#'hm. you should be careful about that. some anchors could drag you down.'

[warlordfelwinter]

just woke up and realized i forgot to make a post about Celeste's incredible moment of stupidity tonight where he somehow forgot who he was dating

he was left in Patience's office alone and decided to entertain himself by snooping through files (specifically looking for the one with his name on it) (genuinely innocently he was just curious) and did not consider that Asmodeus, Lord of Lies and the Nine Hells, god of having infinite secrets, might have a booby trap on his file cabinet

he took 9 fire damage and was magically compelled to go confess about snooping to the receptionist and had to wait in a different devil's office like a child in time-out until Patience got back (who was not happy with him when he realized sjfhsn)

[yeojaa]

finders keep hers.

reads part two and three.  a drabble about idiots in love because it is literally my favourite trope in the world and also, who can resist a fuck boy!jk and a won't-tell-him!best friend?  c'mon!  also, big thanks to @hobi-gif​ for being the best beta reader i could ever ask for.  xoxo

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.  rating.  ... explicit.  tags.  smut with idiots!  big fucking idiots who do dumb things!  but yeah, unprotected sex (please wrap the willy and don’t be silly), a lil bit of dirty talk, some angst if you squint at the right times.  wc.  2.2k.

“Baby.”  It comes out whiny and breathless, a world away from the usual confidence that spills off of his tongue.  He’s half delirious, grip imprinting itself into the yielding flesh of your thighs.  Each noise he makes sounds like it’s about to fully form before dropping off, stolen by some bliss that seems to reside back behind his eyelids.  It splits and breaks over and over, murmurs of your name and affection and whatever else he can think of in the moment.

You love when he’s like this.  Love that you can bring him to this - a man on his knees (or, more literally, on his back).

“Hm?”  Laughter crawls off your tongue, slinking into the heavy air and dripping into the spaces between you, like the sweat that creeps down your neck and beads at his temples. You punctuate the question with a deliberate roll of your hips, single hand splayed out across the delightfully firm expanse of his chest. 

The noise he makes is sinful - almost beguiling enough for you to stop the slow torture - but you think better of it when he meets your motion with one of his own.  It’s disjointed, far less measured than yours, and driven by a need he can barely articulate.

“Use your words, Kookie.”  

His childhood nickname shouldn’t sound the way it does - like fucking in powder rooms and secluded cabanas.  It should spring forward light and airy, more childhood friendship than unbridled twenty-something year old lust.  

You don’t think he minds, though.  He certainly doesn’t look like he minds.  

“Baby, please.”  He moans it so prettily - like he’s begging for all the stars in the sky - that you want to give it to him.  Want to, but won’t, because that’s not how this goes and you know he’ll thank you for it later.  He always does.

“Please what, Bunny ?”  You’re really teasing now.  You wonder if he’ll hold it against you when he’s back to his senses. 

Back to being Jeon Jungkook, the man with everything. 

“You’re being mean.”  How he manages to huff it when he’s hardly lucid, you’re not sure.  You have to applaud him - reward him - so you do, dragging your fluttering walls off his cock, and all but dropping yourself back upon it.  It’s the first inch you’ve given all afternoon - the first taste of anything other than slow and steady wins the race. 

The grip on your hips borders on painful, the neatly trimmed edges of his nails digging into the pliant tanned skin.  Your own fingers readjust, tweaking his nipple in the way you know he loves, and he nearly flinches away before leaning heavily into your touch, entire chest heaving.

“Fuck me,”  he whines, again, in that voice.  You snicker above him, soothing the red assault lines you’ve left across his torso with sweet brushes of your fingertips and the occasional graze of your lips.

“I am, honey.”

You know he tries to hold in the pent-up energy that radiates through his entire body, buzzing from his toes all the way up his spine.  He bucks beneath you, seeking more, more, more like the greedy brat he is.  

“Nuh uh,”  you repeat, like a scolding school teacher.  “You take what I give - or I’m going home.”

The threat is very real - you’ve done it before - and he immediately stills, eyes flashing wide and earnest up at you.  His thumb rubs soothing circles across your hip bone - right where he’d dug his fingers in only moments earlier.  

“I’m sorry,”  he croaks and you know he means it.  You can hear it in the way he can hardly speak.  He tries again, softer now, with his charm turned up to eleven, tongue swiping over the spit-slicked edge of his bottom lip.  “Please, angel?”  

One hand is halfway up your side, moving with purpose until he finds the sensitive edge of your ribs, touch trailing over where he can feel each individual bone.  He repeats the motion once, twice, before pressing the broad palm of his hand over your right shoulder blade, splaying digits across your back.  You both know how easy it would be for him to drag you chest-to-chest, but he refrains - just looks up at you with those big doe eyes of his.

“Give me what I want, princess.”  He’s pulling out all the stops - dressing you in every pet name imaginable.  “I’ll make it worth your while - make that pretty pussy all messy for me.”

You don’t miss how he’s slowly grinding into you, the friction against your aching clit buzzing in the back of your mind as he whispers his sweet nothings.  

“I don’t know, Bunny.”  You’re playing a very specific role now.  The role of aloof prey-turned-hunter, not a care in the world in sight.  It doesn’t matter that maybe - just maybe, it’s all a very carefully practiced facade.  It’s what he - and you - both need.

