myself to just one idea. Even short stories, besides ones I wrote back in middle school that I pretend don’t exist, remain unfinished and collecting virtual dust in my computer files while I do literally anything besides write.

The one strength I might possibly have, though? I soak up anything- And I mean anything- that I can about writing. Tips and tricks, websites, apps, styles- Everything I can get my hands on. So here’s my grand idea: I’m going to write this blog in an attempt to help other people like me, and maybe even people that don’t have the same issues I have.

The way I see it is writing is a complex art- And just like in any other type of art, you want the best tools you can possibly obtain. Like paintbrushes for watercolor, or graphite pencils for visual art. Those tools help you do better in whichever focus you have, so shouldn’t writing tools do the same?

You can argue that writing comes from within, from years of teaching, and I get that and agree with it- but there’s nothing wrong with a little extra help.

So, here are some of my (im)perfect tips for perfect writing.

- Sit your ass down. I’m sure a lot of you have heard this one but I can’t stress it enough. It is an extremely important aspect of writing that can start as a building block for success. When you make yourself sit down at your desk and put pen to paper (or fingers to keys,) it helps you commit yourself to the project even more.

- Set word goals. There’s a lot of neat sites and programs that can help you keep track of your word and character counts, and these sites usually come with extra functions as well, so it never hurts to “shop” around. The point of this, though, is to have realistic goals. Of course, the end goal is to finish your paper, end the novel, or complete your short story, but you need smaller goals in between, especially if your project is a rather large one. Think like a chapter or two a day, or 1,000-1,600 words a day. These are just random values I shoot for, but yours don’t have to be as extensive- Just set the goal. When you get to a certain word goal, there’s a sense of accomplishment that can follow, and even sometimes you’ll have the urge to keep on trudging through it. Writing is also a pain sometimes, which is why word goals are so important- Set small ones if you get easily restless, or you don’t have a lot of free time to set aside. The important thing is having a goal you can reach, or at least get close to.

- Write first, Edit later. Now this may sound easier than it is, and for some people (me in particular,) I have an insanely difficult time not editing on the way. And sometimes that’s okay. I usually find myself just fixing a word or grammar error, like a missing period or misspelled word. What I mean about not editing is when you stop your writing and go back to review what you’ve done. This is okay if you’ve found a good stopping point or reached a goal, but to backtrack in the middle of a writing process can hurt your workflow and get your mind off the current task. As painful as it might sound, sometimes you have to grit your teeth and push through that nagging urge to double-check what you’ve done.

- Take breaks (if you need to.) If you’re anything like me, you might have a hard time sitting and clacking at your keyboard for more than 20 or 30 minutes at a time (I can barely manage that.) So the logical way to stop yourself from getting worn out is to just take a break. Watch a YouTube video, look at Pinterest or Tumblr, or IG- Anything you want. The key here is to give your mind time to process something different and keep it from getting worn out on the same thing. The other key is to return to your writing once you’ve given your mental muscles time to breathe. It’s a weird thing to balance, but if you can find one, it does wonders.

· Find a writing buddy. Now this is a recent one for me, but it also helps a lot with your consistency. Basically find a friend or relative that bears a similar interest in writing that you do, one that can go through the journey of writing with together. If you can’t find someone that will write with you, at least find a friend that can hold you accountable. A good way to do it is ask them if they can keep you responsible- Tell them what you’re writing, what your daily word goals are, what times during the day you’ll be writing. It’s a new experience for me but I 100% recommend it to anyone that struggles with staying committed.

- Find an idea and stick with it. This is probably the hardest one for me personally. I have so many ideas that I’d love to see played out in stories and novels, but I can never make myself focus on just one. And that’s the key- You have to find the one. Now, it doesn’t mean you can’t have other ideas, but unless you’re an amazing multitasker, you need to focus on the one that you’re working on then and there. If I had a dollar for any idea that distracted me from finishing another idea, I’d be rich enough to hire someone else to write this for me. (Not really, I’d probably spend it on candy bars or something, but you get my point. Right?)

So those are just a few ideas off the top of my head. I might come back to this post at some later date to add more if any come to mind, or just start a new post entirely; call it part two or something. But that’s it for now on the Tips!

So below here, I’m going to list some of my favorite apps/websites that enable writing, ones that I personally enjoy and why I enjoy them. Here goes:

- sta.sh: Nothing too special here, basically just a free writing tool that’s similar (though not as extensive) as Microsoft Word. The cool thing about it is that it’s 100% free, all you need is a DeviantArt account. Sta.sh is 1005 online and backs up your files online as well automatically. It’s all private as well- No one else can see your stuff except for you, and if you do want to show it off, it generates a shareable link for your projects. Another cool perk is that you can store stuff besides writing, like pictures or videos.

- Wordcounter.net: Kind of a similar format, but the importance of it is basically in the website name. It counts up your word and character counts, but also a few other interesting things, like how long it would take someone to read your material. The site also determines your “reading level” based on the type of words and such that you use (though you should take it with a grain of salt.)

- Draftin.com: A free online website that just lets you write. An interesting mode it has, though, would be the “Hemingway Mode.” When you select this, you literally cannot change anything. I mean it- Try to backspace, nope. Try to highlight a word to retype it, nope. You can only go forward- Which could be either the greatest or the most infuriating thing you’ll ever see. Either way, I think it’s pretty neat.

- HemingwayApp.com: You would think that this site would have been the ones to come up with that neat little perk, but nah. This one’s still pretty cool, though- it has a writing mode and editing mode. The writing mode is very simple- Just write, nothing special aside from basic editing like bold, italics, etc. But the editing part shows a few neat things: sentence length, grammar errors (to a point) how many adverbs you have, and alternative phrases you can use. It’s pretty nifty if you ask me.

- Writer.Bighugelabs.com: My oh my, this one takes the cake for me. Call me weird, but I’m a sucker for certain sounds, and the clicking sound of a typewriter is among my favorites. So this app makes your keyboard sound just like that, as well as saving anything you write in the browser. Any time you leave, it’s automatically saved, and anytime you come back it pulls it right back up. The app is 100% free, but there is a pro membership if you want to go above and beyond the normal benefits of it.

- Hanxwriter: Now this is an iPhone app that is pretty much the same as the one above- make your phone keyboard sound like a typewriter. That’s it. But if you ask me, it’s the greatest thing ever, so go take a look.

- WriterDuet: Now I haven’t dipped my feet too far into this one, but from what I’ve seen I’m impressed. Once again, a phone app (unsure if it’s iPhone exclusive) that assists with your writing, and it’s really helpful for structuring scripts and the like.

- Notebook.ai: This right here? This is the mother-load. I don’t even care what you’re writing, but you need to check this out. It’s a website that helps you collect all your world building ideas or even ideas for papers or essays. (Just mostly for world building) It asks you important questions about your universe as well, and there are too many awesome perks to talk about on this blog- Just check it out! You won’t regret it.

- cerey.github.io/fighters-block: This is a fun, cute lil’ app that can push you intensely, or just give you some polite nudges. Basically you set a word goal and you have to keep writing, otherwise, the big bad monster will beat you up. Like I said, kind of cute, definitely entertaining.

That’s about all I have for now! Like I said, I might come back to this post to add new stuff later on, but I’m fresh out of ideas at the moment. If anyone reads this, I hope I was able to help in some way or another!

Just remember guys and gals: Dedication is the biggest but most important step. Just write- worry about everything else later.

P.S. Let me know if I should add screencaps of these apps/websites, or if I should just leave it as it is. Peace!

#writing #dedication #sityourassdown #commit #tipsandtricks

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luwucas04 · 4 years

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𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

Personally, every day I grow more and more disappointed with the masses of humanity and people with a large portion of power within society. More than ever it’s become so prominent just how people putting financial gain ahead of the well-being of others during the current global crisis we are currently living through is so utterly, disgustingly evil. I’ve noticed that how the world runs and the lack of attention to grave issues regarding the prosperity of nature and humans in general is very unfortunately dominated by billionaires and other capitalists, all with disgustingly little regard for any decency pertaining to morality or the greater good. If they can’t gain from it, they simply don’t care. They are more concerned about their economic status, gain, and the economy itself than the things that have real value when it comes to the betterment of our Earth and its people.

To be specific, right off the bat we have Jeff Bezos. He is THE richest man on the planet. The average person spending one measly dollar is equivalent to Jeff Bezos spending 1.2 million dollars. Adding to this, he roughly makes well over $2,000 every second. He is 36% richer than the entire British Monarchy (or than at least what we know the British Monarchy has). And what does he do with this tremendous amount of wealth? The absolute bare minimum. The only thing he himself has recently done was contribute a small donation of $100 million toward US food banks. Of course, any donation counts, but in this man’s case that’s just like a regular person donating less than 90 dollars: easy and not impressive considering just how wealthy he really is. What’s more, amidst the vast struggling within anyone below upper-class, him along with countless other selfish men are profiting from this. Just within the last couple MONTHS Jeff Bezos has gained 24 billion dollars. Yet, funding issues still remain, healthcare is overflowing, and the working class is suffering. And guess what! Just a few days ago he was announced to be well on his way to becoming the world’s first ever TRILLIONAIRE. I don’t know about you, but trillionaires should absolutely not exist on this planet whatsoever. There are too many injustices to be able to hoard that much money for yourself.

Rich people and even governments are fighting to reopen businesses and the conventional running of day-to-day life solely for the sake of ‘saving the economy’ and their profits. They don’t care about the well-being and safety of others. Minorities and the most vulnerable within society aren’t profitable to them, therefore they don’t exist as something that requires their attention or consideration. They have the privilege to do such incredible things with the wealth they have acquired—but they don’t. They stand by inhumane working conditions within their own companies. They silently watch people struggle and die within the situations they help to ensure. They choose to use their positions of power to prey on and assault others and get away with it. These figures of ‘authority’ do all they can to make it look like workers are being brave for stepping up during these times but do absolutely nothing to ease their material conditions. Oh, wait, the minimum wage was just upped by four whole dollars. That’s definitely going to help protect them from the novel coronavirus and put more food on the table, that’s so kind of them for their generous consideration.

Sorry for the heavy tangent on capitalism, but as of late rich people have been exceedingly getting on my nerves in ways I genuinely cannot describe.

However that aside, I’ve ALSO noticed changes in how humanity tries to bring itself together in a way! In my case, a lot of the bands I like have been providing (pre-recorded from past performances) concerts available to livestream on YouTube and various other insider-personal takes on their music. Those have been really fun; it’s usually on designated Thursdays and Fridays and I have to be awake for 10 am when a concert starts, we (me by myself) go to town for like 3 hours, then I go downstairs to have lunch. Or, a few weeks ago this other group had a 3-day-long (again, pre-recorded) livestream (that started at 11 pm this time) and I ended up staying up till around 3 am with my friend. I had a light stick from when I actually went to their concert in 2018, I was able to sync it up through their app and it probably looked like a low-key rave was going on from the cars passing by. Very good times.

From a non-personal standpoint, I recall seeing videos of people on their balconies in Italy coming out and singing and playing instruments together as a neighbourhood. That was very nice to see, but it’s also worth keeping in mind that is one of the best-case scenario situations and those people were lucky enough to indulge in something like that so nonchalantly. Not to say enjoying yourself isn’t allowed, but it should be acknowledged that just looking at lockdown like that is romanticizing the whole of what’s really going on, as it’s not that glamourous for everybody.

