#or it was already in my room and he just noticed it (unideal)

[bl00dgutsgl0ry]

Rivalry Put To Rest

Pairing - Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Warnings - Arranged marriages (non of that under age like child marriages though fuck that yuck, these are obviously of age adults i just really wanna make that clear jesus), praise kink, modern AU, just lovely soft sex with my favorite man :'^).

Word Count - 2.4k

Other Comments - Dude it’s been so long since ive actually written anything im so sorry. But i couldn't resist writing this. I know i promised xiao but he will come in time. This is a little bit of a slow burn, or at least the sex doesnt start right away lol i want this to be nice and soft. P.s. youre on birth control so dont worry about no condom lol.

You did not like this idea. Why your parents were still forcing you into this was beyond you seeing as how you were a fully grown ass adult. You just couldn’t stomach the disappointment you would be seen as in their eyes. You were the daughter to the CEO of one of the most well known Law Firms in Teyvat. Zhongli was the son of another CEO who controlled your Rival company. Yours's and his parents wanted to finally settle the bad blood between the firms by having the two of you get married. You knew damn well the benefits of doing this was, god forbid if your Fathers firm went underwater, you would still be secure with Zhongli as your husband.

It’s not that you didn’t like Zhongli, and he certainly was not ugly; you just couldn’t stand your freedom to choose who you really wanted to marry being ripped from you. It was non negotiable though, so you had to go through with it. Zhongli didn’t seem to mind at all, he thoroughly enjoyed his very brief moments he had with you before, and was frankly excited to get more of those moments. He just hoped you didn’t resent him or blame him for this.

You both of course had an extravagant wedding, why would you not when your family was one of the wealthiest in Teyvat. You were grateful to your parents for letting you invite a few of your friends, and it seemed Zhongli had done the same. There was almost like a crowd formed around you two at the after party, you talking to your friends, and him with his. Zhongli had offered you his arm to hold onto, but you politely declined, feeling that even just holding his arm was too intimate for you.

“Already trouble in paradise for the two lovebirds?” One of Zhongli’s friends had chuckled, a red head with a stupidly smug smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as you shot a look at him. Your friend Ningguang frowned, turning to look at your now husband.

“Control your dog, Mr. Zhongli.” You let out a chuckle, when you heard Zhongli’s friend scoff.

After a while, it was customary for the newlyweds to go on their honeymoon; so after a couple of hours you had to bid farewell to your friends and family. You approached the jet the two of you would be taking, with Zhongli carrying the luggage not far behind. You went ahead and boarded, while your new husband spoke with the pilot and the crew, sighing to yourself.

“Come on (y/n) suck it up, this honeymoon will be over sooner than you know it.” You mumbled to yourself, settling into the high class jet.

“Did you say something (y/n)?” You jumped, not expecting to hear Zhongli’s voice. “Ah.. My apologies, I did not mean to startle you.” You sighed and shook your head, waiving your hand to dismiss the apology.

“You’re fine Zhongli, I’m just… Nervous is all.” He hummed in response, nodding as he settled himself into the jet.

“I understand (y/n), I really do apologize about this being thrusted into your lap. I know this isn’t the ideal circumstances for a young woman to go through.” You nodded, glad that he understood your hesitance to the situation. Zhongli really wasn’t a bad guy.

“It’s really not your fault Zhongli, I understand you probably had no more say in it than I.” You gave him a reassuring smile, the first genuine smile to grace his line of sight. Without noticing he found himself smiling back, relieved that you didn’t see him with any contempt. A comfortable silence settled, as the jet took off towards your destination.

It wasn’t a long flight, and along the way you were able to make small talk, slowly learning more about Zhongli. After two short hours, you felt the jet jump slightly against the ground before steadying itself on the runway. After a few more moments, you both departed, Zhongli once again handling the luggage, leaving your side to retrieve it.

Before you knew it, you were at the house you would be staying at for your honeymoon. It sat on a beautiful beach side shore, with a large open patio looking out over the ocean. By the time you guys had arrived it was already around 10:00 o’clock at night, so the crescent moon was high in the sky as you both stepped out onto the patio. The moon and stars gleamed against the inky black water, with the rhythmic beating of the waves lulling you both into a comfortable silence. You stood next to your husband and finally for the first time that night, actually took in his face.

The light of the scenery exposed the beauty Zhongli held in his face, the pale light bouncing off his cheekbones and illuminating his golden irises as he looked out over the sea. He must’ve felt you staring because moments later those golden eyes were locked on yours.

“Do you like the scenery (y/n)?” You gave a quick nod before ducking away from his gaze, a red flush rising to your face. You heard him chuckle for a moment before shifting.

“I know what is customary to happen on our honeymoon, and I do not want you to feel pressured to fulfill that part of our relationship.” You flushed even more as you suddenly found the pattern of the wood to be very interesting. You had completely forgot that sex was usually something people did on honeymoons. It seemed normal, because generally the people who get married have had a relationship before this so nothing felt awkward about the topic. Obviously that wasn't the case in this situation, but there was something in you that kind of wanted to. Something in you that felt comfortable enough with him to do it, you already trusted him which shocked you. What if he wasn’t though? What if he was uncomfortable with the thought of having sex with you right now which is why he brought it up so suddenly?

“Thank you Zhongli, you’re too kind. You’ve truly been so understanding through this entire thing.” You looked back up to him finally, and found a gentle smile on his face. He nodded and hummed before turning back to the house.

“We should probably get to bed, it’s already fairly late.” You nodded, pulling out your phone to check the time. You both walked about into the house together. “There is another room down the hall from the master bedroom if you don’t want to sleep in the same bed. It’s smaller so I could always take it.” There he goes, being considerate and kind; handling your thoughts and feelings like glass that would break any second. You remained silent for a moment contemplating on what he had said, before gently shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s fine. I want to share the bed with you.” You smiled up at him, and he looked almost surprised with your willingness, but the shock didn’t last for long before he smiled back at you and nodded; offering you his arm to hold on to, which you shakily took. You both reached the bedroom, where he had placed all of your guy's luggage before letting you go to retrieve your sleeping clothes as he did the same. You went into the bathroom, to give yourself and him some privacy before slowly re-entering. Zhongli was in a pair of brown silk pants with golden accents and a black short sleeve shirt. Your eyes met each other, and Zhongli smiled when he saw you.

“I know that these were unideal circumstances to get married, but I’m happy it is you who is my spouse. I can only hope you think the same of me, and that at some point you can genuinely feel connected to me.” You blushed as he said this, genuinely taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. You feel bad for dreading and almost resenting Zhongli when you were first notified about the engagement, once finding out just how compassionate and caring the man before you was. Slowly, the two of you made your way into the large king sized bed. There was a large gap between the two of you, large enough to comfortably fit another person. Your mind raced a mile a minute trying to decide whether or not you should scoot in a little closer to the man next to you.

And so you did, without taking another moment to think about it you shifted closer to Zhongli until your side gently pressed against his. You felt Zhongli stiffen beside you for a brief moment, and for a split second you regretted scooting in; that was until you felt him roll over onto his side and wrap a strong arm around your torso. You could really take in Zhongli’s scent like this and you noticed that he smelled like amber rum, chestnuts, and a hint of vanilla. It wrapped you in a warmth that lulled you into a comforting silence as the two of you laid together like this.

You rolled onto your side, letting Zhongli’s arm now rest against your waist. Your noses were almost touching as the two of you stared into each other's eyes. You saw his eyes dart down to your lips for the briefest of seconds, letting yourself do the same.

“Zhongli…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?” You saw Zhongli’s eyes widen as his gorgeous eyes met yours, not expecting you to ask him that.

“I would love nothing more… Darling.” You flushed at the mild pet name, before softly placing your lips onto his. It felt as time skidded to a halt, as the two of you moved against each other with the grace of a slow dance. Soon enough it became heated, as you changed positions and straddled his hips. You could feel his boner pressing against you through his pants, and it made warmth bloom in your chest.

“You really want to do this right? You don’t feel pressured my dear?” You smiled at Zhongli’s questions, nodding before he could get another one out. It felt good to be so concerned about, so doted over.

“Yes Zhongli, I really want to do this with you. I trust you.” This time it was Zhongli’s turn to flush, an elegant smile gracing his lips. Before long, the both of you were out of your sleeping clothes and back on top of one another. Your back was to the silken bed sheets, as Zhongli was on top of you lining his hard cock up with your eager pussy. Zhongli gave you one last look before slowly entering you inch by inch. To say he was huge would be an understatement, so he knew he had to take it slow with you so as to not hurt you in any way. Zhongli needed this to be a good experience with you, he would never forgive himself if he hurt you or made this unenjoyable in any way at all.

The noises you were making and the way your hands were clawing at his back reassured him that he was doing everything right so far, always stopping after pushing in a few inches to give you time to adjust. Without thinking, Zhongli's mouth just started moving as words spilled out.

“You’re doing so good for me my angel, you’re taking me so well. You’re too good for me.” With the praise spilling out of Zhongli’s mouth, you couldn’t help but unleash a flurry of loud moans, as he bottomed out. He stood still for a couple moments, making sure you were nice and comfortable, until he felt you trying to move against him; trying to get him to move in and out of you.

“If you were ready for me to move, all you needed to do was ask my gem.” You let out a whine like moan, that evolved into a guttural groan when he finally started to thrust in and out of you. Your nails raked across his skin, surely leaving marks for you to admire after this was all said and done. He wasn’t skipping out on the marks either, as he sucked and bit at your skin, still throwing out praise every time his mouth left your skin. His fingers dug into your hips, as he sped up. He just couldn’t help himself, your wet quivering pussy just felt way too good wrapped around him; sucking him in every time he pulled out.

“I can’t believe it took us getting into an arranged marriage to finally meet, my god where have you been all my life.” Zhongli had begun to groan, obviously getting close to tipping over the edge, with the way his thrusts continued to get sloppier every so often. You moaned in response, too blissed out of your mind to form actual words. Zhongli’s head fell against your shoulder, his ebony black hair hanging off his shoulders.

With a few more strokes, Zhongli had both of you tumbling over the edge and cumming in unison. All that could be heard in your room was the quiet crashing of waves and the combined panting of the both of you. After a few moments of Zhongli getting his breath back he tumbled down next to you, sweaty shoulders touching. A couple seconds of silence passed before you spoke up in a raspy broken voice.

“It took us so long because I’m technically your rival.” You were giggling slightly, when Zhongli let out a loud chuckle.

“I guess you are right my dear, but now we are joined together. And I cannot wait to see what comes of our joining.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #genshin imagine #genshin impact imagine #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli imagine #zhongli x reader #zhongli smut

[ladyvesuvia]

Moniker Origin

PAIRING: Sirius Black x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

SUMMARY: Befriending a stray dog not only leads to a routine rendezvous every midnight but also the story of how Sirius got one of his many names.

WORDS: 5.5k

WARNING(S): Just fluff but involves cursing, name-calling, nicknames, mentions of celebrities/characters from the 70s, mentions of eating and food. || SECOND PERSON

A/N: can u tell this is kind of an indirect prequel to i’m a dreamer hsjsiw anyway i hope u like it!!! for @meiitanoia my beloved sirius black lovebot <3

[NAVIGATION] [MASTERLIST]

��   You woke up with a start. The curtains to your four-poster bed danced gently, as if attempting to put you into a trance. It worked: You watched it, transfixed more than ever until you slowly gained proper consciousness, or at least enough to let you yawn.

    You reached out to push the curtains a bit to find that it was still night-time. You could hear light snores coming from your roommates, but you ignored it in desperate hopes of falling asleep again. You couldn’t; not that you didn’t want to, because you really did. The reason for your tossing and turning at this late hour was most likely because you slept around six p.m., an unideal hour for sleep on a weekday. You’d passed on dinner, and told yourself you’d just take breakfast early in the morning.

    Giving up, you threw out your feet off the bed, feeling the cold surface of the floor. The clock told you it was half past eleven as it kept ticking and ticking and ticking.

    Before you knew it, you were trudging down the deserted halls of Hogwarts, half-melted dark chocolate in one hand and your lightened wand in the other. You bought it from Honeydukes just last weekend on your visit to Hogsmeade. You didn’t know where you were going, but you just wanted to be somewhere else, maybe even do something exciting.

    For cautionary measures, you looked in every direction every time you reached a turn in fear of getting caught by any roaming person of authority. Peeves would probably make a sound that’ll draw Mr. Filch’s attention; Mrs. Norris could appear, and that in itself is bad news already; Mr. Filch himself could catch you and start throwing insane threats; or maybe someone from the faculty could catch you and put you in detention, and you knew full well you did not want to spend time doing an absurd task.

    When you managed to slip out unnoticed, you walked over to the bank of the lake, the rocks crunching under your feet. It was probably one of the things you find in horror movies when all is still, all is sleeping, and the monster is yet to come—

    Your pulse skipped a beat when the sight of something running away from the forest shuffled past. You realized it was just a dog, but it gave you a shock nonetheless. Just a dog, you thought. Just a dog.

    You pulled out the chocolate from your pocket, unwrapping it carelessly. It wasn’t until you took your first bite did you realize the dog was right behind you, watching you with curious eyes.

    “I’d give you some but dogs aren’t allowed to eat chocolate,” you said to the dog, who then whined in response as it sat down. “I really can’t, I’m sorry.”

    One might think a big black dog sneaking up on you in the middle of a night would cause a fright, but it was strangely more comforting than eerie. After all, it was just a dog.

    Just looking at the creature reminded you of Snuffles, your very own dog who died while you were away from home and sitting in History of Magic, unaware your best bud had passed. You looked down hopefully at the dog in front of you.

    “Snuffles?” you inquired hesitantly, reaching out your hand. Please don’t bite, you chanted more to yourself than to the dog. To your relief, it approached you gingerly and let you pet its head. “Is it you?”

    Highly unlikely, you knew that, but it wouldn’t hurt to hope that it was, right? You’d spent your entire childhood with that dog: Sleeping together under a poorly done fort until daybreak; getting lost in the neighborhood together, earning disapproving opinions from the neighbors; and most of all, countless birthdays.

    Well, just to name a few.

    Maybe it was the moonlight reflecting off of the lake’s waters, but you could’ve sworn you saw the dog wink. You took your hand back to rub your eyes before studying the dog. “Are you Hagrid’s?”

    The dog simply sat there, looking at you curiously. “Right, like a dog’s gonna talk back to me.” You chuckled, laughing at yourself. “Come, I’ll bring you back to him.”

    It didn’t move. “Look, I can’t give you chocolate. Maybe I can sneak you some steak or something next time if you’re still here. I’d give you dog food but they don’t have that around here. But I reckon Hagrid has some, though. Do you want me to get you food?”

    Once again, maybe (just maybe) it was only your imagination, but you got the sense that the dog disagreed. You didn’t push it any further and so you simply made yourself comfortable even under the rocks. You set down your cloak under your bottom to serve as a mat. It didn’t do much, but it was better. You gestured for the dog to come closer.

    “I’m gonna call you Snuffles now,” you said as you picked up a stone. “Watch this.” With a swing of your arm, you sent the stone flying into the lake, skipping three times. “I used to be able to do four. You’d know, you were there!”

    Snuffles your dog from years ago indeed was there with you when it happened on your family trip to your lake house, but this was not Snuffles; this was your very own classmate and Housemate, Sirius Black himself. He’d never talked to you before, much less noticed you, so it was a surprise to him that he’s spending his time with you at this late hour.

    Nevertheless, it was a time well-spent even when it was mostly (entirely) just watching you skip rocks down the lake as you talked about the aforementioned Snuffles. He didn’t know how long you two sat there, but sat you did anyway. Twice he thought of a joke to tell only to be disappointed for of course, he couldn’t voice it out.

    “I named her Snuffles because she used to cry a lot when we first brought her home from the shelter and mum didn’t want us to call her Sniffles so I went with the next best thing.” You put your legs in front of you. “Poor little thing.”

    It wasn’t until the sky brightened a bit did you realize you were thirsty from all the talking you were doing. You would've stayed for the sunrise but, well, schedules would tragically overlap.

    “Crap,” you thought as you began picking up your cloak, “I’ll end up dozing off in class! Anyway, I’ll try and bring you steak later, Snuffy.”

    With a wave, you ran away from the lake, cloak in your arms, unaware that you had left your wand behind. Sirius was watching you until you disappeared from sight before he spotted the wand, which he then picked up.

    He de-transformed on his way just a bit by a wall, and as soon as he did, he tucked your wand into his own cloak. He glanced back just for a second before running back to the castle. By the time he got to the painting of the Fat Lady, he halted at the sight of the girl from earlier — you.

    “—you know me already, ma’am. I just forgot the password is all. Please let me in.”

    “No password, no entry,” spat the Fat Lady. “And it does not do to wake up a sleeping person.”

    “Well, you’re just a painting,” you mumbled. And if Sirius could hear it from where he was standing, the Fat Lady probably heard it too.

    “Hmph!” exclaimed the Fat Lady. “Children are foul.”

    “They are, aren’t they?” you chimed in hopes of getting on the Fat Lady’s better graces.

     “I was talking about you, child,” said the Fat Lady with disdain. “Now scoot!”

     You were about to walk away when Sirius decided to walk in. You froze.

    It was only until then did it dawn on Sirius that he did not know your name because you had not told him anything earlier. He turned to the Fat Lady.

    “Spondulicks,” said Sirius. The Fat Lady merely grunted as the painting swung open to reveal the room. “After you, m’lady.”

    It was like he was seeing a different person; you refused to meet his eyes as you hurriedly walked into the opening of the painting, arms crossed. He was almost about to give you your wand but realized what a bad idea that would be, and so he kept his mouth shut.

    You kept walking straight ahead, and Sirius had to stifle his laugh at the sight of you missing a step on the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, especially when your pace quickened after this.

    That morning at breakfast, you were nowhere to be found. Sirius took his seat next to James while skimming the length of the Gryffindor table.

     “What’re you looking for?” asked James, curiously scanning the table as well.

     “This girl with [Y/H/C] hair,” Sirius replied absentmindedly as he slowly settled down, still looking for her.

     “A girl? You’re gonna have to be more specific, mate. But bagsy snogging her.”

    “What — you can’t bagsy her, you haven’t even met her,” spat Sirius. James was rather taken aback but still seemed to be stifling his laugh at the outburst nonetheless. Sirius cleared his throat. “And need I remind you that you’re trying to get Evans?”

    “Mhm, I was just trying to see how interested you were in this girl to be preoccupied with looking for her instead of petting your hair.” More and more people began to file in to the common room and Sirius’s attention went to the door after determining you were not seated in one of the tables.

    “It’s called combing, and you should try it.” Sirius ran his hand through his hair. “It would do you good to look fresh at least once.”

    James snickered. “What can I tell you, Pads? The ladies like the rugged look.”

    “I don’t think they do,” remarked Remus.

    “Oh trust me, Remus,” James started with a smug grin. “They do. The key to it is—”

    But Sirius never found out what ‘the key to it’ was; at least, not today. After a group of younger Ravenclaws walked in, he finally spotted you right behind them and his back straightened even more. For what, he did not know.

    You took your seat beside a couple more Gryffindors and helped yourself to food on your own plate. You were busy rubbing her eyes, giving Sirius more time to watch. When you finished, you caught him looking at you, but he didn’t break the eye contact; instead, he smiled.

    “Oh, her?” exclaimed James, trying to get a better look. Sirius gently kicked his foot at how obvious he was, but he nodded in confirmation. James blew a raspberry. “I can’t bagsy, can I?”

    Sirius scowled. “No.”

    “Then I call dibs.”

   “Wha — that’s the same thing! You can’t just call dibs.” Sirius cleared his throat once more, for James was raising a brow to signify he’d proved his point. “You can’t.”

    “Wouldn’t hurt you to go on over and talk to her, would it? After all, you do it all the time.” James stretched out his arms and made gestures of triumph. “Hook, sink, liner.”

    “It’s actually ‘Hook, line, and sinker,’” said Remus.

    “No it’s not. Get a load of this guy,” James joked (or not). “Anyway, come on, I’ll come with you. But I apologize in advance if my hair works better than yours.”

    When they made it over to where you were sitting, you appeared to be manually wiping your plate with a tissue.

    “Excuse me,” started Sirius, gesturing at the plate, “May I?”

    Hesitantly and still not meeting his gaze, you handed him the plate. Sirius pulled out his wand and with a small flick, he said, “Tergeo!”

    When he handed it back, you simply nodded your head in thanks and began to stuff it in your bag.

    “Wait, are you stealing a plate?” James asked with a grin, on the verge of laughing. “You wouldn’t want to do that. See, our friend’s a Prefect and he’ll totally tell Professor Meownerva — pun courtesy of Peter, by the way.” James snickered. “I wish I’d thought of it first be—Ow!”

    Sirius had stepped on James foot. “I’ll take it from here, Bambi.”

    James managed a scowl before leaving the scene. You didn’t know what to do; so in your mind, you started devising ways to get yourself out of that situation: Make a run for it or melt on the spot; neither seemed like a good option.

    “Why are you stealing a plate?” he asked.

    “Er — long story. Have a good day.” Then you stood up and began to walk away, backing up a bit to grab a piece of sandwich before completely storming off.

    When Sirius returned the other three were there, laughing out loud together.

    James leaned closer. “Her name’s [Y/N].”

    “Then why didn’t you tell me?” exclaimed Sirius, annoyed.

    “Hook, sink, liner,” said James confidently.

    Remus cleared his throat again. “Again, it’s ‘Hook, line, and’—”

    “Yeah, sure, whatever,” dismissed James.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

    On your first class (Transfiguration), the two of you clearly could not at all suppress your yawns: Sirius was doing fairly better compared to you, for he had the decency to not let his head plop face down on his desk, but he was sleepy nonetheless. This was no surprise to Sirius. After all, he hadn’t slept that morning. As for you, he did not know whether or not you slept but according to your peaceful and sleeping face, he kind of had a clue.

    He wasn’t listening, and so when everyone brought out their wands, he just cluelessly followed the others. Professor McGonagall approached the middle row and stopped just right next to you.

    “Miss [Y/L/N]?” started McGonagall. “If I’m not mistaken, bedtime ended hours ago.”

     You merely grunted. McGonagall cleared her throat. “Excuse me, Miss [Y/L/N]?”

    The professor put the back of her palm against your forehead. She lifted your face off the table and her eyes widened. “Heavens! Child, you look positively ghastly. Remus, kindly take—”

    “I’ll do it,” said Sirius. “I’m her. . .” As he trailed off, all eyes went back and forth from you, McGonagall, and him. He opened his mouth again to add, “friend. We’re friends.”

    Although McGonagall appeared to be reluctant, she let you go, advising you to visit Madam Pomfrey. Sirius risked a smug look in James’s way before following you out the door, eager to speak with you.

    “So you’re feeling unwell?” asked Sirius.

    “Look, buddy, I appreciate it but I honestly just want to go to bed.”

    “Didn’t Minnie McG tell you to visit Madam Pomfrey?”

    You halted. “I’m not sick.”

    “What do you mean? What about the drowsy eyes and the head hurting and the red nose—?”

    “Okay, now you’re making my head hurt.” You faced him, hands on your hips in defiance. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, Black: I’ll go back to my room and you’ll take a walk to the Hospital Wing and back to class.”

    “But you’re sick.”

    “Buddy, I’m really not,” you said with an irritated laugh. “I haven’t slept yet and I lost my wand. How do you think I’ll be able to go to class without a damn wand?”

    Sirius scoffed. “Then what about your runny red nose and teary eyes?”

    “Really? Are purebloods really that dense not to come up with basic ways to get out of class?” It was almost ironic. After all, you’d heard tons of brilliant things pureblooded wizards could do. Clearly they weren’t as crafty. You snorted. “Do you really want to know?”

    “Do I? Of course I do.”

    And with a bit of consideration, you recounted your gimmicks: collecting two chili peppers from the table and lightly patting your finger under your eyes to make it teary (it badly hurt), pinching your nose as soon as you left the Great Hall and sprinkling a bit of pepper on your sleeve to get yourself to sneeze, taking a quick hot shower without getting your hair wet, and more.

    “Wow,” he exclaimed under his breath, astonished. You shrugged in response, turning around to walk away. “Wait, then why did you agree for me to take you instead of Remus?”

    “Eh, well, your friend who’s trying so hard to be Michael Landon said that the Remus guy was a Prefect so I figured that he’s probably a snitch.”

    “Trust me, he’s not a snitch,” Sirius said with a laugh. “Wait, I don’t even know who Michael Landon is but could you say that thing again but to James’s face tomorrow morning at breakfast?”

    “No.” You turned your back on him, walking away. “May we never talk again.”

    “You’re welcome, by the way!” He watched as you made a turn, disappearing from view before making a face. “Ungrateful chick.”

    That entire day, you spent your time in bed, tossing and turning to keep yourself awake. Whenever someone came in during vacant time, you made sure the curtains to your four-poster bed were sealed shut while pretending to sniffle.

    It was Friday, so you were thankful for the time to rest. You were thinking of just looking for your wand tomorrow when you remembered the dog. You shifted in your bed as you slowly stood up, peeking through the curtains of your bed. Your roommates were probably still in the common room, so you peeked your head out to grab your bag from beside your bed and pulled it in before shutting the curtains close.

    You pulled out the plate you got from earlier that morning and waited.

    Waited for your roommates to come in and chat for a while.

    Waited until the lights went out.

    Waited until the only sound you could hear was the ticking of the clock in the room.

    You were about to fall asleep when what you could only assume was a bird hit itself against the window, jolting you awake.

    It was dead silent. And just like you did hours ago, you threw your feet out of your bed. Going out at this hour without a wand felt threatening, but you reassured yourself, just thinking over and over that it would be just like old times back when you didn’t know you were a witch.

    There was no one in the common room by the time you got down there. You tightened your grip on the plate in your hands, thinking about how good a weapon it would make (it probably wasn’t, but it was good enough to make you feel like you had a chance).

    You slipped out, unaware once more of the same boy you had talked to the night before following you.

    The walk down the halls and stairs without a light made your tour all the more frightening: Jumping when you accidentally graze your hand too much on one of the paintings which often earned an angry grunt from them, feeling for the next step of the stairs in fear of tripping over, and so on.

    Sirius resisted the urge to just approach you and give you your wand, resorting to just staying behind to make sure you got out safely. He was about to keep going straight ahead when you made a turn, confusing him.

    It took a few more turns for him to realize you were headed for the kitchens. He had to wait outside until you came back out a short while later with something in the plate.

    Laughing silently to himself, he followed you again to the grounds, your wand in his cloak pocket, feeling like a hundred pounds weighing him down.

    You went back to where you were last night, scouring the rocks in hopes of spotting a distinct shape among the round shapes. You cursed under your breath in disappointment as you set the plate of steak aside, your eyes falling to the dark surface of the lake. Gulping, you tied up the pant legs of your pajamas, mumbling inaudible words to yourself at what you were about to do.

    Only your feet were in the water when you heard a loud bark, causing you to jump a bit, toppling backward at the sight of the black dog. You felt the water soak your back and a bit of your head.

    “Snuffles?” you asked the dog whilst shaking yourself dry as you stood up. “There’s steak over there. It’s for you.”

    If it weren’t for his physical state, Sirius would be laughing right now. The least he could do was walk your way, sitting right beside the plate of the steak.

    “I know it’s not as good as I promised but it’s the best I could give, I’m sorry,” you said to the dog as it looked at you curiously. You bent down to pick up your cloak, drying yourself and wrapping it around you. With a huff, you squeezed the water out of your hair and sat down on the rocks once again. “I only came down here to look for my wand. It probably rolled down to the bottom of the lake already.”

    You yawned. The lack of sleep was already taking a toll on you and you couldn’t let the sun rise before you could lie down in bed.

    “Do you not like the steak?” you asked again. “You know, I got that plate for you.”

   The dog’s ears perked up, and you reached out to pet it.

    “Thank Merlin I got away from that fruitcake.”

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

    “I’m a fruitcake,” Sirius told his friends that morning as they fell in line for their Hogsmeade trip. James looked at his friend as if he had gone mad (well, one can say he’s halfway there). “Out of all the things I could be, I’m a fruitcake.”

    “Took you long enough to figure that out,” said Peter, who then brightened when James burst into a laugh.

    “You sure?” said Remus, adjusting his tie. “If you are, then you’re far too salty to be one.”

    “Guys, I’m ser—” He cut himself off, aware that they were waiting for an opening to pick fun at his name. “I am not joking.”

    “Because you’re. . .?” James said, encouraging him.

    Sirius let out an exasperated sigh. “Serious.”

    And just like that, the entire group howled in laughter. Rolling his eyes, Sirius scanned the crowd again, but it was the same thing as yesterday — you were once again nowhere to be found.

    “Wait, where did you get this fruitcake comment from?” asked Remus.

    Sirius recounted your past encounters with him, earning a whoop of cheer and a pat from James.

    “I have a plan,” said Sirius. “I’ll just so happen to ‘run into’ her in Hogsmeade and she’ll think I’m charming because I did my hair better today.”

    “I don't know, I reckon it’ll be hard to jump from fruitcake puppy to charming knight and shining armor,” said Remus.

    It wasn't until they were near the front of the line did Sirius realize there was still no sign of you. He then stepped out of the line, earning sudden protests from the rest of the group.

    He made a show of waving at the other three as he disappeared from view before darting down the halls and up the stairs until he made it to the common room, where he plopped down on the couch. A couple of first and second years were gathered by the window playing chess.

    Sirius kept his head down as he waited for you to come out until finally, about almost ten minutes later, heavy steps came from the girls’ dormitory as it descended down the stairs. Sirius kept his face down so as to hide himself for you, cursing at himself for being too. . .what’s a nicer way to put creepy again?

    He followed you again like the night before, going over the things he wanted to say.

    Hello, I’m actually Snuffles.

    I’m Snuffles.

    Hi, I’m not really a reincarnation of your dog because I’m actually a fruitcake!

    It just kept getting worse in his head the more that he dwelled on it, and so he resorted to just focusing on his step when you halted, causing him to run into you.

    “You,” you started, stopping with your finger pointed right at him, daring him to speak, “why are you following me?”

    “Because. . .” Sirius trailed off. Why was he following you?

    Because I'm Snuffles and I have your wand. Because I can turn into a dog. Because while I am Snuffles, I'm also not really Snuffles. Because—

    “Because I found your wand,” he blurted out. “Well, consider it as a token of appreciation.”

    “For what?”

    “For being a good friend. . . ?”

    “As far as I know, the first and only time we ever even talked was just yesterday,” you said, gesturing with your hands. “What’s your deal?”

    “I want to take a walk,” Sirius relaxed, grinning at you.

    “Then do it yourself!” you exclaimed.

    “With you, I mean.”

    Sirius’s tone calmed you down at least a bit, and so you cleared your throat. Come to think of it, he’s probably not that bad.

    You began to walk with him on your way out to the grounds. “And what do I get out of this walking thing of yours?”

    Sirius waved his hand with a flourish as we jogged ahead to stop right in front of you, tipping an imaginary hat. “Bragging rights, madam.”

    You halted. “You’re gonna have to try better than that, Vinnie Barbarino.”

    “Er — that’s good, right?” he asked, tensing up again as he composed himself.

    “Depends on how you look at it.”

    “Well, does he have nice hair?”

    “Again, depends on how you look at it.”

    “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

    “You and me both, Vinnie,” you told him with a huff as you two set foot outside.

    “It’s certainly better than fruitcake,” he muttered under his breath. You leaned in closer, your brow raised in question. He shook his head and told you it was nothing.

    By the time you made it to the bank of the lake, you found yourself unconsciously searching the rocks for your wand.

    Sirius snorted. “You can keep looking but it’s not there.”

    “Wasn’t trying to.”

    He watched as you bent down to pick up a rock and moved closer to the lake. Just like you did a few nights ago, you swung your arm to skip a rock. It was kind of like a movie for him; the way your shoulders sunk a bit after getting only three skips. “I used to be able to do four.”

    I’d know, Sirius thought as he grinned at the irony. I was there. Maybe I really am Snuffles.

    “So, when are you going to give me my wand?” You turned around to face him again, dusting your hands as you did so.

    Sirius wanted to tell you about his alter-ego badly. But at the same time, it was right there and then Sirius realized something. He normally hated the idea of a routine; loathed it, even. But he figured that maybe, just this once, he could make an exception. He didn’t mind going out every single night as Padfoot or Snuffles if it meant the world to you to have something to look forward to. In fact, the line was starting to blur between all his names: Sirius Black, Onion, Padfoot, Snuffles, Fruitcake.