Each time you don’t flat out deny him, he’s emboldened.  He ruts his hips into you a little more firmly, fucks himself into you with a little more intention.  You hardly even notice the coil of his hand until the heat from his palm is searing through the delicate skin of your neck, his fingers pressing into the sensitive spot beneath your ear. 

You want to rebuff him a bit longer but Jungkook knows all of your weaknesses and exploits them like a power hungry tyrant.  “I don’t hear a ‘no’ , baby.”  

Not like you can say much of anything when he’s got his hand around your throat.  He knows that just as well as you.  

“Tell me you want this, too.”  He doesn’t need the affirmation but he craves it from you - demandsit by dropping his other hand from your waist to the apex of your thighs.  He repeats himself as he swirls his thumb over your clit, circling it with the lightest of pressure.

His grip on your neck even relents enough to allow an answer to slip past your lips.  In his mind, he’s being very, very lenient. 

You do your best to refrain.  Frankly, you think you do better than most women would.  But there’s still only so much you can take and a sharp, tantalizing pinch to your most sensitive bundle of nerves is not one of them. 

It sparks an inferno through you, heat devouring every ounce of sensibility.  

“Okay, okay!”  You’re matching him in tone, petulence tearing off your tongue.  “I give.”  

He grins - that slow, cat-ate-the-canary thing that demands attention and steals hearts.  The same smile he’s carried his entire life, buck-toothed and adorable.  “That’s right, baby.  I always win.”  Triumph colours his words and you almost roll your eyes;  he stops you with an abrupt repositioning, your sweat-slicked frame pushed off him in a single fluid motion.  You feel like a ragdoll. 

You don’t have time to reprimand him before he’s got you, crowded against your back with his face buried against your nape and his cock brushing through your folds.  Your knees are kicked apart, spread obscenely around him.  His favourite position, you think, though he’d claim otherwise. 

“Jungkook!”  You snarl, growing impatient with how he teases you, forearm caged right beneath your breasts and the other resting against the mattress. 

For all his bitching and complaining, he’s being a real big asshole now.

“What - no more Bunny?”  The words roll hotly into your ear, followed by the sharp edge of enamel as he nips at the delicate cartilage and tongues right below your lobe at the spot that makes you keen.  He’s mocking you, dragging the swollen head of his cock against your clit over and over but never giving you more - never taking you in the way he’d begged to do.

“If you don’t smarten up right now—”  It’s a hiss that leaves no room for argument.  “—get the hell off me.”

Maybe it’s sixteen years of friendship or maybe it’s how hot you sound when you’re pissed off.  Either way, it’s the last straw and he’s burying himself to the hilt, filling you up so well that you can’t help the way you moan, lewd like a well-paid pornstar.  

“Better?”  He huffs, somehow, in between his hard unrelenting thrusts that bounce you across his thousand thread count sheets.  

His lips find a spot right between your neck and shoulder and he mouths greedily over it, saliva soothing the roses that bloom beneath his teeth.  He does this every time - marking you in ways you can’t stop, placing a glaring neon sign that reads JEON JUNGKOOK . 

“Stop talking.”  Not that you don’t love his voice - not that you don’t love him, deep down - but because you can’t focus.  You’re far too tightly strung from your earlier activities and your insides feel like they’re melting, molten lava seeping through your system each time he presses back into you.

You can feel every ridge and vein, anchored with nowhere to go by his weight.  It’s absurd how he stretches and fills you - like you can feel him all the way in your throat.  It’s too much and not enough all at once.

“Don’t get mouthy,”  he returns, playful as ever.  A small part of you wonders how he looks - if he’s got that stupid grin on his face - but you know you can’t turn.  He’s calling all the shoots now, just like he loves to do.  “C’mere, angel.”  You’re up and back in the next instant;  he’s holding you flush against his chest with ease, hips hardly missing a beat as he pulls you upright.  

Damn him and his strength.

The sound you make when his cock drags against that particular spot inside you is almost laughable.  “Kook .”  His name is hardly that - more of a garbled plea.  You briefly wonder if you look as stupid as you suddenly sound.  

Satisfaction practically rolls off him in waves, suffocating you just as his right hand does, the left darting to focus on your clit.  “That’s right.”  He’s saccharine sweet, nipping and nibbling at your pulse as he feels it jump beneath his tongue.

You’ve done this enough times that he knows you’re close and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t, too.

“Come on, baby.  Let go - I know you want to.”  You can’t stop yourself when he’s whispering so nicely, coaxing you into a state of euphoria with his hand and his cock and his goddamn good-for-nothing mouth.  You’re mewling nonsense, meeting his every movement like your life depends on it.  You’re so close, tittering on the edge of an impossibly dark abyss;  you think you might cry.  

Then all at once, with a particularly rough snap of his hips and just a bit more pressure on your clit, white hot heat sears through you.  It starts in your core and pulls through your limbs, dissolving your bones into nothingness as you reach your long-awaited high.  

Tears are spilling over before you can register it, wetness heavy in your throat and the line of your lashes. 

“That’s right.  Cream all over this cock, baby.  Good girl.”  Jungkook never ceases his quiet words of encouragement or how he rocks against you, your name rolling off his tongue like a balm to soothe the burns he’s left behind.  

Even while he’s chasing his own release, he never forgets about you, humming reassurances into your curtain of dark hair.

You try to return the favour - it’s an almost impossible feat - when his hips stutter and he loses his rhythm.  Fisted into the sheets, your hand finds his, thin fingers coiling around knuckles that strain white beneath permanent ink.  

“Kook.  Kook.  Please cum for me.”  