It’s been interesting seeing how people interact with others during their adjusted daily lives, too. I’ll go on walks sometimes and me and my friends will take turns sitting at the end of each other’s driveways and ‘hang out’ like we (well not really) would before. Adding on to human interaction, I’ve seen videos of people handing out packages of things like masks and hand sanitizer to people on the street, or leaving things out for delivery people, quite thoughtful, and maybe one could say even creative, things.

Living the life as you can see (I’m sitting on the grass)

Overall, when all is said and done, in my opinion, I think everything would be much better if the people who are in charge and dictate things A) weren’t painstakingly dense and simple minded—Angela Merkel and her policies would be a great example for countries like England and the US to take notes from; B) genuinely cared about their citizens and not just money and themselves; and C) properly absorbed science and legitimate medical advice and guidelines. Sadly, a lot of people, as you may be able to have tell, are very easily influenced and follow quite blindly *cough* ingesting cleaning products *cough*. But, fortunately that’s only a small portion of the population.

Conversely, this also goes to show other like-minded regular people, in a better light, become closer and stand in solidarity for what they know is best for them and the well-beings of others. Because the majority of us are all in the exact same situation doing the exact same thing, I feel like we can gain a better understanding and deeper familiarity with those around us. And this is really specific, but I think it’s cool how we now get to see some ‘famous people’ (right off the top of my head Doja Cat, Bernie Sanders and Taylor Swift are some examples) just livestreaming or posting themselves existing in their homes and generally having a good time. You wouldn’t get to see that part of their lives too much before. I think I’ve mentioned them over 50,000 times on this blog already, but the other day the band One Ok Rock (whose song I did on the guitar) released an upload of them recreating one of their old music videos while all the members are individually self-isolating.

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(Joke explained, the original title of the song is 「完全感覚Dreamer」 (Kanzen Kankaku Dreamer), but they changed it to「完全在宅Dreamer」 (Kanzen Zaitaku Dreamer); the original kankaku means ‘feeling’ or ‘intuition’, and the new zaitaku means ‘staying at home’.)

Above all, it’s difficult to decide whether this has either brought out the best or worst of humanity. I think it’s really subjective to your status and mindset that you had in the first place and what you were dealing with before all this. Adding onto that, we know how the news likes to focus on the negative the most. There are good people in this world, and grouping them together with those who think haircuts are a human right and aggressively protesting in large crowds is a good idea isn’t really fair to them.

As for myself, I haven’t noticed anything prominent come out of myself. The best I can do and what I’ve been doing right now is just following official medical guidelines, keeping distance and not go into super crowded areas, and simply wait for what happens next while staying informed. Nothing outstanding.

Here’s someone’s hot take on the subject matter as well, as much as this is 100% valid I strongly believe it’s worth acknowledging even the smallest good things happening from this too.

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saintmccann · 7 years

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21 - Flip For It

filling the request Jealous van, makeup sex with van, anything bondy-related, reader can’t decide between van + bondy, and van teaches you how to play guitar. Rated M for the smut!

summary The reader is Van's girlfriend, but she quickly falls for Bondy too. Van is jealous, Bondy is eager, the band is about to go on tour; who will she choose?

note this is the longest thing I’ve ever written, at 17825 words. Grab a cuppa and sit yourself down for this one. I thoroughly loved writing this. Enjoy!

___________________

“Van, I CANNOT do this!” you yell as your hand painfully slips off the guitar strings again. “My fingers have been cramping for hours, and I don’t even know if this thing is tuned correctly.”

He had been standing at the kitchen counter making tea, and he turned around and sat a cup down in front of you. “Have a break if you need it, love. But I know you can do it. Gotta be positive and all that.” He stood over you, bad posture taking a few inches off his height.

With a huff of frustration, you state, “But you said it yourself that most people quit after a few weeks! I don’t wanna be like that.” You look up at his clear blue eyes, the dissatisfaction clear on your face.

You had been Van’s girlfriend for years now, and watching him play guitar with the boys on tour (when you were invited to come see them for a few days) was one of your favorite memories. At night in hotel rooms, they’d bring out a few acoustics with Bob tapping on pots and pans or hotel room tables when all his gear was locked in the other rooms. They’d sing and play and dance until the early hours of the morning when one of the tour managers would come in and banish everyone to their respective rooms with a “You all have to be up in four hours! What are you thinking?”. Out of everyone, you were the least musically inclined; you always got that hot feeling in your cheeks when a new friend of the band’s handed you a guitar thinking you played too. The blush would creep up on your chest and your cheeks and you had to pretend it was because Van was still wooing you with his prodigious musical ability - which he was, granted - but you didn’t want to let him know how much it affected you to feel incredibly inferior to him in every aspect in music. After all, music was his entire life, and you had been desperate to avoid any contact with it until now.

You had always wanted to learn an instrument but never had the time to learn how to play. There were the fourth grade piano lessons, but those lasted about a week and a half before you quit because your fingers weren’t long enough to do octaves, and all the classical songs you wanted to learn required that you could do that. When all your friends were in the school chorus or band or orchestra, you were taking the other elective classes that interested you more than the chance to potentially and eventually fail again at music.

That insecurity was still rooted deeply in you as you grappled at the frets and struggled to strum the chords; after Van tried to teach you melody, he realized a better fit for inexperienced you would be rhythm, and set you to learning some of the easier parts in songs you both loved, not to much avail.

“Honey, come to bed,” Van whispered a few hours later, peeking out of his room across the hall from Larry’s. You had been working tirelessly through the evening and into the night, watching how-to videos on Youtube and trying to remember the patterns of fingers and strums while Van, Larry, and Bondy shared a few drinks and played Fifa; their activities were practically the same regardless of whether they were on tour. It was all a blur to you as you concentrated hard.

“A few more minutes, I’ve almost got this one part I think,” you replied, placing your tongue between your lips again in concentration, fingers trying to hold the strings down. Your eyes were starting to go in and out of focus from exhaustion.

“Right. See you in a few.” He tiptoed over, careful not to make the floorboards creak, and kissed you on the cheek softly before heading back to his bedroom.

****

Bondy’s heavy footfalls on the linoleum kitchen floor woke you. The tiny night-light above the sink cast an orangey glow across his chiseled features as he stepped around the table to reach the fridge. After pouring himself a glass of water, he sensed your gaze, and his bare feet padded over to you.

You hadn’t realized that you’d fallen asleep with the guitar cradled in your arms, and you only noticed as Bondy started to softly chuckle as he picked up your feet from the couch and put them on the coffee table so he could take a seat next to you.

“Still trying to pick it up?” he asked, in reference to playing the guitar. You nodded sleepily as he took it from you and started to play it quietly, and almost absentmindedly. The guitar looked like it belonged in his arms, as if it were an extension of him. He played it easily, though his eyes were heavy-lidded.

Suddenly, you decided to vent the frustrations you were harboring about guitar. Maybe it was the cover of night, or Bondy’s comforting presence next to you. Or the countless hours you’d practiced with Van, all for nothing. But something was making you speak out for once.

“Van’s not the best teacher - I mean, he plays really well, but I don’t think what he’s telling me is getting through to me. May I?” You nod to the glass of water on the table, questioning, and Bondy nods back, indicating you could take a sip. After washing away the feeling of sleep from your mouth, you continue. “I just don’t get it. I’ve never been good at music. I think it’s ‘cause I have a different way of thinking than most people. I mean, not super different, but just a little backwards or maybe I see other patterns than what I’m supposed to. And, God, I’m bored all the time. I need something to do to pass the time.” Your voice got quieter. “And I’m just embarrassed every time some of you start playing and I can’t take part. I feel like an outsider or something.” You looked down at your hands folded in your lap and twiddled your thumbs.

Bondy listened quietly to your confused ramble, and when you were finished, he said, “Maybe I could teach you the basics. Sometimes it can help to just forget everything you’ve heard and start again from scratch.”

You nodded your head, and considered. Glancing at the digital clock numbers glowing bright blue on the end table, and realizing you still had a couple of hours left until you really had to go to sleep, you nodded as Bondy handed the guitar back to you and started explaining everything from a true beginner’s perspective.

*****

“Babe! Ya never came to bed last night,” Van said, a little disappointed, to your almost-lifeless body on the couch as he strutted into the living room. He was wearing the white button down (your favorite), black jeans, black suede boots, and that black belt with a big square silver buckle. His hair was washed clean and his reflective sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose. Grabbing his keys and then popping a quick kiss on your lips, he exited through the door to the driveway. Shortly after, Larry emerged from his room, Bondy in tow, the both of them looking exceptionally cleaned-up as well.

You tossed off the blanket that was laying over your legs and headed for the bedroom to get changed. Today half the band was doing an acoustic session on the radio near where Van and Larry lived, hence Bondy’s overnight stay. You were excited about this performance - you had never seen them sing and play on the radio, let alone even been in a radio station, so you were bright-eyed and curious as you drove up to the radio station behind Van’s car-full of lads.

Arriving at the station, you marveled at all the wires and microphones and equipment snaking around chairs and tables in the room. The walls were completely soundproof between the studio and the outer rooms, allowing no sound to come out from inside the transparent box, and prompting Larry to cut up with you while the boys were preparing to speak. He kept making faces and yelling things at you from behind the glass, which you couldn’t hear, until Van smacked him on the arm and told him to go wait outside with you until they were done setting up.

Occupying a chair next to Larry in the back corner of the radio booth as the band and the radio hosts sat down and placed headphones on their heads, readying the equipment for on-air, you felt a little useless. You wondered if this is how Larry felt some days on tour, his job as guitar tech typically being given to hired sound people at festivals; taping setlists and carrying water out to the stage didn’t seem like fulfilling time, but you knew he enjoyed other aspects of the job too. You almost felt bad for him, and empathized with his need to act silly sometimes to get people’s attention; especially when Van told him to “shut the fuck up” earlier as Larry was bantering with Joe, preventing him from doing his job. You realized this faux “all-business” attitude Van fell into was probably why Larry enjoyed your company, and why Van may have been eager to bring you along sometimes. Their love-hate relationship was obvious.

Soon the band started the interview, with Van speaking up most of the time; you loved the way he told the host exactly what he was thinking, and didn’t hold back at all. Confidence emanated from him, and today he spoke with flourishing hand gestures. The slight tone of his muscles was peeking through the white fabric stretched over his shoulders, and you couldn’t help but think he looked incredibly sexy. You bit your lip so as not to let a rogue facial expression betray your thoughts.

The interview passed relatively quickly, and you were pleased to see what everyone looked like in action, promoting their content. You could tell they truly loved what they did, and how much they appreciated fans’ support. As they stood from their chairs to perform, the radio host played a short song over the radio so they could go off-air to prepare.

Bondy took his guitar from the stand, and made direct eye contact with you and motioned for you to watch his hands. Then he nodded his head towards Van’s hands, and with that gesture essentially told you to spot the difference. Van noticed the nonverbal interaction between you and Bondy, and cocked an eyebrow, but if he thought anything of it, he didn’t say.

They played the regulars - 7, Cocoon, and Kathleen - and wowed the radio hosts, as usual. Normally, you would have been excited to just watch Van sing, but listening to how the acoustic guitars blended the sounds together piqued your interest in not just Van’s vocals, but how fluid his rhythmic hand movements were in matching Bondy’s melodic ones. You noticed how both men played the same chords, but Van strummed in a sort of “backup guitar” fashion under Bondy’s perfect plucking. Never before had you noticed what real talent Bondy had, since previously you’d avoided even looking at musical instruments, and it fascinated you.