    Sirius cleared his throat and told you, “Monday morning when you have breakfast with me.”

    “I’m not gonna have breakfast with you.”

    “You are now because you’ll get a coupon.”

    “What coupon?” you asked, crossing your arms.

    “Bragging rights for spending time with me — Sirius Orion Black.”

    “You’re awfully presumptuous.”

    “Why are you so mean?” Sirius feigned pain by clutching his chest, making a show.

    You bit your cheek in attempt not to laugh. “Look, just give me back my wand.”

    “Give me your word that you’ll have breakfast with me first.”

    “Fine,” you told him. “Now will you give me my wand back?”

    Sirius let out a long sigh before taking a step forward and bending down to pick up a rock. He swung his arm backward as he made a shot.

    One, two, three, four.

    He faced you. “Hook, sink, liner.”

    “It’s ‘hook, line, and sinker,’ how could you mess that up?”

    “Damn it, James,” he cursed under his breath. “Anyway, here’s your wand.”

    This definitely took you by surprise, especially when he pulled it out of his coat pocket and handed it to you with only a friendly smile and without any hesitation.

    You grabbed it as fast as you could just in case he changed his mind at the last minute.

    Sirius fought the urge to pick fun at the fact that this was close to what one may call fetch.

    Wow, he thought. Merlin, I’m literally Snuffles. Sirius could hear his friends’ jeers light years away: Playing fetch with her, Snuffy? Will you also let her walk you? Oh, wait, you already did!

    “Thank you,” you told him. “I was literally prepared to dive down there just to get my wand. I know what a big hassle it is to get it replaced and everything.”

    “I know,” he said, pertaining to how he knew the lengths you were ready to go to just so you could find your wand, but you took what he said an answer to what you said last.

    Sirius began walking again, and you followed. “Why didn’t you go to Hogsmeade with the others?”

    “Eh, I’ve been there a lot of times. We’ll go there next time. I’ll take you to—”

    You halted. “Woah, woah, who said I’ll be coming with you?”

    “Time,” Sirius protested. “It tells you things even you wouldn’t be able to know.”

    You scoffed as you kept walking alongside him. “Eh, well, we got Professor Trelawney for that. What do you say we visit her classroom and play with balls? I mean, orbs. No, stop laughing.”

    But he didn’t stop. And honestly, neither did you; not even when you completed a turn around the grounds.

    That night was a brilliant one: You were headed back downstairs, this time keeping your wand tight in your hand as you did so.

    Just like as far as always can go, Snuffles sat by the lake, looking at the ripples that danced along its surface. Why did the dog suddenly look familiar?

    You stood right next to Snuffles, who was now looking up at you curiously.

    “I can’t stay for long,” you told the dog. “I have to sleep early, you know. I mean, you don’t, but — whatever.”

    You bent down to pick up a rock again, watching it skip three times. You cursed under your breath, “How’d he do it?”

    Snuffles, originally Sirius himself, snorted. You turned to the dog and shook your head, telling yourself it was your want of sleep playing tricks on you.

    “Fruitcake’s actually not that bad,” you started as you picked up another rock. Sirius looked up again. “I think I’ll give him a chance.”

    When you finally gave up on skipping rocks, you sat down right next to the dog. “He kinda left a ring of his, see?” You showed the dog Sirius’s ring. The dog blinked. “I’m not planning on keeping it, I’ll give it back to him on a good day.”

    A bird flew by, causing you to jump a bit. “Yep, I’m gonna need to sleep this out. Go to Hagrid’s will you? Actually, no, come with me.”

    You lead the dog to Hagrid’s hut and told it to stay there. Sirius thought it was funny seeing you boss him around in a gentler manner.

    With a wave, you ran back to the doors and dashed up the stairs until you reached the dormitories, where you hastily got in your bed and tucked yourself in.

    When breakfast came and you casually sat down right across from Sirius and beside James, a thought came to Sirius’s head again: He wanted you to know him as Sirius Black, no disguises involved. Sure, maybe he’d learn more of you if he continued doing it but . . . he wanted you to learn more of himself, too.

    As for telling you his secret identity (not Batman), he decided that it’d be best to let his future self deal with it and just enjoy breakfast with you, which is hopefully just the first of many.

    One last thing, though: Snuffles grew on Sirius. Safe to say that he got attached; so much that even when time told new people new fates, he found a way to let the name stay by using it as a safe codename as an attempt to become a lovable stray in the time of danger.

    But that doesn’t matter just yet, not when the group was busy having one of the most brilliant Mondays to date.

Taglist: @gingerale2017 @sfdlm @maybanksslut @hey-there-angels @elevatorsdoor @mrzweasley @gwlvr @1-800-itsfreerealestate @marrymetheonott @booksarealwaysbettersworlds-blog @sexysirius @turn-to-page-394-please @greenlyblue @henqtic @badass-yn @meiitanoia @gaycatlord-stuff @just2bubbly @awakendevildays @dracomalfoyposts @crazy-beautiful @adoreyou976 @catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

#ves.writes #ves.writes sirius black #sirius black #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader fluff #sirius black imagines #sirius black headcanons #marauders #marauders era #marauders imagines #marauders oneshot #sirius black oneshot #sirius black x fem!reader fluff #sirius black x you #sirius black fanfiction #sirius orion black #sirius black fic #sirius black x fem!gryffindor!reader #marauders headcanons #sirius black smut

[regrettablewritings]

Hi!😁 I'll give you another ship with my dear Lucifer morningstar from Lucifer cuz as it turns out I'm a hoe for a lot of characters but what can ya do? Thank you!

Aw hell yii, somebody's talkin' my lingo! 😎

Who the fuck put the Peeps in the microwave?: Lucifer. And no, it's not because he actually likes them or is curious about what would happen; he's seen plenty of Youtube videos enough to know exactly what happens. No . . . It's far more malicious . . . Generally speaking, you don't like the constant comparison of cats to the devil. But after getting to actually meet The Devil, you think that those believers might be on to something. Lucifer's whorey ways bleeds into his need for attention like red bleeds into white in the wash, and he's completely shameless about it. For example, if he feels like you may be focusing too much on work or, gasp, other people besides him, you run the risk of encountering a very . . . mischievous Luci. Not that he's not already a prankster, but he somehow becomes a bit more childish. Catlike in some respects. He puts your mugs up higher than what you can normally reach without having to climb on the countertop. He joins you at your kitchen table while you're reading over files for work and puts on his most angelic face, insisting he just wants to keep you company and will be as quiet as vermin in Dear Old Dad's house . . . then proceed to obnoxiously click a pen while pretending to solve a word problem, or eat cheese puffs obnoxiously loud. And then . . . the Peeps: The absolute prettyboy bastard used your microwave as a casualty of war, plopping the unplated, mutant-colored marshmallows directly on the glass and letting them go. To be fair, it technically didn't ruin anything. But at least he had your attention now -- because after fussing at him for making a mess, you were currently supervising him scrubbing not only the effected areas of the glass dish, but the rest of the microwave as well. Unfortunately, you can't say a lesson was really learned because now Luci knows that if he wants to get a rise out of you, what he needs is a bunch of candies from the bargain bin.

Who forgot to put the cat out before sex?: It's not that either of you forgot the cat was there -- it was that Lucifer wanted the bloody animal to give the both of you some privacy. And because Lucifer forgot the cat was there. He was simply too busy embracing you in a liplock and laying you down on the couch to notice the glaring eyes of the cat you had rescued from the shelter. Thankfully, you two didn't get very far before the lovingly-named Lucipurr released a meow, indicating that he had become flesh and bone in the few hours it had been since you'd last fed him. Suffice to say, after a startled Lucifer flung himself off of you and onto the floor, nearly breaking his ass on the coffee table (and the laughing fit that had induced on your end), the mood was killed. For the next fifteen minutes, that is. The next time he tried anything, Lucifer made sure that his efforts would be continued in the bedroom (but not before he did a complete check of every nook and cranny in there to make sure the furry bastard wasn't trying anything).

Who posts Vines/TikToks of the other doing embarrassing shit?: Lucifer absolutely lacks boundaries. The moment he discovered smartphones, social media, and all their potential, he was all in and recording as many videos of friends and coworkers as he could in as many awkward or unideal situations as they came. You felt bad for Dan being his constant target, but you were somewhat sure that Dan felt bad for you in a way: After all, you were dating the freaking guy and yet Lucifer had few qualms about posting a video of you, drunkenly singing karaoke in what was supposed to be a private room? Harsh.

Who breaks the most phones?: Lucifer does. He's not necessarily careless, but his part-time occupation does lead him to circumstances that tend to put his phone in danger. You, Chloe, Dan, literally everyone has told him to just leave his phone in the car if he's going to get it broken that often while on the job, but the dumbass never learns. Not that he really seems to care all that much: With his wealth, he can always buy a new one. Though, the only times he gets frustrated is when photos or videos don't quite make it to the transfer and things get lost along the way. Funny photos, suggestive videos, photos and videos of you . . . Photos and videos of you being funny or suggestive . . . Downright pornographic videos he had recorded of you -- Though don't worry: He's sure you'll be more than happy to help recreate the latter. He'd gladly help you . . .

Who dies first?: It should go without saying. It really should. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. Lucifer was always one to get caught up in his indulgences, after all: Somewhere along the way, he must've gotten too swept up in the thrill, the feeling of adoration. He tells himself this but it's really just denial. Closer to the truth is that it all really was just denial: He denied the idea that you would ever leave him, that you would ever die. Luci was never good with his own thoughts and feelings, but the way you made him feel was nearly enough to convince him that, in some way, you would just plain live forever. But of course, this was not the case: It didn't matter that you were fantastical enough to love and be loved by the Devil; you were still very much a human. Very much mortal. So susceptible to things like time and illness and injury. Lucifer was the King of Indulgences. It was extremely rare for him to experience regret. But when your time inevitably ran out, remorse filled him like smoke filled his lungs with every cigarette he ran through from the moment your funeral arrangements were decided. He could never regret knowing you, as much as part of him thought doing so would spare him this pain. He tried to think of how much better he might've been had he never met you, and it always felt like he was stuck in his own personal Hell Loop with everything going wrong over and over no matter how hard he tried to change it. He regretted that for as much time as he lived up with you, he felt like he didn't use nearly enough of that time to just . . . enjoy you. You in your mortality, your fleeting beauty and love that would nonetheless haunt him for however long he might go on for. So maybe . . . for eternity? This didn't feel like his own personal Hell Loop: This was his own personal Hell Loop. And until he learned to forgive himself, it would never end. So he'd be stuck here for maybe . . . eternity.

Which one I could see as being lactose intolerant: Neither. Unless they get brought down to mortal enough, Celestials generally don't suffer ailments, let alone from things like food allergies.

Who thinks they can do something really well even though they can't?: Lucifer . . . It's not that he's not smart. But by Dad, he is lacking in so much self-awareness that it can be maddening. He thinks he's pretty good at following Dr. Linda's advice (and, to an extent, he's progressing). But the fact of the matter is, he's incredibly troubling at best. Not nearly as bad as some patients, mind you, but when Linda admitted to you that one or two sessions of Lucifer completely misinterpreting her advice nearly drove her to consider adding a secret bar into her desk, you believed her and didn't blame her for one bit.

Who is more likely to get kicked out of bed?: Lucifer is a changed devil. But it's a very slow change. You're more than happy to understand and accept this, but that doesn't mean you have to let him and his issues walk all over you. Sometimes, the big dummy just says or does things without thinking -- or because he thought too hard and thought this was the best decision to avoid further strife. And you try to be patient with him about these tendencies, you really do. But that doesn’t erase your ability to be upset by these habits, or your right to be. And no amount of him buttering you up is going to be acceptable, even when he comes by your place, armed with a dish he so thoughtfully prepared for you. Nope, he can literally go to Hell with that (really, you’re sure the demons there would appreciate a nice beef wellington); you just need some space. Ironically, this may create a cycle wherein his need to make you happy again and have your attention on him drives him to constantly hover around you and attempt to win you over, which in turn just further frustrates you. It’ll likely keep going until you either snap or a loved one pulls Luci to the side and gives him a heads up that maybe he should respect your boundaries. After all, intention isn’t the problem here: It’s the actions taken. And as much as it hurts him knowing that he accidentally hurt you, he has to respect your need for time to cool off. He forces himself to go back to his place and tries to think less about how he feels and more about how you might feel, and try to work out ways to avoid similar incidents in the future. And even though the conclusions he comes to may not be perfect, you at least respect the effort -- particularly when he next sees you, no longer armed with snacks from your favorite bakery or bouquet-carrying teddy bears. Instead, all he has is an apology. It’s sheepish, and it feels foreign to someone who rarely experiences shame or regret, but you know his whole heart is in it even if he himself doesn’t understand entirely why that is. Which is good because that’s just part one of the process; part two involves him warming up that spot in your bed that’s reserved for him!

Who uses the computer the most?: You, absolutely. Lucifer's adorably but altogether completely crap when it comes to technology. Besides, he can easily find other things with which to amuse himself, and doing the paperwork is for other people anyway.

Thank you sooooo much for participating again!!! It really means a lot!!! ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagines #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #lucifer imagines #character ship meme #character ask meme #regrettablewritings #thanks for your patience by the way! i would've had this up last night but i went out with family for the evening!

[chronicowboy]

Sam and Bucky developing a best friends handshake that ends up super gay (the handshake ends up gay. But the fic can end up like that too).

A/N: wasn’t sure how to make a handshake gay ?? (all my homies kiss each other on the lips, no handshakes) so i just wrote about the handshake, hope u like it! 

·····

the first time it happens is after their first official mission together. they had expected the ambush, they were prepared for the ambush, but the ambush was still an unideal situation. especially for their first mission together as a team--rather than an ex-soldier against a brainwashed assassin. sam had noticed the vacant look in bucky's eyes, the way he had retreated into the depths of the jet as soon as they had boarded, the way he had shut down almost immediately after the last target was down. sam recognised it, knew it all too well, but he also knew how to handle it. he remembered the way riley would place a hand on his shoulder, his back, his head after a particularly difficult mission as a way of bringing him back to reality. so sam went searching for his friend and found bucky in the engine room, stowed away between too clanking machines, eyes shut, head pressed against the whirring metal.

"bucky." sam murmurs. it doesn't matter if their friendship is built on a playful rivalry, sam has learnt to be gentle with him. "bucky." he tries, a little louder this time. bucky responds by squeezing his eyes shut tighter. sam sighs and drops his hand onto the man's shoulder. bucky starts, eyes opening wide and metal hand grabbing sam's comforting one. sam does not flinch. "you alright, man?" bucky looks at his metal hand, his fucking awful murderous limb, and lets it fall. its only sam. its always sam. he nods, taking a deep breath. "you don't have to be." bucky scoffs, but the lump in his throat turns it into some kind of whimper, so he rolls his eyes instead. "brave little bucky, you want a lollipop? no? a sticker?" bucky fights the smile twisting the muscles in his face. he doesn't know why he does this, sam is the only one who can make him smile, and yet he still hides it from him. so he lets it go, lets the corners of his mouth twitch up until a chuckle is falling from his lips. sam smiles at the sound, it's a beautiful melody, and bucky smiles back even wider, because sam is just beautiful when he's happy. sam offers his hand and bucky takes it, expecting to be pulled from the floor, but the man pulls it into his chest instead.

the second time it happens is after an ambush at their apartment. this ambush was not expected. this ambush they were not prepared for in any way. this ambush almost killed them. bucky had a cut above his eyebrow and a few lacerations on his thigh, but he paid no attention to his own wounds. not when sam was sprawled across a bloody rug, groaning as he pushed himself up. bucky crawled over to him and held out his hand. sam took it and bucky pulled him into a sitting position, squeezing the man's hand as a sign he's okay as a way to ask if sam's okay. sam squeezes the hand back and then they're picking themselves up.

the third, fourth, fifth, sixth time it happens makes it a tradition.

after every mission, they find the other's hand and hold it tight to their chest. it becomes a ritual, a reassurance.

the twentieth, maybe thirtieth, time it happens is difficult.

sam's arm is in a sling. they don't know if his shoulder's dislocated, or if his arm is broken, or if it's both. bucky doesn't want to leave him there, abandon him when he really needs someone, but there was a reason why he always rushed to initiate the handshake. why he always offered his flesh hand rather than his metal one. and he knew sam had noticed, knew sam had been kind enough not to mention, which was exactly why he held out his metal hand to the man. sam looks up, wide-eyed, and bucky's heart sinks into his stomach. his hand falls to his side but sam grabs it and intertwines their fingers and bucky is leaning forwards before he can even think to stop himself. he pleads to himself that this isn't a mistake, isn't a disastrous, catastrophic, utterly mortifying mistake. but sam doesn't move away. in fact, he moves into bucky, catching his lips first. they collide together, teeth crashing, and they pull away as quickly as they meet, cheeks flushed, foreheads resting together. bucky lets out a sigh of contentment before he breaks their silence.

"a bit eager." he murmurs. sam rolls his eyes.

"man, shut the hell up."

"make me." sam rolls his eyes again, but they're already closed as their lips meet once more. it's gentler, slower, steadier. and they find a way to tell each other everything they couldn't say out loud.

#sami answers #sambucky #sambucky fic #sam x bucky #sam x bucky fic #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fatws #the falcon #the winter soldier #winter soldier

[kuriboo]

Hugsaku 2021

Day 1 - Temperature | Locked in a room and you can’t leave until you hug

Here’s an actual day 1 entry using day 1 prompts... one is a 2021 prompt, and one is a 2019 prompt! This is all one story using prompts from each day for each part, but this isn’t the first part. The first part sort of sets the scene... Yusaku ends up in Heartland with no idea of how he got there or how to get home, and Yuma commits to helping Yusaku get home. 

I’m also posting these on ao3; I’ll post a link in the notes! I hope you enjoy!

--

Yuma wasn't exaggerating when he described this to be a sleepover. The second they reached his house, Yuma was already pulling Yusaku into his bedroom. Yuma already had a sleeping bag for guests stashed in his room, apparently, and he opened it up and laid it out with enough ease that Yusaku was pretty sure that Yuma had guests over overnight constantly. This suspicion would later be confirmed by how little Yuma’s family cared that Yuma had brought someone to stay overnight without asking.  

The entire time, Yuma rarely ever stopped talking.

“-and she doesn't really like dueling, either. She gets so mad when she knows I've been dueling. So I bet you two will get along great!" 

“Uh huh.” Yusaku wasn't so sure he’d get along well with Yuma’s older sister just because they had one thing in common, but he didn't really feel like arguing against it.

Yuma made sure Yusaku had something to eat for dinner and soon the two of them were getting ready for bed. Yusaku obviously had no pajamas with him, and apparently just sleeping in his clothes wasn't an option, so Yuma got his sister to lend Yusaku some pajamas. This was unideal in every way but Yuna was smaller than Yusaku so there was no other choice. 

"It'd be fun to stay up all night talking , but you should probably rest so we can figure out how to get you home. Plus, Grandma always makes sure I'm actually asleep during the night, and I really don't want to get in trouble again." 

That was fine by Yusaku. He wasn't used to actually resting much, but talking all night with anyone was really unappealing. Yusaku had an easier time falling asleep than he thought he would. He slept dreamlessly that night.

He woke up feeling worse than he felt before falling asleep. His whole body ached worse than sleeping on the floor would cause. His throat was sore and he had a horrible headache. And he was freezing.

Yusaku curled up as much as he could in the sleeping bag to try to warm up, but he felt like care was outside in the middle of a snowstorm.

"Are you okay?" Yuma peeked over at Yusaku from his bed. "You look really pale."

Yusaku shook his head. "I'm fine." He tried to get up from the sleeping bag, but just sitting up knocked the wind out of him. He was drenched in sweat. Catching his breath felt impossible. 

Yuma frowned. "I don't believe you." He jumped out of bed with an ease Yusaku envied. "I'll be right back.” While Yuma was gone, Yusaku took a slow, deep breath. That helped but he was still freezing. He'd at least be warmer in his school uniform, but he didn't see his clothes anywhere. Not in Yuma’s room, anyway. Yuma said he'd be right back, so Yusaku figured he might as well wait where he was.

He didn't have to wait long. "Grandma says your clothes will be clean soon,” Yuma said as he reentered the room. He was holding something in his hand Yusaku recognized as a thermometer. “She also says you better take your temperature.” 

Yusaku took the thermometer Yuma handed him and shoved it in his ear to take his temperature. Then he had to wait to hear a beep. When the thermometer beeped, he took it out and read the number it said out loud. He couldn't remember off the top of his head what the number was supposed to be, but this was probably close, right?

The look on Yuma’s face suggested that his internal body temperature was possibly supposed to be a different number. He took the thermometer back from Yusaku, and left his bedroom at top speed. He was gone longer this time. When Yuma returned, he brought more things with him: a couple of blankets, a mug full of soup. 

“So, you're under strict orders to rest until you feel better. At least until your fever goes down, anyway. You looked cold, so I grabbed blankets. That's my sleeping bag for warmer weather... my warmer sleeping bag's been packed away for months. I'm not sure where we put it... Also, my grandma made you soup. She wasn't some what you like or what you can or can't have so she made you noodle soup? If you need something else she can make it but she won't let you get away with not eating."

Bundled up under the blankets, Yusaku felt a litle warner, which made a world of difference, but he was still pretty cold. The soup was good, though. Easy on the stomach and refreshing. After he finished it, Yuma replaced the soup mug with a glass of water and sat on the floor next to Yusaku. 

“We’ll figure out how to get you home when you're better," Yuma told him. "I promise." 

Yusaku nodded. As much as he wanted to get out of here and back to his apartment, he was starting to accept the fact that he wouldn't make it far outside Yuma’s house. He could hear Kolter in his head telling him to take the day off and rest for once.

“Astral still wants to know how you resisted the Number," Yuma went on. “And I'm kinda curious, too, since no one’s ever given up a Number to us without dueling for it before? Astral's current theory is that you're from another world, or something. Astral's from another world, you know. You don't look weird, like Astral does, but I guess it's still possible.”

("Human beings are the ones that look odd to me, Yuma.")

Yusaku's headache got worse, like someone was pounding on his head with a hammer. Was that what happened? Was Yusaku somehow sent to another world? It didn't seem all that different from the world he knew, but appearances could be deceiving.

"I don't know," was all Yusaku could say. "You said that card was trying to possess me? I felt strange after I picked the card up. Heavy and angry over...” Anger was something Yusaku was familiar with, it had been lurking just under the surface for years, but it always had a purpose, a reason. The Number in his hand, Yuma warning him not to pick it up, Yusaku wasn't sure why he had felt so angry then. He’d felt a strong desire to keep the card. “It felt like the card wanted me to keep it." But Yusaku only dueled for good reason. "But I don't like dueling. If I needed to duel people to keep it, I didn't want it. Now I want it even less." Getting possessed by a card was far from ideal.

"Well, Astral say for now we won't throw out that theory,” Yuma said, "For all we know , maybe it's just because you don't wanna duel. But we shouldn't worry about it right now. We gotta get you healthy first."

As adamant as Yuma was that Yusalav needed to rest, he sure had no intention of letting Yusaku actually rest. He kept flitting from one topic to the next. He tried to ask Yusaku about why he didn't like to duel. But Yusaku refused to answer, and apparently Astral ended up telling Yuma to drop it. Yuma asked Yusaku about his school and home, complained about a test he'd had to take the other day, and rambled about his friends. In the middle of talking about his friends, Yuma stopped talking for the first time in a while. Yusaku had begun to wonder if Yuma actually needed to breathe while talking or not. In some ways, Yuma reminded Yusaku of what a younger Shima might be like. 

Yuma reached up to hold his perdent in his hands " My dad gave me this key. It's what connects Astral and me now, but before we met it always helped me when I

wasn't feeling so hot.” Yuma took the pendant, the key, off from around his neck and placed it on the blanket next to Yusaku. " Maybe it can help you, too.”

Yusaku spent a long time laying there , listening to Yuma talk. Once in a while the pain in his head would throb. He never complained, but Yuma seemed to notice each time and would push Yusaku’s cup of water closer to him with a frown.

(“Yuma, something strange is going on. Have you noticed it?")

--

Yusaku didn't even remember falling asleep. But the next thing he knew, he was waking up. Yuma’s face was the only thing in his field of vision between him and the ceiling. 

"Hey,Yusaku, guess what?” Yuma was grinning. He held a thermometer in front of Yusaku’s face so he could see the reading; it was a different thermometer than before, it looked like it worked on the forehead. "Your fever's gone!" 

Yusaku blinked, trying to stay awake. He did feel better than before. That headache was still there, but the rest of his aches and pains were gone, and he no longer felt like he was freezing to death. 

“Good, Now I can figure out how to get home."

“Before we start that, though, there's one little test we gotta do to make sure you're really better," Yuma said.

"And what's that?" Yusaku asked.

“The hug test!" Yuma spread his arms wide. “If you're feeling better, then you're feeling up for a hug!"

"And if I refuse?"

“Then you have to stay here all day.” Yuma stuck his tongue out. "I won't let you leave.” 

Sometimes Yuma reminded Yusaku of Shima, but at other times like this, he reminded Yusaku more of Ai. "...Fine."

As Yusaku stood up, Yuma held his arms wide open to pull Yusaku into a big hug. Yusaku awkwardly rested his arms loosely around Yuma’s shoulders.

#hugsaku #hugsaku2021 #yugioh zexal #yugioh vrains #tater writes

[ma-gic-gay]

"I'm sorry, what?" Carly asks when Olivia tells her the news. "You- repeat that, please."

"Jason has been shot. He's going to the hospital right now. I didn't get a good look at him or anyone, really, but I do know that he's not doing so hot right now. Go to GH, I'll handle everything tonight," Olivia repeats, urging her to leave. "Do you want me to call Sonny?"

"God no. I-I'll do it myself. Thank you," the blonde says, rushing to catch her breath and get to her purse, behind the bar. He's been shot. With a gun. This is exactly what she didn't want to happen to him. Dammit!

She doesn't have the time to fall apart, though, and calls Michael when she locates her phone in her purse. "Michael. Jason's been shot. I'm heading to GH right now," she rushes out before ending the call and fumbling for her keys.

Finally getting the keys, she sprints to her car and runs every red she sees, not caring about getting a ticket or whatever. The hospital's only a few minutes away, so she's able to get there in record time and runs in the doors, conveniently right at the time Michael shows up with an anxious Willow, Dante, Wiley, and Monica. "Mom, what's going on?"

"Jason got shot," she forces out, the realization of what happened sinking down on her like the way a bullet sinks into the skin.

That was a morbid metaphor.

"Where's Dad? Does he know what happened?" Michael asks impatiently. He's probably thinking about his personal experience with guns: He got shot and was in a coma for awhile.

"He's at home, I haven't told him yet," Carly sighs, processing.

"Why isn't he here? Jason's his best friend, Mom. Did Dad get shot too?" Michael continues to ask and she sighs again. Well, better now than never he finds out. Though this is incredibly unideal timing.

"No, he's fine. It's just that Sonny's not exactly thrilled with either Jason or me right now."

"What happened?"

"It's a long story," the blonde shakes her head quickly. "I want to tell you but right now we should all be focused on how Jason's doing and what his condition is."

"Carly?" Elizabeth asks, confused. "What are you doing here?'

"It's Jason. He, he's been shot," Carly manages to get out, her heart breaking again. That's the last time she ever wants to say those words. God, why couldn't he be a farmer or something, maybe a musician or a normal person with a mundane job?

Well, then again, if he was, Carly probably wouldn't have cared much about him. Normal people bore her, it's why she kept coming back to Sonny.

"He's been what?" Elizabeth asks. "How did this happen?"

"I don't know. All I know is we heard sirens outside of the Metro Court and Olivia went outside to figure out what was going on and then Jason was being loaded into an ambulance for a gunshot wound. He's not here yet?" Carly asks, containing her sobs and minor hatred for her.

"No, he's not. How did you get here faster than him?"

"May or may not have broken several traffic laws."

"We were at the hospital for Wiley's appointment," Michael says, gesturing to the clan of Q's and Dante with him.

"We have an ambulance coming in, gunshot wound to the chest!" Portia informs everyone and that's when the very first tear is shed from her. The chest? How the hell do you shoot someone in the chest in that parking garage? How didn't she think of this before, that someone could go and shoot them in plain sight; HER parking garage was a target too. Great. Just great.

The stretcher with him is rushed in and everything becomes blurry as she fights off the tears. Nope, not today. He is not dying today if she's got anything to say about it.

"Male, 48, GSW to the chest. Sats are staying roughly the same and BP is as well. Found him in his car. Apparently there might be a gunman running around town. Cops didn't find anything at the scene," the paramedic says quickly, rushing him into the nearest room.

"That's Jason," Willow gasps, gripping her husband's hand.

"Yes it is. And I bet I know who shot him, too! One of Cyrus's guys," Michael says and his mother can feel the anger coming off of him.

"Michael. Causing a scene won't help anything here. Let's just let them do their jobs and tell us what we need to know when we need to know it," Carly says uncharacteristically. She's never, ever calm when anyone gets into an accident like this.

"Carly, are you okay?" Dante questions his stepmom.

"No."

"I'm calling Sonny. No arguing," he says to her, walking away.

She gives herself a minute to collect her thoughts before thinking about how disastrous Dante calling Sonny is. For all they know, he gave the damm order!

Put some faith in the guy, Carly. He is your husband, after all.

That's how, twenty minutes later, Sonny ends up finally showing up at GH with Joss, who's clearly worried. By the looks of it, Sonny's been pretty damn loud with his rage. She just hopes he didn't scare her too bad. It takes a lot to rattle her mini me, though, and so this reaction is concerning.

"Mom, I need to talk to you for a minute," Joss asks, looking highly concerned.

"Sure, hon. Let's just wait for the doctors to tell us what's going on with Jason first, okay?" The blonde suggests to her daughter, who nods her agreement as Portia walks towards them.

"Jason has to be taken into surgery to remove the bullet. He has stabilized and that's a good sign. Carly, you have his power of attorney, right?" Portia asks and Carly nods. "Good. I'm going to need you to sign off on this paperwork for the surgery before we can actually dislodge the bullet."

Thankfully there's a pen attached to the clipboard Portia extends to her and so Carly signs off quickly, not even registering what she's signing. "Can we see him?"

Portia sighs, considering it. "We won't have the OR prepped for a few more minutes, so if you like, you can visit one at a time."

Not wasting another minute, Carly hands her the clipboard and walks into the room seeing the very disheartening sight of him going in and out of consciousness, groaning in pain. She sheds a few years and he notices her presence in the room. "Carly? What are you doing here?"

"You got shot," she answers simply.

"Yes, I did," he nods, confused.

"You're not allowed to die," she tells him firmly. "You simply cannot. I will not be okay if you do and I know that if I tell you that you'll fight harder. So I'm telling it to you as best I can, I won't be okay if you die. You put me through it once, and I will be damned if I let that happen again. You'll survive this, promise me."

"Carly," he sighs, "you know I can't make you that promise. I promise you that I'll do my best to survive this."

"Don't make me guilt trip you," she threatens playfully.

"I get the gist of it and need to get this bullet out of me, so please go so the doctors can save me and you can give me more headaches with your plans," he smiles at her before drifting out of consciousness again. Ugh.

"Fine," she agrees though she doesn't want to, "I'll agree to that. Don't you dare die on me though. I love you."

As she leaves the room, a single tear falls from her eyes that she quickly wipes away, putting on a brave face for the kids. "He's gonna make it out of this, I have faith he will," Dante assures her.

"Thanks. I needed that," Carly smiles at him. "Now, Joss, do you want to go talk about this somewhere else?"

"Yeah, please," the teenager agrees.

They walk away and as soon as they're out of earshot, Joss asks, "Did you and Jason kiss?"

That was... Direct. "Yes," Carly admits, studying her daughter's face for any sign of not being okay with it or anything else like that but instead notices there's a sigh of relief. What the hell?

Noting the expression on her mom's face, Joss says, "Sonny was losing his mind at home, he screamed about it. He was scaring Avery and Donna so I took them outside and had them play for a few minutes while he was losing it and went inside. He was drinking... Something, I couldn't tell, and I asked him what the hell he was doing. That was probably a dumb thing to do, though, because he started yelling at me about how I was going to hate you and that he needed to tell me before you two got to but then Dante called him and so we came here."