You’re begging him in a way he can’t resist and he spills inside of you then, filling you so well you can feel it slick down your thighs as he rides out his high.  

When he’s spent and satisfied, he breaks away and tosses himself at your side, rolling onto his back.  He sounds like he’s run a marathon when he speaks, out of breath and giddy.  “God - you’re so good for me.”  He says it almost like he means it as more than it is - more than a casual fuck on a Friday night.

You’re up before he has a chance to pull you to him, picking up your discarded clothes as you move towards his bathroom.    

“You’re leaving?”  Why he sounds so surprised, you’re not sure but you’re grateful for the closed door and the inability to see his face.  You can only imagine how it looks, framed by his just-fucked mess of hair and bathed in the afternoon light.  

You emerge from the bathroom fully clothed, strands of your own swept into a haphazard braid that hides the mosaic he’d painted with his mouth.  You’re careful not to meet his stare as you retrieve your bag from his immaculately kept desk, sliding it over your shoulder.  “I have a report I need to submit tonight.”

“You can do it here.”  He’s not wrong - you’d done most of your university coursework in his living room. 

But that was then and this is now and it’s hard enough sleeping with your best friend without feelings getting in the way so you shake your head and laugh, nonchalant as you can manage.  “You have coffee with that girl from Wednesday at 8 AM and I’m definitely not in the mood for an early morning tomorrow.”

You can practically see the gears turning in his head - the proverbial gun he’s about to use to riddle your reasoning with holes - and raise a hand to silence him before he can begin.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”  Then you’re gone, half your heart in your chest and the other in the hands of your stupid, oblivious best friend.

[harrysbbby]

Don’t Forget Where You Belong - JJ Maybank x Reader - Part Two

A/N: okay so this one’s very longggggg but there’s so much storyline to get through, I think all the parts might be. But please let me know what you think!

Read part 1 here

You walked down the pontoon to where John B had just pulled up the HMS Pogue. You were carrying a cooler with full of snacks of your day on the boat.

“Morning y’all,” you said as you took JJ’s hand as he helped you into the boat.

“You brought food, thank God. I’m starving,” he said dramatically. You laughed at his desperation as he clamoured to open the cooler as soon as your two feet were steadily placed. You knew that the boys would never willing ask for or take your money. You constantly tried to help them out, but their pride was too strong. So, you compromised, by supplying all the food and beer you could get them each time you got together.

You opened the cooler, passing a beer around to everyone.

“You guys get through?” you asked, passing the freshly opened bottle to John B. The hurricane Agatha had ripped through the OBX the night previous. Your stepfather already had maintenance workers clearing your yard when you left this morning.

“Yeah,” John B replied, “Nothing major, just a tree fell but at least it wasn’t on the house.” He shrugged. You laughed at his nonchalant-ness as your cheers him and took a sip of your beer.

“We were fine, but I’m pretty sure my dad’s gonna kill me for skipping out.” Pope said, glaring at JJ and John B. JJ hugged Pope from behind.

“But you love us anyway, buddy!”

As you reach further into the marsh Pope had taken over steering as JJ stood at the bow, his second (or was it third?) beer in his hand.

“Can you go a little faster?” he asked Pope as he brought the bottle further into the air, letting the contents spill out the neck. You scoffed and moved out of the way as the sticky liquid landed on your arm.

“Here we go. I'm movin'.” Pope said, pushing down the accelerator.

“It doesn’t work JJ,” John be said, crossing his arms and tilting his head back to get some sun.

“Yeah dude, not like you haven’t already tried like 6000 times,” you spoke with disgusting, now having moved to the back of the boat wiping your arm on your towel.

“I got this. It's gonna work!”

“You’re getting beer in my hair!” Kie exclaimed, moving to stand next to you as you rolled your eyes.

“JJ,” you were going to patronise him further, but you didn’t get the chance as the boat came to a static halt. JJ went flying overboard, flipping through the air and into the water. You and Kie fell straight forward on top of one another.

“Jesus, Pope!” Kie groaned as you rolled off the top of her. Both of you stay laying on your backs trying to catch your breath.

“You okay, JJ?” John B asked, peering over the side of the boat.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,” you heard JJ’s voice come from the water.

“Well it’s shame, you’re missing the girl on girl action up here.” John B quipped as he helped you and Kie up.

“Oh, fuck off John B,” you said as you shoved him. You could see JJ still floating on his back in the water.

“Damn,” he sighed. He finally lifted his head to look at you. You stuck your tongue out at him and flipped him off as he began swimming back towards the boat.

“Pope, what did you do?” Kie asked.

“Sandbar. The channel changed.” He replied.

“No shit,” you replied dryly, sitting next to Kiara.

“Ugh, this is probably gonna mess this whole place up,” she said sullenly.

“Hey, I saved the beer, though!” JJ exclaimed, still in the water.

“Congrats, JJ,” John B said. You looked over the side of the boat and gave him a sarcastic applause. He flipped his hand through the air as if he was bowing. He continued to swim on his back towards the boat, bringing said beer to his lips and taking a sip. You laughed at his actions and he turned his head to smile up at you.

“Guys...” Pope interrupted, “I think there's a boat down there”

“Shut up, what!” John B yelled, running to peer over the side of the boat where Pope was staring down into the water.

“No way!” JJ said as he kicked faster, turning on his side using one arm to propel himself faster in the water, he other arm still holding the beer up in the air.