At the end of the session, you congratulated the both of them on a job well done as they walked outside the heavy black doors of the studio for a smoke.

“So glad we have a few more days off before the next appearance,” Bondy sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke skyward.

“No, mate, we’ve got that fancy party tomorrow night to celebrate the year anniversary of the album’s release. We’re booked in that club, you know the one that’s like an underground bar, and though they said no outside people would be allowed in, ya know they let ‘em in for revenue an’ all that,” Van replied, snaking a cigarette out of the box. He held it daintily between his long fingers, seeming to barely touch it at all. It floated around as he spoke with his hands.

Bondy rolled his eyes in defeat, crunching his boots on the asphalt. “Is that the one where we have to dress up a little, like the Brits? Photo ops and the like?” You tried to stifle a laugh, but you choked out a giggle. You loved the way Catfish thought they had to dress up only “a little” for the Brits.

“No, that one’s in a few weeks. This one’s casual.” He fumbled around for his lighter, patting his jacket pockets, then his pants pockets. “Got a light, love?” You handed Van your lighter, both of your hands brushing together, causing you to blush. Still, years later, every little thing he did made your heart flutter. “Oh, almost forgot, we gonna practice guitar tonight?” he asked as he lit the cigarette.

Your eyes immediately went to Bondy, but he was studying the asphalt beneath his boots. You hadn’t told Van yet that you decided against him being your guitar teacher.

Looking back at Van, you realized you’d have to say yes, otherwise he’d know something had changed. You’d been so eager to have Van teach you before, and had even told him one of the many personal tales of chagrin you felt regarding your musicless childhood. You practically begged him to teach you in his spare time, which he could be using for other, more entreating activities while off tour.

You rationalized in your head. Having Bondy teaching you guitar was not wrong, but somehow you felt guilty because you’d asked Van and convinced him to forego other events. Not to mention Van hated when people went behind his back for even the smallest of offenses - you took Larry and the jaffa cake incident as a perfect illustration of this. To avoid hurting his feelings, you just smiled and said, “Course, babe,” to Van with the most positivity you could manage.

*****

“Ye can’t let him try to force the chord patterns on you. Remember what I told you - remember sounds above everything,” Bondy’s voice crackled through the receiver. You were lying backwards on Van’s bed, feet propped up on the pillows, twirling your keys around your fingers.

“I know, I know. It’ll be fine,” you tell him. “I won’t forget what you’ve already taught me.” A pause crept up, and you didn’t know what to say. You settled on a friendly “See ya later” to break the awkwardness of saying goodbye; you hated speaking on the phone for this very reason. You gladly hung up, and as you waited for Van and Larry to come home from afternoon grocery shopping, you decided to casually scroll through Instagram. You missed being able to freely post what you wanted to; all your old friends were posting selfies with their partners, recording silly videos, and showing off their love. Being Van’s girlfriend meant that you couldn’t really post anything about him without having to reveal your relationship to the public, and Van was an extremely private person, particularly wary of social media. Sometimes you wish you had a relationship with someone whose love you could also share with the world, like Chrissy Teigen and John Legend.

Your train of thought was interrupted by the sounds of Van and Larry busting into the house with giant paper bags crunching as they tried to carry all of the groceries inside. Van’s laugh echoed down the hall as Larry tried to juggle some fruit, and failed, as told by the muffled thumps on the floor.

Van jogged from the kitchen to the bedroom, and seeing you on the bed, exclaimed a cheery “Hello, love!” midair as he jumped onto it, landing to hover above you. He rubbed the tip of his nose across yours. You put your phone down and placed a hand on his neck, guiding his lips to yours. His long fingers brushed over your hair and down your neck, tickling your collarbone. Breaking the kiss, you replied with a simple, “Hi,” and a smile, and looked into his eyes. They were darkening to a deep indigo by the second. You caught onto his mood, and a smirk was shared between the two of you. His lips reconnected with yours, and the kiss deepened. He lowered himself over you, and his knee went between your legs as one of his hands slid underneath the small of your back. The other was starting to slink up your shirt, and as his fingers trailed higher up your stomach, he placed an open mouthed kiss on your neck, causing you to suck in a sharp breath of air and arch your back.

“That’s fuckin’ gross, mate!” Larry yelled at the sight of both of you on the bed through the open bedroom door. He couldn’t help but awkwardly smile in embarrassment as he stepped through the doorway to reach for the knob and close it behind him, leaving you and Van to indulge in each other.

****

The next morning you awakened to soft kisses being pressed to your shoulder. Remembering the night you and Van shared, you smiled and kissed Van’s hair.

“Mornin’ darlin’,” Van whispered when he felt the contact. From his position, legs intertwined in yours and cuddled into your side, he was at eye level with you for once. You loved when he did this; you felt so connected to him, especially with one side of his body running the length of yours. You didn’t have to crane your neck to kiss him, either. It was perfect. His arms were wrapped around your naked torso, and his skin was warm in the silk sheets. You recalled when he bought them for you at a specialty boutique:

“I’m picky ‘bout my linens. Gotta have the best for me girlfriend and me, we’re gonna be spending a lot of time in the bedroom,” he told the shop worker with a wink. Your cheeks burned red all the way out to the car as Van whisked the shopping bags off the counter with a crooked grin.

Unfortunately, you knew the morning’s cuddling had to be cut short. In order to be able to attend the band’s party tonight, you had to reschedule the dinner you had with your mother for lunchtime, and she was not keen on her children being late to family events. Actually, she wasn’t keen on anything or anyone at all.

You parted from Van in a sad huff as you told him you had to get ready for lunch with your “pain-in-the-arse” mother; he whined from loss of contact. The silken sheets pooled around his waist as you rose from your side of the bed, and his abs rippled when he propped himself up on his elbows. You, still naked, sat on the vanity’s chair to wipe your face with a cloth and prep your skin for makeup.

As you applied moisturizer and primer, you noticed Van’s gaze on you in the mirror. You straightened up your back, and pretended not to notice how ravenous his eyes appeared. While opening drawers as sexily as possible to tease Van a little in retrieving the rest of your makeup, your eyes glanced across a black silk handkerchief in the rear of one of the drawers. Picking it up with your forefinger and thumb, you dangled it in the air beside you, watching Van’s reaction reflected through the glass. His eyes opened wide and his mouth dropped open, and he looked at you incredulously for a moment. You only smirked.

“We’re deffo gonna employ that one day,” he said, just as a voice called for him in the living room.

“God, Larry ruins everythin’.” He chuckled, rose from the sheets that beckoned he stay in bed all day, and pulled a pair of track pants over his legs. He looked fucking beautiful, even in such casual attire. His necklace glinted in the mid-morning light, and his eyes sparkled as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, kissing you on the cheek as his bare chest pressed into your back, his messy hair falling onto your face. “You look lovely. And don’t stress about your mum. She’s not the greatest person, but she’s still your mum, so you got to love her” he said in his raspy morning voice. “See you tonight.”

“Wait!” you called after him. He stopped right before he reached the door. “Aren’t you going to be here this afternoon?”

“Nah, gonna go visit me grandad. His Irish folk band’s on ‘tour’ here this week, and he’s stayin’ near here.”

“Gotcha. Right then, see you tonight hon.”

****

“Y/N, I don’t know why you put me through this much stress,” your mother said as you plopped down in the cafe. She was sitting there, back straight with her driving gloves on. “I waited almost twenty minutes for you! I was about to leave,” she scoffed. In her lavender suit, matching hat and gloves, and pursed lips, she was the picture of cookie-cutter aristocracy. Something you hadn’t wanted anything to do with since she’d remarried.

“Come on Mum, I’m sorry I’m late. Van didn’t wake me up on time this morning.” She gave you a look that said Don’t test me.

“Relying on that boy for everything now! What am I going to do with you,” she sighed, clutching her cup of tea close to her brooched bosom. In spite, the corners of your mouth turned down. Her entire “holier than thou” speech was going to be laced with hypocrisy. You waited for her to continue; she always did. After a few heartbeats, she spoke up again. “You’re going to end up like that fellow Larry. Wind up with nothing someday, without a job or degree when someone replaces him. You should talk to Steve, the baker on the corner. He’s got a job opening. Or your cousin Matilda, in accounting. I’ve asked around town, and they’d all be pleased to have you working for them.”

You cut her off at that. “Mum, I’m not taking pity jobs from you. And I’m not going to end up like Larry! He’s got a stable job, he’s a great guy… And I do my own things, I don’t cling to Van. Plus… I’m just enjoying being young, not having anything pinned down.” Sighing, you sat back in your chair. The waiter came over and took your order, and then realizing the tension in the air, stepped to serve other customers nearby.

Your mother sighed, and sipped her tea. “You were going to go to university, get a prime education, and get a job away from here. I never thought I’d see you posted up like a groupie at that frontman’s flat. Living off his money like a housewife. You were always better than that,” she said, drumming her fingers on the table in front of you. You gasped at her harsh word choice. Your mother had always disapproved of everything that you did because you never did what she wanted, but she had never gone this far to insult you for it. Angry, you leaned forward and looked her directly in the eyes.

“His name is Van, not “that frontman,” and we’ve been dating for almost five years. He’s been over at our house plenty. You know he’s wonderful. You even liked him before you remarried that guy. I love Van, and I wouldn’t mind being his housewife, anyhow! What is it with you always making me feel bad about myself? And the digging into me right as I arrive today? What have I done to deserve this?” The last part you practically whisper-yelled across the tiny table, trying not to attract the attention you knew your mother craved.

With the force of your voice, and the strain in your heart, your eyes started to sting as you realized a tiny truth behind her words. You just said you wouldn’t mind being his housewife. When you were in school, you wanted to be a doctor. Help people. Do something in the world. Make a difference. Change people’s lives. Your grades in school were good, but the fun of being with Van and the band was everything to you at the time, and his happiness took precedence over yours, so you never graduated.

You’d been trying to deny it, that you weren’t falling into a rhythm with Van where his work and money supported everything you did. But it was happening. You were his dependent. He paid for rent, food, drinks, even your phone bill. Your chest heaved, and your mother started looking at you with interest. She knew she’d struck a chord, and figured her work was done.

“Well then Y/N, let’s change the subject. I’ll tell you about Veronica’s new hair, boy is it god-awful..”

But you didn’t listen to the rest of it. As she spoke about the town gossip, your chest burned with hatred and guilt, and you felt tiny and helpless sitting in the chair in front of your mother. Sobs were threatening to escape, and you were in a public place. You tried to reign in the bitter tingling before your eyes, and a million scenarios were passing through your head. You couldn’t get a well-paying job because you dropped out of school when Van did. You couldn’t live on your own because you didn’t have a job. You couldn’t help with the band because you had no management, sound engineering, or instrument experience. Pigeonholed by your life choices, you couldn’t do anything other than what you were doing currently. And you were stuck. For half a second you considered breaking up with Van as your mother suggested, but the thought of losing him consumed you and made you choke out a sob and interrupt your mother mid-cackle.

“Mum, I’ve got to go.” You resigned yourself from the table, and ran down the steps of the restaurant to the parking lot. You put your car in drive, and let the tears spill. You wove through cars as fast as you could to get back to your only home - unfortunately for the circumstances, Van and Larry’s.