Carly engulfs her daughter in a hug at that, mama bear and Jason got shot rage all combining into one. Sonny's got good reason to be scared if he's not already. "Oh Joss, I am so sorry you had to deal with that. Sonny shouldn't have been drinking in the first place around you girls. Thank you, for taking your little sisters outside."

"Of course. I figured he's just angry about something, so when I found out we were going here I was happy he wasn't seeing things or off his lithium," Joss beans at her mom. "I don't want anything bad happening to Jason, of course, but I was scared, Mom. Scared of what he was gonna do."

"You have every right to that fear," she smiles at her. "When he gets like this, it's completely unacceptable behavior. I'm so sorry he did that to you. He had no right to scare your little sisters and you like that." He is so dead. No one messes with her kids.

"Please don't kill him," Joss jokes and Carly fakes a smile.

"I would never."

"Well, I think we've got the slightly more pressing matter of you being in love with a certain Jason Morgan to discuss," Joss smiles at her mom.

"God, Sonny really did tell all the story," Carly sighs. "Are you okay with all of this?"

"Mom," she rolls her eyes, "you're in love! This is a good thing! I'm happy for you two. Besides, you know we all love him. It's not like it'll be a huge adjustment until I move."

"Oh god, I haven't even thought of that yet," Carly sighs, pinching her temples.

"Sorry to wreck the party, but Sam's over there losing it," Monica tells them before excusing herself to go to the chapel.

"I have a headache already," Carly complains before walking to Sam. "Hey, Sam. May I ask why you're sobbing on the hospital floor?"

"Jason's been shot, Carly! Why aren't you sobbing and screaming and causing a scene?" Sam asks her.

"I know he's been shot, but I'm being strong for my kids and Monica and Willow. I've got plenty of time to fall apart and I'm barely not," she admits, "but it won't help anything. He's in surgery right now and the best thing you can do is go spend time with the kids. They need their mom."

"This is what I get for breaking up with him. He's in love with you and look at me, pathetically crying. God, this is so pathetic," Sam sighs, collecting herself after a minute. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"You were upset and lashed out. Trust me, out of you and Sonny he's the one I'd shoot first," Carly attempts to crack a smile.

Sam lets out a hollow laugh at that before leaving, confusing pretty much everyone. "Aren't her and Jason together? Why isn't she pacing the halls of GH with us?" Michael presses his mother and Sonny snaps.

"Your mother and him are in love or something disgusting like that," he says, shocking everyone. "Him and Sam have been over for a couple of weeks."

"Did-did-did he say love?" Michael stutters out, the first to collect himself enough to say that. "Like, romantically?"

"Yes," Carly admits. "Look, we can talk more about this later."

"Actually, I see this as the perfect time to talk about it," Sonny chimes in, smiling. "After all, Jason's in surgery for god knows how long and you've got nothing but time to explain to them what happened between you two today. Repeatedly."

"Oh my god, did you-" Dante starts, trailing off.

"No! God no, we did not sleep together," Carly answers quickly and Joss flicks him in the back of the head. Attagirl.

"Then what did you do?" Willow asks cautiously. Unlike everyone else here, this is her first big fight between Carly and Sonny to deal with.

"They kissed. In public. Where anyone who cared to dine at the Metro Court could see them," Sonny starts. "And them when I got upset, they both started defending each other to me and I ended up finding out that they're in love. My wife and my best friend, in love! Give it up for things I wasn't expecting this year!"

"Sonny that's enough," Joss starts in on her stepfather before Michael cuts in.

"Dad. Shut up. Mom's in love with Jason? This is a lot to wrap my head around so give me a minute," he urges of his unresponsive father.

"I'm not exactly hearing a thank you or a single- Ow, Joss, what the hell?" Sonny asks when she elbows him in the ribs.

"Stop talking down to my mom, first off, and second, don't be rude to Jason either. He's your business partner! You two have known each other forever!"

"Which is why this hurts so much, Josslyn! They've betrayed me," Sonny moans in pain when she elbows him yet again. Motherly pride fills Carly.

"Following your heart isn't betrayal, it's doing what you feel is best. It's listening to your heart no matter the consequences. You're supposed to be an adult, so start acting like one dammit! I'm embarrassed to be seen in public when you're throwing a temper tantrum so grow the hell up," Joss explains to him.

"Mom, you cheated on Dad? With Jason?" Michael asks, connecting the dots.

"Yes. I didn't mean to and I know it was wrong to do and I'm so sorry if this taints your view of either of us but it just happened so fast and," Carly gestures around the hospital. "Now we're here."

"I don't know what to feel," he admits.

"That's okay, Michael. Please, take your time to process this and work through your emotions. I'm sure you especially will have a lot of them," she smiles at her oldest son.

"Him especially?" Dante asks, confused.

"Jason raised me for the first couple years of my life and on and off since then, because Dad couldn't always do that. It's like I had two dads growing up. So this news kinda confuses me a lot and I've got lots of questions but I'm only with this," Michael dmes.

"You're siding with the?" Sonny snarls. "Really? After everything they put you through-"

"You shot me in the head and put me in a coma! They're not doing anything illegal and it's not my place to judge," Michael snaps at his father. "Joss is right, grow the hell up."

"I'm always right," she smiles at her big brother who pulls her in for a hug.

"Not always, but it happens on occasion," Michael teases her and she gently slaps his arm. "Where the hell did you learn how to hit like that?"

"I took self defense classes from Jason."

"Of course you did," Michael sighs at his sister's antics. "For when you start a massive fight."

"Ooh, good idea," she teases him.

Sonny interrupts the moment. "Hey you two, you're on her side in all of this?"

"Yes, we are, because you scared our little sisters into making me take them outside so they wouldn't have to hear you screaming. They lost their minds and they didn't know what happened to you. Honestly, neither do I!" Joss exclaims.

This is providing a good distraction from the whole Jason's having surgery thing right now, but that doesn't mean it's not at the front of everyone's mind. Everyone except Sonny, it seems, and that in and of itself is suspicious to Carly. They don't know who ordered the hit on him yet.

Too much complicated.

To be continued

:,)

[malereader-inserts]

I’m so Tired

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Sherlock Holmes & Brother!Reader, Mycroft Holmes & Brother!Reader Summary: Just some brothers trying to be normal brothers. Word Count: 1,538 Request: “A Brother!Holmes!reader. The choice is up to you (also, I don't mind you going off the rails, it adds more spice to the story) Have AN AWESOME DAY honey 🍯 😘 A/n: Hey nonnie, you requested this a few days ago with an angels request too but I no longer do requests for Supernatural because I feel like it’s lost its touch for me and that it’s gone on far too long.

God.

That’s what you need, you need a god to put you out of your misery. You haven’t had a good night sleep since forever, you just want someone to put you out of your misery.

You tried everything, tea, warm glass of milk, counting sheep, hell you’ve avoided naps throughout the day and now you’re just wide awake for twenty hours a day. You weren’t an insomniac, you loved your sleep, you rather stay in bed and continue sleeping for half the day.

But, somewhere along the pathway of following your brother Sherlock on one of his cases, it went wrong. Then, just you were about to fix your sleeping schedule, you were forced to accompany Mycroft in some endeavours over the pond that requires two Holmes - whilst Sherlock was a hissy fit you were dragged along.

So, you spent time just being bored out of your mind. Your mind was rapid, it never stopped thinking and it completely drains you throughout the day but the moment you hit the bed, your eyes can’t close and you lost your bearings for anything practical. 

When you were younger, you used to raid one of your brother’s room, it wasn’t often because even when they were growing up that they hated any some form of affection and physical contact. It grew awkward and weird as you got older since there was a big age gap in between you and your brothers - they were adults when you were still a child. 

You learnt to power through it, until you almost got ran over by London’s shit taxi drivers. 

You found yourself taking sleeping pills, even though you are still convinced you’re not an insomniac (you are).

“Zopiclone,” You read out loud, “Take one pill each night for the next four weeks, takes one hour to fully work.”

Your thumb rubs over the label, you look at yourself in the mirror and run your hand over your eyes. You sighed, ready for bed, looking down at the packaging.

“Side effects: May cause bitter of metallic taste in mouth, dry mouth, daytime sleepiness, dependency (DO NOT TAKE AFTER PRESCRIBED WEEKS).” You continue, popping one out and swallowing one down with a fresh glass of water.

When you hit the bed, feeling relaxed, shutting your eyes. 

Until your phone started to ring. Snapping your eyes open, you pat down the bedside table for your phone. “BIG BROTHER SHER” on the caller ID. You groaned, locking your phone hoping that he would drop whatever he’s working on.

But, he didn’t stop. 

“What do you want,”

“Hello to you too!” Sherlock greeted, hyper, obviously wither having some sort of mental break down, a breakthrough, or he finally got a good case after weeks, “How quick can you come to the flat?”

“Sherlock, I just-”

“Sherlock leave him alone.” You heard a disapproving voice in the background.

“Myc-”

“Oh, shut your mouth Mycroft, our brother should come here and solve this brilliant case with us.” Sherlock interrupted you, you blinked sleepily, the medication taking its full effect on you.

“Sherlock, it’s one in the morning, let the poor boy sleep-!”

“I want to sleep,” John was heard in the background, you chuckled to yourself.

“(Y/n) get over here!”

But before you could respond, Sherlock hung up on you. You sighed, looking at your attire and the comfort of your bed was calling, but you knew full well that Sherlock was persistent and he will never stop calling you until you get there.

Shuffling to put some joggers, a shirt and a hoodie as you slip on some trainers before you exited your flat. Locking the door behind you and shoving your phone in your pocket as you hail one of the taxis to Sherlock’s home. The journey there almost made you pass out, but when the car jerked to a halt in front of the famous door, you sighed.

Fishing out some money before exiting the cab, who drove away quickly as he arrived. You rubbed your eyes and scratched your hair as you inserted the spare key that John gave to you to prevent you from knocking the door at ungodly times and accidentally waking up Mrs Hudson.

Taking your time to get up the stairs, you open the door.

“What’s up losers,” You greeted, Sherlock jumping in joy as he grabs your shoulder, “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Murder case,” John replied as he sat in his armchair, nursing a coffee in hand as he was already on the verge to murder his best friend.

“He’s been at it for hours,” Mycroft piped up from Sherlock’s armchair, “He won’t drop it - apologies brother for calling you in such an unideal time.”

You waved your hand, “It’s Sherlock, I expect nothing less.”

Sherlock smiled as you sat down on the sofa, at first you were paying attention but the medication was at its peak. You felt droopy and you wanted to pass out, Mycroft noticed how you became disinterest quickly, focusing in and out, being less responsive than usual.

Mycroft wanted to pass it off that you were tired and it was half two in the morning yet, the way you had lean your head on your hand was like you’ve been stuck in that position for days. At one point of the night, you snapped yourself awake as you blinked a few times at Sherlock.

“Did you get that?”

“Oh, sorry, did you expect me to listen to you?” You responded, your mouth was quicker than your brain as Mycroft chuckled at your snarkiness.

Yet, Sherlock, who was still pacing the floor, took your comment as a light joke, “We need a plan of action, a bait.”

You tiredly deduced your brother, his mind analysing the best plan, your eyes flickered to Mycroft, who was staring at you.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you,” Mycroft questioned, seeing your amused face that your calculating brother in his own flat.

You nodded, “Yes, because having my life threatened by a psychopathic monkey is just what I wanted to do today later,” You rolled your eyes as Sherlock finally stopped his pacing and spun his heels to look at you.

“…I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not…”

“Jesus, Sherlock, not to be offending but I’ve been like this the whole night, can’t we just continue this tomorrow?” You asked, holding a pillow to your chest, “I haven’t slept for the past few days-”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at you, “Take my bed,”

“What-?”

“Take my bed,” He responded, affectionately, “It’s better sleeping there than the sofa.”

You blinked rapidly for a few times, trying to process what had been said to you.

“Oh dear, you’ve managed to malfunction our brother, Sherlock.”

You turn to look at Mycroft before silently getting up and walking down the hallway to Sherlock’s room.

“He’s not okay, is he?” The three men watched you almost run into the door before shutting it close.

“It appears not.”

When you woke up, you unexpectedly hot. You were sure you had removed your hoodie to stop you from overheating, yet you were sure you’ve sweat through the sheets. Squeezing your eyes shut and stretching your hands collided to bodies.

You opened your eyes and sat up, on your right, Sherlock was hanging off the bed - snoring with a blanket wrapped tightly around him. He had not gone under the duvet like you did because he figured it would wake you up.

You look over to your left and see Mycroft curled up into a ball, his back facing you, taking up little space and another blanket over him. 

It was no wonder you were heating because you had three covers as you slept. You smiled to yourself remembering the times when you were younger. When you would have a nightmare or a bad thunderstorm, your brothers would rush to your room and comfort you.

They would refuse to leave each other, proving that you were in dire need in both your brothers to protect you from your dreams or the storm outside the house, rattling your windows.

You remembered the days when your mother would come to call you down for breakfast to find all her boys sleeping on one bed, cramped and a tangled mess, lying on top of each other. She found it adorable, especially the way you would cling onto one of your brothers.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a bang on your right.

Sherlock finally fell out of bed.

“Morning,” You mumbled, as Mycroft groaned on the left side of you, waking up as well.

“Do you think John made breakfast?” Sherlock questioned.

“Don’t you do the cooking?” You questioned.

“I’m your brother, not a baby sitter.”

You smiled sweetly at him, he sighs, standing up and pinching your cheeks, “You’re lucky I love you.”

You chuckled as Sherlock saunters out the door. You looked over to Mycroft, who was desperately trying to fall back to sleep. You roll your eyes as you pushed him off the bed as well.

“Wake up sleepy beauty, Sherlock’s making breakfast.”

“He’ll poison it.”

Just your typical brothers, the only human things the Holmes can achieve. 

#sherlock BBC #bbc sherlock #sherlock imagine #sherlock bbc imagine #sherlock and mycroft imagine #sherlock holmes x male reader #mycroft imagine #mycroft holmes imagine #mycroft x male reader

[skia-oura]

The Pros and Cons of Surviving an Unstable Pocket Dimension

A/N: I haven’t worked on any Bentley & Co stuff in almost a year. And yet, I found myself wiping the dust of an old WIP a few days ago. Enjoy.

Ao3

______________________________________________________________

         “All right, we’re going to need to take you aside for further investigation,” the security agent said, gently guiding Bentley to another room. “Your luggage will also have to be searched through.”

           The first time this had happened had been in a grocery store, and Bentley had just about fled the scene after they were done checking for stolen items. He and Torako had also decided to never go to that particular store again—not that it mattered much, because it was closed a week later. Dipper denied any involvement. Bentley knew Alcor better than to believe that particular declaration. Torako had been seen discreetly high-fiving the perpetrator. Bentley had pretended not to see it. Life went on.

The second time, he’d entered a museum exhibit on the rise and fall of civilizations and how their technology had influenced their lifespans and lifestyles. The alarms had blared, he’d been pulled aside and interrogated about what piece he’d just stolen from the museum. When he said he’d just come in, it took two hours and an extensive check of their inventory to decide that he was telling the truth. In all, he’d just been incredulous and frustrated.

Now, on the third major incident—he was just numb to it.

           “I have a doctor’s note,” Bentley said. He gestured back at the luggage checking terminal. “It’s on my phone, in my bag.” He’d gotten it after the museum incident.

           “We’ll bring it to you after we’ve checked everything out,” the security agent said, frilled ears fluttering. The door shut behind them, and Bentley pushed down hard on the nerves that it caused. His therapist, who had not been told nearly everything that had occurred and was under the strictest of non-disclosure agreements as concocted by Torako and Dipper, said that it was fine to react poorly to being shut in a room. Bentley understood that. So did Torako and Dipper, who often took to leaving the doors in their new home open. Sometimes they even took it a little too far. Unfortunately, understanding it was fine to react poorly didn’t really change the fact that he was reacting poorly—heartrate up, breathing short, patchwork hands gripping the fabric of his long skirt.

           The door opened. “Can I see some ID, please?”

           “Of course.” Bentley worked his fingers out of their stiff grip on his clothing. “It’s on my phone, however.”

           The agent squinted at him with her three eyes. “Why do you keep asking for your phone so much?”

           “All of my important information is on it,” Bentley said. He was really going to have to look into analogue options, apparently, if he wanted to have any kind of expediency in his life. “Usually I have my phone on me to clear up misunderstandings.”

           She continued to squint at him, but nodded and left the room. The door clicked shut behind her. He couldn’t tell whether or not it was locked. Bentley closed his eyes and tried to regulate his breathing. It actually halfway worked, which was pleasantly surprising. He opened his eyes, and looked at the room. The room which was bare, save for a lonely, somewhat drooping poster in the corner about alerting the authorities to suspicious behavior in the terminal. It was faded. The section visible behind the poster was darker than the surrounding wall.

           The door opened. Bentley turned his attention away from the sad poster to the agent, who passed his phone over. “Please pull up your identification.”

           Bentley complied, pulling up the code that would allow the agent to access his public ID. She passed a fancy new flat scanner over it, shimmering with magic, and it chirped before lighting up his ID in hologram form. He had a second to think everything will be fine before the next half-second, in which he saw his photo and thought oh right fuck.

           The agent squinted her already squinty eyes further. “…skin tone seems different.”

           “There was an accident.” Bentley made a mental note to get his photo updated. Soon. As soon as possible.

           “Face is also differently shaped.”

           “Accident included weight loss,” Bentley said, frowning. He’d been very comfortable at his previous weight, thank you, and putting it back in a healthy way was taking much more time than usual. The wardrobe situation was unideal. Over by the door, a corner of the poster suddenly gave up and drooped down. Bentley empathized.

           “One of your eyes is…gold now?”

           “Same accident. It’s very frustrating.”

           “I’m sorry, I’m not sure this is sufficient,” the agent said.

           She dug out an attachment to her scanner and passed it over to Bentley. “Please rest your right forefinger on the print scanner.”

           That should work. Maybe now he’d finally be on his way to his work conference, where he could take out his frustration by tearing apart presentations by people who made mistakes they should have known better than to make. Bentley pressed his forefinger to the screen. It played a jaunty, tinny tune while it analyzed the results, and then beeped ominously. Bentley stared at his finger in betrayal.

           The agent peered at the screen. “…fingerprint also seems slightly off the record.”

           Bentley tried one last time to turn her attention where it really belonged. “Can I please show you my doctor’s note?”

           She huffed and put away the scanner and its fingerprint reading attachment. Energy like dust motes trailed in its wake before fading into nothing. “Sir,” she said, folding both of her arms, “I’m going to need you to stay in here while I call terminal police to get to the bottom of this situation.”

           “Okay,” he said, screaming on the inside. “I understand.”

           It took him five hours, several phone calls, and a set of lackluster apologies from all parties involved before Bentley was through security. He had missed his transaction time by a long shot, but still managed to be on his way quickly thereafter.

           The fourth time a similar event happened was two days later, at the terminal he’d transacted into. It took him seven hours, that time, and three different translators who tried to disagree on fiddly translation bits.

           The following day, Bentley went down to the police station. He updated his biographics, his address (which had also been an issue), received analogue documents in duplicate, and endured a lot of awkward small talk from Officer Akuapem. There, he thought to himself. Nothing bad will happen now.

           Then he entered a nearby bookstore, having remembered Torako’s birthday coming up, and single-handedly sent the entire store into siren-blaring lockdown.

             One thing that Bentley hadn’t anticipated about constantly emanating magical energy was that his phone never lost charge as long as it was in his hand. He noticed this a week after they’d moved into their new house, having confused and possibly terrified the poor realtor in charge of their case.

           “Huh,” he said aloud in the living room, lounging about after work with Torako—who was not lounging around, and instead was researching leads into her very first case as a private investigator. She’d moaned about the piles of paperwork the whole time, but had done it anyways. Such were the perils of working for yourself.

           “Huh?” Torako echoed absentmindedly. She twirled the tablet stylus between her fingers, energy become solid. Bentley knew that if he lifted his special reading glasses, it would be shimmering with magic more than it already was.

           “How long have we been sitting down here again?”

           “About two hours, I think?” Torako underlined something, then slid the tab out into thin air to interact with the 3-D image attachment. She mumbled something to herself about plausible cause and environmental influences and then worried at her lips.

           Bentley stared at his phone battery. It was at 97%. He’d been doing some heavy-duty stuff on his phone, like watching dumb videos between watching relevant TADtalk clips about things like the impact of magic on people’s lives or one argument against non-disclosure agreements. He was currently paused on a video discussing Alcor the Dreambender. It had some very strange ideas about how many souls Alcor consisted of.

           “Huh,” he said again. Then he opened his mouth and said, “You know, I think I’ve actually charged my phone sitting here.”

           If it had been one of his coworkers, they might have challenged that notion, or laughed it off as a joke. Torako, on the other hand, paused, turned her attention away from her case, and raised an eyebrow. “Charged your phone? Where’s your charging pad?”

           “In our room.” Bentley frowned at his phone. The percentage ticked up from 97% to 98%. “It…literally went up just now.”

           Torako gasped and rocked up from sitting to standing. “You’re the charger!”

           Bentley pursed his lips. “The phone is a bit on the old side, the software might be going buggy. I doubt it’s me.”

           Instead of seeing sense, Torako thrust her tablet into his face. He leaned back a little and blinked the brightness out of his eyes. “Do mine next!”

           He looked at the display. 11%. “You should really charge this more often, you know,” he said, like a person who put his phone on its charging stand every night before bed.

           “It runs until it dies,” said Torako, who often forgot to charge hers and therefore had a stash of portable energy clips stashed in odd places around the house. Why she needed two in the bathroom was a mystery. “Or rather, it runs until it is resurrected by your literally magic hands.”

           Bentley sighed. He took her tablet in his ‘literally magic’ hands and stared at her with the most deadpan expression he could muster. In response, Torako stared very intently at the percentage icon in the top right corner. In the space above the tablet, an image of a fairly normal looking townhouse loomed over them, apathetic to the tension of the moment.

           Two minutes later—Bentley kept an eye on the clock as well—Bentley sighed. “Look, Torako. Nothing has happened.”

           “Keep holding it, buddy,” Torako said.

           “But nothing has happened. I told you, it’s a quirk of faulty software on my phone.”

           He’d just shut his mouth when Torako let out a whoop of victory and punched a fist into the air. “Take that, it went up!”

           Sure enough, when Bentley glanced over to check, the battery icon was displaying a damning 12%.

           “Your software is bad too,” Bentley said, weakly.

           “My tablet is seven months old,” Torako cackled.

           “It’s faulty,” he tried. “Bad tech. You should get a refund.”

           Torako ruffled his hair. “It’s top of the line and you know it. I ain’t afraid to spend money on quality things.”

           “Good things sometimes don’t work right?” he said, knowing he had lost and still unwilling to face reality. The gleam in Torako’s eye scared him.

           “Give it up, sucker. Your magic hands are magic charging hands now.” She sat down on the couch right next to him and turned the tablet around in his hands. “Now, keep still so I can keep working longer.”

           Bentley dropped the tablet and felt vindicated by the way she squawked. “Can’t have my hands if I’m using them,” he said, and promptly walked away to go take a shower.

           The next day, he came home having mostly forgotten about the incident and felt tired enough to take a nap on the couch. When he woke up, Torako’s tablet was propped up against his bare stomach, and she was working again.

           “You’ll be pleased to know,” she said, grinning and scribbling down some notes in a tab laying across her legs, “that the more direct contact a magitech device has against your skin, the quicker it charges.”

           Bentley smacked her with the couch cushion. She cackled, smacked him back, and very soon the tablet was forgotten on the couch as they hurled pillows at each other like children.

             Lucas Onderon was a smart person. Very smart; it’s why he had a job in the thinktank of one of the first viable sigils research centers. He churned out ideas and made connections at a speed that sometimes made Bentley feel jealous. Unfortunately, whenever he tried to apply his theories, things inevitably went wrong.

           Bentley, glasses perched on his forehead, pointed at a sigil combination that was sparking dangerously to his left eye. “That’s going to explode in your face if you don’t change it.”

           Lucas rolled his eyes and flapped his hand in Bentley’s face. “I get it, you think you’re all hot stuff with your special face and your special eyes, but I know what I’m doing! Everything’s fine. Go pay attention to your own souped-up basic shit.”

           Across the room, very far away, Ziyi flicked her very large, very sensitive ears and looked up from her own work. “Uh, you might actually want to listen to Bentley? The Bentley Farkas? Who literally has a magic eye now and therefore is extra listenable to?”

           Bentley very carefully did not react to the thought that he was surrounded by people who called his body parts magical. Torako had very suddenly wondered aloud at how the magic affected his reproductive system was before freezing and hiding her face in her hands. The fact that it had embarrassed her as much as it had embarrassed him was the only thing that saved her from some nasty prank later on.

On the other hand, Dipper had cackled for all of five seconds before Bentley snapped that he had Dipper’s sister’s soul, and did Dipper really want to think about that? Dipper shut up very quickly after that. Dipper had also woken up in the middle of the night to ice-cubes being slipped down the back of his neck. The screech was very satisfying.

           “Who even cares?” Lucas said, consulting his notes for reference as to where he planned to set the severance line. He drummed his painted nails against the surface of the table next to the special sigils testing paper before him.

           Bentley sighed. It was his job as supervisor, he told himself. He had no room to judge right now, he told himself. “Seriously. It’s going to explode, and you will not be happy. At least move your notes to a safer range so that you can review them later?”

           Instead of listening to Bentley’s very good advice, Lucas stuck out his tongue and started to draw the line.  Bentley, because he wasn’t a saint, shut up and moved to a safe distance as he watched the magic spark higher and more violently with every other second. Ziyi groaned and slid one four-fingered hand up her face. Lucas faltered right before crossing the problematic sigil combo, but then continued. Incompletely cut sigils had even odds of either just going dead or exploding with energy, so Bentley felt it was a pretty fair call. Except for the part that, you know, he had told Lucas not to in the first place.

           As he thought, the moment the line cut through the sigil combo, the magic pulsed, Bentley closed his eyes, and there was an explosion that shook the room. Bentley felt the hum of the room’s containment sigils as they absorbed most of the shock and prevented structural damage. He counted to two, then opened his eyes.

           Lucas blinked, eyes wide, freckled face red from heat exposure and pink-dyed hair blown into disarray. He looked so utterly surprised that Bentley couldn’t help snorting in laughter. When Lucas’s attention snapped over to him, Bentley turned around and tried to muffle his amusement in his hand.

           “Stop laughing!” Lucas said. “This was—this was—this was terrible! A disaster!! My work is all gone!” The explosion had damaged his notes, as well, and Bentley wouldn’t be surprised if they were largely illegible now.

           “He warned you, you know,” Ziyi said.

           “He probably made it worse by standing so close!” Lucas said. Bentley’s laughter faded in his chest. “If he wasn’t here, it probably wouldn’t have even exploded.”

           “Holy shit, dude,” Ziyi said. Bentley’s hand stayed over his mouth. Guilt roiled in his gut—what if it had been his fault? What if he’d influenced an already unsteady sigil combination into instability? “Stop blaming your explosion on the dude who tried to help out?”

           “You know he’s throwing magic out everywhere, all the time,” Lucas argued.

           Ziyi scoffed. Bentley wondered how fast he could make it out the door. “And you know that you have a tendency to think too fast and overlook important factors! You should check over your own damn work after letting it sit for a while.”

           This was true, Bentley thought. Lucas did think too fast, and he didn’t proofread nearly enough for his own projects. From his sputtering, Lucas was also aware of this shortcoming, and that gave Bentley enough strength to compose himself and turn around. And not head straight for the door like he wanted to. Anyways, that was behind Lucas, and he didn’t want to go past Lucas at this point.

           “Hopefully,” Bentley said, burying his insecurity and slipping his glasses back down onto his nose, “this finally teaches you to take a bit more time with your work. You really are smart, Lucas. Just take more time.”

           Lucas blinked, and then his youthful face clouded over with resentment even under the exposing white lights of the sterile room around them. “That’s easy for you to say,” he sneered. “You’re already established and important.”

           “And it took time to get there,” Bentley said. He held his hands behind his back to hide how they were trembling. “Time, and care, and a lot of frustration.”

           “Lucas has got that last one pinned down,” Ziyi snarked. Bentley threw an exasperated look over to her, and she ducked her face with a sheepish grin. The white lights of the room slid over her single giraffe-like horn, dulled by the overlying coating of stubbly fur.

           In response, Lucas threw up his hands and stood. “I’m done! You have what you want! I’m leaving the practical testing room and going back to where I belong, on the drawing board.”

           “Okay,” Bentley said, because there was no reasoning with Lucas when he was acting like this. “You go do that.”

           Lucas swiped the remains of his notes up and glowered at Bentley on his way out. If the door hadn’t hissed shut, he might have slammed it. There was silence for a long moment, during which Bentley stared over at the wisps of burned paper, ashes spread over the table and the floor. He didn’t want to see whether or not they glittered with magic.

           “I’ll go get a vacuum,” Ziyi said, finally.

           “No, no, I’ll go,” Bentley said. He smiled over at her. She didn’t look like she thought it was sincere, which was unfortunate because he was trying very hard to seem sincere. “I have to…think,” he said.

           Ziyi leaned back in her seat and folded her arms. Scales glittered iridescent along the curve of her cheekbone and down the bridge of her nose. “He doesn’t actually hate you, you know,” she said. “He’s just…frustrated and jealous. Don’t stitch what he said into your soul, yanno? It’ll just give your reincarnations inferiority issues or something.”

           Bentley smiled again at her. “I think my reincarnations are already screwed,” he said, thinking of Alcor.

           “Hey, I know plenty of people who think having a magic eye would be cool,” she said, unfolding her arms and leaning forward. “Your reincarnations aren’t screwed for that, silly.”

           “I don’t think that’s how reincarnations work,” Bentley said dryly. Otherwise, he’d be a lot more like the Original Mable Pines (or whoever was first, if there was a first). “I’m going to go get that vacuum, okay?”

           If it took him twenty minutes and a fifteen minute rapid text exchange with Torako in a supply closet several doors down, then that was clearly a lie and never happened. No, his eyes were not red and he wasn’t suddenly congested, thank you very much. And yes, he was wearing gloves because he was just conscientious about keeping his hands clean, not for any other reason.

           He couldn’t resist lifting his glasses and glancing at Ziyi’s current project, though, trying to make something that shrinked and unshrinked on command. “Ah,” he said, pointing his finger. “You sure you want to make that combination there?”

           “Is it going to explode?” she asked, peering at the combination in question. “It’s just longevity and size, you know. It won’t stick it there, will it?”

           “But linking it to that change sign might not be the best idea—look, that change is also the one used for instability, isn’t it? It might make something that’s been made small suddenly become large again.” Bentley stayed very carefully as far away as he could while still looking at the sigils.

           Ziyi groaned and slapped her hands on her face. “Nooo, no you’re right, I completely forgot about that change sigil.”

“You might want to combo fluctuation up with a standard kind of sigil with a mid-level small sigil, and then link it to longevity.” Bentley suggested.

“That’s so many though,” Ziyi said, fingers dragging down on her cheeks enough that Bentley could see the pink skin under her eyes. For a moment she was silent, staring down at her sketchpad. Then she jerked up straight, dragged her sketchpad towards herself, and started scribbling down unbroken sigils and ideas. “But if I—Bentley you’re a lifesaver—if I set the combo up concentrically, then—”

He grinned a little. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said. Bentley turned around, tiny vacuum in his hands, and narrowed his eyes at his worktable a few steps away.

Time to wrestle with the basics again.

 One quiet Sunday evening, when Torako was gone to speak with a client, Bentley sat in the living room on the couch they’d had since college and stared down at his hands. Ostensibly, he was supposed to be relaxing, or cooking, or getting the garden outside started as Torako and he had planned. That obviously wasn’t happening. Instead, he sat in the golden-orange light filtering in past the translucent inner curtains hung over the French doors leading outside and stared down at his hands.