“No, no, guys. I'm serious,” Pope continued as you and Kie joined him looking over the edge of the boat into the water. You could see something white glistening in the water. “There's a boat down there”

“For real,” you confirmed.

“Guys... is this...” John B started but Pope interrupted.

“It’s a boat!”

“Holy shit, he's right. Let's go!” Kie exclaimed as she started stripping her clothes off her body and dive into the water. She was very quickly followed by John B and Pope.

“You think there's a dead body down there?” Pope asked as he bobbed in the water. Your four friends looked up at you as you stood on the boat still, hands grasping the bottom of your shirt as you hesitated.

“Get your ass in here!” JJ hollered.

“Come on!” John B yelled.

You gave in. Your clothes came off in two quick swipes as you dove in after your friends who had already submerged themselves into the water. The five of you inspected the boat. It was large, and expensive… wait it couldn’t be the sort you thought right? You grabbed the side as you swashed around trying to find anything noteworthy. As you began to feel your lungs tighten you pushed off the end of the boat towards the surface.

The five of you gasped for breath as you broke the surface.

“You guys saw that?”

“Yeah,” Pope and John B said.

“What the...” JJ began but heaved as he tried to catch his breath. The boys laughed at him as they hoisted themselves up onto the boat. Pope put his arms out for you.

“That’s a Grady-White,” you said as he helped you aboard.

“A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy,” confirmed JJ, as he climbed up on the boat, before turning around and grabbing Kie’s arm helping her up, “that's a primo rig.”

“Yeah. That's the boat I saw when I surfed the surge,” he said, directing mainly at Pope.

“Maybe it hit the jetty or something?” Pope shrugged.

You and Kie exasperated at the same time, “You surfed the surge?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, avoiding both your gazes.

“That's my boy. Pogue style,” JJ encouraged as he patted John B’s shoulder.

“What the heck,” Kie whispered in disbelief.

“Don’t encourage him JJ,” you scolded to which he rolled his eyes and draped an arm around your shoulders.

“Wait, wait. Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asked

“No, but we're about to find out,” John B responded.

“Dude, it’s too deep,” JJ said stepping toward John B who had gathered the anchor.

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ”

“Well, I'm not resuscitating you. I'm just making that clear up front.”

“That’s fine.”

“John B,” you interrupted the two boys quipping like an old married couple. John B’s chuckle disappears, and he looks at your serious expression. You know once John B set his mind to something, he did it, so you rolled your eyes and said,

“Diver down fool.”

“Diver down,” he confirmed.

“Yeah he is,” JJ yelled boyishly as he pushed John B recklessly into the water which earned a scorned ‘JJ’ from Kie.

After a few minutes he still hadn’t resurfaced.

“Should we go get him?” Pope asked, but almost as if on cue John B emerged from the water.

“Oh, my God. That took forever!” Kie sighed.

“Any dead bodies?” Pope asked.

“Looting potential?” JJ continued.

“No, just this motel key.”

“Great! We salvaged a motel key,” JJ said sarcastically as John B returned to the boat and started the engine.

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard,” Kie suggested as you took off through the marsh, “Maybe we'll get a finder's fee.”

“Yeah, and not work all summer,” JJ said hopefully. You laughed at him as you amused,

“No thanks to Agatha, ya batch!”

You had attempted to report the sunken boat, however after the hurricane the coast guard was uncharacteristically busy, so John B came up with the not-so-great plan of going to the motel to snoop through the room. How you managed to get dragged along each and every time, you will never know.

“This is your captain speaking. HMS Pogue comin' in for landin,” JJ whooped as he jumped off the boat and tied it to a post on the bank of the motel. It had been hit pretty badly, with lots of debris everywhere.

John B moved to join JJ on land, and you followed. The unspoken rule was always that if you had to follow them to do something stupid, you got to supervise said stupid something.

“Hey, don’t let him do anything stupid.” Pope said, pointing to JJ.

“Oh, we will,” John B smirked back.

“I’m not making any promises,” you grumbled as you walked past John B. JJ feign hurt as you approached him. As you got closer, he reached his arm out to tickle your sides. You grabbed his wrists as you giggled, “cut it out,”

“Be careful.” Kie said to John B.

“Yeah,” he nodded at her. She brought herself forward and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“I mean it.” She said more sternly. You noticed a flush of red on John B’s cheeks.

The three of you made you way into the Motel and up the stairs.

“Just be so careful, John.” JJ said dramatically grabbing John B’s shoulders. You laughed as you strolled behind the two.

“You are so weird,” John be stated.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know,” John B said, “Maybe she wants us to be careful?”

“Since she heard you're being threatened with exile, she's just been, like, ‘Oh! Be so careful, John B.’” – “Get off me JJ” – ‘Oh, give me that John D already.’ When are you gonna swoop on that, man?”

“Can you not refer as Kie as something to ‘swoop on’ please?” You said pushing your way through the two, grabbing the motel key n your way. You twirled in it your fingers as you read the room numbers and continued to listen to them speak.

“Bro, you know the rule. No Pogue-on-Pogue macking,” John B said, “besides, you’re the one always hitting on her.”

“Of course, I’m hitting on her!” You were glad the two boys couldn’t see your face as JJ said this as it became hot as your stomach dropped. Whenever the boys spoke about Kie this was it always made your heart ache a little. You knew the boys loved you but not in the way they did Kiara. She caught their attention. They all had a thing from her, and although you didn’t necessarily want that kind of attention from your friends, it hurt to know that people always looked at Kiara as that, and not you. Well you wouldn’t mind it from one of your friends actually. You shook the though from your head as you peered down at the motel key quickly fixating yourself on finding the room.