You missed your shot to achieve your dreams. You’re relying on a man for everything you’ve ever wanted. You can’t do anything. You want to give up? Great. It’s the thing you’ve always done, nothing new. Thoughts raced through your head and the tears kept coming as you drove on, but finally you thrust your key into the lock of the house and ran past the living room. It barely registered with you that Bondy was there, sitting at the kitchen table on his phone as you flew past him to the bedroom.

As soon as you slammed the door behind you, you let the tears flow freely, staining the silk sheets possibly permanently with the makeup you’d applied so happily earlier. You cried into the pillows to muffle the sounds, and lamented all in your life that you ruined.

****

A soft knock on the door betrayed the silence you’d immersed yourself in. You’d stopped crying a while ago. You were staring blankly ahead at the door, numb. Unfeeling. Unimpressed.

“Come in,” a monotone voice that didn’t sound like yours answered for you.

Bondy poked his head around the door. “Ah… you want to maybe… play guitar?” His kind, sympathetic eyes revealed that he took pity on your state, curled into the sheets and face thick with runny mascara. He was apprehensive. You probably looked terrifying.

“Okay.” You answered, and closed your eyes. Something dropped onto the sheets next to you. Opening your eyes, you saw it was a packet of makeup wipes.

“Let’s go, then. I’ll ready everything.” He left to get the guitars, and you slowly opened the crinkly package of wipes. You cleaned your face off, realizing mascara had even dripped lines down to your chin. Bondy returned with the guitars, and you forced yourself to cheer up a bit.

Bondy didn’t ask questions, for which you were grateful; you loved that he minded his own business. He started straight into the lesson, handing you a guitar and sitting himself down on the bed next to you.

“So we’ve been over chords a bit, and what sounds they make. Oh, let me see your fingers.” He held a hand out, asking for your left hand. You held it out to him, and he delicately lifted your wrist with one hand and felt the pads of your fingers with another. With a satisfied look, he continued speaking. “You’re getting the roughness you need to hold the strings down. I can tell you’ve been practicing.”

You wanted to look away from him; after the emotions you’d just swung through, having Bondy touch you so delicately, almost intimately, was enough to make you blush.

He noticed, and yet again, said nothing. With a small smile, he asked, “‘Ya listen to Frankie Cosmos?”

“Yeah. Her music is good. Simple, a little weird, but… good.”

“Glad you like it, because her song School is the first you’ll be learning. Super easy.”

He showed you the chords you needed to learn --- E and A, for the most part --- and taught you about bar chords, because she used them in one part of the song. Bondy even took your hand with the pick and strummed the song for you, as you practiced moving your hands over the frets with a chord change. The strings still cut into your skin, but it was easier than before to maneuver around the instrument; it was starting to feel less foreign.

Then, Bondy let you practice on your own for a few minutes, and once you got the general gist of it, he started playing rhythm to back you up, even though the original song didn’t have it. His playing sounded much better than yours, and you still messed up a lot, but it was fun. By the time you had been playing for an hour, a wide smile was plastered to your face. Bondy had taught you two of her songs, and you were eager to attempt the singing-with-a-guitar part.

Before you could, though, Larry walked right past the doorway and saw Bondy, hovering close to your face, smiling and repositioning your hands on the guitar, and your happy expression and tinted cheeks.

“What’s going on here?” He asked, pointedly. You knew it looked worse than it was.

“Teachin’ Y/N how to play guitar,” Bondy said, and you kicked him in the foot.

“What? Thought Van was doing that?” Larry asked, and looked at you for an answer.

“....He is.” You looked back between Bondy and Larry.

“Ah… I’m going out for a smoke.” With that, Bondy left the room.

Larry began once more. “Y/N, I’m gonna ask again, what’s going on here? What would Van think?” Always Van’s lookout.

Hearing his name washed over you all the feelings you’d felt earlier. You had tried not to think about how much being with Van had slid you into a useless niche that felt very permanent, and you wanted to convince yourself that your mother was just exaggerating the role Van had played in your life decisions, but Larry opened the floodgates with the comment that confirmed everything. And so, you lost it.

“What do you mean what would Van think? I’m allowed to learn guitar if I fucking want to. Gonna go tell him behind my back?” God, so many raging emotions you’d felt in the span of a few hours. You could tell Larry was shocked at your tone by his wide eyes and open mouth, but you just couldn’t hold it in anymore. Bondy had distracted you for a while, but it wasn’t long enough to make you genuinely happy.

Larry’s voice rose in pitch. “But the way Bond looks at - Nevermind bout that. You need to be more careful! Secrets aren’t good in this house. Van’s going to be livid if he finds out Bondy’s out here doing this with you.” His voice relayed that he thought a lot more was going on that guitar-playing. You couldn’t believe he thought so lowly of you. You were done with people making assumptions. Your heart hurt and your eyes welled up again as you spit venomous words back at one of your only friends.

“Larry, no offense, but what I do with my free time is none of your goddamn business. Not to mention that this is something I enjoy doing, and I don’t get a lot of that lately. For once I need to do something without Van’s permission! That’s all I’ve done for the last few years! I’ve settled on being his lady in waiting. I don’t even have an income. I couldn’t do anything if it weren’t for Van. My personal dreams are all gone. My dreams were Van’s dreams. They’ve been realized. I have nothing. Not all of us can tour with our best friends and get free shit.” Mouth open, obviously gutted at the reference, Larry turned, shocked, and retreated to his room, flinging the door shut with a bang. You didn’t mean to say it. The tears silently dripped over your cheeks. Your mother’s words infiltrated your own. You let her get to you. You had let everyone get to you.

Head in your hands, you sat on the bed, sniffling and regaining your composure. You dragged yourself solemnly to the shower to get ready for the party you’d forgotten about. After you undressed, before you turned the water on, you heard the front door slamming loudly. Larry had left.

****

Larry was Bondy’s ride to the party. Bondy had no choice but to ride with you, not that he minded. The ride over wasn’t awkward, as you had previously expected. Bondy was ever-so-cool, and if he had any reservations about earlier, he didn’t show it. You both bantered about the shitty music on the radio, and talked about your own music favorites. It put the horrible day you’d had in the back of your mind. You asked each other for a ciggy at the same time, and called “jinx!”, eventually owing each other a soda. At one point, Bondy used a funny voice to recite lines and lines of puns, and you couldn’t stop laughing and had to pull the car over to calm down. You’d never heard Bondy laugh so loudly in your life; it was a hearty, merry sound. You realized you really liked spending time with him because he made you forget how shitty life could be sometimes.

As soon as you and Bondy arrived at the bar in the city, Van was at your side, hugging you, taking you to meet people, and showing you off, leaving Bondy to mingle with others himself. Obviously, Larry had kept the conflict earlier to himself.

You were glad you wore the outfit you did - black dress, green army jacket with your buttons pinned to it, and your silvery doc martens - because everyone was looking at you. You had to admit, you loved the attention you got when Van introduced you as his girlfriend. It helped ease the part of your mind that persuaded you didn’t matter, and put you in a better mood.

Listening to everyone speak so highly of Van made it easier to forget what your mother said. He truly was an angel; and after all, it was kind of your fault that you’d let him guide your decisions. He never asked you to do any of it. He was always thankful for your support and your presence, and he believed he was repaying you by supporting you fiscally and emotionally. Well, most of the time.

“Baby, you don’t have a drink! Let me grab her one, excuse me everyone,” Van said to the group you were currently speaking with as he butted into the conversation with a playful air. He held your hand and pulled you along to the bar, where he ordered the most expensive drink they had, to spoil you. He smiled proudly as you sipped from the rim. You loved how territorial and chivalrous he got with you around others. He’d tug you closer into his side, letting everyone know you were with him and no one else.

Fast forward three hours, when anyone and everyone in the bar was pissed drunk. Slurred words and happy laughter filled the air. Van decided to take advantage of everyone’s distractions and planted a hard kiss on your lips. By this time, just as Van predicted earlier, the bar had let in people who weren’t invited, and it was turning into a proper club scene. You two weren’t into that, so you settled for a steamy makeout on the fire-engine-red booth in the corner, and in drunkenness, your demeanor had improved considerably.

Wandering hands touched skin and roamed the fabric of your dress. No one dared interrupt your tangling limbs in the booth; people were busy singing karaoke. Others were engaged in intimate conversations. Some, jealous, peeked over at Van in the booth and wished they were you.

Van’s touches became more urgent, and his tongue rolled between yours. You could taste the alcohol and smoke in his mouth, but you didn’t care. His mouth was warm, comforting, and laced with want. Breaking the kiss, he pushed you gently upright against the booth; you liked how his hands felt pressing your skin. He kissed your neck and helped you out of the booth.

Smirking, he took your hand and led you out of the area of booths to a storeroom closet. He pushed you back against the closed door, the doorknob rattling and the wood creaking. His hips slid against yours as he lifted the hem of your dress up, bunching it around your waist. You were tempted to take the damned thing off because it was getting in the way, but it was a bit difficult to undo, and why did you think to wear anything at all with Van around?

You hazily circled your hips, grinding down against him as you hooked one of your legs around his hips, the clunky heel of your shoe digging into his backside. You were both breathless, moans and groans leaving lips as you moved against each other, and his hands were everywhere. On your waist, your hips, blunt nails digging into the skin of your stomach as he reached up to your chest.

Your lips parted, reddened and plumped from biting to keep quiet, and a soft whisper of a sigh brushed against his jaw. “Fuck.” Your hips twitched when he pulled the strap of the dress aside to kiss and lick, his teeth grazing the top of your chest with precision. Your fingers threaded through the hair on the back of his head, jerking him away to kiss him, open mouthed and heavy, teeth clashing and tongues curling.

You could hear the noise coming from outside, music thumping, causing your body to thrum with the vibration. His deep guttural moan when you slid your hand down his bum to pull him closer between your legs made you so wet. “God.”

“Actually, I go by Van,” he snickered. You bit at his earlobe in retaliation.

His lips were on your neck, teeth and tongue sucking and biting as he descended. Down the valley between your breasts, over the bunched material of your dress. Suddenly his unruly hair was under the fabric and he was running his tongue along the skin above your panties. Your fingers found purchase in the grooves of the door to keep standing upright.

You couldn’t believe you were doing this – with all your friends and colleagues right outside, eating and drinking and being downright merry.

Actually, you could believe it was happening with him; it was Van, and he did things to you no one else could ever imagine doing to you, and you surely let him.

Earlier you had too many of those fancy drinks and the feel of his hand traveling up and down your spine as you danced to slower music – heads bent close and whispers of “I’m glad you’re here” and “I love you” passed between you – brought you back to the high school days when it was always just you two. Always touching, always kissing, always full of love and lust and heat.

And now here you were, leaning against the door, a leg propped over his shoulder as his fingers hooked into the sides of your underwear, bringing them down inch by inch until they were dangling off your ankle and his head was back between your legs and his fingers slipped into you and you couldn’t keep in the whimpers. You were glad it was loud out there.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you breathed, raking your fingers through his hair, keeping him close. Only you could contradict yourself at a time like this.

He looked up at you, eyes half lidded and raised eyebrows, but he kept his tongue flat on you as he hummed, causing you to clench tightly around his fingers. He pulled back and with his voice all husky and deep, he asked, “And do you want me to stop?”

It was hard to speak when he kept moving his fingers, curling just right, and he was looking up at you with a smirk on his face, lips swollen and red from being on your skin.

“No,” you thrusted your hips, chasing his fingers. “I want...I want. Ugh, just come here,” you grab for his shoulders, putting your leg back down as he stood up. He pulled his fingers out tantalizingly slow, causing you to whimper at the loss.