They were patchworked in different tones, in slightly different textures that didn’t quite blend into each other seamlessly. When he turned his palms over the patchwork wrapped around, crossed his palmar creases and rounded through the whorls of his fingerpads. His fingerprints weren’t the same as before, he remembered. How deep down did the changes really go? How far had the pocket dimension embedded itself in him, in his DNA, to change the smallest parts of his body so subtly? The doctors had said there was nothing physically wrong with him but—he was so cold, and his fingerprints were different, and his eyes were different his skin was different he could feel magic—

He curled and uncurled his hands, slowly, watching the light slide over his skin, watching the shadows bloom before creeping away. Bentley bent his head closer, brought his hands up, and inspected the beds of his fingernails, ran his thumbnails over the surfaces of them. He’d never paid this much attention to his hands before, he thought. That being said, he was—pretty sure that they had never glittered before. When he shut his left eye, the glittering disappeared. A sudden lump in his throat, Bentley closed both his eyes and leaned back. The sun shone dim through his eyelids until he squeezed his eyes shut and counted the seconds for each inhale and exhale.

There was a sudden thrum of energy, like friction skittering over the exposed skin of his arms and setting his hair to stand on end. Bentley opened his eyes just as an arm settled slowly over his shoulder. Only the knowledge that it was Dipper stopped him from jumping, and even then he couldn’t not stiffen just a little.

“Hey Ben,” Dipper said. “It’s been a while?”

“It’s been seven hours,” Bentley drawled. “How was it at Batoor’s new place?”

“Peaceful,” Dipper said. “He’s doing well, excited about college life next month and all that. Haji says to say hello. I also stopped to say hello to the Pines, and they were wondering when you and Torako were going to come out next. Lata especially.”

Bentley pursed his lips. He flexed his fingers, then gripped his legs with his hands and stood. Dipper’s arm slid off him in a rasp of not-quite-real fabric. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Bentley?”

He threw a quick smile over his shoulder, but Dipper looked far from convinced. “It’s fine, I just was reminded I needed one.”

“Bentley…”

Fortunately, Dipper didn’t follow him into the bathroom. He didn’t protest when the door shut, or the lights turned on, or when Bentley said nothing else. Bentley chewed at the inside of his lip and looked at himself in the mirror.

Haji had never apologized, he remembered. Not in words, at least. Bentley leaned forward, putting his weight on his arms, and traced the contours of his face’s reflection. Haji didn’t seem to want to look at Bentley for very long, the two times that Bentley had interacted with him after the pocket dimension incident. Not that Bentley blamed him for that, he thought. His face wasn’t exactly his anymore.

The thought struck his breath in his chest for a few seconds before Bentley gritted his teeth and shoved it away. He thought he’d been over this. He’d thought that he’d come to terms with his new look. With the new needs that came with it, in the forms of two kinds of moisturizer and an extra delicate facewash. His gaze flicked between both of his eyes, the dark eye he had inherited from his parents, the light eye he had inherited from his trauma. Magic sparkled over nearly everything he saw. He suddenly wanted his glasses, wanted to try to forget that his body was no longer one he recognized. Bentley stared at himself in the mirror and was hit by a longing for the him of last year that had him biting his lip and ducking his head against the tears in his eyes.

Bentley sunk to the cold tile floor, the heels of his palms digging into the wells of his eyes and wiping away the water springing forth from them. He curled his body into itself, bare feet dragging against ceramic patterned like ocean waves.  Torako had loved them when they’d first looked at the house. The breath sucked into him was almost immediately dispelled. He ran his fingers through his short hair and tugged as hard as he could, baring his teeth against the pain in his chest. “I’m still me,” he whispered into the stillness of the bathroom. His heart beat out, no you’re not, no you’re not, no you’re not, and he curled in tighter on himself.

“Bentley just—let me in, please.”

“No,” Bentley just managed to say. “I’m taking a shower.”

“No you’re not,” Dipper said. The door opened, and Bentley did his best to hide his face, but it didn’t help. “I can read auras, you know.”

Bentley hated Dipper, very suddenly. It wasn’t right to, but he did. “Go away!”

“No,” Dipper said. He slid down the wall to sit next to Bentley, close enough that Bentley could feel the heat of him but far enough that they weren’t actually touching. Bentley wasn’t sure what he would do if Dipper touched him right now. “You need somebody. You don’t need to be left alone with your thoughts.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Bentley said like an absolute child.

“Try me,” Dipper said, echoing that age-old reply. “I’ve lived for like, millennia, I’ve experienced a lot. Maybe it’ll help.”

Bentley sniffled loud and wet and tried to calm down by counting breaths again. “I don’t like talking about it,” he said.

“Take your time,” Dipper said. He shifted. When Bentley sneaked a glance, Dipper had stretched out his legs, one ankle crossed over the other, the hems of his pants cut a few centimeters above his ankles and tailored tight around his calves. The fabric shimmered blue—not with magic, but because Dipper was a showboat.

So Bentley nodded, pressed his face into his knees and covered his ears, and just tried to be. He counted his breaths—one to three in, one two three out, over and over. He focused on the pressure of his knees against his forehead, the coolness of the tile against the soles of his feet, the subtle hum against his skin that he always got now when Dipper was around. He was there. He was alive.

It was strange to think that, all those months ago, he had planned to never be alive again. It was even stranger to think that he’d made it out of that death hole. He never managed to talk about this with his therapist for obvious reasons. Maybe he should have, just—in the barest terms.

“Better?” Dipper asked.

He sighed. “Don’t just read my aura, will you?”

“Can’t help it,” Dipper said. “I barely remember when I couldn’t.”

The thought that Dipper wasn’t able to at one point shocked Bentley just enough that he lifted his face and looked Dipper in the eye for the first time since that morning. “You couldn’t?”

Dipper grinned, shark-teeth sharp. “You know I was human once, back before the Transcendence. Even fewer humans could read auras then, and I certainly wasn’t one of them.”

That’s right, Bentley thought. He looked over Dipper’s features again, eternally young and smooth. Dipper was human once, too. He’d had a human sister, human parents and friends and relatives. He hadn’t had sharp teeth, or black sclera, or brown hair—or maybe he had? How much of his appearance was rooted in reality? Had he had brown eyes, back when he was human?

Bentley sniffled again. Maybe Dipper could understand. “Remind me how you became Alcor again?”

“That old story?” Dipper’s eyebrows raised up a bit higher than most human eyebrows did. “There’s not much to it.”

“Humor me.” Bentley crossed his arms over his knees and rested his head there, face turned towards Dipper. “If you want.”

“I mean,” Dipper said, bending a knee and slinging one arm over it. “It wasn’t on purpose. We—my sister, my friends, my Grunkles and I—were trying to stop a demon from starting the apocalypse. It eventually became the Transcendence, but it was better than it would have ended up. Long story short, I got into a tussle with Bill, the demon, and—somehow, I won. Then everything changed.”

When Dipper didn’t continue immediately, Bentley pressed on gently. “How? Did it change, I mean. For you.”

Dipper hummed and tilted his head. “I guess the best way to describe it is that things stopped and happened all at once to me. Time was—I was always going to look thirteen unless I took it upon myself to look different, for one. The eyes and the wings and the teeth were definitely different. I didn’t used to have gold blood, obviously. I was also just…mentally different.”

Bentley blinked, slow, eyes tired. “Oh.”

“Parts of me were changed completely,” Dipper said. He looked down at the tile at Bentley’s feet. “Bill became part of me even as his soul was excised from the energy that made me become a demon. His proclivity towards formal clothing, the knowledge he had of the universes, his masochistic and sadistic streaks, his disregard for life and his desire for chaos are all a part of me, now. Demons are not kind, and I’m no different.”

“Yes you are,” Bentley found himself saying. “Because otherwise you wouldn’t be in here, helping me.”

“Would I?” Dipper asked. He smiled at Bentley. His face became just a little rounder, eyes just a little wider in his features. “I’m not sure. You are Mizar, after all.”

“Would you care about Mizar if you were just Bill?”

Dipper laughed a little. “Not in any good way, so I guess no. I guess you’re right. Why are you asking, anyways?”

Bentley worried at the inside of his cheek. “Would you say that you’re trapped in a body that isn’t…isn’t yours? That you don’t recognize yourself in the mirror anymore?”

After a second, understanding bloomed over Dipper’s face like the summer sunset outside. “Not often, no,” Dipper said. “Maybe once every few years, at most. But I’ve also had a long time to get used to my situation. It was much worse at the beginning.”

When Bentley didn’t respond apart from looking away, Dipper reached out to slide his hand over Bentley’s cheek, slow enough that Bentley could move away if he wanted to. Instead, Bentley leaned into the warmth of his palm and closed his eyes.

“But it got better,” Dipper said into the quiet of the bathroom. “It got better, and it will get better for you too.”

Bentley tugged his lip inside of his mouth and found himself blinking back more tears. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. I feel like I was stolen from me, you know?”

“I did,” Dipper said. He shifted closer, and Bentley turned to press his face into Dipper’s chest almost eagerly. “And you have a right to feel angry. But it will get better. I promise, it will.”

Bentley wrapped his arms around Dipper, and tried his best to believe that it would.

 The sun beat down warm on his skin through his gauzy overshirt and the wide-brimmed sunhat on his head. His hands dug down into the rich earth, moist and cool from the previous day’s summer storm. Bentley pulled away more loose soil from the hole he’d just dug, before tugging the decomposable plastic from the base of the tomato plant and setting it into the ground. He piled cool soil back around it and patted it down just firm enough to hold without restricting. The plant was barely tall enough for the cage—which he picked up and snapped into three-dimensions before setting it down into the ground. It ground, metal against dirt until the lowest ring of it was a mere seven centimeters above the earth. Bentley smiled down at it, then shuffled past a basil plant over to the next spot—the last spot for their tomatoes—and dug in his spade.

“How’s it going over there, Ben?” Torako called from the other side of the house with Dipper.

“Fine!” he said, pushing up his glasses. “How about you?

“It’s going peachy!”

“But you’re planting apples?” He dug a well big enough and deep enough into the ground, and then set the spade aside. He couldn’t help touching the earth with his bare hands, feeling the natural energy of it thrum up into him. It was like he was all the more alive for it. It was—it was rejuvenating.

“Exactly!” Dipper yelled, which either meant that things weren’t going nearly as well, or that they were settling for a weak pun on the basis that peaches were fruits too. There was a clang, and Torako cursed. Bentley set the tomato plant in the ground and piled the dirt over it, shaking his head. Standing, he winced at the crack of his knees before shaking out another cage and setting it down.

“How has it even taken you this long to get that taken care of?” he yelled over. Squinting his eyes against the glare of the sun, he set his dirty hands on his hips and surveyed the small plot they’d just developed. Basil interspersed between tomato, beyond them two lines of carrots. Peppers and chives just beyond those, all the vegetables ringed by a protective barrier of nasturtiums and marigolds. “You just had three trees!”

“Don’t sound so high-horsed, you only planted the tomatoes and nasturtiums today,” Torako hollered back. “Don’t think I don’t see you standing over there like you’re surveying all of your work.”

Bentley laughed, heart light in his chest. A pleasant breeze blew by, sweeping the hem of his overshirt up. He turned around. “Do you need my help over there?”

“Sure,” Torako said, wiping her brow with the back of her arm. She grinned at him, dark eyes warm under the shadow of her arm. “You’ll do more good than Mr. Dipper himself here.”

“Hey!” Dipper protested, feet flat on the ground, eyes white and brown and black and ears rounded. He stuck out his tongue past (slightly too sharp) human teeth at Torako and leaned on the shovel he’d shoved into the ground, gardening glove thick on his hand. “I’m plenty helpful. This casing is just being more difficult than the others.”

“Let me see,” Bentley said, walking over and wiping his hands off on the apron he had on.

Behind him, though he didn’t know it and hadn’t seen it, the magic from inside of him had seeped into the ground. It would travel slowly up into the roots of those plants, soft and imbued with care, the desire to grow and grow well. Those plants would grow into abundance, tomatoes ripening sweeter despite being planted just a little too late, chives taller, peppers longer than they would have otherwise—if only by a little. The marigolds and nasturtiums would bloom brighter and longer. The carrots would dig into the ground, greedy for more until they were pulled up in the fall. The apple tree Bentley helped plant would be just a little hardier than the other two. Torako would look at him slyly, tell him that his green thumb had certainly improved in leaps and bounds and was he sure his hands weren’t magic, before getting a pillow to the face and falling down to the floor laughing. Dipper would cackle and join in, and they would fight until the morning, when Bentley would get up and go to work for his first full day since being kidnapped.

But he didn’t know all that yet, so Bentley went over to Dipper and Torako, took the apple seedling by its base, and tugged the wrapping off in a couple quick motions.

Torako stared. “You really do have magic hands.”

“Oh shut it,” he said, reaching out and smearing his dirty hand down the side of her cheek. She gasped in false affront, hand on her chest. Dipper laughed, Bentley crouched down to set the seedling in the ground and cover it, cool dirt on his hands and the life of the earth trembling up into his skin.

#transcendence au #tau #gravity falls au #bentley farkas #torako lam #dipper pines #featuring bentley's coworkers #hurt/comfort #mostly comfort #magic #fantasy #my fic #fic

[phantasticworks]

Terminal

I’ve been awol for a while because I’ve been working all summer and I’ve recently moved back to school and life has been busy but I’ve actually been working on this for four months (between my episodes of writers block and working on my other wip) but I am finally back with another one shot! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

read on ao3

Words: 20k

Description: Phil finds himself stuck in an airport in Florida when a nasty storm blows in from the coast. His phone is dying and his will to live without it is too. He stumbles across a cute brunette who may be just as dorky as himself, and of course flirting ensues. And maybe this cute stranger has a charger to spare? Really your goal as a reader is to solve the incredible important mystery of whether or not he gets his phone charged (and maybe have a little Phan story along the way)

Warnings: mentions of depression, swearing, smut, the usual

Phil hated airports.

Actually, that’s not entirely factual.

It wasn’t that he hated the airports themselves, although they weren’t anything to write home about, honestly. He was actually just a little annoyed with the delays. Like, how many times can a flight be delayed before it’s just cancelled altogether? Phil didn’t know, and he really didn’t want to find out.

His flight back home to London had already been delayed twice, each time for another hour. He couldn’t tell much from looking outside other than the fact that it looked like it was nearing midnight, although the clock on his phone told him it was barely four in the afternoon. In theory, he knew that this meant the storm was really bad and he should be concerned for his safety, but he didn’t see the point in being too fussed about it, considering he was in a massive building and they weren’t on the coast.

Luckily, his family had flown back the day before. Since he was now a responsible, financially stable adult, he’d bought his own tickets and hotel room. Unfortunately, he had misunderstood the dates that the rest of his family was flying out, and he’d booked everything a day late. Which really hadn’t upset him all that much anyway, since it had been a week-long trip. He was just annoyed about it now that he was having to wait in the stupid airport while his family was already safe and sound back in England. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t upset about the part where his family was safe; obviously he was glad they’d gotten home fine, but he was just irritated at the inconvenience of waiting.

He’d gotten bored sitting in the boarding area of his flight, so he’d been wandering the airport, staying close enough to check to flight board every now and then as he popped into the different shops throughout the massive building. He’d stumbled into a little airport café at some point, and after ordering a caramel macchiato he’d settled into a booth close to the front. Bored, he pulls out his phone with the intention of playing flappy bird. After only a few tries, he gets the message that his phone battery is at twenty percent. Wonderful. His charger is wherever his main suitcase is, so he’s out of luck for now.

He sighs, looking out of the window to look at the unideal weather they were stuck in. If someone had told him that his trip to America would be this hard to come back from, he’d never have gone in the first place. Well, that probably wasn’t entirely true either; he loved going to Disney World with his family, and just because he was stuck in the airport due to some sort of hurricane didn’t mean he regretted going on the trip entirely.

Phil tries very hard to keep this in mind ten minutes later when he’s walked out of the café to check the flight board, only to find that his flight has been delayed another three hours. He lets out a long, annoyed breath, apparently startling the man standing next to him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. He normally wasn’t such a sour person, even in the face of inconveniences like this. He fully blamed it on the fact that not only was he stuck in the airport, but he didn’t have his phone charger.

“’S fine,” the man responds, his voice causing Phil to take a second look.

He wouldn’t have bothered if he hadn’t heard a familiar accent, but upon realizing this man is also British, Phil can’t help it. He takes a moment to survey the man’s profile, trying his hardest to be casual about it. The man was tall, maybe an inch taller than himself, although it’s hard to tell from the poor posture he possesses. His hair is a deep brown, and so curly that Phil can only marvel at it for a moment. He’s dressed almost entirely in black, aside from the white t-shirt that he’s wearing under the black bomber jacket. It’s a good look on him, Phil thinks, although, he could probably use a little color.

Almost as if his thought has summoned the attention of the stranger, his heard turns, catching Phil staring at him. Too embarrassed to do much of anything, Phil looks down, feeling his face heat up. “Where are you headed?” The man’s voice says softly, breaking the silence.

Glancing up, Phil takes in his dark brown eyes, unsurprised that they match his hair perfectly. “London,” he answers with a nod to the board. “I mean, I’m obviously not headed there for another eighty-four years, or however long it takes the storm to pass,” he attempts a joke, smiling broadly when the brunette laughs.

“Right? I’m going to be collecting social security by the time we get on the damn plane,” the brunette rolls his eyes, bringing a hand up to brush a stray curl back. Phil unashamedly follows the motion, returning his gaze when his hand falls away.

“Definitely,” Phil says, a little awkwardly as he scrambles for something else to say.

Before he even has the chance, the man’s phone begins ringing, and he shoots Phil an apologetic smile as he fishes it out. “Nice meeting you, mate,” he says easily before turning and pacing away, bringing his phone up to his ear as he goes.

Phil tries his hardest not to pout, but he is a little annoyed at this turn of events. He’d wanted to keep talking to the rather attractive stranger, if only for some company with someone who isn’t American. Nothing against Americans, of course; he just felt it was easier to hold a conversation with someone he had more in common with. That and, well he was rather attractive, and Phil definitely wouldn’t have been averse to flirting with him a bit.

Sadly, all of that is now out of the picture, as the brunette turns a corner, disappearing from his sight, probably forever. Phil heaves a deep sigh. Oh well. It’s not like he was seriously looking for anyone, especially not just someone he happened to stumble across at an airport.

Resigning himself for a life devoid of cute British brunette guys who have a sense of humor that matches his own, he finds himself walking away from his terminal yet again, on the lookout for something interesting to occupy his time. When he finds the Disney World merch store, he’s intrigued, but decides not to stop. He’d had his fill of the little cartoon mice this week.

Instead, he finds himself in the Kennedy Space Center shop. It was always amazing to go in and see all the cool space stuff, and he quickly forgot his encounter with the cute stranger as he searched through the various t-shirts on a rack.

That is, until he glances over at another shopper and finds none other than the cute stranger himself. Although he’s a little surprised to see him again, Phil finds himself smiling, casually making his way around the circle of clothes to get a little closer to him. “Fancy seeing you again,” he says casually as he shoots the man a friendly smile.

The brunette’s gaze shoots up at his voice, his lips quirking up into a small smile. “I see you’re a nerd as well, then.” His cheek dips with the indentation of a dimple, and Phil nearly swoons on the spot.

Nodding, he grins. “Oh, absolutely. Space, Pokemon, Buffy, the whole nine yards for sure.” He holds a shirt out and grimaces at it; it’s tacky, with ugly cats in space suits on it.

“Right. You look like the type,” the brunette smiles, leaning his elbow on the rack closest to him and observing Phil as he goes to put the shirt back. “Wait, wait. Can I see that?” His eyes flick from the ugly shirt up to meet Phil’s gaze, and he makes a face but hands it over.

Phil watches with distaste as the other man turns the shirt around, looking at how the cats are shown from the back on the back of the shirt. He’s got this adorable little smile on his face, and Phil can’t help but thinking even though it’s possibly the ugliest shirt he’s ever seen in his life, it would probably look fantastic on him. He considers that it’s probably a strange thing to think of a complete stranger, but that still doesn’t stop him from saying it. “That’ll look cute on you.” He smirks when the other man’s cheeks flood with a light pink color, pleased by this reaction.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, tucking the shirt back in the rack before filtering through it, probably looking for his size. He glances over his shoulder at Phil before smiling sweetly. “I’m Dan. I don’t think I said that earlier.”

Phil smiles back, leaning against the clothes rack. “Phil. Nice to meet you, Dan.”

Dan finally pulls out a shirt and holds it up to his chest, glancing down. It’s by far too big for him, but he just smiles and tucks it under his arm. Phil quirks an eyebrow, and Dan just shrugs. “I think it’ll make a nice sleep shirt.” His cheeks flood with color right after he says this, and Phil smiles at him.

“It looks very comfy,” he agrees, his attention drawn to a shoe display next to him. He turns and begins scanning the shoes there, a certain pair of sneakers catching his eye. He can tell that Dan is still standing close by, but he pretends not to notice as he looks at the cool patches on this shoe, the kind that are Velcro and can be removed and replaced with different ones. He begins looking for his size, smirking when he sees Dan begin looking at a rack of space-themed jewelry on the rack beside him.

“So, you’re not from London, are you?” The brunette finally asks, his eyes studying a necklace that Phil really doesn’t think he’s interested in buying.

He smiles as he stands up straighter, unable to find a size eleven in the shoe he wanted. Which sucked, because they were freaking cool shoes. “What gave it away?” He asks, affecting his voice with his nearly-lost Northern accent.

Dan grins, shrugging. “Some things you say just give it away, mate.”

Phil rolls his eyes at this. “Well, you sound a bit like Christopher Robin yourself, so I don’t think you get to judge.” He smirks when Dan grimaces at this.

“I love Winnie the Pooh, but you can’t just say that,” Dan says, flicking the jewelry rack so it spins around.

“I’m not surprised. You’re quite posh.” Phil is thoroughly enjoying this, but Dan seems only mildly embarrassed, so he’s pretty sure he isn’t actually offended.

“Well…” Dan shrugs before a smirk tugs at his lips. “Is it terrible if I ask you to say “ace” so I can get the full effect of your northern accent?” He asks, his brown eyes dancing with mischief.

Phil pretends to be completely offended, but his laughter ruins the effect. “It is, but you’re cute, so I’ll do it.” Dan blushes at this before Phil speaks again. “Ace,” he says, his voice sounding deeply northern when he does.

Dan barely gives him a minute before he’s giggling hysterically, a dimple carving itself out in his cheek. Phil struggles not to focus on that little indentation, but it’s so endearing he can’t help but smile. “Oh my god,” Dan nearly gasps. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Ace!” He mocks, this sending him into yet another fit of giggles.

Phil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms at the brunette. “That’s like racist. Or… regionist! Yeah.”

The brunette bites his lip, trying to contain his giggles. “If you say so.” He shrugs then, before glancing over at the shoes Phil had been looking at. “They didn’t have your size?” He guesses, stepping closer to look at the shoe Phil had been looking at.

Sighing, Phil shakes his head. “Sadly no. No one ever does, my feet are too big.” He frowns as he glances over shoe boxes, almost every other size besides an eleven.

Dan smirks, and even though Phil doesn’t really know him, he can tell this is going to be bad. “Well, you know what they say about men with big feet.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and if he hadn’t made it incredibly dorky with that expression, Phil probably would have blushed.

Instead, he bursts into laughter. “I’m sorry, were you trying to be sexy? That was bad. That was so bad.”

Dan’s lips twitch into a frown, and he shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, I was just being factual. I don’t know where your head was, mate.”

Phil smirks at this. “I think you know exactly where my head was,” he suggests, raising an eyebrow.

The brunette glances away from him at this, and Phil’s almost positive he can see a light pink tinge to his cheeks. “Well now who’s being sexy,” he mumbles, stepping over to a different rack of shirts.

Phil steps around him, casually following him without seeming too creepy. “I mean, you are, but thanks for the compliment.” He grins at the way Dan’s eyes widen. Phil was honestly surprised with himself. He almost never flirted, especially not with strangers in an airport. Yet here he was, flirting with this man he barely knew. Scratch that, he didn’t know him, at all. All he knew was his first name, he had a questionable taste in clothing, and an even more questionable taste in humor. But Phil knew he was a sucker for that sort of thing.

Dan seems to fumble at this, and Phil finds it completely endearing. But he finds that ten minutes flirting with this stranger is probably more than enough, and with the intention of not making himself seem like a creepy stalker, he turns to leave. He heavily debates inviting Dan to go eat dinner with him, but he figured that was a bit far, even for him. So instead, he just waves to him. “It’s been nice talking with you, Dan. See you around.”

As he says this, the brunette glances up, looking a little disappointed. “Yeah, see you.” He does a little two-finger salute that Phil thinks is probably the most adorable thing he’s ever seen.

Smiling to himself, he leaves the store in search of an airport restaurant that isn’t disgustingly overpriced, a certain brunette occupying his thoughts as he makes his way through the maze of shops and terminals.

---

Phil isn’t sure how long he spends at the little Chinese restaurant he’d found, but people-watching everyone around him keeps him occupied for a while. He sips his Coke as he watches the various people milling about, creating stories for each of them in his head. It’s the kind of life he’s stuck with without his phone to keep him occupied. He didn’t want to buy a new charger, as it seemed like almost everything about airport shops were more expensive, but he figured eventually he’d need to.

Eventually he grows tired of his people-watching game and goes instead to find somewhere to hang out at his terminal until his flight boards, or more likely, gets delayed yet again. It was almost completely black outside now, even though it wasn’t that late, and if they were closer to the coast, Phil would’ve been a bit more concerned about how bad the weather seemed to be getting.

He’s looking around at all the occupied chairs at his terminal when he spots a mop of curly brown hair by the window, sitting on the floor due to the lack of available seating. Without thinking about how creepy this will probably make him seem, he makes his way over to Dan. As he gets closer, Phil realizes he’s got an open journal of sorts on his lap, his hand moving quickly across the page as he writes. Phil pauses for a moment, debating whether he should interrupt him, seeing as he looks rather busy.

Almost as soon as the thought has entered his head, Dan suddenly glances up, his warm brown eyes widening slightly as the meet Phil’s gaze. Rather than be disturbed by Phil’s presence, the brunette only smiles, which Phil takes to be an open invitation.

“It’s incredible that we keep bumping into each other,” Phil teases as he steps closer to Dan, their proximity forcing the brunette to tilt his head back to hold his gaze.

“We’re on the same flight, mate. I don’t think there’s a whole lot of mystery there.”

Phil nearly blushes at that, feeling quite daft now that it’s been spoken so bluntly. “Well, yeah,” he stutters out, bringing a hand to the back of his neck rather awkwardly.

Dan smiles at this, nodding to the floor beside him. “You’re welcome to join me if you’re just looking for company,” he says easily, shifting so that Phil has more room to sit.

He hesitates, but another look at Dan’s cute dimpled smile has him sitting down almost immediately, curling his legs up in a criss-cross fashion. Dan looks pleased, but turns back to his journal, writing along a page with quick, messy strokes of his pencil. Phil doesn’t read what he’s writing, but he does glance over and take note of the slightly-below average handwriting that is only barely better than his own.

Too awkward to just sit in comfortable silence like a normal human, Phil shifts so he can look out at the rest of the people in the terminal, sitting properly side by side with Dan. “So… busy airport, huh?” He says nonchalantly, any semblance of normalcy from their earlier conversation leaving him. He wasn’t sure what it was making him feel so nervous; he thought maybe it’s the casual atmosphere of sitting down next to someone rather than talking to them in the middle of a store.

Dan glances up at him, a thin smile on his lips. Phil feels his stomach drop and hopes that Dan isn’t already tired of him being there. The brunette reaches up and pushes one of his curls back, and Phil’s eyes follow the motion. “It is, probably just a lot of holiday travelers. Florida’s a popular place, you know.” He shrugs, his eyes flicking back down to his journal.

Phil nods at this, awkwardly glancing down at his hands as he struggles to come up with a conversation topic. He glances at the notebook again, getting an idea from that. “Are you a writer?” He asks, thinking it an innocent enough question.

Apparently, this assumption is wrong, if Dan’s subtle flinch is anything to go by. “Um, no,” he says, a breathy laugh escaping his lips.

He offers no further explanation, so Phil is left to stare at his profile, his mouth shifting into an awkward ‘O’ shape. Fumbling for anything to repair this awkward conversation and maybe get back to their earlier conversational chemistry, he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. “Do you like video games?”

Honestly, someone should just take away his vocal chords now, because that would be less painful than the sting of embarrassment he feels immediately after saying this. He imagines a plane careening into this part of the terminal, just to destroy him so he won’t have to face the undoubtedly annoyed response Dan is likely to have to his weird question. Sadly, well actually maybe not, this doesn’t happen, and he’s left to glance over at Dan after a moment, hoping that he’s not completely weirded out.

The brunette is staring at him with a strange look on his face, but he’s smiling. Phil counts this as a blessing. “I do, actually. I’m a big fan of Guild Wars, but I like a lot of the classics, too. How about you?”

Phil grins after hearing this, nodding. Games were his area. He could talk about video games with a willing listener for hours, if he’s completely honest. “I don’t play a lot of Guild Wars, but I’ve played before. I’ve been into Fortnite a lot recently, but as far as classics, Crash Bandicoot, all the way.”

Something seems to shift in Dan then, going from politely interested to excited all at once. The chocolatey brown of his eyes light up and he shifts around so he’s facing Phil, his journal falling shut. “Yes! That’s literally one of my favorites. None of my friends ever want to play it with me, because they say it’s for kids.” He rolls his eyes at this, as if he’s never heard anything so ridiculous in his life. If Phil didn’t like him before, he definitely did now.

“Right? It’s so hard finding someone to play with. I usually end up playing with myself instead.” He shakes his head in mock disappointment, his smile dropping when he catches sight of the strange look on Dan’s face. He’s biting his lip, holding back laughter. “What?” Phil asks, thinking over his words. His face heats quickly when he realizes what it sounded like he was implying. “Oh my god, that’s not- I don’t, I mean, I do, but- fuck.” He’s a stuttering mess with Dan watching him in amusement, and he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious about it.

Dan bursts into laughter then, clutching at his stomach as he leans over. “Oh my god, Phil. You really just said that.” He takes a moment to catch his breath, sending a charming smile Phil’s way then, as if he hadn’t just been in hysterics over Phil’s unintentional innuendo and everything that followed.

Shrugging, Phil glances down at his hands once more, trying to will his blush away. “Sometimes I say things that I don’t understand, and it’s just… it’s just not a good time,” he admits bashfully, not meeting Dan’s eyes.

The brunette bumps shoulders with him, clearly good-natured enough not to tease him about it too long. “Don’t worry, I think it’s cute,” he informs him, a cheeky smile on his face when Phil’s head darts up to look at him.

Phil rolls his eyes, trying to hide the flipping of his heart in his chest at Dan’s soft gaze and easy smile. “Yeah, well,” he grumbles, stumbling to formulate a cohesive response. “Your mum,” he finishes lamely.

Dan giggles at this, the sound bringing a grin to Phil’s face. “Your mum,” he repeats, shaking his head. “Phil, that’s hardly mature,” he says with mock disappointment.

Keeping up his appearance of a child, Phil sticks his tongue out at him, crossing his arms to add to the effect. “Yeah, well, no one says you have to be mature. I’ve lived long enough I can make my own rules,” he announces, lifting his chin petulantly.

“Yeah? How long have you lived, then?” He asks nonchalantly, sending Phil a smirk.

Phil rolls his eyes at this, shifting around a bit. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of his age; that would be ridiculous. But sometimes saying that he was actually thirty-two was a bit disheartening. “Um, would you believe me if I said twenty-six?” He jokes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Dan was obviously younger than him, probably twenty-three if Phil had to guess, and he seriously didn’t want to scare him off by being way older than him.

The brunette snorts at this. “I might’ve if you hadn’t asked me that. Now I’d just think you’re lying.” He bumps Phil’s arm with his elbow good-naturedly, a dimple carving itself onto his cheek as he smiles.

Tearing his gaze away from the little crescent of cuteness on the other’s skin, Phil looks across the terminal, biting his lip. “Well, if you must know,” he sighs dramatically. “I just turned thirty-two.” He cringes as the words leave his mouth, unintentionally. He can’t help but glance at Dan for his reaction, barely surprised when he sees that his chocolate brown eyes have widened. Phil was right, he never should have told him, he’s disgusted, Phil’s basically a pedophile, and- wait, he’s laughing.

“Phil,” Dan giggles, shaking his head. The ease and familiarity of hearing him say it worries Phil, but he reasons with himself that it’s just due to the fact that he’s heard his name is whole life. It has nothing to do with Dan himself.

“What?” He demands, slightly defensive.

Dan smiles, leaning back against the wall. “You’re acting like you’re really old,” he claims, propping his arm up onto his knee, which he’s pulled closer to his body.