“She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick slumming with us,” JJ continued, “Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro? I know that door's locked because I've tried it. Have you?”

“You need help JJ,” you laughed as you came to a halt in front of the door. You were sure that the boys had been so enthralled in their conversation that they had completely forgotten about the task at hand.

“Not a little help, you need a lot of help. It's like every girl who just has a heartbeat, you're like... "Uhh!"”

You laughed with them, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes. JJ’s smiling face turned from John B’s to yours’ and his smile slipped as he saw your fake expression. His brows furrowed,

“What? It's not a big deal,” he tried to say nonchalantly, but it came out unsure.

“This is us. Twenty-nine.” You stopped their conversation as you pointed towards the door.

JJ pushed forward tapping three times on the door, “Housekeeping,” he said in a high-pitched girlish voice. You laughed as you rolled your eyes.

“Should we try it?” questioned John B. You shrugged as you nodded and placed the key into the handle.

“No power. No security cameras. No one's gonna know,” JJ said as you unlocked the door and made your way inside.

The three of you searched the room, looking for any evidence of who owned the boat, or what they were doing.

“A jacket… No name on the jacket… Nice jacket though”

“Definitely over 50. He’s got New Balances”

JJ was looking at a map, “maybe this is where they were fishing.”

You peered over his shoulder, “Nah, that’s off continental shelf. Big Swell, no one fishes there,” you finished looking at the papers on the table as JJ moved away.

“Coffee”

“Standard, tissues for when you get lonely,” JJ had started talking in a funny British accent. You looked at him quizzically over your r shoulder as he made his way towards the bathroom. A shrill “oooh” came from there.

“Did you find something detective?” You asked in an equally terrible British accent as you sorted through the files.”

“A really awesome Dopp kit you won't let me steal,” he said in his normal voice.

“Yeah, 'cause we're not stealing shit.” John B said as you could hear him punching in numbers on the safe.

“Punching shit at random. That will... definitely work,” JJ said. John B just grunted at him as he continued to put numbers in. You looked to your right where you saw handwritten numbers on a loose sheet of paper.

“Here try this,” you said handing the piece of paper as JJ moved back to investigate the map. He started jabbering on about swordfish or his cousin or something. However, you and John B both zoned out as you stared at the contents of the safe. You shared a shocked look before turning back to it.

“Have you heard of shoals?”

“JJ,” you interrupted him. “Check this out.”

JJ say what was in the safe and immediately picked up the gun.

“You picked up the gun,” you sighed into your hands and John B stood up to try and stop JJ’s childish swinging of the weapon.

“This is a SIG Sauer!” JJ mused as he pointed it in random directions with little “pow pow”s coming out his mouth.

“Put the gun back, JJ!” John B scolded.

“This is a fucking spendy gatt, man. Just... Bam! Bam!”

“JJ,” you warned him moving towards him to try and grab it, but he spun around out of your way, placing you next to the window. You groaned.

“Just take a pic of me. Right here,” he said spinning back around to face you.

“Take a picture of you?” You asked shaking your head.

“Yeah, like…” he said as he framed multiple different posing with the gun.

“Make our own incriminating evidence? Is that what you're talking about?” John B said. JJ’s shoulder slumped as his idea for a photo was shut down. You heard a tapping on the window. You yanked up the blinds to see Pope and Kiara on the grass waving their arms. They were mouthing something you couldn’t decipher. You lifted up the window and you could only one word coming from them: “Cops.”

“What is it?” John B asked as you turned around, a frightened look on your face. But it was too late. There was a rap on the door.

“Kildare County Sheriff's Department!”

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath as the two boys made their way passed you to the window. The climbed out. JJ helped you onto the sill as he climbed to the left side. You turned around to close the window behind you but as you stood up you lost your balance. You started to lean further and further backwards but JJ shot his arm out. He caught your mid back and pulled you towards him. Your chest was flush against his as he squeezed the two of you towards the wall.

The cops entered the room. They snooped around looking for any evidence. Shoupe opened the already unlocked safe. He took out the photographs and gave them to the constable as evidence. He then grabbed as wad of cash and gave it to her. You and John B shared a stunned look.

“What the fuck,” the words slipped your lips.

“What?’ you heard JJ ask in your other ear.

“He just slipped her the cash.” You whispered back.

You could feel your foot slipping on the thin ledge. You held onto JJ’s shoulders as you tried to reconvene your footing.

“You good?” he asked quietly. You nodded getting your feet in a position you could withhold. JJ readjusted his arm around your middle, but in doing so, the gun became lose and fell to the ground with a very loud clattering. You cringed as JJ pushed both you and him closer against the wall. Your faces were practically touching, you could see the air hastily coming in and out of his mouth in short, sharp breathes. You closed your eyes as you took a deep breath. You turned your head to John B who held a finger up to his lips. He could see more than you could, and by hi actions you could tell he meant as long as you stayed silent, the cops would notice you.

‘All right, let’s go.” You heard the cop say. You exhaled a large amount of air you hadn’t been holding as soon as you heard the motel door shut. You head fell forward onto JJ’s shoulder as you let out an exasperated laugh.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah that was close,” he sighed, giving your waist a squeeze.