“Shh.” He rubbed his nose against yours, unhooking his belt as your hands joined the effort to bring his skinny black pants down just enough. He had his hands on your thighs, hitching one back up around his hips while the other hand glided along your backside, pulling you closer.

“I doubt they can hear me.” You teased yourself along his length, and his head fell forward to your neck, his panting breath coming out sharp and jagged. “Mm,” you pointed to the floor beside you, “purse, condom.”

He bent down to pick it up, handing it over for you to dig through. He genuinely laughed, “Thought you were going to get lucky, did you?”

“Oh please, you’ve been staring at me all night.” You tore open the package, and carefully put it on him. He bit his lip, moaning at the feel of your hands around him. “Not to mention the rest of this weekend. Maybe I was right in being a bit presumptuous, huh?”

With your hand wrapped around him, you pushed your hips up, guiding him in. You both moaned as he slid further in, getting used to each other’s bodies. His hand on your ass brought you closer, pushing him in farther. “Oh, fuck.” As he started moving slowly, his voice rose in pitch. “Yeah, you were definitely, definitely right.”

Smiling wide, you joked softly, “Shh, you don’t want them to hear you.” But you’re cut off by your own loud gasp as his thumb came to the apex of your thighs, rubbing as his hips moved even faster. He kissed you deeply, muffling your moans – and you were already treacherously close, god he needed to slow down. Slower.

Pulling on your bottom lip with his teeth, he rolled his hips just right, causing your legs to tremble. “I guess we’ll just have to find some way to keep each other quiet, won’t we? Just make sure not to call out my name too loudly.”

He dodged the hand flying at his face, half-laughing, half-moaning as he found just the right spot to make you scream.

****

Shuffling out of the closet, you both looked around the bar. No one seemed to have noticed you were gone for too long; also, you had taken measures to smooth Van’s hair back down, straighten your dress and jacket, and wipe off Van’s hands before exiting so as not to look like you’d just been doing something scandalous. Besides, Larry could always make up an excuse in the event someone did ask for either of you. You both could relax.

The rest of the night passed by uneventfully, other than when Benji accidentally broke a glass. You and Van were tired from the closet sex, and had been drunk earlier, so you couldn’t drive home. Bob offered to drive you, Van, and Bondy back. Bondy was wildly drunk, mumbling to himself about tight spaces, party people, and broken cigarettes; therefore, definitely staying with Van and Larry again.

Sat with your forehead pressed to the cold window in the backseat, you watched the shops of Chester pass by. Bob’s driving was slow and steady, allowing you to drink in the night drifting by in your woozy state. Stopped at a red-light, through sleepy eyes you peered through the foggy fall night at the street corner. The little sign on the corner shop, illuminated by the neon blue of the DAWSON’S MUSIC sign in big letters, drew your attention. “NOW HIRING,” it said.

In your state of drunkenness, you still managed to write it down in the notes in your phone, and set it to remind you tomorrow afternoon. Van was passed out asleep in the middle seat next to you, and Bondy was in the passenger side in front of you, calmer now and also gazing through the window. After using so much energy to pick your phone up and enter that piece of information, you slumped into Van’s side for the rest of the car ride, mind flickering between consciousness and sleep.

Bob pulled into the driveway eventually, and you and Van stretched your sore limbs upon exiting the car. Van motioned with his hand over his shoulder to Bondy as you dug the keys out of your pocket. You three stumbled past the living room, through the kitchen, leaning on each other, and all of you collapsed into Van’s bed. Sandwiched between Van and Bondy, you were warm. Safe. Satisfied. You felt Van’s arm snake over your waist, and Bondy held your hands with fingers interlaced loosely between you - or was it the other way around?

****

Aspirin and water were desperately needed the next morning. Bob came over to see how everyone was, and he found the place a disaster. The front door was unlocked, and Bob waltzed right in; “You all could’ve been kidnapped,” he relayed to you later. Someone had knocked over a lamp on the way through the living room, and the bulb was shattered on the carpet. A loaf of bread was out and stale on the kitchen table next to a tub of butter. And when Bob found you, Van, and Bondy, legs all intertwined and makeup smeared on the both of them, he pretended he didn’t see it.

“Larry’s the fuckin’ lamp perpetrator,” Van told Bob once he was up and about. “Y/N and I just fuckin’ jumped in bed last night without a care. Real easy, slept amazin’. Didn’t hurt nothin’.”

You and Bondy shared a look, about to burst into laughter.

“I slept like a fuckin’ baby. Always do when Y/N and I party all night,” he winked at you, teeth showing in a wily grin. However, you didn’t feel the same cheerfulness that Van was emanating. Something wasn’t right. Normally, Van should’ve been embarrassed that he and Bondy downright snuggled face to face - at least, he was extremely disconcerted when Larry tried to make out with him one Christmas as a result of some misplaced mistletoe and heavily consumed alcohol.

Did Van not remember that Bondy slept next to you last night? And that through the night, you had managed to cover everything with your mascara? You were known to roll around when you were drunk. But the loss of pressure when Bondy left the bed to right himself in the morning should have been enough for Van to wake up. Though he was a hard sleeper.

“And where’d you sleep last night, Bond? Get into bed with anyone? Ya’ had that lusty look in your eyes every time Y/N and I peeked at ya” Van cackled as he picked a slice of stale bread off the table and chewed it. Confirmed. Van did not know Bondy slept there at all last night. “You were absolutely fucked, mate.”

Bob’s eyes went wide, and you noticed. How did Bob know? Your eyes narrowed. You decided to keep your mouth shut, and shot Bob a look as well. You’d rather not deal with this. A confused Van was somewhat irritating.

“Yeah, ah… jumped into bed with some real hotties.” You snorted at Bondy’s answer.

“Bond! Fuckin’ legend, mate! We’re gonna have to talk about this at some point. I’ve got to know. Gonna go find Larry now though.” He stalked through the hallway to surprise Larry by yelling his name. Larry was probably in his room; he hadn’t spoken to you since you’d screamed at him. Rightfully so.

Later, when you’d gone out to the shed for a private smoke to deal with your thoughts, Bondy followed you and sat down on the ragged couch in the space next to you. Behind closed doors, you could talk freely.

“That’s so weird, Bond, how did he not know? I mean, hell, you fussed about getting my lipstick off your forehead for what seemed like five minutes. You also weigh a fuck ton and when you got off the bed, the dip you’d made in it practically sprung up. He’s absolutely oblivious.” The smoke huffed out of your lungs and hovered in the small space.

“He drank too much. He did happen to be passed out all the way home. But it’s odd that he remembers everything with you and nothin’ with me.” He lit his own cigarette and held it between his lips. The afternoon light filtered through the curls at the nape of his neck. He looked… pretty.

“Selective memory?”

“Don’t know if it works like that, love.”

Your head was swimming with all the thoughts rushing around in it. After a pause, you sighed. “We should’ve told him that happened, Bondy.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause now if he finds out later that we all shared a bed, especially after that ‘I’m horny as fuck’ look, he’s gonna think something’s up! He’s gonna think you’re trying to get at me or summat! Especially with the guitar thing already on our shoulders. Larry’s eyes are peeled. Bob’s too, for some reason. And I want Van to trust me, always. We’ve been together for so many years, imagine what he’ll do if he thinks we’re cheating. He’ll fall into despair. And now that I’ve sat through that conversation and blatantly lied to his face, complacent with your answer, and now that you’ve done the same, we’re fucked. We’ve got to keep this to ourselves.”

“He wouldn’t think we’re cheating. We’re fine.”

“This is VAN we’re talking about. Hopeless romantic, wouldn’t hurt a fly, tells everyone the truth no matter what -- we’re dealing with the most sensitive person when it comes to love. Not to mention, Larry and Bob know how close we’ve become recently, and it looks bad from the current angle and lack of communication.”

Bondy slumped further into the sickly green couch as he chuckled, releasing a puff of dust from the cushion. “We’re fucked.”

****

A few weeks, eleven secret guitar lessons, and about a hundred cigarettes later, you were stopped outside Dawson’s Music. Nervous.

Ever since you and Bondy had spoken in the shed, it became your unofficial practice space. No one ever went out there, and it was pretty secluded in the gardens that no one ever tended to, so it was a good place to meet. No one had the chance to suspect anything saucy was going on with Bondy if they didn’t know you were spending time with him in the first place. One day, post-guitar-lesson and after a raucous bout of laughter at Bondy’s attempt to sing as high as Tame Impala in The Less I Know The Better, he stopped laughing and looked down at his shoes. The music seemed extra loud when no one was speaking.

“Bond? You good, mate?” He looked up at you from under the brim of his hat, following a long pause, and said, “I think you should go get that job at Dawson’s.”

“What? How’d you even know I was considering?”

“Saw you that night in the car, looking at the sign. And then struggling to write it in your phone. Rearview mirrors are good for something, it seems.” The corner of his mouth turned slightly upward.

Mouth wide open, you stared at him. He continued. “By what you said to Larry that one day, ‘bout you needing to do your own thing, it seemed good.” Your eyes narrowed.

“You were listening?”

“The walls in this house ain’t so thick. Went out to the back behind you and Van’s room for a smoke and heard everythin’ through the window.”

“Oh.” Silence wafted in the air.

“Sorry.”

“No, Bondy, it’s okay, I just got heated in the moment and I said all those things because I had gone to lunch with my mom and she tore me up about my current situation.”

Bondy lit a match and pulled it up to his face to light the cigarette between his teeth. The sun was setting and the shed was darkening little by little. Orange beams of light shone through the two dirty windows and illuminated the dust floating in the room. “Still think ye should do it,” he said. With a puff of smoke, he stood up, took the cigarette from his lips, and handed it to you. “Come on, then.”

So there you were, standing on the street as people were walking by, wondering why your boots felt stuck to the sidewalk. You looked over your shoulder, and Bondy waved at you from the car window, and motioned for you to go inside.

****

“Van, honey! Listen!” You held the phone up to his ear, and a voice he’d never heard crackled over voicemail.

“Hello Y/N, we’re pleased to inform you that you got the job you applied for at Dawson’s Music. Please don’t hesitate to email us with your schedule so we can arrange your shift accordingly. Thanks and have a great day.”

Van looked down at you with surprised eyes, picked you up, and swung you around in his arms. “That’s amazing! I had no idea you even applied!”

“Thanks! Yeah! I’m super excited. Bondy was actually the one to push me to apply. I’m so happy I went through with it.”

“So proud of you, love. So proud. Hows’about we celebrate with some tea and kettlecorn and a movie?”

“You know me so well. Of course.” Van set to making the kettlecorn in the popcorn pot his dad had given him for his birthday last year, and you brewed the tea. Every so often, Van would wrap his arms around your waist and set his chin in the crook of your shoulder, watching you unravel the tea bags or pour hot water into the mugs. A little check-in every so-often. You loved how he subconsciously felt the need to be close to you.

Plopping down on the couch, spooned by Van under a soft knitted blanket, you felt at home. The fabric of his black tee was so soft, and you nudged farther back into him.

“Don’t be playin’ that game, love,” he snickered, kissing the side of your neck just below your ear.

“You’re just so comfortable,” you say, wriggling until you’re turned around facing him, completely disregarding the movie. He looks over your head and shoulder at the tv; you kiss his jaw softly, and then his chin. You wrap your arms around his waist, snuggling up as close as you can get, and press soft kisses to his collarbones peeking through the neck of the tee.