Phil shrugs at this, unable to argue. He was. He felt old, might as well act it, too. “I mean, not all of us can be twenty-three and spritely, Daniel.” He softens the sharpness in his tone with a small smile.

The brunette looks dumbstruck, his eyebrow arching up in surprise. “I’m twenty-seven, twenty-eight in June, mate.” He looks a little uncomfortable saying this, but Phil’s not entirely sure why.

“Really?” When Dan nods hesitantly, Phil shakes his head slowly. “You really look younger. And I mean that as a compliment, I promise.”

Dan laughs at this, rolling his eyes up to look at the ceiling. “Well I would sure hope you could come up with better insults,” he teases.

Phil shrugs, looking to the side. “I’m not very good at trash talk, actually.” He considers this for a moment before adding, “I do get a little vicious during Mario Kart, though.”

“I’d love to see that, actually. Are you a sore loser, too?” Dan shifts so that his shoulder is leaning against the wall and he’s more fully facing Phil. Phil likes this, because he feels like he has his full attention. Something about that pleases him.

“I mean, I don’t think so, but some liars say that I am.” He’s definitely thinking back on his friends who frequently game with him, and they definitely think he’s a sore loser. And maybe he is, but still. Dan doesn’t have to know this.

Dan grins, his dimple taking Phil’s attention immediately. “I think you definitely are,” he says decidedly, nodding along as if he’s got Phil all sorted out.

Phil raises an eyebrow to this. “I guess one day we’ll just have to put that to the test, Daniel.” He’s only half-joking. If they’re both living in London, it actually makes plenty of sense for them to get together sometimes and hangout, since they seemed to have a lot in common.

The brunette’s cheeks fill with a soft pink color, and Phil bites back a grin as he turns away, nodding quickly. “Definitely,” he agrees quietly.

There’s a pause while Phil debates the morals of asking this near-stranger out right now. He considers the fact that they’re stuck in this airport for the foreseeable future, with nothing to do, and seemingly very similar interests. Taking a shot in the dark, he knocks his knee against Dan’s. “Let’s get coffee,” he suggests, cringing when it comes out sounding like a statement.

The shock on Dan’s face is almost comical, but it honestly just makes Phil a little nervous, wondering what kind of shock this is. He hopes the good kind. “Like… when we get back to London? Or- now? Like right now?” He stutters, his hand rubbing along his knee in sort of an anxious fashion.

Phil immediately feels guilty for putting him in an uncomfortable position, and he’s quick to try and remedy it. “We don’t have to, obviously. But, um… yeah, I meant now, if you want. Or back in London. Or now and back in London, preferably. You know, if you want.” He’s tripping over his words and his cheeks are burning in embarrassment, but Dan has a soft smile on his face as he watches Phil fumble for the right thing to say.

“Okay,” the brunette says easily.

A little surprised at how easy that was, Phil purses his lips. “Oh. Well. Right.” He’s frantically trying to remember where the café he’d been at earlier was, but quickly realizes there’s a coffee shop down the corridor from their terminal. Turning to face Dan, he rolls his shoulders back confidently. “Meet me at the coffee shop down the hall in ten minutes?” He requests.

Dan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, and he glances over to where the sign of the shop could just barely be made out from where they’re seated. “What? Why can’t we just walk together?” He inquires, looking baffled.

Phil grins, moving to stand. He ignores the slight ache from sitting on the hard ground for so long, instead paying attention to the way Dan’s eyes slowly drag up his long legs and up to his face. He smirks when Dan flushes and looks away adorably. “We have to meet there, you goose. Otherwise it doesn’t count as a date.”

“A date?” Dan squawks. Phil smiles at the blossoming pink on his cheekbones, secretly very pleased with this reaction.

“Sure,” Phil says with a shrug. “I mean, who knows when the flight will actually be rescheduled, why not go on a coffee date while we’re here?”

Something shifts in Dan’s face then, as if he’s just realized something, and his eyes flicker to the ground. Phil barely catches the downward curve of his lips into a small frown before the expression is gone and Dan is glancing back up at him with a half-smile. “Sure. See you there, then.”

Phil nods a little slowly, suddenly uncertain if this is even something Dan wants. What if he’d read the signs wrong and Dan isn’t interested in him at all? Before he has time to panic, he sends him a smile before turning to make his way to the coffee shop, determined not to let himself ruin this before it’s even begun.

Ten minutes later, Phil is standing just on the inside of the little coffee shop when Dan walks in, looking a little awkward as he brushes a hand through his curls. He gives Phil an awkward smile when he sees him, walking to stand beside him. “Hi,” he says quietly.

Phil grins at him. “I’m so glad you could make it, Dan! It’s been too long!”

Dan gives him a strange look. “It’s… It’s been ten minutes, just like you asked.” He sounds adorably confused now.

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Phil leans closer to stage-whisper. “I’m just playing into the typical date-script. People always say stuff like that when they’re on a date with someone, you know.”

Crinkling his nose at this, Dan shifts back on his heels. “Well, yeah. I’ve been on dates before, mate. I know how they work.” He almost sounds bitter as he says this, and Phil wonders if he’s seriously annoyed with him. Before he can spiral too much, though, Dan shoots him a smile. “But I guess I’ll let it slide- if you’re buying.”

Phil gapes at his cheeky grin, but quickly recovers. He nods with a laugh, gesturing to the counter. “Of course. It’d be a shit date if I wasn’t a gentleman who paid.”

Dan glances over at him as they step up to the counter, shrugging. “Bit heteronormative, if you ask me.”

Phil shrugs as well, glancing over the menu as he responds. “Not really. I think if you ask someone out, you’re implying you’ll pay. If you’d invited me, I’d be pretending I didn’t have my wallet right now,” he teases.

“Yeah?” Dan responds, quirking an eyebrow.

Grinning, Phil bumps his shoulder against Dan’s. “Course not. I’m not that much of a prick. But, assuming you want to go on another coffee date when we get back to London… I’ll be paying then, too, since I asked.”

Dan frowns at this, but it’s their turn to order and he can’t respond when the barista asks them to go ahead and place their order.

A few minutes later and they’re sitting down at a small table close to the front of the shop, each of them with a caramel macchiato. They both laugh a little when they realize they’ve ordered the same drink, and Phil thinks it’s incredibly endearing when Dan begins nervously fiddling with his hair as they settle at the table they’ve chosen.

“Your hair looks cute, you know,” he comments after they’ve sat sipping on their drinks for a few moments.

Dan glances up immediately, a surprised look on his face. “Oh, um, I-“ he stumbles over his words, glancing away from Phil and continuing to run a hand through his hair.

Phil smiles at this and leans closer. “Are you nervous?” He whispers loudly.

“No,” Dan says adamantly, ducking his head. Phil can just tell that this is a lie, and he hesitates for barely a minute before pressing his foot against Dan’s under the table.

“It’s fine, if you are. I’m nervous too.”

“Right,” Dan snorts, glancing up at him with a roll of his eyes. “I’m sure you’re just shaking like a leaf.”

Phil is a little taken aback by the bitter tone in Dan’s voice, but he brushes it away. “I am nervous,” he shrugs. “I don’t go out very much, and I definitely don’t go out with cute guys very much.”

Dan looks down at the table once more, tracing the grain of the table with his fingernail. “Really?” He asks quietly.

Smiling softly at the man in front of him, Phil brushes his foot with his own yet again. “Yes, really.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes before Dan lets out a quiet groan and sits back in his seat. Phil watches him with raised eyebrows, a little concerned that he might have changed his mind about going out for coffee. He’s surprised when Dan speaks next. “This would be so much easier if you weren’t fit,” he mumbles, trying to wash the words down with his coffee.

Phil gapes at him for a moment before his lips curl into a smirk. “Yeah?” he says teasingly.

Dan rolls his eyes at this. “Shut up,” he rolls his head back to look up at the ceiling. “Wanna play desert island?” He asks, shifting the conversation completely.

“Sure,” Phil says easily, going along with whatever whim it seems that Dan has had.

So that’s what they do for the next hour or so. They take turns sharing their top five movies, books, tv shows, and even dive into music. Only a few minutes into the music topic, however, Phil realizes that Dan is much more of a music enthusiast than himself and he quickly concedes that whole conversation. Honestly, it was entertaining to see Dan seem to get so worked up over something so objectively simple, but Phil still wanted to learn so much more about him. He made a mental note that if they did continue this when they got back to London, he’d devote an entire afternoon to Dan’s musical musings.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a charger, would you?” Phil says at some point, realizing his battery has drained to seven percent since they started talking.

Dan smiles and nods, fishing around in his bag for what Phil assumes is a charger. He hands it over with a triumphant grin, which Phil copies. “Here you go.”

“You’re an actual lifesaver, Dan.”

The brunette smiles at this. “Just don’t lose it. You seem like the kind of guy who loses things a lot.” He has a knowing sort of look to him, as if he really does know this.

“I do not!” Phil protests. It’s not entirely a lie. He does lose things, but not like, all the time.

Dan quirks an eyebrow. “Where’s your charger?” When Phil goes quiet, Dan smirks, shaking his head in amusement. “And there lies my point,” he laughs.

Phil juts his lip out in a pout, feigning offence. “Well, I assume it’s wherever the rest of the luggage is. But I most definitely did not lose it.” He sends up a silent prayer that it’s still in his suitcase where he left it. Wouldn’t it be ironic if he opened his suitcase later only to find that his charger was gone?

“Sure, bub. Whatever you say,” Dan drawls.

Phil rolls his eyes but tucks the charger into the port and plugs his phone in. “Well now you can’t escape for a while, because I’ve got your charger,” he says smugly, hoping that Dan takes this to be casually flirtatious instead of too forward.

Dan shrugs. “It’s my spare.” Phil’s face probably noticeably falls upon hearing this, and Dan’s face shifts into one of panic. “Oh, I didn’t mean- like, I don’t want to, um… I didn’t mean I was going to leave. I just… I carry two chargers,” he explains hurriedly, looking a little embarrassed by the end of his rant.

Phil takes a moment to just smile at the brunette before he bothers responding. “Honestly, I’m just impressed that you’re smart enough to carry two chargers,” he says, hiding his smile behind a sip of his drink.

A fleeting look of amusement crosses Dan’s face before he seems to register what Phil has said. “Wait, does that mean you don’t think I’m very smart? That’s pretty damn offensive, Phil.”

“I never said that!” Phil protests.

“Yes, but you did sort of imply it.”

“I’ll imply your mum,” Phil shoots back, biting his lip when he realizes how childish that was.

Dan barely blinks before he begins giggling. “Oh my god,” he gasps through the laughter. “You’re like, a proper nerd, aren’t you?” He asks, sounding nothing short of fond.

Phil shrugs, feeling his cheeks heating at the question.

Seeming to catch onto Phil’s slight embarrassment, Dan presses his foot against Phil’s, smiling gently when their eyes meet. “I’m proper into nerds, so don’t worry about it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, then,” Phil smiles.

---

“So, let me get this straight,” Dan says through a gasp as he struggles to contain his laughter. Phil is flushed with embarrassment with Dan’s reaction to the story he’d told him, but all things considered, it was warranted. “You mean to tell me you broke your hand by doing a piggy-back race with someone shorter than you?”

Phil shrugs, and pretends to be very intrigued by the cup in front of him. “Yeah… that’s about it, yeah.”

Dan shakes his head, a fond look on his face. “Phil Lester, man of many talents.”

“Oh, come off it, I bet you did stupid things in uni as well, don’t try to lie.” He intends this to be teasing and completely harmless, so he’s surprised when Dan’s face morphs into a grimace, his gaze dropping to the mug in front of him.

“Yeah, like drop out,” he mutters bitterly.

Phil isn’t positive what to make of this, but he stutters out an apology for bringing it up. “I’m sorry, Dan, I didn’t mean to-“

Dan cuts him off with a sigh and a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s fine. Not like I go around advertising it. You didn’t know.” He shoots Phil a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Feeling a little guilty and also a little embarrassed for bringing up something that was clearly a sore subject, Phil blurts the first thing he thinks of. “It isn’t for everyone, you know.” At Dan’s confused stare, he continues, stumbling over his words awkwardly. “University. Not everyone enjoys it, and not everyone needs it. Hell, I have two degrees and I don’t really use either of them.”

Dan tilts his head at this but seems a little less reproachful of the topic than he did before. “Yeah?” he prompts.

Phil nods. “English Linguistics and Video Post-Production. Yet I work at a publishing company instead.”

At this, Dan’s eyes light up. “You work at a publishing company?” His voice is pitched up an octave, clearly excited about this new information.

“Yeah,” Phil shrugs, feeling a little awkward now. “I’m not like, a top-tier editor or anything. I do edit, but I’m not like, great at it. It’s really just a job for me.”

Dan nods in understanding before drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and looking out towards the corridor. “What company?” He asks timidly.

Phil rattles off the name and Dan only nods. It goes quiet for a moment, and Phil is struggling to hold himself back from asking, once again, if Dan was a writer. Sure, he’d said no earlier, but maybe now that they know each other a little more Dan will feel like sharing something like that? And it wasn’t like Phil was some sort of recruiter, although he’d probably be in his boss’ good graces if he did find a promising new young writer.

It feels too personal too ask, considering Dan’s earlier response, so he decides to just leave it alone. For now.

Before he can go as far as asking anymore questions, a pleasant tune is played over the airport intercom system and a feeling of nervousness settles in Phil’s stomach. He hoped they’d finally have an answer about the flight rescheduling.

“Good afternoon, Orlando International Airport travelers. Due to inclement and dangerous weather, all international flights have been cancelled until further notice. If you would, please see the flight attendant at your gate for information about flight rescheduling. We apologize for the inconvenience and wish you safe travels!”

“Well, fuck,” Dan says, eloquent as ever.

Phil bites his lip to stifle a surprised laugh at his bluntness, but nods. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “Did you have anything you needed to rush back to London for?”

Dan rolls his eyes with a smile. “Oh, yes. I definitely needed to rush back to my empty flat and my existential crises. I’ve been missing that something terrible.”

“Oh,” Phil lets out, a little uncertain if he’s kidding or not. There’s an edge to his tone like he might not be, and Phil isn’t entirely sure how to interpret that.

“Kidding, mate.” Dan reaches across the table and lightly brushes his fingertips against Phil’s wrist. “I do need to go pick up some antidepressants, but I think that can probably wait until I can safely cross the Atlantic.”

Phil frowns a little at this, pushing his empty cup around on the table. “Do you have enough with you? Like, the antidepressants?” He asks quietly. This definitely feels like crossing a line of casual friendship with a near-stranger, but Dan’s the one who brought it up, so surely, it’s safe territory.

Dan has a soft smile on his face as he looks up at Phil, and Phil can just feel his heart melting at the sight of the dimple on his cheek. “I do. Thank you for asking.”

Relieved that Dan didn’t seem to feel like this was too personal a topic, Phil nods before glancing down at his cup again. It’s quiet for a few minutes before Phil realizes they’ve been sat there for probably over two hours. He needed to call his parents and tell them what happened, and Dan probably didn’t want to spend all of his time with a stranger.

“I should probably go. Gotta call my mum and let her know I haven’t died yet or anything. And I should probably let you get back to your writing.” Phil doesn’t want to leave but he just doesn’t feel that he should stay, either.

Dan nods quickly, but Phil is almost positive that he sees a look of sadness wash over his face before it disappears. “Yeah, yeah. Sure. Well, I guess, um… I’ll see you later?”

Phil smiles at how awkward this seems to be for Dan. He hands him his charger back and then unlocks his own phone, pulling up a space for a new contact and handing it back to him. “Here. So I can get in touch with you when we get back to London.”

The small smile that works its way onto Dan’s lips is gorgeous, and Phil finds himself staring at his lips like an absolute creep while Dan types in his information. “I texted myself, so I’d have your number, too.” Dan tells him when he hands the phone back.

Glancing down at the screen, Phil finds this to be true. After typing in his information, Dan had sent himself a message, which was only an emoji spoon beside a boy with brown hair.

“Is this your way of saying you want to spoon me?” Phil teases him.

Dan flushes, shaking his head. “No! I mean, not that I wouldn’t- that’s not what-“

Phil cuts him off with a giggle. “It’s fine, Dan. I’m only teasing.” He stands from the table then, and Dan follows suit. “I’ll see you later, Dan. Have fun writing.”

Before he can lose his nerve, Phil steps just a bit closer, almost as if he’s going to step past Dan entirely, and then he presses his lips to Dan’s cheek softly. When he pulls away, he catches the surprised look on Dan’s face, but it’s replaced by a smile as Phil turns to walk away. “Bye, Phil.”

And Phil hadn’t had a whole lot of great first dates, but he already knew that he would be impatiently waiting for their second.

---

Phil calls his mum after he and Dan part ways and lets her know about his flight being cancelled, and while she’s worried initially, she’s relieved that he’s safe and will be coming home as soon as the weather clears up. He listens to her worrying and her concerns for a respectable amount of time before telling her he should probably go to save his battery percentage. This starts another lecture on forgetting his phone charger in his luggage, which he reluctantly listens to for nearly a half hour.

Eventually, though, he makes his way back to his terminal and spots Dan sitting beside the big windows that outlook the blacktop, just like before, and he quickly comes up with another excuse to get off the phone with his mum. He loved Kath, he really did. But right now, he wanted to go talk to his cute new friend, and he couldn’t exactly do that while on the phone.

Deciding that he’s pretty much become the creepy stranger who just invites themselves into conversations anyway, he makes his way over and plops himself onto the floor across from the brunette.

Dan glances up almost immediately after Phil sits, jumping a bit. A smile takes over his surprised expression, but Phil feels a little guilty for startling him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he says awkwardly, raising his hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“’S fine.” Dan smiles at him and closes the journal in his lap. This makes Phil feel a little guiltier, because he feels like he’s interrupted something.

“I’m sorry, I’m being rude. Do you want me to go so you can write? I completely didn’t think of that before just inviting myself over. I can go-“ Phil is halfway to standing before Dan reaches a hand out to stop him.

“No, you’re fine! I promise. I, um… I could use the company, actually.” He bites his lip after saying this and shifts his eyes to the floor as if he’s embarrassed.

Phil smiles at this, missing Dan’s touch as soon as he pulls his hand away from his arm. “That two hours didn’t ruin your opinion of me?” He inquires with a laugh.

Dan rolls his eyes good-naturedly, his lips twitching into a smile. “No, surprisingly not. I mean, I think you’re a little odd, sure, but I think I can tolerate a little odd.”

“Oh, so you’re only tolerating me?” He can’t help but tease him.

“Would you prefer I did something else?” Dan smirks, his eyes gleaming in a way that makes Phil feel hot.

Phil isn’t entirely surprised by this bold almost-flirting that Dan’s doing. He did a lot of that over coffee earlier too. Even still, it takes him a moment to form a proper response to the blatant flirtation. “I guess it depends on what you’re offering?” He cringes as it comes out more like a question, but Dan seems unbothered, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip.

Shrugging casually, Dan leans back against the window, allowing his head to be propped up by the glass. “I think there’s a few too many people here for you to receive anything on the menu for now,” Dan’s lips pull up into a smirk, and Phil is almost positive that this man is going to be the death of him.

“Oh,” he croaks out, glancing around at the other weary passengers milling about the terminal. “That’s a damn shame,” Phil mumbles, glancing down at his hands with what is probably a blush on his cheeks.

“Mhm,” Dan hums. There’s a silence that wraps around them, but before it has the chance to feel suffocating, Dan is speaking again. “Have you talked to the flight attendants about getting a new flight?”

Phil drops his gaze to his hands again as he shakes his head, feeling embarrassed. Honestly, it had slipped his mind, but even if it hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t have done it yet. He hated talking to people about things like that, which was probably a little odd, considering his willingness to flirt with a stranger in an airport.

“I, uh… I don’t do so well with things like that, so no. I’m working up to it, though.” The admission has him cringing at himself, and he really hopes that it doesn’t ruin Dan’s opinion of him so soon.

Instead of laughing, which is what Phil expected, Dan reaches over and brushes his knuckles over Phil’s hand. “Do you want me to go with you to ask?” He asks sweetly, a gentle smile on his face when Phil finally raises his gaze to look at him.

Bless him, honestly, for being such a sweetheart. Phil nods, smiling sheepishly. “Um, I’d appreciate that, yeah.”

Dan smiles at him before tucking his journal into his backpack and standing, holding a hand out to help Phil up. Phil takes it with a smile, more than pleased by the contact, and even more pleased when Dan doesn’t pull away even after Phil is already standing. Instead, he leads Phil over to the attendant’s counter with their hands still intertwined, quietly commenting on the fact that the only attendant there looked a bit like Shakira.

“Hi, we’re on the flight to London, and we were wondering when we could get that rescheduled?” Dan takes the lead the moment they stop in front of the attendant, a charming smile on his face. Phil stays silent, his nerves making it hard for him to hold eye contact with the employee stood in front of them, who gives them a surveying look.

“Of course,” She says slowly, turning to her computer with an almost bored look on her face. Dan shoots Phil a look, pursing his lips as if he’s noticed how rude the lady is as well. “So, our earliest open flights to London aren’t until Monday morning, nine am,” she announces, glancing over at them with a plastered-on smile that Phil can tell is fake.

Dan gapes at her, and although it takes Phil a moment, he realizes that today is Saturday. Meaning they could be stuck in this airport for two nights. “You’re joking,” Dan deadpans, his voice full of disbelief. His hand slips out of Phil’s suddenly, instead clasping his other on top of the counter. His eyes narrow at the attendant, and Phil shifts awkwardly behind him. “It’s Saturday evening, ma’am. And you’re saying we’ll be stuck in this airport for two nights?”

His voice is growing louder, and Phil glances around at the other travelers, some of them giving them strange glances. Phil shifts on his feet, feeling incredibly awkward and out of place with the scene Dan’s causing. “Dan…” He warns quietly, reaching for his elbow.

“Well, you can still leave the airport and go to a hotel,” the attendant says, her smile gone in favor of a blank stare.

“Will the airport be offering accommodations?” Dan says, his voice taking on a sickly sweet quality. Phil has barely known him for three hours, and yet he can tell it’s full of sarcasm and irritation.

The lady has the nerve to smile back at him, and Phil can tell from the stiffening of Dan’s back that it just pisses him off more. “I’m afraid not, sir. We’ll only be covering the cost of the plane ticket.”

Dan blows out a breath, and Phil can sense an argument coming. Already nervous enough from the attention of the other passengers, Phil quickly grabs his arm, tugging him away from the counter. “Thank you so much, we’ll think on it.”

Before Dan can say another word, Phil slides his hand down Dan’s arm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back over to their spot beside the window. Dan’s muttering to himself and when they come to a stop, his hand falls limp in Phil’s grasp. “I wasn’t finished talking to her,” he snips, his tone making Phil pause. Dan had yet to say anything snarky to him in a serious fashion, so this was a little more than surprising to him.

Phil shrugs, moving to sit in the floor and patting the space beside him. “Maybe not, but you seemed like you were getting a little upset.” When Dan doesn’t immediately sit down, instead pacing around in front of Phil, the older man sighs. “Thank you for talking to her for me,” he says softly. He hopes his tone, or his words, will get the brunette’s attention.

Somehow, his assumption actually works, and Dan pauses, glancing down at him. His gaze shifts from annoyed to almost fond, and he lets out a small sigh before moving to sit. “You’re welcome,” he says quietly. “I can’t believe they aren’t paying for hotel accommodations,” he continues, his voice bitter.

Phil gets the feeling that maybe this isn’t exactly about that, but probably more about Dan’s ability to pay for the hotel himself. After a quick moment of deliberation, Phil decides to go out on a limb to confirm his suspicion. “That doesn’t mean you can’t still stay in a hotel,” he says casually, waiting patiently to see Dan’s reaction.

Dan doesn’t surprise him. He scoffs softly, dropping his hand to pick at the ugly carpeting. “In theory, sure.” He’s quiet for a moment, but then he sighs and glances up at Phil with a sad sort of look. “I don’t really… I’m not really in the position to be spending money on hotel reservations. I just barely had this flight paid for, and…” he trails off, but Phil’s heard really all he needs to know.

After a beat of silence where Phil contemplates this news, chewing on his bottom lip, he finally decides to just go for it. “Stay with me, then.”

Unsurprisingly, Dan’s head jerks up at the words, a look of shock on his face. “What?” He breathes.

Phil shrugs, trying to appear more casual than he feels. “If we’re going to be here until Monday, I’m renting a hotel room. I want you to stay with me.” Feeling awkward with the almost-demanding way he’d said that, he continues. “Er, I mean, only if you want to, obviously. You don’t have to, but I just… I don’t want you to stay here, all by yourself. And… If you want, you can pay me back someday, after we’re back in London.”

Dan looks shocked, his brown eyes swirling with emotions that Phil can’t quite name. Eventually, he seems to settle on skeptical. “But… You barely know me. I barely know you. We just met, like, today, Phil.”

With a careless shrug, Phil says, “I know. But, I don’t think you’re the type to kill someone in their sleep, and I can assure you I’m far too lazy and squeamish to try it. Plus, I would love to see you in your cute cat shirt.” He grins as he says the last part, his tongue poking out just a bit.

Dan flushes, dropping his gaze to his hands, which are now fidgeting in his lap. “This is crazy,” he mutters.

“What is?” Phil asks him softly.

Waving a hand vaguely at the space between them, Dan lets out a short laugh. “This. Whatever we’re doing. We just met, and you…”

“I want you to spend the night with me. Yeah. But, honestly, Dan? Is it any worse than having like a one-night stand with someone? At least we sort of know each other, and it’s not like we have to sleep together or something.” Phil ducks his head to try to catch Dan’s gaze. “I won’t force you to, obviously. But I’d really love it if you’d come stay with me. I don’t want you to be alone.”

Dan seems speechless at this point, but after several seconds of intense eye contact, he finally nods slowly. “Okay,” he says softly.

“So, you’ll come with me?” Phil asks, trying to keep the hope out of his voice.

“Yeah,” Dan shrugs. “I don’t see why not. But, um…” He flushes, and Phil wonders what he could possibly have to be embarrassed about now. “Will we… you know…”

Phil studies him, confused. “Will we… What?” He asks, shaking his head uncertainly.

Dan ducks his head, covering his face with his hands. “Oh god. Please don’t make me say it.”

Lost, Phil lets out an awkward laugh. “I’m not sure what I’m not supposed to make you say.”

Dan huffs, but then glances back up at Phil, an almost determined glint in his eye. “Sleep together? Are we going to sleep together?”

Startled at the blunt way it was phrased, Phil is left a little speechless himself. “Oh, um…” He glances around, hoping no one in their immediate vicinity is listening to them. “I mean, if you want. I’m a cuddler, so we can share a bed if- wait, did you mean-?”

“I meant like- yeah.” Dan nods, his eyes darting off to the side. “But, um, that too, I guess.”

Phil can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips, and Dan glances up at him in confusion. “You’re cute when you’re nervous,” he says fondly. He stands up then, reaching a hand out for Dan. “C’mon. Let’s go tell the lady that we’d like to reschedule our flight, and we’ll sort out the rest after that.” Dan, although looking a little unsure, nods and allows Phil to pull him up. “And by we, I mean you, because she scares me.”

Dan lets out a laugh at this, reaching over to grab Phil’s hand again. “Fine, I’ll deal with the scary airport lady. Do you want to look for a hotel while I talk to her?”

Nodding, Phil reluctantly releases Dan’s hand to move over to an empty chair, pulling his phone out of his pocket to google the nearest hotels. Dan moves over to the attendant’s desk once again, and Phil frowns when he sees the way the lady barely smiles at him. Americans are truly something else.

Just as he’s clicked on the website for a decent looking hotel, Phil hears his name called. He glances up, his eyes finding Dan’s. “Can I see your ticket, love? I have to prove we were actually on this flight.” He rolls his eyes at this, since the attendant can’t see his face, and Phil smiles.

Tugging it out of his backpack, Phil moves to hand it to the brunette. “Here you go,” he says cheerily.

Dan smiles briefly before ducking his head slightly. “She thinks we’re together, so I’m going to let her think that and get the new seats together- if that’s alright, with you.” His voice is just quiet enough that the flight attendant probably can’t hear him over the sound of the other people milling about the terminal.

Phil nods, his lips curving up. “That’s perfect.” Fully aware of the attendant’s gaze on them, he leans forward and pecks Dan’s cheek gently. “I’ll go ahead and book us a room.”

“Oh, and I asked about luggage. She said it’s not likely that they’ll even be able to retrieve it, do you want me to try anyway?” Dan asks before turning back around.

Suppressing his disappointment at this, Phil shrugs. “No, it’s fine. You don’t have to bother.”

Dan nods and runs a hand through his hair. “Be right back, then,” he replies before turning back around to the attendant. Phil hears him talking politely to the lady, so he takes that as his cue to return to his seat to work on the hotel thing.

Five minutes and a freshly booked hotel room later, Dan returns with two new tickets, handing one of them to Phil before tucking the other into his own backpack. “So, everything sorted?” He asks, shrugging the bag onto his shoulder.

“Mhm. We have a reservation under Lester at the Marriot. I ordered a car, and that should be here in like half an hour, I think.”

“Perfect. Wanna head to the front of the airport to wait?” Dan’s still standing, obviously expecting Phil to agree to this.

“Sure, that works.” Phil stands, tugging his own backpack onto his shoulder. He sneaks a peek at the flight attendant at the desk and noticed the sneer on her face as she watched them. Something he really hated dealing with was homophobia, and he was less prepared now than ever to handle someone who didn’t know them, or their situation, to be judging them.

He’s just about to make a remark to Dan about leaving, but the words die in his throat when he feels Dan’s hand slip into his. His eyes dart up to Dan’s, and he’s pretty sure the surprise on his face is likely very suspicious. Dan has a half smile on his lips, and he quickly leans in, brushing his lips against Phil’s cheek as he whispers, “I see the bitch glaring at us. I’m giving her a reason to glare.”

The grin that breaks out on Phil’s face then is really impossibly to stop, considering the fact that what Dan has done just fills him with adrenaline. He was out to his family and close friends, but he was never really offered the whole PDA option with his previous partners. It probably had something to do with his very unfortunate habit of falling for men who were closeted, or in some cases, men who thought they were straight but eventually realized that they weren’t.

“Ready to go, babe?” Dan says, in an overly sweet voice, clearly put on for the attendant.

Phil snickers but covers it with an unconvincing cough. He replies with an affirmative before he and Dan make their way to the front of the airport, where the car would hopefully come to pick them up soon. Phil fully expects Dan to drop his hand once they’ve made it out of their terminal and the flight attendant’s line of sight, but he makes no move to do so. Maybe this makes Phil blush, but he’d deny that if anyone were to confront him about it later.

After waiting in front of the airport for about ten minutes, quietly chatting about the weather and how much they missed England, their cab finally pulls up in front of them. “That was fast,” Dan remarks as he goes to climb in first.

“That’s what he said,” Phil mutters behind him.

The remark has Dan stopping in his tracks, slowly turning to stare at Phil, halfway in and halfway out of the car. Phil grins innocently. “I don’t have words, Lester. There are no words for how much I hated that.”

Phil rolls his eyes, shoving him forward gently. “That sounded like a lot of words to me, mate.”

Dan scrunches his face up as he slides into his seat, shooting the look at Phil as he climbs into the car as well. “Get away from me with your logic.”

Just to be a pest, Phil scoots as close as humanly possible to Dan, smiling innocently when he rolls his eyes at him. “What? I’m just getting comfy.” He doesn’t let Dan answer, instead choosing to turn around and give their driver the address of the hotel, just to be sure he knew where they were going.

The car ride is surprisingly quick, and Phil plays Crossy Road on his phone, Dan watching over his shoulder the whole time, both of them a little too awkward to make idle chit-chat with their driver. When they pull up outside of the hotel, Phil hands the man a few bills, not missing the way Dan purses his lips from beside him.

“What?” He asks as he climbs out of the car, holding the door open as Dan follows.

Dan shrugs. “I could have paid for that,” he says quietly as they walk to the hotel doors. Unlike when they were in the airport, Dan doesn’t reach for Phil’s hand.

A small weight settles in Phil��s chest at the thought that he’s hurt Dan’s feelings, and he frowns as he holds the door open for him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think- you can buy dinner, okay?”

Apparently, that’s the right thing to say, because Dan smiles brightly and nods. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that,” he says with a grin.