You and JJ followed John B back through the window and down to the HMS Pogue. You untied the boat as Pope drove you away.

“Could have warned us sooner,” John B said, as you slouched into the seat next to him, rolling his shoulders to exude their tenseness.

“We would have, except Pope was on the math team,” she spoke accusingly, looking at him with eyebrows raised.

“You were on the math team,” JJ giggled.

“The cops took everything like it was a crime scene.” John B stated seriously. You nodded in agreeance.

“Did you find anything?” Pope asked.

“Did we find anything?” JJ asked sarcastically, “No I don’t think so. Oh, yeah we did,” he said proudly brandishing the gun and a wad of cash from either of his pockets.

“Oh my god...” you started

“What the hell,” Pope said incredulously.

“Dude, what?” Kie joined.

“Dude, chill. Come on,” he said, clearly not understanding why no one else was as excited as he was.

“You are going to be the death of me boy,” you said, frustratedly running your hands over your face.

“Why take that from a crime scene?”

“Better than cops having it,”

“Really, JJ?” you asked. He shrugged his shoulders and nodded sheepishly.

“I’m gonna lose my merit scholarship.” Pope spoke morbidly.

“At least you still have us, right?” JJ said wrapping his arms around Pope despite the gun and cash still being in his hands.

“I’m living the nightmare.”

The five of you had returned to the coast guard to try and report the boat again, but it there was a lot of commotion coming from the docks. You took a seat with a bunch of other on lookers. You took the final seat on the bench and JJ stood beside you as John B, Pope and Kie took seats around another girl.

“Who’s that?” John B asked as a body was wheeled past on a stretcher.

“Scooter Grubbs,” the unknown girl next to him answered, “He was out during the storm. Check out this pic I got. Dead bodyyyyy,” she leaned over with her phone showing the mangled body of the man.

“Insane,” John B replied mildly disgustedly. You shared his disgust. How could this girl have no restitution for taking a photo of a man’s dead body?

“Holy shit,” you heard JJ drawl from above you as he leaned over your body to grasp a look. He had a boyish smile on his face until he saw your stern expression to which he dropped his smile and let out an awkward cough.

A thought crossed your mind, “do you know what kind of boat he had?” you asked the girl.

She peered back at her phone as she answered, “Somehow, that dirtbag copped a brand-new Grady-White. Everyone’s out looking for it.”

You saw Pope and Kiara learn forward around the girl and make eye contact with you. You looked to John B who stared back just as alarmed. You turned to JJ who already held a stunned expression.

In an almost synchronised fashion, the five of you jumped out of your seats and bee-lined for the Pogue to head back to the Chateau. You were all thinking the same thing: this was not good.  

Tag list:

@downbytheouterbanks​ @thesailbells​ @sexualparkour​ @bestfriendmagic​ @mileven-reddie​ @nikki082489​ @treestarrrrrrrr​ @mynamessusan​ @kristinaxilliano​

[the-last-cuddlebender]

The Feeling of Fatherhood

Hakoda didn’t warn Aang about this part. He had never held a baby before. 

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A/N: Just some bestdad!Aang and bestmom!Katara content—the fluffy tender moments that parents share bonding with each other and their newborn.

Rating: G

Words: 2,386

ArchiveOfOurOwn 

******************************************

Aang stayed in the room until the healers asked him to leave. They needed the extra room to work. 

Aang didn’t give a damn. 

Katara needed to hold his hand until it turned purple. He wouldn’t leave her. 

He almost hated that Katara convinced him to go. She would be fine, she said. The look in her eyes and the wince of her jaw told him otherwise. 

She held his hand a bit tighter before she let go, and Aang almost argued. 

Once outside their room, he threw open the nearest window with a gust of airbending and called inside the blizzard that was throwing itself against his temple. He crafted a frozen chair, sloppy and lopsided in his haste, and sat in it before the healers crowding into the room could tell him to go even further away from his wife. 

The head healer rolled her eyes and almost asked him to move on principle, despite his seat being, quite literally, frozen to the ground. 

Aang sat so close to the door that he risked a concussion every time it opened. His leg wouldn’t stop bouncing, and the wind paced back and forth, pressing against the door like it might see what was happening inside. It swirled and hid in the ruffling of his robes when he heard Katara’s first cry. 

Aang’s chest caved in like it was made of glass, but something kept him anchored in place. It felt like hands on his shoulders, and it brushed his mind like Kyoshi. 

Her screams eventually died out, though the brand they seared into his mind was raw and bleeding. Aang dug his nails out of his legs and was in the room before the healers were out. 

Katara was sweaty and pale and struggling to keep her eyes open, but she was smiling a smile that Aang had never seen before. Moonlight wept through the window and colored her like an oil painting. The now slowly falling snow dappled shadows over her like beads of rain sliding down a window. 

He was at her side in the next second. She looked like she had danced through hell. 

She was the most beautiful mess Aang had ever seen.

Katara's eyes were glazed and struggled to focus before finding him, and Aang’s world had never been brighter. “Hey...Hey, there, handsome,” she said, her voice dry and cracked like old paint peeling from the side of a ship. 

Aang’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Good evening, gorgeous.” He wiped the pasty sweat from her brow and tucked the frayed bits of loose hair behind her ears. He kissed her forehead. He took a second to breathe her in and drown out the lingering scent of drying blood. He pressed his brow to hers, and he relished the small smile he drew from his wife. She leaned into his hand cupping her face, and when he stroked her cheek with his thumb, she exhaled like she hadn’t breathed since last she saw him. 