Just then, the front door burst open with an elated Bondy standing there. He was drunk, obviously, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“I’ve done it!” he yells, making his way to the fridge in the kitchen. Larry walked in as Bondy was fishing through the beers. He found his favorite kind, and popped the top open on the edge of the counter. Through Larry’s uncontained giggles, you saw Bondy saunter over to the hearth where Van’s TV was propped above. You felt Van’s vocal chords vibrate as he asked Bondy what the hell he was doing there and laughed.

Bondy ignored you both on the couch and slung his arm out to grab the propane torch Van used to light the fire in the chimney.

“Fuck, Bondy, put that down!” you said, and Bondy made steady eye contact with you as he lit the torch, flame puffing loudly from the pipe, and brought it to the cigarette in his mouth, blasting the tip of it completely.

“Mate,” Van coughed out between bronchitis laughs, “what the hell?”

“Bought myself a fuckin’ house in the neighborhood today, boys!”

Van’s eyes narrowed in confusion. You felt his heartbeat quicken between his chest and yours. His eyebrows knitted together as he thought. “But you… hate it here?”

“What? No. That was last year. You’re livin’ in the past!” Bondy laughed as he held his arm out one of the living room windows, keeping the cigarette smoke outside. He fell to his knees and tried to grasp the beer he set on the chimney ledge without letting the cigarette in his other outstretched arm in the house.

Larry looked at Bondy with a confused look as well. Then, he glanced at you, who seemed to be the only one excited to gain a new neighbor.

“Where is it?” You asked excitedly. Bondy pointed somewhere off to the right down the street with a spaghetti arm. You knew you’d get the actual address later.

“That’s amazing! Now we can visit you all the time!” you bounced, sitting up on the couch next to Van. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I got the job at Dawson’s Music.”

“No fucking way, that’s fucking brilliant!” Bondy exclaimed, ashing the cigarette on the windowsill and flicking it outside in one motion. He picked you up off the couch and hugged you tightly, his curls tickling your neck. He smelled like booze upfront, but with notes of sandalwood and a light hint of floral underneath. You sighed into his arms. Why did boys have to smell so nice?

****

More weeks pass. It was time again for another acoustic session, this time led by a major video company you couldn’t remember the name of. It was the last session they’d be doing before starting the US tour.

The boys drove themselves to the session as a mini-roadtrip from Chester to London, and you rode in Van and Larry’s car. They laughed the whole way there, as Van and Larry both had erratic driving skills. Van constantly shot sexual looks at you in the backseat from the passenger side, and you hoped they’d later be cashed in for the actual thing.

The London bar was basked in an orange glow from industrial lighting hanging from the low ceiling. Fairy lights trailed around the edges of the room, and the warm light reflecting off the burgundy walls of the room allowed it to softly fade into the shadows at the edges. Candles in glass jars on rustic tables twinkled as people shuffled in to watch.

Your seat had been picked early on; you opted for a table between Van and Bondy, because you loved it when Van would finally open his eyes while playing and look to his right.

When the lights went down and the boys were illuminated only by the fairy lights, the audience was in awe of them. They all looked incredible, and matched the scenery. You never thought you’d see the day when Catfish played a bar gig in such a sweet way, but you were thankful it happened.

As the beginning chords of Hourglass sounded out, clear and compelling, your heart thrummed with them. The other boys fell silent as Van played, and this time he sang all the lyrics directly to you.

His eyes were open the whole time, filled with sadness of having to leave you on tour again; the reality couldn’t be denied any longer. You forgot the presence of others as he sang, belting the lyrics with strained neck and hands. Tears welled up in your eyes as he sang the chorus, almost acapella now. Soft “oohs” and guitar chords sweet and melancholic coaxed your tears out as they dripped down your cheeks.

And then it was over. You wiped them away as the audience murmured about who you were, and how some of the boys couldn’t take their eyes off you the whole time.

When the bar had cleared to its normal capacity a few hours later and your emotions had settled, you sat for a drink with Benji. You declined a beer and went for a soda; you knew if you got day drunk now you’d really feel the longing for Van and the boys on tour.

Benji got called away from the bar by a sound tech, something about his bass guitar, and Bondy plopped down in the seat next to you.

“Emotional, that was.” He was speaking of the Hourglass serenade.

“Yeah. Trying not to think too hard about it. I’m going to lose it for the first few days off by myself. Always do. I eventually get used to it though. As bad as that sounds.” You chuckled, and took a sip of your soda.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe we’re leavin’ again. But we’re also itchin’ to get back out there.”

“I know you are.”

A silence creeped in between you two, but it was comfortable. It had gotten easier speaking to Bondy on a personal level. He was the only other person you spent about as much time with as Van. That used to be Larry, but after you insulted him that day, he had tried to avoid you. Bondy knew this well, but Van was oblivious, and it was both funny and awkward to watch Van try to plan events where you and Larry would sit next to each other or go to the grocery store to buy supplies together. You or Larry would cringe and try to back out of it while Bondy cackled mirthfully in the background, as usual. Hence Larry driving most of the way to London today.

“What are you going to wear to that fancy party tomorrow?” you asked him, and his eyes narrowed in confusion before widening.

“I haven’t actually got anything,” he laughed, feet propped up on the barstool.

“Johnny Bond. This is probably the fanciest party you’ll ever attend. Why haven’t you thought to get any clothes for it?”

“Actually I do have a suit, thank you very much, it’s just in Newcastle. I moved all my shit into my mum’s house there, and I’ve been taking weekend trips there and back to cart it all to the new house. The formal wear hasn’t made it yet,” he stated.

You checked your watch. Half past noon. “I wonder….” you asked him frivolously, toothy grin peeking from your lips.

“I’ll start the car,” he stated. He stalked off to the back of the bar with a smile.

****

In Bondy’s little Volkswagen, surrounded by record store bags, CD jewel cases, old shirts and leather boots, you hit the A1 just before quarter one. Speakers loud, hair blowing in the wind, shirt ruffling, you felt happy. Bondy was smiling too, his hat having been blown to the backseat by a large gust of wind. His hair was flying around his head too. The beat of the music drummed in Bondy’s old speakers. You could feel it in your chest.

From the safety of your sunglasses, you studied his face as he drove on into hour two of the trip. Hooded eyes framed delicately by little eyelashes, nose sloping down to plump lips and small teeth. Curls resting on his cheeks. Freshly shaved. Freckles dusting above his cheekbones. Your eyes traveled over his taut jawline, and the veins in his neck, strained a little from laughing, and something deep inside you hummed. You shifted your legs on the seat and looked away for a few moments, trying to understand, trying to focus on anything but how you were feeling towards him. The music playing over the speakers didn’t help you shake that grandiose feeling of attraction. Looking back at him again, you saw the wind had let the neckline of his shirt fall below his collarbones, and they stuck out slightly, a little red from sunburn. Your cheeks burned red, and you couldn’t help but feel happy to be with him right now.

“What you smilin’ about over there?” he asked, finally noticing your stare.

“Oh, nothing, just--”

It was then that you noticed your phone lit up through your bag on the floor beside your feet.

“Hold on.”

You fished it out of your bag, and answered Larry’s call. In the background, you could hear Van yelling.

“Why the fuck’s she answering your calls but not mine?” you heard him shout, a few feet away from the receiver.

“Y/N, where the fuck are you? We’re worried sick!”

“Hey Larry, chill, Bondy and I are going to get him a suit for the party tomorrow.” You heard Larry sigh, and relay the information to Van, who was somewhere nearby. You could hear parts of their muffled conversation crackling through the phone.

“She’s always with him now, mate. Don’t know what the fuck I’ve done wrong,” Van said. You missed what Larry said back to him next. And then a, “Nothing’s going on,” from Larry, trying to assuage Van’s fears.

Then, you could feel the receiver exchange hands through the crackle of noise.

“Babe, it’s Van.”

“Hey, love. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“Next time just tell me, okay.”

“Alright. As soon as we get to Newcastle I’ll let you know.”

“Newcastle?!? What the fuck, Y/N?! What in the actual fuck are you doing?! That’s five fucking hours away?” You held the receiver away from your ear because his yelling was so loud. You and Bondy exchanged a look. His said, sorry, and yours said, I didn’t think we were doing anything wrong.

“Van….Van, honey, calm down, okay? I’m just helping him with an outfit! He already had a suit, so why should he buy another one? We’ll get there around dinner time, and I guess we’ll come back early in the morning.”

“So you’re staying the night there, too?” You could feel the hurt in his voice. It was more reserved. It broke you a little.

“Baby, I’m sorry. It was a spur of the moment decision. I… I shouldn’t have gone. I know it was stupid. And I should have told you. You would have kept me from doing this.”

In trying to appease Van, you also managed to hurt Bondy’s feelings. Next to you, he slumped a little farther into his seat and placed his arm out the window, looking away from you. But you knew it was better this way.

You hung up with Van after he felt he’d left the conversation in a good place. He’d called you seven times before Larry’s two.

The rest of the drive passed in silence.

****

“Mum, we’re about thirty minutes out from you now,” he spoke softly into his phone. Between the “mm”s and the “yes”s, you didn’t get much to go off of in terms of Bondy’s mother’s personality. But when you arrived, you realized there was no need to prepare yourself. His mother was the exact opposite of yours.

As soon as the car pulled into the secluded drive, a long winding thing out in the country, she was on the porch, waving him in with a dish towel, bright smile on her face. She was round and motherly, dressed in an apron, hair swept into a bun on the top of her head, secured with a clip. The first thing she did was pull you into a hug.

“Hello there! I’m Beatrice. You’re so beautiful, your name is Y/N, right? Bondy’s told me so much about you.” Her warmth enveloped you, and you immediately wanted to adopt her as your stand-in mother. Bondy blushed in front of you for the first time, and you couldn’t help but feel like you’d experienced a rare side of him no one else had seen.

“Hi mum,” he said, wrapping his skinny arms around her large frame, and leading her into the house.

It seemed it was a Bond family tradition to cook large meals for dinner; you could tell Bondy enjoyed stirring pots and tasting sauces for his mum. He looked at home in the kitchen, and you could imagine him, smaller and more curious-eyed, looking up at his mother asking to help her.

The sweetness in the room was almost too much to handle, and you felt as if you were intruding on a private moment. You wandered into the lounge, and perused the photos on the hearth. Bondy was a cute child, and handsome even in his awkward years.

You thought about the first time you visited Mary and Bernie’s house; it was just as warm and it smelled like cinnamon. You were wrapped in one of Van’s sweaters, sleeves too long for your arms so the sweater paws hung next to you. The photos of Van on the end tables were like mini shrines to him, and Mary gave Van the same looks Beatrice gave Bondy.

Thinking of Van made you peer down at your cell phone. No texts or calls. You guessed he was giving you space. As guilty as you felt, you also craved the taste of independence you were getting. Doing things with other people and making other friends was the first step in becoming your own person again.

Bondy came into the lounge and told you he was running out to the shed to find some old guitars you could play on. You nodded, and smiled as he left. Domestic Bondy made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the phone rang in the kitchen and Bondy’s mother answered the phone.

“Oh hi Mariam!” her chipper voice answered. You chuckled to yourself. She was adorable.

You continued to walk through her house, imagining a little Bondy galavanting in the small hallways and the sounds of his guitar echoing through the walls. You didn’t want to admit that this made you see a side of Bondy you couldn’t deny a little love for.