Phil rolls his eyes playfully. “You better,” he teases back.

There’s no one in the queue line, so they walk right up, smiling nervously at the clerk behind the counter. She smiles thinly, glancing between the two of them before her eyes settle on Dan. “Hi, how can I help you?”

Dan’s lip quirks up as he steps closer to speak to the clerk for them. “We’ve got a room booked for Lester,” he informs her, spelling it out afterwards and glancing over at Phil with a small smile. The relief Phil feels at not having to converse with her himself is immeasurable, and he sends Dan a grateful smile in return.

After a moment, she glances back up, a pitying smile on her face. “Sorry, there must be a mistake here, that reservation is in a room with only one bed.” She glances between the two of them again, biting her lip in what she probably thinks is an attractive manner when her gaze settles on Dan.

Dan smirks, shaking his head. “No mistake. Do you guys do room service? We might fancy some wine later, right babe?” He turns to smile at Phil, his eyes filled with mischief.

Phil struggles to hide his laughter. “That sounds lovely.” He turns back to the girl, digging in his pocket for his wallet and handing his credit card over, as well as his ID. “Here you go.”

Although her expression has shifted to one of contempt, the girl nods stiffly before running his card and fishing out their room key cards, sliding them across the counter with a pen and a form. “Sign at the bottom, please,” she mumbles, her gaze no longer focused on either of them.

Phil dutifully signs the paper and grabs their key cards, handing one to Dan before tucking his own into his pocket and grabbing his credit card. “Thanks!” With a cheerful wave, he turns away from the counter, making his way through the lobby of the hotel as if he has any clue where he’s going. He vaguely hears the receptionist suggest that he take a left to find their room, and he nods, tossing another wave over his shoulder, tugging Dan along by his hand.

“Did you see her face? She was so shocked!” Dan giggles, lacing his fingers through Phil’s as they walk. His excitement is palpable, and Phil’s lips quirk up into a smile at him.

“She did look pretty surprised,” Phil agrees with a nod. “Are you okay? You seem kind of hyper.”

Dan nods, then shrugs as he pulls out his keycard, checking the number before stopping at a door. “Yeah, I guess the gay part of me just thrives off straight shock and blatant homophobia.” He says this nonchalantly as he opens the door, but the words make Phil giggle.

“Wow, you’re really a hero in a rainbow cape, aren’t you?” Phil jokes as they step inside their room.

Dan crinkles his nose. “Rainbow isn’t really my aesthetic, I’m more of a monochrome person,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Phil rolls his eyes at this, tossing his phone and keycard onto the desk, followed by his backpack. “Alright, Edgelord.” He kicks his shoes off haphazardly before flopping down on the bed. “Oh my god, this bed is so nice,” he gushes.

There’s a soft laugh, and Phil tilts his head to watch Dan. The brunette places his backpack down beside Phil’s before leaning down and moving his shoes, tucking them under the desk neatly before taking his own off and doing the same. Phil watches as Dan stands up, his gaze still locked on their shoes. He seems to shake himself out of whatever thoughts he’s having, turning to face Phil. A blush covers his face when he sees that Phil’s gaze is already on him, and he quickly moves to sit on the end of the bed, looking rather awkward all of a sudden.

Phil smiles at him before patting the space beside him. “Come here.”

Dan obediently moves to the end of the bed and crawls up to sit beside Phil, staring down at him with those wide brown eyes. Phil can’t help himself, so he reaches out and brushes his knuckles against Dan’s knee, craving physical touch. Their gazes are locked as he continues the motion, and Dan slowly shifts closer until he can more comfortably drop his hand onto Phil’s arm. He drags his fingertips up the length of Phil’s arm, dipping under the sleeve of his t-shirt before trailing back down.

“You okay?” Phil murmurs.

“Yes,” Dan answers almost immediately, sending Phil a smile.

“You’d let me know if I made you uncomfortable, right?”

Dan looks surprised at this, then purses his lips amusedly. “Yes, of course I would.”

Phil nods, happy with this. “Good.” He moves to sit up then, pressing his back against the headboard. There’s a thought nagging in the back of his head, and he knows he needs some kind of clarification on it before their night continues. “I don’t know how far you want to take any of this, so to avoid any embarrassment or mistakes on either of our parts, I think we should talk about it.”

“Okay,” Dan nods easily. He tilts his head to the side, studying Phil closely. “How far did you want to go?” Despite the fact that this is what would probably be an awkward conversation with anyone else, Dan seems completely comfortable with discussing everything beforehand. This is a huge relief for Phil.

A smirk tugs on Phil’s lips. “Well, I’m up for anything. Like, if you want to properly sleep together, or if you just want to watch a film, or somewhere between the two. I’m genuinely happy with whatever you’re comfortable with, Dan.” Phil tries to sound sincere, because he is, and he wants Dan to feel absolutely comfortable with him, especially considering the oddity of their circumstances.

There’s an odd look on Dan’s face as he seems to process Phil’s words, and he swears softly as he looks down. A confusion filled moment later, his eyes return to Phil’s, and he sighs. “This is going to be so sappy, but you may honestly be the nicest person I’ve ever met, Phil.” He shakes his head with a laugh before moving to sit closer to Phil, their knees pressing together in the criss-cross way each of them are sitting.

Phil smiles at this. “I hope that’s not a nicer way of saying you think I’m boring.”

Dan fake gasps before grinning. “I would never!” He denies through a giggle.

“Oh, sure. I believe you.” Phil nods, trying to maintain a serious expression.

A pout pulls at Dan’s lips, and he tilts his head down to bat his eyelashes at Phil. The expression is so adorable, and it emphasizes the dimple on his cheek, so Phil really can’t help it when his body tells him to lean forward and press a gentle kiss to the concave skin. He feels Dan let out a shaky breath against his own cheek, and suddenly it hits him that he’s definitely just crossed a boundary.

Sitting back, horrified with himself, Phil hurries to apologize. “I’m sorry- I wasn’t-“

Dan cuts him off abruptly, a rosy patch appearing on his face. “I didn’t mind. I, um… You can do it again. Like, proper, if you want.” He stares down at the bed, but he’s chewing on his lip anxiously as he waits for Phil’s response.

Phil tries to hide his smile as he leans forward, trying to catch Dan’s gaze. “Would you like that?”

His cheeks more noticeably red now, Dan nods, his eyes looking anywhere but Phil’s.

“I need some words, Dan,” Phil says gently, moving his finger to stroke Dan’s jaw. “I won’t kiss you without your full verbal consent.”

This has Dan’s head snapping up, his wide eyes falling onto Phil’s face. His look of surprise would be concerning if it wasn’t so amusing. Phil quirks an eyebrow at him, tilting his head. “I don’t think… I’ve never had someone check like that before kissing me.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Phil’s turn to feel surprised. “I’m sorry? I just… I don’t know, I like to ask?” He says this almost as a question, suddenly a little unsure of himself.

Dan smiles at him, a fond look on his face. “No, I actually… I like that. I like that you asked first.”

Phil grins at this, tilting his head. “Well, you never actually answered me…”

With a smirk, Dan shifts closer, dropping his hand onto the base of Phil’s neck, his thumb stroking up and down the column of his throat. “I want you to kiss me.” Dan presses forward, his mouth hovering closely to Phil’s. “I want you to do way more than just kiss me, though.”

Phil shivers at his words, and he doesn’t waste any more time after that. He presses forward quickly, connecting their lips. An audible sigh tumbles from Dan’s lips at the contact, and the noise only encourages Phil to press forward more insistently. He tugs gently at Dan’s shirt, trying to guide him to sit on his lap. Dan seemingly misunderstands, reaching down and tugging the fabric up and over his head.

Smirking, Phil leans forward and runs a hand across Dan’s chest, dragging his thumb against a nipple as he goes. “That’s not quite what I meant, but it’ll do,” he teases.

Dan looks surprised, which is beautiful coupled with the way his skin is already flushed. “That’ll do, donkey, that’ll do,” he says suddenly, a Scottish lilt to his words. His face immediately floods with color and he reaches a hand up to cover his mouth, as if he hadn’t actually meant to say that aloud.

Unable to help himself, Phil tilts his head back and starts laughing loudly. He feels tears of mirth spring to his eyes as he giggles, struggling to get ahold of himself once he sees the mortified look on Dan’s face. “That was- oh my god, Dan,” Phil gasps. “That was so funny.”

“I- that was embarrassing!” Dan snaps, clearly more upset about it than he’d let on. “I- that wasn’t something I meant to- ugh.” He pulls his knees up to his chest, ducking his head to hide his face.

Phil sobers up seeing that Dan’s genuinely embarrassed. He reaches forward, petting Dan’s hair gently. “Dan, love, it’s honestly not as embarrassing as you think. I thought it was funny. I laughed.”

“Yeah, you laughed at me because it was stupid,” Dan mumbles bitterly, tilting his head to get Phil’s hand away.

“It was funny, Dan. You have a good sense of humor.” When Dan doesn’t respond to this, Phil decides to approach it from a different angle. That angle is by playing Dan at his own game. “I like your sense of humor. It’s one of your layers,” he says slowly. He’s staring at Dan so intensely that he sees the way his shoulders tense up, as he clearly starts to understand the reference. “You know what else has layers?” He grins brightly when Dan slowly raises his head.

“What?” Dan asks, almost smiling but trying to hide it.

“Cakes. Everybody loves cakes! Cakes have layers,” He says brightly, doing a horrible imitation of Eddie Murphy.

Dan’s lips quirk up into a half-smile. “Ogres are not like cakes,” he mumbles.

Phil grins before reaching over and brushing a curl out of Dan’s face. “No,” he hums in agreement. “I reckon they’re not.”

A soft look is on Dan’s face when he leans forward, pressing his lips to Phil’s in a soft, timid kiss, worlds away from the hot kisses they’d shared only moments before. “I really like you,” he whispers against Phil’s mouth.

“Guess what?” Phil whispers back, pressing another kiss to Dan’s lips before pulling away again. “I really like you too.”

“Can we…” Dan trails off, as if he’s unsure about what he wants to say.

“Can we?” Phil prompts gently, rubbing his thumb across Dan’s cheekbone slowly.

Dan takes a deep breath, leaning into Phil’s touch. “Can we not have sex tonight?”

Surprised, and a little confused, Phil leans away. “Oh- of course. We don’t- I mean, we won’t if you don’t want to do that… with me.” He feels an irrational sense of hurt in his chest, and he knows damn well that it’s unwarranted.

Dan’s eyes widen as if he’s been misunderstood. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. Of course I want to, I just…” He trails off, his eyes roaming the wall as if his thoughts are written there, ready to be read off like a script. “I don’t think I want to go that far tonight. Not since we just met.”

Phil nods slowly, trying to wrap his mind around exactly what he thinks Dan wants, considering they’d been on a completely different page only minutes before. “Okay… That’s fine. We don’t have to do any of that.”

The brunette chews on his lip, contemplating. “Can we maybe, like, do some of it? I-“ he flushes then, as if he’s seriously still embarrassed. “I want you, but I don’t want this to be a one-time thing. And I feel like maybe we should have something to look forward to… for later, you know.”

Suddenly, Phil gets the idea that this is likely not about Dan’s aversion to sleeping with him at all. It’s about his aversion to only sleeping with him once. His anxiety settled, Phil smiles at the younger man. “Of course. We’ll need something to look forward to after our next date,” he says cheekily.

Dan laughs, but scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “About that, actually,” he starts.

Phil immediately goes back into panic mode, his eyes widening in surprise. “Oh are you- did you not want to-“

“No, no, no, let me talk,” Dan reprimands gently, flicking Phil’s elbow as punishment for his interruption. He ignores the way Phil pouts, rubbing the skin as if it actually hurt. “I want to, of course I want to. But, I don’t want to go get coffee.”

Phil frowns, confused. “Okay, well, did you-“

“No!” Dan says, louder this time. “Let me ask!”

Startled at Dan’s outburst, Phil leans back a bit, chuckling. “Okay, okay. Go ahead, then.”

Dan takes another deep breath, as if he’s trying to prepare himself for something. “I want to take you to dinner. There’s a restaurant near where I work that I’ve been dying to try, and I want to take you with me.”

Phil tries to force down the flattery he feels at the fact that he rode in the same train of thought as the other everyday parts of Dan’s life, at least for now. “I’d love to go with you,” Phil responds after realizing he hadn’t answered him yet. “When we get back to London we’ll figure out when to go.”

Dan smiles, appearing relieved. “And I can pay, right?” He sounds excited by this, to Phil’s amusement.

“I can-“

“You told me earlier that whoever asks is who pays. I get to pay, right?” Dan interrupts.

Phil sighs, staring at the other man with far too much fondness, all things considered. “Fine, yes, you can pay.”

Dan grins brightly. “Perfect,” he replies, leaning forward to kiss Phil quickly. “Can we order some food?” He asks then, placing a hand on his stomach. “I need to feed the baby.”

Phil blinks.

“The what?”

Dan smirks. “The baby.”

“What baby?” Phil asks, cautious in a way that he shouldn’t be, given that Dan is, as far as he knows, biologically a male and thus unable to carry children.

“Me, I’m the baby,” Dan responds, his eyes sparkling with joy when Phil huffs.

“Oh my god, shut up,” Phil groans, shoving at his shoulder lightly.

Dan giggles, catching his arm and pulling him closer. “No,” he sing-songs. “You like it! You think I’m funny!” He says gleefully.

Phil rolls his eyes, suddenly adamant on not agreeing with that very true statement. “Eh,” he says nonchalantly. “You’re okay.”

Dan pouts before apparently deciding he feels like being cheeky. He swings a leg over Phil’s thighs, so he’s settled on his lap. “Say it, say you think I’m funny,” he demands, dropping his arms to rest on Phil’s shoulders, his hands playing at the ends of his hair.

“I think you’re funny,” Phil deadpans. Smirking, he continues. “Funny looking!”

“Phil!” Dan whines.

Phil smiles, unable to help himself as he leans in and captures the other man’s mouth in a kiss. “You’re cute,” he mumbles against the chapped lips.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees absently before pressing closer, moving his lips against Phil’s gently. Pulling away a little, he bats his eyelashes at him. “I’m also hungry,” he reminds him.

Phil’s laugh echoes around the room. “You’re like a pet, or a kid. You have to be amused and fed and all this stuff. It’s really a lot of work, huh?”

Dan quirks an eyebrow. “At least you don’t have to change my nappy,” he jokes.

Phil’s lips curl up into a smirk. “I still want in your pants, though,” he says coyly.