Aang’s voice got impossibly quieter. “How are you feeling?”

Katara’s words slurred the barest bit. “Better n’that you're here.”

Aang kissed her again. “I love you. I love you so, so much, Katara.”

He pressed his lips to Katara’s cheek and held there, trying to say what words couldn’t.

Katara giggled. “I love you, too. Now get over here and meet your son.”

“...Son?”

Katara turned just a bit to show the bundle in her arms. “Say hello to your father, Bumi. This is your dad.”

Aang froze.

Dad.

Aang was a dad, now.

He was a dad.

He had a son.

“H...Hey…” Aang’s smile grew ever larger the longer he looked at their little Bumi—Spirits, he was so small—, and it stretched ever wider even after it felt like it might tear his face in two. “H-Hey there, little guy…”

Aang crawled in bed beside Katara, careful of her like she was made of glass. He should have known better—Katara was made of steel at minimum—, but some part of him had him moving cautiously like he might scare away the moment and the peace it brought.

“Well, go on, then.” Katara’s smile shone in her eyes even though she was too exhausted to curl her lip in a grin. “Hold him.”

Hakoda didn’t warn him about this part.

Aang had never held a baby before. 

“I...What if I...I-I don’t know—”

Katara sighed and gave him a tired but happy smile. “Aang, hold your son.”

Aang’s arms trembled as he took the swaddled bundle. Katara talked softly and instructed him, adjusting his hand, telling him to support Bumi’s head.

Aang didn’t know how to describe how he felt. 

His insides were filled with clouds.

He steeled himself and tried not to shake so much as Katara guided his hand away, just a bit, so his arm was still supporting his son’s tiny weight but letting his fingers have room to crawl up the bundle of downy blanket.

Bumi’s skin was so soft, like the moonpeach blossoms in their garden. His son squirmed to Aang’s touch like he was still water that Aang had just disturbed. 

“Katara, he’s—Katara, what do I—?”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” She laughed. “He’s just waking up a bit. He’s like you in the mornings.” She kissed Aang’s cheek and compelled him to lean his shoulder to hers. 

“You can touch him, you know. He won’t bite. He doesn’t have any teeth.”

“What if I hurt him? O-Or scare him? What if—?”

“Aang.” Katara cupped Aang’s face. “He is your son. You are his father.” She kissed between his eyes and settled her cheek on his shoulder. She ran her hand over Bumi’s head before pulling away, for the moment. “You won’t hurt him.”

Aang swallowed. His son squirmed when Katara pulled away. Bumi was looking for her. His closed eyes scrunched up, and his lip wrinkled. 

The tender life in Aang’s arms swallowed the beginnings of a whine, and Aang’s heart broke and ran over with every feeling. 

“Hey, hey, hey—shhh...” Aang didn’t know whether he was moving on instinct or impulse, but he was too focused on the groping fingers, so very small, fitfully finding their way out of the blanket. Everything about himself became second nature—even his lungs threatened to abandon their attention to keep breathing in order to focus on his son. “Shhh...It’s okay, Boom...It’s okay…”

Katara kissed Aang’s shoulder and scratched his back. Pride oozed out of her smile. 

Aang touched his finger to one of Bumi’s groping hands.

Aang’s entire world stood still.

Bumi paused mid-squirm and immediately latched on. He wasn’t letting go.

His little hand pulled back into the warmth of his blanket, and Aang was so attuned to his every movement that he let his finger be dragged closer, too.

Then Bumi stopped pulling, content with the splayed hand blanketing him. 

Aang was laughing and crying before he realized it. 

His son felt safe. With him.

Aang had to keep so many people safe—so, so many—, but they always harbored a slight doubt in their eyes. He was only human. Even he made mistakes.

Bumi trusted him like it was the most natural thing in the world. He felt safe with him. Truly and genuinely safe. 

And he didn’t even know him, yet.

Katara rubbed Aang’s back some more and moved only to kiss his cheek before settling back down, and if he wasn’t holding their newborn son, Aang would have kissed her like they wouldn’t see the morning. He settled with kissing her hair and the part of her cheek that he could reach without disturbing the spot she had nestled herself into, and his heart swelled when she grinned beneath his lips.

She leaned on him, but it felt so much more like she was keeping him up.

“Katara?”

“Hm?”

“Katara, we have a baby.”

“Mhm.”

“Katara, we have a baby.”

Katara laughed, and some of the life returned to her face. “Really? I didn’t notice. I wonder where it came from.”

“Have I told you lately how gorgeous and amazing and wonderful and phenomenal you are? Because you are. A hundred million times over.”

“Your hyperbole is eloquent as always. I hope Bumi inherits it.”

Aang shook his head and laughed. “Oh, nonono. He won’t be anything like me. I can assure you that much. That would be horrible.”

Katara looked at him, concerned and somehow able to pick up the distress in his voice even though she was struggling to stay awake. “Aang, why would you say that?”

Aang struggled to find the words. He was doing that a lot, tonight. 

The bundle in his arms was perfect. Bumi was his and Katara’s son. 

Bumi was perfect. Just like his mother.

Aang wasn’t perfect. He was as far as could be from perfect. 

Aang could only wish that he wouldn’t taint his son. Bumi was a part of Katara. The two of them were worth—more than worth—protecting. 

He could only hope that Bumi wouldn’t turn out like him. 