“Yes, Mariam, she’s lovely,” Beatrice spoke hushedly in the kitchen. You felt bad for listening, but you were intrigued. “This is the first he’s ever brought…” she trailed off, murmuring to the other woman on the phone. “She’s absolutely beautiful. Polite and sweet. I love her already,” she spoke.

Your eyes went wide as you realized Beatrice thought Bondy was bringing you home to meet her. As if you were together. A hand went over your mouth, and you started to panic.

Thankfully, before you could take another strained breath, Bondy was at your side with the guitar. You let the feelings of panic subside for the time being so you could enjoy playing with him.

You were getting good now, especially since you practiced in your spare time. You didn’t want to show Bondy how much you’d learned, though; you were saving your newfound talent for the afterparty tomorrow, where you’d show the guys how determined you were to take part in their art. You planned to play a few songs for everyone to surprise them.

After losing yourself for an hour or so with Bondy, singing songs and playing guitar, Beatrice called that the meal was ready; Bondy apologized for not helping as much as usual. Beatrice just smiled and said everything was perfectly fine.

“So, Y/N, what do you do?” she asked. A question that had plagued your life since you’d left school. Now, though, you had a solid answer.

“I work at a record and instrument store called Dawson’s Music. I was just recently promoted to the manager of the store. I’m really surprised at how fast I progressed in the ranks! They really seem to love me, and I love them… It’s just a nice environment overall. I never thought I’d be dating a rockstar and working in music, with my previous experience. But that’s another story for another day. Bondy was the one who really pushed me to get the job.”

In the moment, you hadn’t realized your false affirmations of Beatrice’s earlier phone call; she didn’t understand that “dating a rockstar” and “dating her son” didn’t mean the same thing in her context. However, Bondy failed to correct you, and so it went unnoticed by you.

“I’m so glad! I bet you’re feeling mighty independent!” It seemed Beatrice had the same intuitive quality as Bondy.

“I really am. I think I’m happier than I’ve ever been.” At that, both Bond family members’ smiles beamed brightly, and you felt good.

“How about a little toast to that, then?” Bondy stood up, pulling a bottle of pinot grigio from a grocery bag. It was your favorite.

You laughed, eyes narrowing. “Thought you hated white,” you teased.

“Think I can make an exception.” He uncorked it, and poured two full glasses, one for each of you, and a glass with enough for a sip for Beatrice. The glasses clinked together, and you sipped happily on yours. Bondy’s face contorted as soon as he sipped his.

“‘M fine, I swear,” he said, trying to sip more to get used to the taste.

****

Bondy had given up on the wine a long time ago, resorting to a few highball vodkas and “whatever juice I can find in this fuckin’ fridge.” You both were drunk by now, telling stories across the table to starry-eyed Beatrice.

Eventually, she retired to her bedroom with a “goodnight” and a flourish of her dish towel. Bondy led you outside and you both sat in the dewy grass, staring up at the sky.

Beneath the stars, you realized you missed Van too.

****

Clothes needed to be removed after sitting in the wet dewy grass; you both were too drunk to realize what connotation a situation like this would have on any other night. You tiptoed up the stairs to Bondy’s room, where you peeled your jeans and shirt off and let them fall to the floor. Bondy had done the same. Clad only in underwear, you both climbed into his bed, pressing pillows between you two, trying not to acknowledge the zing you felt every time his fingers brushed up against your skin.

When you woke, the pillows were all strewn on the floor from your sleep movements, and you were entwined with him, pressed up against his chest.

****

Racing back to Chester with the formal suit in tow, you made it to Bondy’s house just two and a half hours before you needed to leave for the party. He lived five houses down the row, and two up the next street away from Van, so as soon as he parked the car, you darted up the street for a much-needed shower.

“Look who’s home,” Van said, enveloping you in a tight hug. “Everything’s good?” he asked, tentative. The underlying meaning was there, but you chose to ignore it. At least he was being pleasant.

“Yep. But I’m in desperate need of a shower.”

“Pop on in! Larry just took one so the water’s still hot. And I’ve been eyeing that dress in the closet for weeks, waiting to see you in it. Today’s the day!” he exclaimed, and plopped down on the couch.

You cursed men for not having to spend so much time to get ready. It took you the whole two and a half hours to wash, shave, dry your hair, fix your hair, do your makeup, paint the nails that had chipped, put the dress on, practice walking in the sky high heels, and choose a clutch that went with it.

You had opted for a long-sleeved black dress, backless, with a sweetheart V at the front. The shimmery black fabric was breathable, so it was fine for a summer night. It hugged your figure tightly before it cascaded to the floor. You decided to do your hair in big waves, to complement the dress; you even had extensions put in last week so your hair would be long enough to do a Pinterest blowout.

Stepping out of the bedroom with your smoky eye, tall heels, and fire-engine red clutch bag, you knew you looked good. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time. You walked to the living room, where the boys were doing finishing touches to their own suited looks. As soon as you walked in, all eyes were on you.

“Whoa, babe.” Van dropped to his knees in front of you. “You’re so… fuck. You’re a goddess. How’d I end up with her, lids? The universe dealt me a good hand, yeah?”

Your gaze went from him to the other boys in the room. Bob was smiling, admiring your beauty. Benji was staring wide-eyed, not saying anything. Bondy’s mouth was hanging open, and his hands were frozen where he was buttoning up his shirt. Larry was stunned, but went back to gelling his hair in the foyer mirror.

Van stood up, and walked in a circle around you, admiring every angle the dress had to offer. “Babe, this… I thought I was excited when it was on the hanger. This is somethin’ else.”

“Okay, stop drooling. We’ve got to leave in 5.” You told him, but locked eyes with each of the others to make sure they’d quit looking too.

****

The party passed as all cocktail parties do; photos as they get out of the vehicle, photos as they enter the venue, tapas to munch on during, awkward conversations with people you’ve never met, and then more photos. Your heels were killing you. You could tell the boys were tired of posing and answering questions.

“Let’s take a breather, yeah?” Van asked you, and signaled the others to follow him.

A storage room in the back of the venue was found, and half the crew lit up cigarettes as soon as they stepped within the door frame. They bantered back and forth, thankful to be somewhere they could be themselves. You kicked off your heels and noticed an old wooden acoustic guitar in the corner. Your plan was to wow them after the party, but you figured with all of them together, here and now, you could play just as well and they wouldn’t be expecting it.

You strummed it once; surprisingly, it was in tune. Bondy turned his head first; you knew it was because he was attached to all things guitar. You started playing, and only when they all looked around the room at each other and realized it wasn’t each other, that they realized it was you.

You laughed as they turned around, shocked. Van’s eyes were bugging out of his head. He sat down on a crate next to you.

You played his favorite song, and then Bondy’s, and then sung a little bit of Cocoon for fun. By the end of it, they were all singing along, and in a much better mood to get back to the party. Van was the last one to stand and return to the crowd outside.

****

Stepping into the vehicle to ride back home with the other boys, Van blindfolded you before you could push his hands away.

“Vaaaaaaan….. Wait a second. Is this that scarf from the drawer?”

“Why, yes it is. How perceptive of you.”

“This is like, a bit kinky,” you heard Benji say.

A stifled cough. Bob.

“I don’t know what to think of these two anymore.” Larry.

“I’m kind of into it.” Bondy.

“You would be.” Bob.

The rest of the car ride was just you listening to the boys, and trying to figure out what Van was up to.

The sleek black limousine pulled up to a stop at two places, and you felt people’s weight lift off the seats each time. At the last stop, after someone else had gotten off, Van said to the driver, “Go round the block one more time, for good measure.” He did.

Van helped you out of the car. You probably looked ridiculous, wherever you were, in a formal gown with a black scarf wrapped around your head. It was probably denting your hair, too.

Van carried you inside, and as the smell of the house hit you, you knew it was home. Van set you down, pressed your front up against the cool metal of the door, and started whispering in your ear from behind, hot breath tickling your neck.

“Does he do what I do for you?”

“Wh--?” His fingers over your mouth muffled your response. “Does he do what I do for you?” he repeated, voice calm, but angry. He ran a finger down your arm, touching your hand lightly. Blindfolded, all of your other senses were heightened. Van knew this. It was the reason for the extra go-around on the block. Your skin tingled where his finger had touched.

And then suddenly, his body was everywhere, encircling you from behind. He pressed his hips up against your ass, hard, lips on your neck and pulled your hips back into his as he rucked the dress up around your hips, fingering the edge of the simple black cotton underwear you chose to wear tonight. “God, how do you do that?” He rasped out in between kisses, his tongue running along the column of your throat.

You let out a muffled whimper, caught behind bitten lips. “Do what?”

His answer was to turn you around and lift a bare leg over his hip as he ground against you roughly. His touches were unexpected, and his hands were rough on you.

“He can’t touch you like I can,” he angrily whispered in your ear. He pressed you up against the door, cradling your face in his hands as he planted a kiss on your lips. “You’re mine.”

You tried to ask who he was referring to, but it came out as a moan when he bit your earlobe. You sighed into his neck, and his hands trailed down your back to paw at the zipper of your dress.

“Bedroom,” he growled. He carried you to the bed, slammed the bedroom door, and untied your blindfold. His eyes were revealed to you, angry and red. It was visible all over his face. Jealousy. He’d found out how much time you’d actually been spending with Bondy. How well you could play guitar confirmed all his suspicions.

He helped your hips out of your dress, and let it fall to your feet.

Again, he whispered, “You’re mine.”

His hands snaked up to your breasts and his thumbs curved the swell on the underside of the flesh. He caressed your arms, and then lifted them over your head, and laid them on the pillows. He tied them loosely with the scarf he used to blindfold you.

With open mouth kisses, he descended from your neck, to your breasts, across your stomach, and down to your underwear. His teeth tugged at the fabric, and he pulled them all the way off, nipping at your ankles before returning between your thighs. He thrust in a finger with no problem; the fact that Van was jealous over you spending time with another man evoked something in you that set off a tidal wave of wetness. You squirmed beneath his touch as he licked, sucked, and finger-fucked the moans out of you, coaxing your deepest frustrations out of you.

“You like that, huh? Can’t get this with him, can you? I’m the only one who gets to fuck you” he whispered into your wetness, blowing on your most sensitive parts. The cool rush of air made you shiver.

Suddenly, he stands up, unbuttoning his shirt, and unbuckling his jeans and boots, the metal clinking as he threw his belt down.

“Come.” He directed you to sit on his lap. Slowly, as he lowered you onto him, your moans pierced the air. “Louder. I want everyone in the neighborhood to know how good you’re being fucked tonight.”

You rose up on your haunches only to push back down again, skin sticking and you both groaned as you looped your tied hands around his neck, holding onto him, his hands already fully cupped around your breasts, the pads of his thumbs causing your nerve endings to explode as they pass over your nipples.

You felt it start to coil deep in your belly, in the apex of your thighs, as you twisted your hips just right. The delicious feeling trembled through your limbs and into your center. The feel of his hands on your waist, fingers digging into the skin under your hips as he let out a breathy “Oh fuck” and takes you higher. Your hands held tight around his neck for leverage as you sat fully astride him, as he was buried deep inside you.

You gyrated slowly, rubbing against him, moans leaving your lips. You watched his face, his mouth falling open and his bottom lip pulling down as his eyelids fluttered in ecstasy, a look of pure pleasure on his face. His hands fell slack from your chest to come and rest on your moving hips, helping you with the motions as your body started to tighten, ready for a release.