The groan he receives in response is quickly becoming one of his favorite sounds, usurped only by the whine of “Phillll,” that immediately follows it.

~~~

“I’m so full,” Dan announces a full room service-ordered pizza later.

“We ate a whole pizza. We’re gonna explode,” Phil complains, throwing an arm over his eyes. “I actually feel ill.”

Dan laughs quietly from beside him. “I can make you feel better,” he murmurs, his voice closer.

Phil moves his arm enough to look at Dan with one eye. “No offense, but I’m not in the mood to be sexy right now.”

The brunette rolls his eyes, reaching forward to flick Phil’s temple. “I didn’t mean it like that, you freak. I meant I can put on a film and snuggle you.”

Phil blinks. “Oh.”

“So?” Dan prods.

“Sure, yeah, let’s do that,” he agrees easily enough. He hands Dan the remote to the television since it’s closer to him. “Pick something good,” he instructs as he goes to slip under the covers.

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you want to take your jeans off?” he asks.

Phil stops, glances down at himself, and then turns to Dan slowly to smirk. “Are you trying to get me out of my pants, Daniel?”

“Tactless, Philip, absolutely tactless,” he mumbles. “Still, take them off. If we’re going to share a bed I will not be sharing it with someone who’s going to be rubbing denim all over me.”

“Who said I’ll be rubbing anything all over you?” Phil teases as he stands to shimmy out of the jeans.

Dan meets his eyes with a steady gaze. “I did,” he responds, his voice low. “Shirt, too.”

Phil feels a shiver run through him at this turn of events. “Oh- okay.” He tugs the shirt off at the neckline, and for once in his life, the movement is as smooth as he imagined, and he drops the fabric to the floor. He turns his gaze to Dan, finding him staring back, his gaze dark. “Better?” Phil asks, attempting sultry.

The brunette blinks slowly. “Are you always this messy?” He asks, his tone as unreadable as his expression.

Phil startles at that, having expected an entirely different reaction. “Sorry?” He stutters out.

Dan gestures to the clothes on the floor. “Those don’t go on the floor,” he chastises, his tone somewhere between amused and disapproving.

Blinking, Phil shifts his gaze to the clothes he’d carelessly dropped. “Oh. Well, I don’t have my luggage, remember?”

Dan opens his mouth as if he has something to say to that, but apparently, he decides against it, snapping his mouth shut again before shrugging.

Insufferably curious as usual, Phil can’t help but prod. “What?” He asks, placing his hands on his hips.

The brunette shakes his head, smiling thinly. “Just a pet peeve, you’re fine, c’mere.” He holds his arms out, inviting Phil into his embrace, but Phil doesn’t take the bait.

“No, just tell me. Is it because I threw my clothes on the floor?”

Rolling his eyes, Dan drops his arms. “If I tell you will you quit being weird and come snuggle me?”

“Maybe,” Phil sticks his tongue out childishly.

Dan snorts. “I just don’t like clutter.”

Phil blinks.

“That’s clutter?” He asks, gesturing to the crumpled clothes.

“Yes,” Dan confirms with a nod.

“Oh.”

“Come here now?”

“Let me-“ Phil cuts himself off, bending over to collect his clothes. He haphazardly folds them before laying them on the desk where he’d sat his backpack earlier. When he turns around, he finds Dan studying him with a soft look.

“Thank you,” he murmurs. Again, he holds out his arms. “C’mere.”

Phil shakes his head, turning around and grabbing Dan’s backpack, which he knows contains a certain adorable cat shirt. “Pajama time,” he says enthusiastically.

Dan flushes. “Uh…” He trails off, the rosy patch adjacent to his dimple drawing a smile from Phil’s lips.

“Please? It’ll be comfier, and you’ll look so cute,” Phil says cheekily. Maybe he just wants to watch Dan undress, but there’s more to it than that. He wants to snuggle with the other man and snuggling with him in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers is just incredibly tempting to him.

The brunette rolls his eyes and lets out a huff but sits up and holds a hand out. “Hand me the shirt.”

Phil makes a gleeful noise before digging through the bag, tugging at the white fabric when he sees it. He makes sure to take the tags off first before handing it over, watching as Dan tugs his other shirt over his head. When he catches Phil’s stare, he flushes even more.

“Quit looking at me!” He whines, tugging the fabric over his head quickly so that Phil can no longer see his bare skin.

“Sorry,” Phil says, very little remorse in his voice. “I just think you’re very fit.”

Dan stares pointedly down at the shirt he is meticulously folding. “Whatever,” he mumbles.

Even with his pouting, Phil can see the small smile on his pink lips.

“Are you taking your jeans off?” Phil asks as he finally settles onto the bed beside him. “You’ll be comfier that way,” He tries to encourage.

Dan snorts. “You are absolutely thirsty, aren’t you, mate?”

Phil shrugs unashamedly. “I’m gay, and you’re hot. Simple man, simple pleasures,” Phil explains with a smile.

He expects the eyeroll he gets, and he doesn’t bat an eye as Dan stands and begins tugging his jeans down his legs. Their gazes meet briefly, and Dan freezes briefly before seeming to gather some courage, turning away and very obviously bending down to push the material down to his ankles. The position gives Phil a perfect view of Dan’s ass, which is obviously his intention.

Suddenly Phil doesn’t care quite as much about watching a good film.

When Dan is finished, he folds his jeans, placing those and his shirt onto the desk beside Phil’s neatly. When he turns around, there’s an innocent sort of smile on his face. “What?” He asks, clearly catching onto the shift in Phil’s energy.

“C’mere,” Phil rasps, patting his thighs.

Dan quirks a brow, putting a hand on his hip and giving Phil a disbelieving look. “You want me to sit on your lap?” he asks, sounding dubious at the very idea.

“Yeah, I do,” Phil answers confidently. “Please,” he adds, softer.

Dan’s face softens at this, and he immediately moves forward, climbing onto the bed and tossing a leg over Phil’s and coming to rest his ass atop Phil’s thighs, just as he wanted. “Okay?” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through Phil’s inky hair.

Phil drops his own hands onto Dan’s thighs, just below the fabric of his boxers. “Perfect,” he replies, just as quiet.

The air around them is heavy with silence as they sit there, studying each other closely. It should feel awkward, or intimidating, but it only feels intimate, and dare Phil say it, safe. He traces small circles onto the skin of Dan’s thigh with his thumbs, and revels in the way Dan scratches at his scalp gently.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” Dan interrupts the silence with a whisper, his voice wavering as Phil watches his eyes flood with emotion.

“So, do I,” Phil replies. “It’s…“ he trails off as he tries to think of a way to describe it. “I feel like you’re someone I’ve known forever, but I’m only just finding you again.”

Dan ducks his head at this, letting out heavy breaths against Phil’s shoulder, his body beginning to tremble. “Fuck,” He whispers.

“Are you- I’m sorry, that was probably creepy and totally weird. I understand if you think I'm a serial murderer now,” Phil apologizes quickly, wincing as he recounts the very strange thing he’d just confessed to this man he’d only known for the past ten hours or so.

“No, I just-“ Dan takes another heavy breath. “It’s a lot, for me. To feel like this.”

Phil dares a question into the lull of silence. “Like what?”

Dan’s quiet for a long time.

Finally, he speaks. “Like I’m not alone.”

Phil’s positive his heart breaks at those words. His hands move to wrap around Dan’s back, tugging him into a hug. “I’m right here, love.”

After a few moments of him stroking up and down Dan’s back, coupled with pressing soft kisses to his hair, Phil finally manages to calm Dan down. He leans away slowly, carefully avoiding Phil’s gaze as he rubs his hands over his eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbles. “God, I’m sorry I’m so weepy and emotional, like that’s not what you signed up for, fuck,” Dan rambles, leaning away and running a worried hand through his untamed curls.

Phil shushes him gently. “I signed up for you, Dan. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Dan stares at him for a moment, his gaze hardening. Before Phil can even think to question it, the other man leans forward, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss. Phil startles, but gently kisses back, trying to coax Dan out of his harshness. Dan’s not having that, though, nipping at Phil’s lips and rolling his hips down to grind against the older man.

Phil’s heart races at the change of pace, and not in an entirely good way. Gently, he presses his hands against Dan’s hips, halting his movements. “Dan,” he whispers against his lips, pulling away when Dan tries to follow. “You need to slow down,” He reprimands gently.

Dan huffs, shoving Phil’s hands off his hips and rocking down once again, making Phil gasp and shudder at the friction on his clothed cock. Dan doesn’t stop there, gripping the back of Phil’s neck and pulling him in again for another kiss.

As much as Phil is turned on, the concern he feels for Dan’s well-being is eclipsing the feeling his cock is trying to convince him he should focus on. Knowing that Dan isn’t fully stable right now, Phil once again presses against his hips, forcing them to a reluctant stop.

The cry that falls from Dan’s lips once his movements are stopped again is enough to break Phil’s heart all over again. He sounds positively wounded, and Phil can’t stand it. But he also can’t stand the idea of Dan forcing them to go too far right now in a fit of emotion. “Dan, stop,” he says, his voice authoritative in a way he hasn’t been so far.

Dan whines, he actually whines. “But-“

“You aren’t actually ready to go that far, you already told me that,” Phil reminds him, stroking his thumb over Dan’s cheekbone.

“I changed my mind,” Dan argues petulantly.

Phil levels him with an unimpressed stare. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

“You don’t know shit,” Dan snaps immediately.

Phil is a little taken aback by the sharp tone, but he tries to hide how hurt he actually is by it. “Okay,” he concedes quietly.

Dan’s face immediately falls as he catches himself. “I didn’t mean- Phil, I wasn’t-“

Phil cuts him off with a shrug. “It’s fine. You’re right, I don’t know as much as I probably should to be making such rash judgements.”

The brunette shakes his head adamantly, chocolate curls swaying over his forehead. “No, no, no, you know plenty. You’ve learned more, and listened to me more, in the past ten hours, than most of my friends have in the past ten months.”

Still not fully convinced that he hadn’t meant it, Phil shrugs. He’s going to try not to let his now sour mood cost them their comfortable evening, though. “Wanna watch a film still?”

Dan nods, swallowing hard. “Are you cross?”

Phil shakes his head, moving under the duvet. “No, I’m not cross. C’mere so we can snuggle.” He holds up the covers to allow Dan to crawl under them and get settled. Despite how comfortable they’ve already established that they feel with each other, it’s a little awkward as they try to maneuver into a position that’s comfortable for the both of them.

They end up with Phil resting his back against the head board, Dan sat between his legs, his back to Phil’s chest. It’s cozy, and Phil finds himself petting Dan’s curls gently as Dan channel surfs for something to watch.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” the younger man whispers.

Phil presses a kiss to his neck, not missing the way Dan shivers. “It’s okay.” He hesitates, a question burning on his tongue, but he’s almost positive he’s crossing a line. Rather than ask what he’s desperate to inquire about, he chooses a different path. “Do you need to do anything before you go to sleep?” He asks.

Dan stiffens in his arms, and Phil panics, thinking for sure that he’s messed up. “Brush my teeth?” He says, his voice lilting up as if it’s a question rather than an answer.

His attempt at asking about his medication indirectly foiled, Phil releases a small sigh. “I meant, like…” he trails off, pondering how to phrase it without sounding insensitive.

“Are you asking if I need to wank before I sleep?” Dan deadpans when Phil fails to respond.

Phil splutters at the question. “No! I mean, if you still wanted to like, not like- but- that’s not what I was asking.”

Dan turns enough to meet Phil’s gaze. “Then what the hell were you asking?” He’s smiling, clearly amused at how flustered Phil is.

Closing his eyes tightly to avoid any sort of anger Dan might harbor, Phil speaks without thinking. “I was trying to ask if you needed to take your medicine tonight. I wasn’t sure how to ask that delicately.”

He waits for an outburst, to feel Dan shove him away and curse him for being so nosy, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, he feels a hand cup his jaw before soft lips press to his. “Phil,” Dan breathes through a laugh.

Phil slowly opens his eyes, surprised to find Dan staring at him with the softest gaze. “I’m sorry,” he blurts before he can stop himself.

“Don’t be,” Dan immediately says. “I think it’s really sweet that you asked me that. You’re actually right, I need to take it before I sleep, but it makes me really drowsy, so when I take it I’ll be out pretty quick.” He says the last part with his eyes downcast, as if he’s embarrassed for some reason.

“Okay. Do you want to take it now? It’s getting late.” Phil honestly doesn’t care at all what time it is, but he doesn’t want to mess up Dan’s body’s chemistry by keeping him from taking his medicine when he should.

A grimace is on Dan’s face as he glances over at the clock. “Remind me in an hour?” He requests, his voice soft.

“Sure,” Phil replies with a smile. He grabs the discarded TV remote, continuing the search for something to watch. “What’re you in the mood for?” He asks, moving in to rest his chin atop Dan’s shoulder.

“I reckon I’m in the mood for you,” Dan says cheekily.

Phil rolls his eyes and tilts his head to lick Dan’s ear. He intends it to be a punishment for Dan’s inappropriate behavior, so he’s not expecting the quiet gasp and the shiver that rocks Dan’s body. “Hm,” Phil hums, intrigued at that response. “That’s interesting,” he teases. Dropping the remote after clicking play on a random title, he wraps his arms around Dan’s chest, holding the younger man in place against his body. This time he deliberately drags the tip of his tongue along the shell of Dan’s ear, pressing a kiss there before moving down to the spot just behind the lobe.

“Phil,” Dan breathes, his hand coming up to grip Phil’s arm.

“What?” Phil whispers. “Do you want me to stop?” It comes out sultry but it’s a serious question, and if Dan says yes he knows he’ll drop it immediately.

“No,” Dan nearly shouts. “Feels good.” He arches his neck, giving Phil more room to work.

“Good,” Phil hums before dropping his lips back to the expanse of skin, kissing a line down from his ear to the base of his throat. “Can I leave a mark?” He breathes, suddenly obsessed with the idea of leaving this piece of Dan covered in marks. Phil doesn’t generally think of himself as a possessive person by nature, but this time he feels is an exception.

“Fuck yes,” Dan all but moans. “Please.”

Phil smiles against the skin before opening his mouth and sucking, just hard enough to bring a little color to the area. He didn’t want to hurt the other man, obviously, but in a sick way, he wanted Dan to feel him even after they parted.

His teeth graze the spot just a little, and Dan’s body jerks. “Fuck,” he moans, long and drawn out. Phil glances down, smiling proudly to himself when he sees the obscene way that Dan’s boxers have tented with his arousal.

“More?” Phil whispers, double checking that Dan is still into this.

“Please.” It’s almost a sob.

So, Phil goes back to his gentle assault, scraping his teeth along the bites after each suction. He’s had this done to himself, he knows how electrifying it can feel to have the already tender area grazed like that, and from Dan’s physical response, he’s a fan of it.

“Please, please, please,” Dan chants.

Phil pulls away just a bit. “What do you need?” He asks.

“Touch me, please, I’m so close,” Dan babbles, practically thrashing in his arms at the pleasure.

Phil pauses at that. “You’re already close? Just from this?” He asks, breathing deeply against Dan’s neck before licking a stripe up the side.

“Yes, yes, fuck,” Dan whines.

Phil hums. “Think you could come just like this?” He doesn’t seriously think Dan could, but the imagery is.... intoxicating, to say the least.

Dan twists in his arms, trying to get friction on his cock. “Nuh-uh,” he protests. “Can’t- not close enough-“

“Okay, shh, I’ll get you there.” Phil’s mind is whirling with all the possibilities here, his own straining cock forgotten in favor of getting Dan off. He could easily wank him off in this position or he could even reposition them to suck him off. While both of those are equally as tempting, he almost loses it at the idea of wanking Dan while still sucking on his neck.

Phil drops a hand down to palm over the front of Dan’s pants, and the boy shudders against him. “Phil,” he gasps.

“This okay?” Phil whispers, moving his hand to dip his fingers under the waistband of the material.

“Yes,” Dan breathes.

With permission granted, Phil shucks Dan’s boxers down to his thighs, unconcerned about properly removing them right now. He makes a soft noise as he gets a look at Dan’s weeping cock, gently wrapping his hand around his length and giving it a squeeze. “What a beautiful cock,” he breathes into Dan’s ear, darting his tongue out to lick inside.

“Phil, don’t-“ Dan protests, his brown eyes wide as he tilts his head to stare at the older man.

“It is, though. Absolutely gorgeous, love,” he praises, stroking slowly as he whispers into Dan’s ear.

“Gonna come,” Dan whispers, dropping his head back to rest on Phil’s shoulder.

“Yeah? Your pretty dick is going to come all over my hand?” Phil hardly ever talks like this in bed, but something about Dan is intoxicating and he feels absolutely drunk off it. “Go on, then. Come for me.”

Dan whines, his hips rutting up into Phil’s hand as he chases his relief. “Close, close,” he whines helplessly.

Phil presses a kiss to his neck, nipping gently before licking over it. His left hand crawls up from where it had been resting on top of Dan’s stomach, rucking his shirt up as he goes. His thumb brushes against Dan’s nipple and he stills for a moment before moaning, his hips moving even faster up into Phil’s hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants.

“Shh, we’re in a hotel,” Phil reminds him, a little worried about being caught out.

Dan whines loudly at that, and Phil shrugs his shoulder so Dan’s head rolls to the side, just enough that Phil can capture his lips in a heated kiss. He presses his tongue inside, licking into Dan’s mouth and swallowing his noises as he strokes him faster.

He feels the moment that Dan’s orgasm overcomes him, his body going rigid and his mouth slackening against Phil’s before he shudders and moans into Phil’s mouth. Then he’s spilling wet and hot over Phil’s fingers, his hips still rolling gently as he rides out the pleasure.

“Good boy,” Phil murmurs on a whim.

Dan whines at this, his body slowly relaxing as the last waves subside, until he’s laying completely limp against the front of Phil’s body. Phil brings his wet hand up to his mouth, sucking a finger into his mouth to clean Dan’s come off. Dan opens his eyes at the noise, and his face goes a shade darker when he sees what Phil’s doing.

“Want some?” Phil offers with a smirk, holding his hand out.

Dan stares at him, his eyes wide, but he slowly, hesitantly opens his mouth in invitation. Phil smears a little onto Dan’s lower lip before pushing a finger into his mouth. He’s shocked when Dan closes his lips around the digit and begins sucking, swirling his tongue around as he swipes the mess clean. His gaze never falters, and Phil is mesmerized at the wrecked look on his face.

He moves onto the next finger without being asked, and within just a few moments, his hand is completely clean again. “Thanks for the snack,” Dan says with a smirk, appearing to be completely at himself again.

“That was...” Phil trails off, unsure of how to even explain how that made him feel.

Dan’s expression shifts to one of shyness. “Sorry, was that too much?”

Phil gapes at him, slowly shaking his head. “That was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he informs him matter-of-factly.

If it’s even possible, Dan’s rosy cheeks just become darker at the compliment. “Really? I didn’t know if maybe it’d gross you out or something, it’s-“

Phil has to cut him off there. “No, fuck no. That was hot.”

Dan smiles genuinely at him before wriggling out of his grip and turning to face him instead. Phil’s legs part immediately to give him more room, his prominent erection very obvious at this angle. Dan makes no move to tuck himself back into his pants, and instead he pulls them off entirely, tossing them to the end of the bed.

“Thought you didn’t like clutter?” Phil teases.

“Sex clutter doesn’t count,” Dan snips back.

“Round two already?”

Dan grins. “Actually, this is more of part two to our round one. You still haven’t come once.”

“Hm, interesting observation,” he coughs out. Phil has been painfully aware of this fact, but since he was unsure what all Dan was comfortable doing, he didn’t want to push him any further yet. It seemed that Dan didn’t have these same reservations.

With a cheeky smile, Dan lays down, making himself comfy on the bed. “Don’t worry, I’m here to help.” He glances up at Phil then, quirking an eyebrow. “You’re okay with this, yeah?”

Phil nods. “Yes,” he assures him quickly. He’s aware of how desperate that probably sounds, but he can’t find it in him to care.

“I’m gonna suck you off, okay?” Dan asks, looking up at Phil with doe eyes.

“Fuck,” Phil whimpers. “That’s more than okay, yeah, shit.”

Dan smiles before leaning in and licking up Phil’s length, flicking his tongue over the tip before bending his neck to take the tip into his mouth. He swirls his tongue, suckling lightly before momentarily popping off. “Teeth?” Dan inquires.

Phil pauses before shaking his head. “No.”

Nodding, Dan goes right back in, this time bobbing his head to take more of him into his mouth. Phil groans when Dan hollows his cheeks, unable to help shifting his hips up a little to chase the wet heat. “Sorry,” he mumbles, flinging a hand up to grip at his own hair.

Dan peers up at him, pulling off with a frown. “Here, give me your hands.” He takes Phil’s hands and guides them to his hair, pressing them down against his scalp until Phil gets the picture.

“Oh,” he breathes.

“You can pull on it, I like that,” Dan says, his voice a little shy.

Phil takes a shuddering breath before complying and tugging Dan’s hair a little, enough to guide him back to his leaking cock. “There we go,” he murmurs when Dan’s lips part for the tip. “Good boy,” he says tentatively, testing it out. Dan had responded well to it when he was on the brink of release, but he was unsure if it was still a thing now.

Dan moans around him, and Phil relaxes, relieved to find something Dan is into as well. He chews on his lip as Dan works on taking him deeper, his red lips stretching beautifully around his length. Phil nearly purrs when Dan sucks just right, bobbing his head slowly before pulling off almost entirely and lapping at the precum.

Phil can’t help but groan at the way Dan is licking him. “You look like you’re eating a fucking ice lolly,” he pants.

Another lick and Dan pulls his mouth away long enough to smirk. “Tastes even better,” he says, his voice low and rough.

Even though he knows that Dan is trying to be sexy, Phil can’t help the snort of laughter that falls from his mouth. “Fuck, Dan.”

“Hm, maybe later, I’m busy right now,” Dan says cheekily.

Phil can’t help but roll his eyes at this. “You’re so- oh fuck,” he moans when Dan suddenly deepthroats him. Phil grips the sheets tightly, using all his willpower not to fuck into the wet warmth, knowing that in this position it would absolutely choke Dan. “Fuck, fuck,” he mumbles, moving a hand to stroke gently through Dan’s curls. “You’re so good at this, baby. So good.”

Dan hums, and slowly shifts his jaw. Phil feels it just as much as he sees it when Dan swallows around him, and Phil drops his head back with a groan. He’s close, he’s so close, but he doesn’t want to hurt Dan and he knows that when he comes he’s not going to be thinking about keeping himself still.

Gently, he grips Dan’s hair and pulls him off a little bit. Dan’s eyes are wide and slightly panicked when he looks up at him, but Phil only smiles reassuringly. “You’re doing lovely, but I don’t want to hurt you finishing like that.”

Dan crinkles his nose. “I don’t think someone has ever called my blowjob skills “lovely” and I’m not entirely sure what to make of that,” he rasps, his voice wrecked.

Phil rolls his eyes, tugging on a curl playfully. “My mum raised me right, I know how to give a man credit when credit is due.”

“Your mum raised you to give compliments to guys who are good at blowing you?” Dan asks sarcastically, that same smirk on his lips again.

Narrowing his eyes, Phil leans down and drags his fingers over Dan’s lips. “These are moving an awful lot, but not in the right way.” Unprompted, Dan’s mouth falls slightly agape, and Phil takes the opportunity to shove two fingers down into the wet warmth immediately. Dan’s eyes are wide, but he obediently begins sucking and bobbing his head. “There we go. Be a good boy and do it that way, okay?” He'd never fancied himself this bossy in bed, but here he was, being bossy and directive, but judging from the way Dan's eyes nearly roll back in his head, he doesn't mind.

Dan nods excitedly before sliding his mouth off of Phil’s fingers, settling back down between his legs to get back to work. Phil can’t help the soft noises falling from his lips as Dan works him to the edge, and when his orgasm hits a couple minutes later, it comes as a pleasant surprise. “Oh,” he gasps, tugging gently on Dan’s hair as he feels the feeling crash over him. “I’m-“ he tries to warn him, but Dan doesn’t catch what he’s trying to say, instead winding up with a mouthful. “Sorry,” Phil apologizes as he tries to catch his breath. “You can spit it out, I won’t care.”

The brunette gives him an apologetic smile, his mouth still full, as he slides off the bed and makes his way to the bathroom. Phil hears him spitting the contents out, followed by the sound of running water. He can’t even be offended honestly, he wasn’t the greatest at swallowing himself, and didn’t do it very often.

“Sorry,” Dan apologizes almost immediately upon walking back into the room, his smile one of guilt. “Haven’t learned to love the taste just yet.”

Phil laughs at that. “Mate, I don’t think I’ll ever love the taste, it’s fine.”

Dan crinkles his nose. “Don’t call me that, I just sucked your dick.”

Phil blinks. And then he promptly bursts into giggles. “Sorry, I just-“ he loses it again when he notices the indignant frown on Dan’s lips. “You just look so cute, all offended about that.”

“I’m not cute!” Dan protests.

Suppressing a smile, Phil shrugs. “Sure, whatever you say.” He tosses the sheet over himself then, not bothering with pulling his pants back on or anything. He felt loads more comfortable and confident than he had earlier, and he wasn’t about to lose that by retreating into his clothes. Unless his nakedness made Dan uncomfortable, of course. But judging by the way he too crawls under the blankets, naked aside from his cat t-shirt, Phil concludes he's not all that fussed about it.

“I’m tired,” Dan announces then, staring up at Phil as if it's his responsibility to change that.

Phil gives him a soft look. “I bet. And I hate to do this to you since you just sat down, but you still need to take your medicine.”

Dan groans. “Fuck. I forgot already.” He rolls over and looks up at Phil, his eyes wide and pleading and gorgeous. “Phil, I would be forever in your debt if you’d fetch my meds for me,” he says sweetly.

Phil responds with a snort. “I dunno, sounds like a rough deal. You get drugs and I’m stuck with you forever, or until I decide you’ve paid me back?”

Rolling his eyes, Dan’s mood seems to shift. “I know it’s a shit bargain, but I’m too lazy to get up.” He tries to force his casual, funny tone, but it falls flat, and Phil realizes he’s seriously annoyed about what Phil had said in jest.

“I was kidding, Dan,” Phil says gently. “I’d be honored to spend as much time with you as you’re willing to give.” He puts all the sincerity, all the honesty, that he can into those words.

Dan’s gaze falls down at this, and he fiddles with the corner of the pillowcase as a distraction. “Yeah, well…” He trails off. “Don’t be sappy,” he grouches.

Phil carefully reaches out and pets Dan’s curls. “I’m not. You’re not giving yourself enough credit. You’ve been nothing but lovely to be around, and I’ve been thrilled to spend the day in your company. Don’t sell yourself short, Daniel.”

A soft groan sounds and Dan’s rolling over to bury his head in Phil’s naked chest. “How do you exist?” He grumbles.

Phil grins. He can do the whole sarcastic, playful bit. Just maybe a little less direct this time. “Well you see, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much-“ He begins.

Dan yelps at this, pulling his head away from Phil’s chest like he’s been burnt. “Oh my god! No! I don’t want to hear about that!”

Cackling, Phil can’t help but lean in and press a kiss to Dan’s full lips. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.”

“That was horrible. I’m considering withdrawing all admissions of my affection for you,” Dan announces pretentiously.

Phil smiles softly at this, slowly running a finger along the shell of Dan’s ear. “You have affection for me?” He asks, his voice almost a coo.

Dan’s face goes a shade darker at this. “Not anymore,” he proclaims.

Pushing his face against Dan’s hair to hide his grin, Phil hums in disagreement. “No, I don’t think so. I think you like me a lot, actually. I think you fancy me a bit.”

“Mm, maybe,” Dan says, half-heartedly.

Phil smiles and presses his face closer to Dan’s, shifting so that his mouth hovers just over Dan’s ear. “Well guess what?”

Dan tries to feign nonchalance when he says, “What?”

“I fancy you a lot,” Phil whispers.

The shiver that runs over Dan’s spine is impossible to miss. “Yeah?” He asks.

“A whole lot more than I should fancy a stranger I met in an airport,” he admits. And honestly, it’s the first time he’s really let himself process it. Here he was, meeting a man in an airport of all places, and falling for him in the span of a day, as if he has any right to get that close that quickly. And yet, he didn’t feel like a stranger. He felt like he’d known Dan forever, like there wasn’t a time that he hadn’t felt his heart beat faster at the short breaths he took, or the sight of those brown curls. It was insane, and maybe he was insane, but he felt so completely at home with Dan that he couldn’t imagine lying to the other man about how he felt.

“I don’t want to be a stranger you met at an airport,” Dan says quietly. His voice is so low Phil nearly doesn’t catch it, almost as if Dan hadn’t intended for him to hear.

His heart twists uncomfortably at those words. “No?” he asks.

“I wanna be more than that to you. I want…” Dan trails off, and his voice is wavering with uncertainty even when he finds the words. “I want to see where this goes. I don’t want to just be the guy you met at an airport and screwed around with in a hotel afterwards.” Phil opens his mouth to protest but Dan beats him to it. “See, I know you’re going to say I’m not that, but I want you to prove it.”

Phil pauses, trying to make sure Dan is finished before he tentatively asks, “How?”

Dan tilts his head so that he’s staring straight into Phil’s eyes, honey and caramel and chocolate drawing him in. “I want to date you. I want you to go on a date with me when we’re back in London, and I want to stay over at yours and have you stay over at mine and I want us to go to movies and dinner and be cheesy and lame and have sex and I want you to want to introduce me as someone besides the guy you met at an airport.”

His words are rushed and aren’t all coherent, but it’s a beautiful speech, and Phil’s heart is pounding by the end of it. It takes him a moment to figure out how to respond, and another to figure out how to make his mouth move again. “Okay. I hope you like horror movies and popcorn and cuddles because that’s what you’re getting yourself into.”

Dan nods, his face totally serious. “And sex. I like sex.”

Phil has to laugh at that and press another lingering kiss to Dan’s willing mouth. “And sex,” he mumbles. Dan brushes the tip of his tongue across Phil’s lips, but instead of opening his mouth to him, Phil pulls away a little. “I hope you like “boyfriend” too, because I’m particularly fond for that word.”

The sound Dan makes then is a cross between a gasp and a squeak, but Phil is quickly swallowing it with his own mouth, leaving very little room for argument or response of any kind.

And maybe they were stupid and naïve, and this would never work, but maybe they were willing to try and put in the effort anyway. And Phil knew there was more to Dan than what was meeting his eye, but so far, he was willing to accept every part he’d been willing to share. There would likely be other conversations, logistics on how they would see each other when they didn’t even know where in London the other lived, but it wasn’t anything a google map and some patience couldn’t solve.

And maybe it wouldn’t be perfect, as things rarely are, and this would all fall apart in a month. Or, maybe they would be as close to perfect as he could want. The likelihood of either was really just a gamble at this point, but that was something he was willing to try for.

Phil hated making mistakes. He hated being a failure.

But he hated the idea of giving up on a good thing before it had even begun even more.

#phan #phandom #phanfic #airport au #dan is a lonely introvert writing in his journal #phil is a simple gay man who wants to woo this curly haired nerd #also dan's cat tshirt bc im soft for that #smut #fluff #depression

[twentyonesoons]

Surfing and Shampoo

Song Lyric writing prompt collab with @seventeenmafiaau​ Member - Vernon Genre/Warnings - fluff, drabble, strangers to lovers, kinda long (3k words), free style, Surfer boy!Vernon, not edited Prompt - “You would love this movie playing on the TV screen” DVD by pH-1 

“I’ll be back later grandpa!” You yelled into the house, clicking the door closed behind you. The sky was turning grey, casting the town in low light this early in the afternoon. Streetlights flickered on as you passed, making your way from your house on the hillside to the far end of town. You had only moved to this town to live with your grandpa a month prior, which to you was an unideal situation, given that you were a year and a half away from graduating high school. You understood the sudden change of location though, your parents too busy with travelling overseas for work to look after you, and there was no way you were staying in a big city by yourself.

Which is how you ended up living in a small shack perched on one of the hills surrounding the small coastal town, your nan’s old sunroom converted into your own private getaway with a clear view of the ocean as they crashed onto the beach and onto the slivers of rocks that naturally separated them. It was here that you realised the waves were steeper at the far end of the cove, a small beach you’d hardly seen a figure step foot onto in your short time here.

You passed the last line of rocks, the road fading away into gravel which crunched under your steps. The stairs leading down to the beach creaked with each step, a single pair of footprints leading towards the sea. You perked your head up, spotting a black coloured figure resting among the waves, which soon turned and began to paddle outwards. It rose up out of the water and only then did you realise it was not just a figure, but it was a person. Your jaw dropped as they glided along the waves, the board flicking upwards and crashing back down so smoothly.

You had seen people surfing from your view out of your window, but never up this close. You approached the waves, cautiously sitting on a ledge where the water ate away at the sand, toes occasionally ticked by creeping water. You were unsure how long you were watching the surfer for, but the water had risen to your calves when you felt your arms getting wet. As you looked up, the sky released its fury, buckets of rain tumbling on top of you as you tried to run through the sand, hoping to find cover.

“Hey you! Come over here!” A voice cut through the rain and you halted your escape, turning to see the surfer waving you over to a pickup-truck that you somehow didn’t notice before. He climbed into the driver’s seat as you ran up, quickly climbing in the other side. “Oh my gosh thank you so much,” You gasped, out of breath from running and panicking. You looked at the owner of the vehicle, thankful it was a young boy, probably around your age, and not a creepy old man. He shook his head and reached into the back, pulling out two towels and handing you one. You quickly wiped your face and hung it over your shoulders in an attempt to warm up.

The rain simmered down for a small moment, and the boy jumped out of the truck, ‘Wait here.” You felt the truck wobble and glanced in the mirror, watching him quickly tie his surfboard to the truck, and you couldn’t help but notice just how handsome he is, and how good he looks in that wetsuit. He glanced at you through the mirror and smirked, spreading a red flare across your cheeks as you averted your gaze. He returned to his seat and reached for the keys, but retracted his hand, turning towards your side of the car. “I’m Vernon, and you’re the new girl, right?” He asks, raising one eyebrow at you. “Yeah, I’m Y/N, and I moved here last month, so I start school in the new term, I heard that it’s a break at the moment?” Vernon nodded and leant back in his seat, “Yeah everyone has had time off from school for a month, it’s just what we do around this time of year. We go back in two days, are you ready?” “Not at all,” You mumble, dropping your head to look at your hands.

Vernon chuckles at that, nudging your shoulder with his hand, “Hey don’t be like that, you’re now friends with the resident popular surfer boy, everything will be fine.” A smile creeped its way onto your lips, “Thanks, you’re really good at surfing by the way, have you ever won a competition?” “I’ve actually never been in a competition, the town doesn’t hold many for older kids, its usually just for the little ones to encourage them to exercise or something.” He mumbles.

You nod as he starts the car, the conversation drifting onto trivial subjects before he arrives at your house, yet you don’t recall telling him your address. “You look similar to your grandpa, so I assumed you must live with him.” He explains, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape. He smiles and you’re certain your heart skips a beat. “I’ll pick you up Monday morning, so we can go to school together, okay?” He asks, and you smile, holding out your pinkie finger. “Really?” He asks, and you nod, causing him to chuckle as he links his finger with yours, sending sparks through your body before he turns to leave, avoiding the rain before it gets to heavy again.

- - -

Fortunately, Vernon kept his promise and promptly picked you up on Monday morning, allowing you to ride shot gun while three of his other friends were crammed in the back. You awkwardly waved at them and introduced yourself. “Wah, you’re even prettier than Vernon said,” The boy in the middle said, causing Vernon to turn around and punch him in the knee, glaring at the boy. You giggled at the interaction, watching Vernon flush a deep shade of red. “I’m Seungkwan by the way, this is Chan,” He gestures to his left and then his right, “And this is Minghao.” Both boys had headphones in but smiled politely when gestured to. Vernon sighed and started the car, pulling away from your house and towards the town.

When you all arrived at the school, which was large for such a small town, Vernon pulled into a park close to a group of boys, who approached after spotting the vehicle. The boys scrambled out, greeting the others happily, but you trailed behind, a little unsure about the rowdy group. A taller boy spotted you behind Vernon, approaching with a smirk, “Well, you must be Y/N. Can I just say, you’re a lot prettier than I was expecting.” He winks, reaching for your hand which you pull away. “Jun! Leave her alone, you’re so over the top at times” A new voice yelled, quickly coming to your rescue. You recognised him as Minghao. “Don’t mind him, he flirts with everyone and everything.” You awkwardly chuckle and follow the boy as he offers to take you to where you need to be.

Despite only having one class with Minghao, and only two with Vernon, he had such a large friend-group that was at least always someone in each class. You quickly figured out there was 13 of them in total, you adding one more person to the already hectic mix. They were loud and over the top and all different in their own ways, but they accepted you to a point it felt like you had friends for years after only your first week at school.

- - -

Vernon came over that weekend, his roommate (who you learnt was Seungkwan), decided to do a deep clean to get rid of the sand strewn through their apartment, ultimately kicking Vernon (the distributor of said sand) out for the day. He was laying upside down on your bed, flicking through an old magazine he somehow found, while you sat at your desk by the window. Drizzles of rain began to paint themselves against the window, “I guess you won’t be going surfing today then.” You said absently. Vernon raised his head to spot the trickles on the window and shrugged, “Guess not.” You laughed at his casualness when he returned to the magazine, “I can’t anyway, your grandpa is fixing my board.”

“Oh, that’s right, is that why you’re here?” You asked, moving across the room to sit beside him on the bed. “Yeah, well plus you’re here, so it’s like killing two birds with one stone.” He sat up properly now, feeling the blood return to the rest of his body, his face lessening in colour. “Do you remember the sheet I gave you on Wednesday?” You question, and he nods. “Yeah, that’s what I needed to ask you about. I think I’m going to do the competition, but do you want to come with me?” Vernon looked at you expectedly while you slowly nodded, “I’ll need to ask my grandpa though.” Vernon raised his hands, “No need, I already did, and he said yes. He also said I can stay the night so that I won’t need to pick you up in the morning.”

You couldn’t believe what he was telling you, so you left to question your grandpa yourself, returning with answers that matched Vernon’s words. You rolled your eyes at the boy’s cocky smile and pushed him off the bed.

After dinner, you had set up a bunk on the floor of your room for him while he fetched his clothes from his car and attached his now-fixed surfboard to the back. He plonked himself down when he returned, and you giggled, causing him to tilt his head towards you. “No offense Vern, but can I wash your hair? I can hear it rustling when you walk, and I’m surprised there’s not a seagull nesting in it.”

The boy blushed and smiled, his head turning towards the ground. “Sure, but how will it work?” It was your turn to flush a deep red, “You’ll sit in the bathtub and keep your boardshorts on, we might be friends, but I don’t want to see anything like that.” Vernon chuckled, walking towards the bathroom with a change on clothes in hand. Your breath hitched as he pulled his shirt over his head and discarded it beside his other clothes. You had seen his figure through the silhouette of his skin-tight wetsuit, but this was even better. “Like what you see?” He joked, causing another rise of heat to your cheeks. “Just get in the tub.”

As you corded your fingers through his locks, the suds multiplied from your massaging. Trails of sand were appearing along the bottom of the ceramic, making you wonder when exactly the last time he washed his hair was. Vernon was in bliss, his body hunching over further and further as he became more relaxed from your touch. He straightened up when you washed out the suds and lightly tussled his locks with a towel. “I’ll leave you to get dressed, and then lights out, we’ll have to be up early tomorrow.” You said, standing to leave with a smile, Vernon nodded, and you quietly shut the door.

You were in bed when Vernon came in, but you were still awake. He shuffled into the room, sitting on his bunk and tucking himself in. “Hey Y/N? Thank you.”

- - -

The next day was a blur.

You both jolted awake at the sound of your alarm, Vernon falling off your bed you somehow invited him into in the dead of the night, quickly getting ready in an awkward silence with shy smiles and lowered glances. Your grandpa glanced between you two at breakfast, noticing the averted eyes and turned shoulders, and a rush to escape the confines of the house.

On the way to the competition, the silence was broken and you both returned to normal, Vernon’s nerves about the day vanishing at the sound of your giggles.

And that was the first competition Vernon ever competed in, and he won. But that was simply the beginning.

The following week, Vernon arrived at your house with his surfboard and his own bottle of shampoo. The late-night cuddling became more regular, more confident, more intimate. Vernon was convinced that this routine you both had, was what was leading him to success. He didn’t tell you this of course, until you were away for a weekend, and he couldn’t sleep before his competition, and he came fourth, a number unheard of with his name for months now. As soon as you were back, he launched himself back to first place and he knew it had to be you.

- - -

“What do you mean you’re going away?” Minghao asked Vernon at lunch, causing the whole table to turn and listen. “I’ve been meaning to tell you guys, I got invited to a competition overseas, and if I do well, I might get offered a brand deal.” Vernon explains, and his friends begin to congratulate him, but you go quiet. He squeezes your hand under the table, out of sight of everyone. “Yeah I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I’ve been trying to organise everything.”

He was talking to the group, but the words seemed to be aimed at you, resonating in your mind. Chan turned to talk to you but was interrupted by the ringing of the bell. You gave Vernon’s hand a tight squeeze and quickly headed to class, everyone watching from behind you. “Didn’t you tell her before this?” Seokmin asks, and Vernon shakes his head no, “I didn’t have time, I was planning how to ask her out before I leave, so that she’s not completely miserable that her best friends gone for a week.” The boys nodded and patted his back, heading their separate ways. “I’ve got class with her, I’ll make sure she’s alright,” Jihoon offers, and Vernon simply nods.

You hated feeling like this, eyes watering and throat closed. You felt selfish that you were feeling upset over something that’s such an achievement for the boy you love. The boy you love, you roll your eyes at yourself, when did you cross the line from like to love? From best friend to crush? You scoffed at yourself as tears creeped down your cheeks, hiding your head in your arm at the back of the classroom.

A nudge on your shoulder knocked you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to see Jihoon holding out a tissue. You wiped your eyes and accepted it with a pout. “Have you still not told him how you feel?” He asks, and you sigh, “I guess not. I know you’ve heard this from me about a million times, but why don’t you just go for it, and tell him? Wouldn’t it hurt less for you when he’s affectionate if he knows it affects you like that?”

You shook your head, “It’ll hurt more if I lose a friend, and I don’t want to risk that.” Jihoon sighed and turned to the front, murmuring under his breath, “If only you knew.”

You couldn’t help but countdown the days until he had to leave, but you stayed positive, wanting him to be happy before he left. Afterall, this was a big deal. Vernon knew how you truly felt though, knowing you would miss his presence, promising to call each day whenever he got the chance. You held up your pinkie finger, and he chuckled, much like the first time you two met. He looped it with yours and pulled you in for a hug, “I’ll stop by tomorrow morning for our routine, and then I’ll be gone in the afternoon.”

- - -

Vernon sat in the bathtub, your hands gently in his hair, a soft hum of a song escaping your lips and filling the small bathroom. “Hey Y/N? I need to tell you something before I leave, and now seems like the best time.” Your hands stopped momentarily but continued as you urged him to continue. “I know this might sound crazy, but I’m certain I’m in love with you, and I just had to get it off my chest.” He began to ramble, and while you couldn’t suppress the flutter in your stomach, you carefully leant forward and lightly kissed his cheek. “Vernon, I’m certain I’m in love with you too.”

He couldn’t stop smiling at your words, resulting in a hand on his jaw to keep his lips sealed and keep out the suds you were washing from his hair. This time, he held your waist while you dried his hair, instead of letting them dangle awkwardly, and he took your hand in his, leading to your room for a short cuddle session before he had to leave. “This feels … different,” He murmurs into your hair and you giggle against his neck. “Mmm, a good different though.”