He sat up quickly, folding his knees under him and surprising you as he wrapped both arms around your waist and lied his head against your sternum, panting breath coming out hot against your skin. Your arms were wrapped around his neck, still tied with that black scarf, ends of it tickling his back. Your hands were drifting through his hair, pulling it tightly between your fingers as you moved. The actions caused him to hiss and bite on the upper swell of your breasts and you just couldn’t get enough.

You were pressed up close against him, from groin to torso and his knees were bent, cradling your lower body between his thighs and abdomen. “Oh, my god,” you whispered, as he bit lightly at your nipple and brought a hand down to the curve of your ass, fingers digging in and helping you move faster.

You had never needed a release this bad or this fast before, and with your movements gaining speed and a line of sweat running down the middle of your back and the sound of your bodies moving together and don’t even get started on the whimpers and groans coming from him that had your body finally giving in as you quaked with your release.

Your thighs tighten around the tops of his hips and your whispered “I love you”s and “you feel so good”s bring him over the edge and honestly, if he held you any tighter – your trembling bodies riding out your orgasms together, lips and tongues on necks and promises of more to come etched on your skin – you might just break.

And when he laid you back on the bed, head resting on your stomach and small grin on his face as he kissed your skin lightly, you could hear through his whispered nothings brushing against your skin his own “I love you” surfacing and you couldn’t deny that this time was different – heady and emotional and jealous and so goddamn good you wouldn’t be able to feel your legs tomorrow – than the rest; that somehow you were a little bit closer to Van than you’d ever experienced.

(And two hours later, when you had a leg lifted over his shoulder and his head was between your thighs and the cool tile of the shower was pressed against your back, you thought this might just be what heaven feels like.)

*****

“You’ve got to choose.” Bob said it through a mouthful of muffin. He’d taken you out to lunch with promises of photography and lemonade.

“I know.”

“Both of them are losing it over you.”

“I know.”

Back up a few days, and there was you, blindfolded, in your beautiful black dress, pressed up against the door, Van whispering jealousies in your ear.

What you didn’t know was that Bondy was sitting at the kitchen table, stunned to silence at Van’s blatant territorial display. That he was listening to every moan you made, itching to be the one causing those sounds, dying to see you come undone.

The pain Van had caused him was enough to push Bondy to confide in Bob. And Bob didn’t like being in the middle of people’s drama. Especially when it involved hearing about someone one you love have domineering sex with another person you love. Bob was uncomfortable, to say the least.

“Y/N, they go on tour tomorrow.”

“Bob, I just…. I love them both, alright? Both of them have seen different parts of me. If I’m with one, I miss the other. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve been with Van for five years, and these feelings for Bondy have developed over the course of a few months. If I were you, I know who I’d pick. But, I’m not you. I’m sorry. I wish I could choose for you.”

“Should I just let them go off on tour, and not hear from me for a while? Let them get their shit done, and visit later? I really don’t want to be a Yoko.”

*****

You watched them go at it, Benji pointing out every creature in the film trying to explain the best way he can in his nerdy excitement, and Bondy commenting on how stupid the characters sounded or looked. You liked these moments, when everything has died down for a soft quiet moment and you’re not thinking of boys on tour or job promotion or paying rent. It’s just nice.

Wrapping your fingers around the cold metal of his rings, you leaned over to whisper softly in his ear, “It’s a movie, they don’t always have to make sense.” You lifted his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders as you nuzzled into his side, resting your head on his chest.

He groaned, the noise reverberating in your ear. “Yeah, well, they should try and explain it better for people like me, darling.”

You laughed, fingers dropping to poke at his thigh. “You’re in a band that tours the world, I’m sure figuring out the complexities of Star Wars is the least of your issues.”

He quieted down, rubbing his thumb along the tip of your nose as you raised your eyes up to look at him. Playfully rolling his own eyes, he conceded, “Whatever you say, love.”

You preened, eyes crinkling in the corners as your lips rested on his, a smile pulling through at the easy intimacy.

You pulled apart as you hear childish phony gagging beside you and Bondy laughs as you playfully swat at the curls hanging in Benji’s face. “Like I don’t have to see you kissing Dani on the doorstep every afternoon,” you said, raising your eyebrows with a pointed look.

He flushes deeply, bowing his head bashfully. “Yeah, yeah.” He wipes his hands on his dark black jeans as he stands. “Anyways, I got to hit the hay. I got a meeting for really early tomorrow.”

You tilted your head. “Wait, what about the rest of the movie?”

“Just finish it without me, mum. It’s not like I haven’t seen it a million times.” He smirked. “Night guys.”

“Night,” you said, eyebrows creasing and skepticism rising.

“Night, lad.” Bondy stretched out on the sofa as Benji disappeared around the corner. He raised his arms, groaning lightly as his muscles protest the action. His velvet shirt lifted up slightly, and your eyes were immediately drawn to the strip of skin and dusting of hair on his abdomen. Your heart jumped as the sight. His eyes locked onto you, smiling softly. “What is it? Think he’s gone to bed a bit to early?”

You giggled, lifting your legs to curl underneath yourself as you faced him. “Oh yeah, totally. I mean, it’s only 8:30.”

“Oh,” he bit his lip, eyes drifting to your lips. “Well, in that case…” His voice drifted off as his hand curved around the neck of your shirt, bringing you closer. His breath ghosted over your lips as he left a small peck, his hand reaching up to caress your jaw. You deepened the kiss, moaning as you tilted your chin just so, hand reaching forward to wrap around his knee. His tongue ran over his lips, tangling with yours and it just felt so damn good.

You sighed against his lips as he fell back along the couch, pulling you on top of him. “And what about the movie?” Your breath stuttered as his hand found itself resting in your back jean pocket, forcing your hips to rock against his.

“Another time,” he groaned out, his lips coasting from your lips to your jaw to the curve of your neck. Your eyes rolled back, whole body dropping into his as you gave in.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, waking up from the dream drenched in a cold sweat, breathing ragged and electrified. “No. No fucking way. No.” You rolled out of bed, peeled off your clothes, and stood under the shower. Bob was right. You needed to choose.

*****

Saying goodbye was hard. They left, and you didn’t kiss either of them in front of each other. You and Van shared a few sweet kisses in his bedroom that morning, and you kissed Bondy’s cheek when Van went to find the toilet at the airport.

A few months had gone by, and you’d heard from Bondy about as much as Van. They were both pining for you, even abroad, but you let that settle to the back of your mind. You had been working hard, doing long hours at the music shop, and managing sales at another music shop down the block. This one was corporate owned, and you were quickly becoming one of their favorite saleswomen, especially since you could play guitar almost as well as Bondy could. You were still extremely thankful for his help.

You had saved up enough money to fly out to visit them for a few days in any American city you chose. Did someone say, Miss Independent?

Stepping off the flight in California, you were nervous. Heart pounding as you greeted the both of them, trying not to give one more attention than the other. They, however, had other plans. The first night after their show, the boys took you out to a club, and offered to buy you any drink you wanted on the menu. Bob rolled his eyes the entire time, sipping his virgin bloody mary, and you got drunker and drunker, and started falling all over both Bondy and Van.

It was Bondy who won the opportunity to dance with you; he managed to bribe the club owner to play Tame Impala over the speakers, and since that was the music of your friendship, you had no choice but to take Bondy’s hand and lead him, walking backwards, to the dance floor. You ground against him, hot and sweaty under the lights, while Van sipped his drink. He was enjoying this; he didn’t know just how 50/50 you were split on your attraction.

It was Van who won the opportunity to let his lips touch yours; the dancing had shaken Bondy up so much that he had to dart to the bathroom soon after the regular music was back on. You weren’t down from your dancing high yet, and you needed to feel something. Someone. You grabbed Van by the neck and smashed your lips against his; he returned the favor with as much fervor and passion as you had begun with. Bondy watched from afar when he emerged from the bathroom, only thirty seconds later.

That first night, you ended up in your hotel room with Van.

On the last night of your stay, after drinks were shared all around, you asked Bondy to play guitar with you in a back room, for old time’s sake. As you drunkenly tried to finger the strings properly, miserably failing, Bondy tried the same.

“Helloooo? Anyone here?” Van called from the hallway, obviously drunk too. He was enjoying these games too much.

“Quick! In here!” You giggled, forcing Bondy into the storage closet, leaving your guitars propped against the wall. You heard Van open the door, and Bondy started to breathe like a laugh was coming on.

You pressed your finger to his plump lips; the contrast between his pokey beard and the soft skin of his lips stirred something in you. You paused, waiting for the coast to be clear, feeling a slight tingling inside. You became hyper aware of how close you and Bondy were in the closet; his fingers brushing your thighs, his knee touching yours, his hair tickling your cheek.

Bondy moved your finger away from his mouth. His breath fanned over your face.

“I can’t take this anymore.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and his fingers wound themselves in your hair. Your noses knocked and your teeth clinked. You couldn’t get close to him quickly enough. His knee spread your legs, moving to press closer to you. You kissed back, relishing the feeling of his lips and tongue finally on yours. He kissed rougher than Van, but his movements were more calculated. One of his hands traveled to grip your ass, the other still tightly wound in your hair. Your hands were on his chest, quickly traveling lower. When you imagined what his fingers would feel like inside you, how well he played the guitar and how strong his hands looked, you moaned. It was muffled in his mouth. His hands felt for the waistband of your shorts, already knowing what you desired. He pulled the shorts and underwear down in one motion, and he felt how soaking you were for him. He inserted a finger, and you almost lost yourself completely. Two, and you were gone.

There was no room for sex in the closet, so Bondy made do with what he could; not like his hands weren’t the most magical things that had ever graced you. All those years of melody guitar playing were paying off in a way you’d never thought they could. He hit every angle that would make you scream, he’d whisper lowly in your ear, comforting you, guiding you, and he sucked your neck, beard tickling wherever he kissed, sure to leave bruises behind. He picked up speed and you pressed your head against his chest, but he made you look him in the eye as your climax rushed over you in powerful waves. When the last whimper was uttered, teeth released bitten lips, his fingers slid out of you, your pants were pulled up, and he had found some stray napkins for his hands, the door swung open. Cold air rushed in. Van was standing with his arms crossed.

“We need to talk.”

****

“There’s no way I can decide this right now,” you told them. “I love both of you.” You were far from settled. You were still a little drunk, too.

“What about something completely random?” Van asked. Bondy was silent. Scared that the storage room closet was the only taste he’d ever get of you.

“Oh! Oh. I’ve got it.” You look around, searching for your purse. Picking it up, you trawled the inside of it with your fingers. You pulled a coin out and showed it to them.

"So... we flip for it." Trying to steady your shaking hands, you held it tightly. "One of you, call it."

"Heads!" Van yelled, and the coin deftly left your hand, twinkled above you, flipping over, and over, and over, with either boy’s fate engraved on the sides. Finally, it fell back to your hand. You picked it up quickly, and flipped it onto the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, and opened your eyes. You moved your fingers out of the way so they could see.

Their heads leaned in. They both stared at each other.

"Best two out of three?"

#ahaHA! i am a mad woman!! i can't see after looking at my computer screen for hours!! amazing!!#i hope you guys really like this #this is....a lot.#also: smut #catb fanfic #catb fic #van fic #van fiction #bondy #johnny bond #johnny bond fic #bondy fic #catfish fic #i am yelling #screaming actually #i cant believe i wrote this much

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