- - -

“Babe, you would love this movie playing on the tv, its great” Vernon emphasises through the phone, your mind instantly drifting to a time when you and Vernon cuddled up and watched movies while he was sick. Too sick to go surfing in fact, however you found it hilarious when he’d fall off his board every time he sneezed. “Write down the title and we can watch it when you’re back,” you suggest, “How’d you go today?”

There’s a shuffle on the other end, as you watch him lie down on his hotel bed. “I won! I can’t believe it!” “Holy shit really! I’m so proud of you Vern!” Your cheeks were beginning to hurt, but you couldn’t stop smiling. Vernon smiled at your through your screen, and you took a moment to admire his features. “I owe this all to you Y/N, thank you so much for your good luck charm.” He winks, earning a groan and dramatic flop onto your bed. “You’ve gotten so cheesy since we’ve started dating.” You comment, and he laughs. “I’m serious Y/N I owe it to you, so I’m going to repay you. Once I’m back, I’m going to shampoo your hair, and I’ll teach you to surf! Imagine how good you’ll look in a wet suit, or a bikini!” “OH MY GOSH shut up you dork!”

#seventeen au #svt au #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen vernon #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #vernon fluff #vernon au #vernon fanfic #song lyric prompt #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios #svt vernon #vernon

[ruthandliamgoplaces]

Crossing Thorong La- the worlds highest navigable mountain pass

Despite getting into my sleeping bag at 7pm, my Fitbit registered that when the alarm sounded at 3.30am, I had slept for a total of 1.5 hours. Liam and I had heard that you don’t sleep very well at high camp because of the lack of oxygen, the cold and the excitement, but I had always hoped that I wouldn’t be affected. No such luck! Even Liam who usually sleeps like a log only slept for the same as me.

I had spent most of the night intermittently worrying about the first 30 minute dangerous section, tossing and turning because I was too warm wearing all my clothes (so I could avoid getting dressed in -10!) wrestling with light nausea and worrying about whether it was altitude sickness. My fear was that if I set off and ascended past the dangerous section, if I got poorly, I would have to descend the section in the unideal melty conditions. I pushed fear to the back of my brain and told myself that I would be OK. I was going to do it!

I leapt out my bag, dressed for action, and packed the room in the dark. The stars were twinkling in the sky which reassured me we wouldn’t be walking into a cloud- the conditions looked great. Ski gloves, gaiters, plastic bags over my socks (my boots aren’t waterproof), cheap plastic crampons bought in Manang, thermal leggings under my trousers, polar buff... check! Buzzing with excitement, we were ready!

Liam and I had bought some Tibetan breads the night before to eat before setting off, but they were frozen and too hard to eat. We forced a little into our mouths, and then made a discovery regarding a rookie error. The camel backs (hydration bladders) we had filled with water had frozen. Just the tubes- but it meant we couldn’t drink. Not ideal for a huge walk. There was nothing we could do, it was 4am, it was time to go.

The camp was buzzing with energy, head torches flashing and twinkling with the stars, each star a person setting off on their journey to the pass. We located the footprint path cut into the snow, and set off, headtorches fixed on the ground.

You needed all your energy and determination for the first section- it was a narrow path with one foot in front of the other. I was flanked between a menacing black void to the right, and an unforgiving steep snow slope to the left. It was safe enough if you placed each foot right, but one mistake could force you to discover how steep the ominous drop was. I was grateful I couldn’t see and I certainly didn’t reflect on it at the time (or it may have been game over!) but the snow line was over safety rails. Usually this part of the path has safety rails- and it’s rare any Nepali path has safety rails. We moved quickly past the section.

The stars continued to shine, and we followed the train of headtorches. On certain parts of the path, probably where the sun hits hard, there was no snow and it was lovely to feel the reassuring crunch of gravel. We trudged upwards, as the sun began to rise, until we reached a teashop (can’t believe they have them at 5250m!) Desperately thirsty, we stopped for a tea, along with about 15 people who were already there.

When we stopped for tea, I suddenly noticed how incredibly sick I felt. It was impossible to identify the root cause- it could have been exhaustion, nerves, hunger, something I ate, hormones, lack of hygiene... but I was worried it was the altitude. Liam kindly got me a tea, queuing in -10 didn’t look fun or even possible for me, and we sat inside. I asked the owner of the shop if I should descend because I felt sick. He asked me if I had a headache, and I said no, and then asked if I had been sick, which I hadn’t. He motioned if I could breath properly, and I was actually breathing really well (relatively!), so he said “no problem”. Feeling sick is normal at this altitude, it seems. Relieved, we decided to continue. Just 300 more metres!

After the break, we were able to cast aside the head-torches as the sun rose, and trudge onwards to the path. Completely surrounded by snow capped mountains, walking through a snow field, I was in awe of this once in a lifetime experience. Not being a mountaineer, and having no interest in being a mountaineer (I’m realistic about the limiting consequences of my fear threshold!) this was probably the only time in my life I would experience what it felt like to be in the snow line, closer to the roof of the world than to the ground. The mountain tops glowed red, and in the next valley, we could see a lightening storm illuminating snow capped peaks in the distance.

At this point, we joined a line of merry porters carrying bags and supplies over Thorong La. Whilst some porters are adequately dressed, many are not. These guys were in their teens or early twenties, carrying huge loads, and wearing trainers with crampons on, or just trainers, and the friendliest of the bunch was wearing fashion jeans with rips in them (he was wearing leggings underneath fortunately!). We had heavy bags also, so we were about the same pace as the porters- we had already been overtaken by some people with lighter packs - presumably the porters we were walking with had their bags.

The walk to the top was long and exhausting, although not steep. Even a 1km walk feels unachievable at 5350m. We managed to hydrate ourselves by removing the hydration bladders from our bags, and pouring water from the reservoir, to bypass the frozen tubes. In this manner, taking regular breaks, commiserating with the porters, and eating snickers bars, we eventually realised the pass was around the corner. I was overcome with emotion, utterly exhausted, breathless, nauseated, relieved, blissful, proud, humbled, in disbelief. I had doubted myself so much, and been so afraid, and yet, here we were.

We tuned the corner, and up one more “up”, we could see the Thorong La sign and Nepali prayer flags, a teashop and crowds of people already celebrating their achievement. I tried to suppress tears to avoid steaming up my sunglasses! On arriving at the pass, we broke our rule about no affection in public (Nepali culture) to share a big hug. Then, we posed for the obligatory photos with Spiker.

It was so lovely to see so many happy smiling people, many of whom we had seen or chatted to over the previous few days. The prayer flags flapped in the breeze, the sun was now out in full force. We had made it. I couldn’t take it all in... and then I realised how sick I felt.

Liam got me some tea, and I sat down to try and combat the nausea. I forced another snickers down me, my third of the morning, but it didn’t help. Although we had taken three weeks to get there, I wanted to get down immediately. Everything in my mind and body was screaming, get down, get down, get down. Liam was fine, and I’m so grateful for him looking after me! We quickly prepared ourselves for the 1700metre descent.

The first half an hour was horrible as I battled with nausea and felt like I was going to throw up any moment. To help me, Liam took my sleeping bag onto his bag and he was probably carrying as much as one of the porters! When we reached about 5300m, the nausea subsided and I felt normal again.

The rest of the descent was one of the highlights for me. The snow, which had made our trek so hard in places, was actually in our favour for this one occasion! Usually the path is steep, rocky and icy- a nightmare to descend. However, today it was covered in frozen snow, easy to race down in crampons. The views were stunning, of a totally new landscape, the other side of the mountains we had been staring at for three weeks. We looked hungrily at the snowless ground a 1000 metres below and trudged on.

After an exhausting four hours we made it down to Muktinath, a religious site of pilgrimage for Hindus and Buddhists. Unbeknown to us, it was Nepali new year and a religious festival. Consequently, there were crowds hundreds thick of Nepali and Indian people streaming up the path towards us, on foot and pony, blocking our way to the hot shower, food and rest in the village below. Beyond fatigued, dehydrated, delirious, we were consumed by a culture shock, the only westerners in a sea of religious festivities, it was definitely the most people we had seen since Kathmandu!

We somehow made friends with a local Nepali teenager, who helped us find our way through the maze of paths and people to the town. On the way, we made conversation about Prince Harry and Megan Markle, family planning in Nepal (?!!) and England. The first hotel that said hot shower and WiFi, we took a room, and collapsed.

We had done Thorong La Pass!

[gris-0]

Med 1443 Design for Animation- Pre-production of an Animation

Storyboard: Scene 1- https://vimeo.com/418403045 Scene 2- https://vimeo.com/418403894

Indisputably pre-production is an extremely key yet a lesser talked about stage of the animation process. The pre-production encompasses several stages overall, though is in simple terms everything that comes before the actual production of the animation itself that will be needed to successfully communicate the visions for the final product to those who will work on it. In the very beginning of the pre-production stages an animation is nothing more that a simple idea. In the real world, one may have an idea and wish to bring it to reality, however, are unable to do it alone. In these situations the idea may be pitched to a client who will be able to provide the resources to take the idea further. In these situations it’s best to bring as many visual resources as possible to the pitch as to better to communicate your idea and know what ultimate goal you have for the project, ensuring it’s possible to achieve your vision. This aspect includes how one plans to incorporate design decisions into the animation which will keep the animation possible to achieve while also still appealing to the client. To emulate this scenario a theme was given, “trapped”, and we were expected to pitch our individual ideas to the class on how we interpret the theme and would create an animation based on it. It remanded answers to a range of questions: What is the plot? Who is the main character? The setting? How does the story resolve? Ect.

For my own pitch, there were in fact two characters: Sebastian and Christie. Sebastian is a geeky aspiring scientist who gets easily flustered and is quite smart, though he also has a bit of an attention-seeking streak to a fault. Christie can be easily summed up as the trendy popular girl, being social and fun to be around with a sense of humour but perhaps a little hot-headed. Christie is also interested in science but to much of a lesser degree compared to Sebastian.

Within the animation itself, Sebastian, Studying the sciences, finds himself performing chemistry at a science fair and impressing the masses with it. From there he sees Christie over in the distance and is taken aback, and after Christie takes notice of him he decides to try and impress her only to mix the wrong chemicals by mistake. This results in him being covered in liquid and making a mess. While cleaning up, totally defeated, a love letter is handed to him, and looking up the letter belonged to none other than Christie who wasn’t put off by Sebastian’s failure at all. This plot is meant to interpret the theme in a more metaphorical sense in that Sebastian fails his goal of impressing the girl he has a crush on and so is stuck socially, at least until the resolution.

When performing the pitch, at the time, the character boards were incomplete but the storyboard was finished. However, due to error the storyboard used in the pitch wasn’t exported and was just the raw file, which lead to the inability to show the storyboard during the pitch and that had to be resolved though verbally explaining what was pictured on the storyboard. For feedback concerns were raised over how much planning would be needed for my project as I use multiple characters and also with different shots taken I’d have to draw all the backgrounds alongside them. Moreover, It was mentioned that with how I initially wanted to portray background characters as being simply a universal set of silhouetted figures that there might be the the issue of the animation looking cheap. The feedback given was taken into account, and the way I personally dealt with these issues will be mentioned later.

As we could only make 30-35 seconds for the completed animation design decisions had to be made to reflect that. Any complicated and details for the plot couldn’t be done as there is the heavy risk of going over the allocated time or being unable to complete the animation by the deadline, especially given the project could only be done as an individual and not as a group. A wide range of settings would also be unideal as those settings had to be planned and the backgrounds drawn. Complicated character designs are generally a poor choice for projects with only a single person behind them that have to hit a deadline. Characters should be able to properly convey an idea to the viewer as well as fit in among the setting. Character backstories and backgrounds can’t be too complicated in this instance as there would only be 30 seconds to tell the audience the character background along with the main plot. There were, indeed, many decisions that had to be made.

In answer to the plot and characters, I knew I would be unable to make something extremely complicated so story-wise decided upon a simple concept that had been used time and time again. The concept is the typical cliche of a nerd, possibly a social outcast, falling for a pretty girl who is popular and out of his league. This concept is a popular theme in rom-coms but also appears in many other genres, such as the superhero genre in the form of Spiderman in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Action-comedy in Scott Pilgrim vs. The World, and even books and movies aimed towards children such as Dairy of a WImpy Kid. Though one should often try to avoid cliches when they can, especially in regards to the main plot, in this instance I felt as though it would be a good element of the story as it’s very simple, recognisable and wouldn’t be especially hard to incorporate into a 30 second animation. As for character designs both Sebastian and Christie were more designed to be recognisable in their stereotypes as opposed to aiming towards anything especially remarkable. Sebastian is a geek type character and, like a lot of geek stereotypes, wears glasses and is designed to appear a bit lanky and tall as far as his body type is concerned. He also wears a lab coat, fitting of his interest in science, and wears a shirt with a design that looks like a mix between the inscription “sci” (which is supposed to be shortened from “science”) and a square root symbol incorporated in. He notably still looks unprofessional though even with the lab coat, which leads back to the idea he’s an aspiring scientist and not a real one. Christie on the other hand was designed to appear more pretty and fashion-conscious than Sebastian, and wears a low-cut dress, high heels, and a few accessories in the forms of a bracelet and a choker collar. She’s also notably blonde hair-blue eyed, which is another stereotypical quality, this time of attractive girls.

The artstyle I was aiming for for the animation is one that incorporates mostly simple shapes and lines. The character’s bodies are supposed to be easy to construct and very angular in places. From this decision it became much easier to keep characters consistent and animate them. The concept of designing characters that can be drawn using simple shapes is nothing unusual as the ability for a group of animators to replicate the design in their own drawings is always taken into consideration, as well as how well the design can be quickly drawn and its capacity for flexibility and mobility. Notable designs that use simple shapes include many designs that incorporate the “rubber hose” artstyle, which is characterised by simple body shapes and long, seemingly boneless limbs, and in more modern times cartoons such as Ren and Stimpy, Spongebob and Steven Universe also use a lot of basic shapes in their character designs.

Original Mickey Mouse design (an example of a rubber hose artstyle design)

Character designs from Betty Boop (another example of rubber hose artstyle designs)

Stimpy’s design from Ren and Stimpy

Character designs from Spongebob

Other small design decisions were also made when I was creating the character designs, such as eyes being drawn as a single line to represent the top eyelid and a circle, Sebastian’s glasses sometimes obscuring one or both eyes, eyebrows only being presesnt when needed to express emotion and characters’ hands only having individual fingers drawn when there is distance between it and other fingers, otherwise simply being represented as a single shape with lines across to represent the fingers. These design decisions mean less time is spent animating as less detail in the drawings is demanded and also helps maintain more consistency.

The settings made for the animation are another area to talk about. There are two settings present in the animation, the first one being the outside, external shot of the building hosting the science fair, a shot only present in the very beginning of the animation, and the inside of the building where the science fair is being hosted itself. From first creating the storyboard I already decided how I want the settings to look. The external shot would show that the science fair would be taking place in a large industrial looking building, possibly a warehouse of some kind, while the interior would have an array of science themed attractions and decorations. This inspiration was directly inspired by my own experience attending the Big Bang Science Fair a few years ago which itself was hosted in a large warehouse-like building. A detail added to the background of the external shot are distant buildings and skyscrapers which was a touch added to add to the industrial atmosphere that warehouses tend to have.

As for the internal shot, the perspective is taken from a high perspective overlooking the area, in which you can see figures in the room and various science attractions. A crowd of people are gathered around a particular table, and as the camera zooms into that area and the shot cuts to Sebastian mixing chemicals together, it implies that he is the person at the table:

In order to design these settings some research was necessary, and so I created two mood boards in order to better understand what was wanting to be incorporated into the settings.

Both of the resulting artworks for the setting were drawn in an external program rather than straight into Harmony. The reason for deciding this is because the setting is the main focus of these shots and so it is important that more control can be possibly given to make the settings look appealing, which would be better achieved in an art program as opposed to in Harmony itself which is instead designed with mainly animating in mind. Instead of Harmony the art was created within Paint Tool SAI, which was the only available option for drawing within at the time of writing. Comparatively to the industry standard Photoshop, SAI is a very flexible art program, very user friendly and achieved the purpose I wanted to use it for, however possesses some limitations such as the inability to type text and insert it into an image and having only basic image editing options available.

The completed art was kept simple partly due to stylistic choice and partly due to being aware of potential time constraints. By keeping the setting art simple it meant that the backgrounds could also be simple without looking out of place. Moreover, a notable feature of the internal shot is that there is a lot of empty space in the room even with the people present, which allows the backgrounds to remain simple even as shot angles change within the animation as very few background elements have to be drawn. The art uses mostly pastel colours, which are easy on the eyes, help portray the tone of the animation as being lighthearted and not particularly serious, and are also different enough from the colours used on the characters to have them stand out but not so much so that the characters look out of place.

The animation process itself had several issues appear that needed to be addressed during production. From the beginning on of the main issues that appeared was in regard to the way I created my storyboard. Though the storyboard itself was easy to follow and there is very little difference between that and the final animation, I separated the animation into two scenes in the hopes that animating could be more easily done bit-by-bit. In itself this isn’t a poor idea, however Storyboard Pro separates scenes into individual Harmony files when exporting. Partway through the production process I became no longer able to access any editing software that could be used to edit the two scenes together, which meant that I had to leave the two scenes separated. The other issue that arose was that I didn’t know at the time how long exactly my storyboard was in relation to the animation, especially after editing the length each storyboard cell plays for. When finally exporting the storyboard I found that the animation would only come to 27 seconds if I followed it scene for scene so some adjustments were made to extend certain shots, maintaining the accuracy to the original plan while also hitting the correct time for the animation. Generally between the storyboard stages and the animation stages of production is an intermediate stage in which animatics are created. Animatics, as stated by Boopanimation.com, are defined as “an animated storyboard [...] with the correct timing and pace of the film”. In regards to this, an animatic is a more detailed storyboard and in particular is often used as the main foundation that animations are created from. All the main features of what the animation includes and its flow is already there as it should be able to successfully communicate the intricacies of the way the finished animation should animate like. Also the animatic should often include sound effects and any spoken dialogue. In the case of my own project this step was missed in part due to a lack of knowledge on how to create an animatic and how to use particular programs to assist me. This lead to a flexibility in the way I can adjust my animation and what it features even after exporting the storyboard, however, it did have a heavy toll on the way the animation flows in my opinion as everything feels like it’s going too fast.

During the actual production itself I structured the way I made the animation by focusing on a particular scene, and then doing one shot at a time. The way the animation was created was through the use of mostly pose-to-pose animation, so creating two keyframes and then planning, and later refining, the motion of the in-betweens. When animating the characters I focused on animating the character’s bodies first before adding details such as the hair in which it’s necessary to animate in a slightly different way as principles such as follow-through and overlapping action are more easily applied to them. Exceptions to using pose-to-pose exist within the animation however in minor details, such as the liquid in the “do not mix” flask after Sebastian Picks it up, liquids as they pour out of flasks, the burst of blue smoke that appears in scene 1 and the love hearts that appear around Sebastian as he’s waving to Christie. All the given examples use straight ahead animation because animating this way tends to offer a more natural, organic flow to the animation that’s suitable for elements such as smoke and liquids but at the potential cost of consistency and time. In comparison, pose-to-pose was mostly used because once an end point is decided for where a character will move to comparatively less time is spent attempting to ensure it flows well and adding details such the rebounding action an object with follow through might have. The overall method I tended to stick to for animating was to draw the key frames, move the image in the key frame slightly frame by frame, and only notably manually drawing in betweens when a reasonable level of motion happens or parts of the body are angled in a way that I was no longer able to use the same base drawing between frames. On one hand this was a great choice to further cut production time and keep consistency, but on the other hand the animation feels mildly stiff and flat. Along the same lines tweening was also used at times when only a single drawing was needed for a scene, again cutting production time but at the expense that the animation looks flat.

Colouring, backgrounds and the finalisation of particular details were some of the last aspects added to the animaton. The backgrounds weren’t particularly hard to make as, like what was previously stated, the setting had key background elements given a lot of space between them so very little had to be drawn in a lot of the shots beyond the walls and floor. One of the more troubling shots that had to be drawn was in regards to when Sebastian looks up to see Christie in the distance for the first time. In the shot established a few seconds before, the setting is represented as having a lot of people present. In this first shot the individuals were represented as vague blobs with circle heads, which I decided upon in the end to save time and felt could be excused due to it being a distant shot. However, in the later scene, the shot is looking out at part of the room on ground level and any people seen that close have to be able to be recognisably people otherwise the animation quality might suffer. In answer to that two background characters are present, one talking to Christie and one closer to Sebastian, clapping at him and keeping some level of consistency between that particular scene and the one right before. Aside from that there are no other people present however, not even any silhouettes, which lead to the scene overall feeling very empty especially given the setting. As for colouring that aspect was surprisingly hard and tedious. With how I created most of the animation, manually moving the same image across multiple frames and only redrawing when necessary, consistency between frames became even more important as the slightest change could potentially be extremely noticable. If I had coloured the keyframe beforehand and then used that same coloured image across frames, adjusting as necessary, the issue might not have been so troublesome. Regardless of this flaw I still dealt with it, either manually using the fill tool across different frames or copy-pasting some of the same elements from previous frames to future frames and transforming them as necessary.

Overall I would say I made a decent attempt at the planning and production of an animation. I succeeded in hitting the deadline, planned the character designs and made reference sheets, added some artwork for the settings, and thought about how I would overcome the issues of time constraints and only being a single individual working on this project. Regardless of that though, many mistakes were made in planning and production that might have done more harm than it was worth. From going through the process of planning and producing the issues found include the following:

The character designs are good for portraying their cliches but could be much simpler

When creating the animation I used the standard 24fps, which meant more frames had to be accounted for that were probably unnecessary

The animation feels flat due to the animation process

Because of the nature of having multiple shots, several backgrounds had to be drawn

The principles of animation weren’t used that extensively due to the animation process, leaving the animation feeling somewhat dull

All of the issues mentioned could have been easily solved if I had thought out the pre-production better. Though I succeeded in making the final animation, unnecessary complexity meant that other areas, notably the animation itself, had to suffer. To mitigate this I would firstly have to reflect on story elements and ask myself whether two characters are really necessary if I were to tweak the story in some way. On top of that, would it be possible to have a single shot used, and use a single background that had more time and focus put into it? The artstyle could be changed, as it mostly keeps characters maintaining somewhat lifelike proportions and body shapes. Do they have to be human at all? If the characters were drawn in an even simpler way then manually drawing more inbetweens might be more plausible which would solve the issues of there not being many animation principles present and the animation feeling flat. In conclusion, when trying to go through the pre-production process again, I’ll need to ask more questions and find better ways of keeping hitting deadlines possible without making quality suffer so much.

[loreletters-blog]

Where you come from.

What does “home” mean to you? 

I notice there are various answers to this this question, so I took the liberty to Google it and stumble upon a website where there is a post about people having their say on what home means to them. Some said, home is a stable foundation, some say home is security and their comfort zone, and one of my personal favourite; “Home is the base where everything begins”.  

When I prayed for this post, I was reminded about flaws and imperfections. Now, you might wonder why I’m bringing up flaws and imperfections when I’m talking about home (or maybe you already have a clue), but I want to share about accepting the imperfection and flaws of our home.  

The Humble Beginnings 

Everyone’s life starts from somewhere. Be it from their parents’ wedding night, after a prolonged season of waiting, or from a stolen kiss at the backseat of a Honda. Someone’s life can start in a more ‘ideal’ way or a non-planned, unideal way. Regardless of the case on how we came to be, it happened and now we are here. 

Then the story begins - some grew up in a family that loves them or mistreats them, or maybe their story didn’t even start with a family. Regardless, the book that is our life thickens and increases in chapters, numbers, and words that describe all the good and all the bad that happened in our life. 

Sometimes, the starting point of our life isn’t great. It may seem like an imperfect, unsteady, unideal foundation to start living. 

It is great if you were born in luxury and a perfect family which has no problem in expressing love and affection. But it would be a different case if you are exposed to only hurt and fear ever since you were little. Would you consider your family as a home, where security and comfort supposedly originate? I doubt it. Would you hope that the world can be hopeful and that there are good people to help you when your house is filled with unending terror of fights and chaos? Our knee-jerk reaction to these circumstances is mostly, to run away. To flee from “home”. To escape this place and run as fast as you can. 

But, is this what we’re supposed to do? 

I, for once believe that  the setting of our story: where, when, and how it starts, and the people who are involved in our life has a purpose; much bigger than what we can understand. It falls under the big question of “why?” Everyone has their own story, with differences here and there. Although confusing (and might seem unfair), I believe there is something more than what meets the eye, working behind the curtains. Your foundation might seem imperfect, but God has divine purpose with it. We might not know what that purpose might be now, but it sure is not insignificant. 

My mum always says this to me, “No matter how imperfect your family is, that’s where you come from.” You cannot just erase it from your life, it is a part of your life; a part of you. Accepting them and learning to forgive them is one way to start building a better foundation that was once crumbly and weak. It is without a doubt a hard work. For some, it might even seem like an impossible challenge. Learning to forgive and loving what seems unforgivable and looking past the scars and wounds are easier said than done. 

But, when you decide that you want to fix the broken foundation and plant a new, stronger root in your family, you can always ask God for His favour. He’ll help you to forgive, He’ll help to mend the broken bonds, He’ll open hearts and eyes and ears. He makes your new foundation stronger and better; if you let Jesus take control. 

Homecoming 

I just graduated high school and I was finally able to live on my own. I was so excited and got caught up with independence, that it slowly distracted me from my family, friends, and God’s words. Soon, freedom turned to isolation. I remember those days when I filled my days studying so intensively and being so distant with my family and my close friends. I found myself in an empty room with a tiny single bed, sobbing horrifically from loneliness. Praying to God and asking Him to take the loneliness away seemed so pointless. I took a break from it and tried to fill the void with anything else, something quick and easy (e.g., social media - this can be very dangerous my friends). 

Needless to say, they were all extremely exhausting and a waste of time. It also led me into addiction and corrupt ideas about myself and the world. I need to be like this, I have to live like that, I have to say these things, do that, all to make me feel better about myself. I gained knowledge about the world, but at the expense of neglecting the Word of God; it is a downward spiraling path that consumes me faster by the second. I was soon more lost than where I began with, I was lonelier and became even more depressed. I crave comfort and love, but I didn’t know how to get back home, so I wonder should I even try? 

If you recall the story of a father who had two sons, you would remember that the young son ran away from home, got bankrupt, and went to his father’s home, with nothing but shame and regret. You might also remember that when that father saw the lost son, he RAN to him, kissed him and then threw him a huge homecoming party. (If you don’t know the story, check it on the Bible, Luke 15:11-32). 

That my friend, is what going home is. When you see yourself as sinful, full of shame and regret, or just undeniably worthless, that you are not pretty enough or smart enough, that you don’t deserve kindness, your Father looks at you as His precious sons and daughters, He longed to welcome you home, to kiss you, to hold you, and to celebrate you. 

Often, when we can’t accept ourselves or our circumstances (i.e., your parents, your home, etc.) and “ran away from home” , often we got hurt and find ourselves in the lost son’s shoes. Maybe you find it hard to accept your broken beginnings, or you thought that your broken beginnings would hinder people from accepting you. Maybe, in the middle of your struggle to escape, you find yourself hurting more than ever before. Worsen the damage of your brokenness. 

But, God never saw us as imperfect beings! 1 In Psalm 139:13 , it says, “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.” You are so special, honey! All of your goodness, all of your badness, your sin, your shame, your triumph, your smile, your tears, your happy, your sad, He knows them all, and He loves it. 

He loves you, despite of all that. 

Jesus sees you as one of a kind. He thought of you worthy of His suffering and died on the cross for you. How fond is He of you? How beautifully made are you that our God put His Son on the line?  

If you in any degree could relate to the lost son at all - regretful, confused, and just plain tired, then please, don’t ever feel unworthy to go home to your Father’s arms. There’s a homecoming party for you! Dance your night away with praises and worship, it sure is a fiesta! 

Luke 12:7-  Even the hairs on your head are counted. So don't be afraid! You are worth much more than many sparrows

#acceptance #home #peace #comfort

[stupidpianist]

2 november 2018

05:30: Oh Christ almighty I’m awake but I want to be able to fall back sleep for a bit, I don’t have to leave for another hour, but now that I’m conscious, and I’m conscious of needing to take this GRE, my adrenaline is going haywire, and I’m sort of just flopping around in bed like a beached dolphin. Went to bed way too late to be responsible, and I’m totally not hungover or anything, so not hungover, there’s no sarcasm here, you must look: elsewhere, for the SARCASM. Okay okay do I get up?

06:02: Still in bed. Trying to “allocate system resources” so that I can leave bed. Feeling extreme sense of dread regarding my personal future, trying to remind myself, “it’s just the cortisol, it’ll even out, don’t worry, it’s just the cortisol.” Repeating that in my head. It’s working, a little, maybe? This has been happening most mornings for weeks now, just a really “pervasive sense of dread,” just worrying both over things I have no control over, and over things that I have control over but just haven’t done. Shouldn’t be dwelling on this, should just be focused on making incremental, concrete changes in how I’m living life, not. Not just, like, feeling sorry and afraid over myself.

06:10: Feeling slow resurgence of self confidence. Or, no, that’s not the right word, that’s the wrong terminology, it’s not like, I mean, I’m pretty self confident, never had “self confidence issues,” more like, just “overly anxious over things I shouldn’t be overly anxious over.” Debating, in my head, whether or not I should take public transit to the test centre… It’s all the way west on the island, and it’ll take like an hour and a half via subway and bus… I mean, no, here’s what I’ll do, I’ll splurge, I’ll take an Uber there, because the last thing I want right now is to just enter a terrible headspace by immediately heading to a subway station while it’s raining outside (DID I FORGET TO TELL YOU? yeah it’s REALLY RAINING outside, like HEAVILY) and then sitting on a train all wet and then switching to a bus and then riding a bus through the black of Montreal winter mornings and then sitting in a windowless room staring at a screen for four hours taking an exam.

Yeah, okay, deciding, definitively, to take Uber there. Will be relaxing, one of my favourite activities, barring when I’m feel nauseous, is just sitting in the backseat of a car, not shotgun, and listening to music and staring out the window. It’s really relaxing and puts me in a nice and contemplative mood. Same goes for subways, just, not, like, when it’s six in the morning, on little sleep, you know?

06:14: Brushed teeth, put on bunny sweater for “comfort and protection,” put on corduroy pants, put on boots, put on “puffy white jacket.” Going to walk across the street to the grocery to buy something caffeinated, and “test day snacks,” probably some granola bars, or something. Sensing myself growing increasingly determined, in a way I always get when I’m about to do something I know I’m not exactly ready for, feels like a dramatic scene in a movie right before the big climax before denouement. Putting on a “Let’s Get Down to Business” vibe.

06:20: Got Monster “lo-carb” energy drink, box of granola bars. Calling Uber with phone now, standing under the roof thing of my apartment building. It’s so black out it could be any time between 18h and 19h, I forgot just how little sunlight there is during the winter. Always thought I had, like, reverse seasonal affective disorder. Have I talked about this before on here? Well, if I have, get ready to hear about it again, you maniacs. Like, usually, during the summer, I’m feeling pretty down all the time, and during the winter my mood improves dramatically, but this could be circumstantial? Usually during the summer I’m away from people I want to be around, and feeling like I’m wasting a lot of time? Maybe that’s it, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the seasons? In any case, feel like the sun doesn’t really have much an effect on my emotional state, even though I do like using those therapy lights. Those are cool. Very fun. Heheh.

06:23: Chugged can of Monster and ate one bar. Somehow already got an Uber within three minutes of requesting a ride, seems egregious at this hour and at my location? Sitting in backseat. Quite comfy, it’s a Volkswagen of some sort, I forget the model, pretty sure it’s a Golf just from how it looks. Driver has the radio tuned to 96.9, French language “contemporary hits” radio station, is not engaging in conversation, thank god. I’m putting on album Lifa by band Heilung, one of my favourite albums ever, this Nordic experimental folk band, and, like, closing my eyes, and am doing, like, “meditation-related” things, like breathing in slowly and breathing out even slower. Feeling extremely comfy, really comfy, and sort of wishing this ride last longer than the estimated forty-five minutes, it’s really peaceful, just staring out of the window at everything passing, city lights, other cars, etc. etc., and the rain that’s dampening everything. Reminds me of Burial’s music, as always.

06:50: Nearing the test centre. I’m there early, only need to be there by 7h30, but I guess the earlier the safer?? Finding myself appreciating this car ride, feeling like I’m “sinking into the seat” and just “taking the world in,” appreciating all that I have in my life right now and the people in my life. Caffeine from Monster seems to have done minimal, really not feeling much of a “kick,” but I guess that makes sense? Hard to counteract that little sleep, combined with hangover. Thinking over the minimal preparations I’ve done for this exam, and, like, not kicking myself, because “what’s done is done,” but still feeling confident? Always have had a “knack” for standardized testing, it’s sort of fun, like, feels like a game, maneuvering around answers you can tell the test makers put in to “trip you up”?? Or, when you get “in the zone” and you get hyper focused on the questions, and you start “tearing them up,” just “ripping through them.” Getting to that point is fun, yeah, yeah.

07:06: Arrived. Test centre is in an office building in part of a strip mall, in an area that seems like it’s all a bunch of strip malls interconnected by roads and parking lots in a complex-esque thing. I’m doing a terrible job of describing it, and I didn’t take a photo, but I’m sure you know what I mean, just an area of a bunch of retail shops and fast food eateries and chain restaurants?? Feeling memories of taking SAT and ACT exams, noticing differences between going to a “testing centre” and going to a high school, like for the SAT/ACT.

07:15: Waiting on the floor of the testing centre. There’s one other guy here too, briefly spoke to him casually while taking a granola bar “to the face.” He seems really nervous, is sighing a lot and just generally looks uncomfortable. Feeling pretty excited and unanxious myself, reading from Disaster Artist while waiting for test centre to open. This office building is particularly depressing, like, almost cliche in its “office-ness”... I guess most office buildings are like this, it’s hard to inspire creativity or foster it when you have to build up office buildings everywhere, seems like they’d all have to, for practicality’s sake, follow more or less the exact same layout. Jesus now this is depressing me even more. Going to stop thinking about this.

07:30: Inside test room. I guess because it’s a computer exam, there is no set start time for everyone to begin simultaneously?? Wow I’m an idiot, that’s what I assumed by the registration saying the test would start at 08:30. No, the receptionist is like, “as soon as you fill out these forms you can get started.” Okay, okay, signing my name and putting my bag in a locker. Feels almost like I’m about to go through airport security, on the form it’s like “you have to empty all your pockets and lift your pants above your ankles and we’re gonna scan you for metal with a wand and you have to take off your glasses so we can inspect there’s no recording devices on them.” Sure sure sure, yeah, whatever you like is fine, I’m about to crush this test, let’s get this over with, yada yada yada

11:44: Jesus Christ it’s over, it’s all over, we did it, people, we did it!! WE DID IT!!! IT’S OVER!!!! Hey you want to hear the good news first, or the BETTER NEWS FIRST???? Here’s what I’m going to do, first I’m going to hit you with the GOOD news: your boy here scored well!! NO I’m not gonna share it publicly you silly goose but let me tell ya to your FACE--NICE. It was NICE. I’m proud of what I got, especially given the circumstances. You know the BETTER news??? BOUT TO RIDE THE BUS AND METRO HOME AND NAP THE HECK OUT OF A FEW HOURS. Gotta make up some of this SLEEP DEBT, gotta sleep really HARD.

It stopped raining too, I’m bout to hop on this shuttle bus, I’ll see you later. Jk, that’s a quotation from a standup bit by Hannibal Buress. Lookie here, guys, it’s a forty minute bus ride, and another forty minute metro ride, and then a ten minute walk, and then I strip my disgusting clothes off and I slam my head into the pillow and I close my eyes real good. Close em real nice, real nice closing of the eyes.

Really grateful I somehow did well, if I did poorly it would’ve been such a shot to both my overall mental state right now, and my confidence in my own abilities as like a thinking, reasoning being. I know the idiocy of standardized testing, but it feels good knowing that, despite unideal circumstances, I was still able to perform well on mathematical and verbal reasoning tasks.

Going to switch from Heilung to something more upbeat, maybe some Ghost, maybe some Clarence Clarity, for this ride back. Glad I can also “celebrate” via hanging out w/ A, if I did poorly on this exam I also would feel guilty or just generally be in a less-than-gregarious mood, glad that I’ll be able to “enjoy this fully.”

Feel like doing something crazy with the keyboard, here goes nothing, eal;kjfiweoiriskljfdkldfkdfdklfvc. jkdfgjklfgdkjlgkjgkjgkjgfkjgfkweiroqiqwwpeowqen qqmmciieieiieroeioqwqpoqoiwqpoiwqpwe

hahahahah

13:21: Back in “home sweet home,” thinking, “home, home sweet home, sweetie pie home.” It smells better than I remember?? Who did this, who came in here and sprayed stuff, what have you done? I do not, I don’t deserve this, these “good scents,” in my place of rest…

Going to take pants off and crawl right the heck under my sheets, maybe watch a YouTube video or two to “unwind” and then drift off to sandman village. Setting alarm for 16h30, that should give me enough time to still be productive before hangout?? Have been, throughout my life, a chronically bad napper, but this time feels different. Got all the checkmarks, did well on the exam, barely got any sleep, still hungover, caffeine wearing off even if I didn’t feel it in the first place. Seems like everything “in place” for a real good “sleep session.”

16:14: “Ouuauughhgh” is what it sounds like my head is going right now, or, like, “oouuauuUUUGAUAAUUUGHHHHH,” yeah, YEAH, that’s more like it. Man I slept SO GOOD, can’t remember ANY of my dreams, even though usually when I nap I have really, really vivid nightmares that I’m able to remember for a LONG TIME afterwards. Mouth has a funny taste in it, the way it often does after napping. Why does this only happen after napping, and not after sleeping a longer period of time?? Does keeping your mouth open longer do something to the quality of your breath?? I’m confused, but at least it’s not as bad as, like, when you drink milk right before napping, that’s, that’s the worst. Always hate having morning breath, I don’t mind when other people have it, but if I have it I can’t focus on anything until I brush it out, then I can, like, do something like return to sleep more, but once I’m up, if I realize that I have bad morning breath that day, nOPE, gotta take care of that crap.

Going to head to the practice rooms now and see how much I can get done before 20h. Unsure if I’m going to be updating past this point, seems “dubious.”

Renewed sense of self worth after taking that exam, I think. I know it’s so arbitrary, and probably dangerous to feel such a renewed sense of self after something as ridiculous as a standardized test, but, like, I don’t know… Felt such severe self doubt of late that it’s good to at least be reaffirmed that I can, like, answer objective questions correctly. That’s a start, right? Maybe it will carry over to the practice rooms??

#liveblog #blog #writing