Guilt weighed Aang into the mattress. His arms were shaking before he realized it, but Katara’s hand rested over his where it wound under and around their son.

Their son.

Their beautiful baby boy.

Katara’s thumb rubbed up and down his knuckles. 

“Well, I hope he takes after you. I hope he has your little laugh that can brighten up a room with just a giggle. I hope his heart is as big as yours is, too.” She cuddled closer to Aang’s side. “He’s going to love you so, so much.” 

Aang didn’t know which of them Katara was talking to, but he sagged while Bumi twitched, his delicate fingers finding a fold in Aang’s robes small enough for his hand to grab onto. 

Aang’s heart soared. 

“Hey, there...Hey, there, bud.” Aang brushed the barest bit of the back of one of his fingers on his son’s tender cheek—so soft, too vulnerable. Aang didn’t know why he expected rejection. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Bumi. My name’s Aang.” Aang hesitated. “I’m your dad.”

The words left his mouth, and Aang couldn’t stop his tears if he tried.

He said it again, just to hear it—to make sure this all wasn’t some beautiful dream. He didn’t know why he was waiting for someone to tell him that it was.

“...I’m your dad.”

Bumi smacked his lips and held the finger on his cheek. 

“I’m all yours, buddy.” He kissed his son’s head, and he kissed Katara’s, too, when he pulled back. “Always—I will always be yours. I love you more than you could ever know, and I will always be yours.”

Katara leaned over. She brushed back the few silk-thin threads of hair on Bumi’s head and kissed him.

She kissed Aang, too, first on the dying trails of tears on his cheeks and then on his lips. His smile kept her trapped for longer than her shaking muscles could keep her up, and they were both laughing when she slumped against him again. 

They didn’t talk for the rest of the night. Words weren’t needed. 

In that moment, their very souls were peeled raw and exposed, and Aang and Katara tenderly wove into themselves the newest joy to claim a place in their hearts. 

At some point, Bumi was in Katara’s arms again, holding onto and bonding with his mother.

Aang sat behind them. He laid at enough of an angle that Katara didn’t have to keep herself up, and he molded himself like armor around his family. He pressed his cheek to Katara’s temple and bent his knees up to sit like castle walls keeping his two treasures safe. One of Aang’s arms wound around Katara’s, and he rested his hand over hers so they were both cradling their son. 

The wind, content and curious, pushed and pulled the warm feeling in the room like it was trying to stretch out the moment and make it last forever. Aang painted the back of Katara’s hand with his thumb and drew the lapping currents of air. The wind dripped tiny breezes like happy tears, welcoming into the world the new life that had air braided as deeply and as tightly into the strings in its soul as in Aang’s. 

Aang’s other hand laid on his son. His fingers reached under Bumi’s chin and brushed the barest tip of his pointer finger to his son’s cheek.

Whenever his heart threatened to spill over, Aang gave Katara tender kisses to her hair, cheek, and wherever else he could reach. He eventually rested his chin on her shoulder, and he grinned impossibly wider when Katara leaned her head to his and relaxed. She took down every one of her barriers and put herself and Bumi in Aang’s care, trusting him unconditionally. 

Something like pride filled Aang’s chest and made him feel bigger and stronger than he was. 

Bumi, one hand already clutched to Katara, squirmed fitfully, almost looking like he might be afraid. His tiny arm blindly grasped into the void and reached into an emptiness that made his face scrunch up all the more.

But then Aang pointed out his little finger to catch Bumi’s hand when it flailed past. 

And Bumi recognized his father’s touch and latched onto Aang without question.

Calm that came from safety settled over Bumi’s tender features. 

Katara smiled and rolled her head back. She nuzzled the curve of Aang’s jaw. Her voice was small and lost volume with every word, but it was right near his ear. It was bellied by her smile and something else that Aang couldn’t quite place even though it had every one of his senses latching onto it and his inner fire threatening to roar. 

“Look at you, Mister Dad. I knew my Forever Boy would be an amazing father.”

Aang held her closer—her and their son. The two halves of his heart teetered on sleep, and Aang swore on his honor, his past lives, and everything that he was or ever would be that he would keep them safe. 

Katara relaxed against his chest. 

Bumi held his finger a little tighter.

Aang felt like he could move a mountain. 

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Rushed to finish this fic because I’ve had a hell of a rough week and needed a fluff-aid-kit. (apologies for any choppiness🙏)

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 2, chapter 6

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: torture mention, drowning mention, emeto/vomit as a result of drowning, restraint, suicidal ideation, fantasy violence

The demons discovered that it was nearly impossible for Morgan to die by drowning in healing potion. The healing effect always overcame the asphyxiation eventually, even when he lost consciousness under the liquid. His body's survival reflexes took care of the rest, expelling the liquid from his lungs and stomach in violent, shuddering spasms. Naturally, the vipers gave up trying to feed the potion to him in favour of this much more entertaining method. But eventually it really had started to act a little slower. His involuntary heaving was bringing up a little more potion each time, his injuries taking a little longer to heal. So they had started being even more careful with him, to prolong their amusement as much as possible.

At the moment, they had hooked a chain around his bound wrists and fed it through a fixture on the ceiling. There was not quite enough slack in the chain to allow him to kneel. They had tried dangling him by his wrists previously, but the compression of his lungs had nearly seen him suffocate before his feeble gasping had alerted them to their mistake. If they had just left him unattended a little longer, perhaps he could finally have escaped this misery, but it was not his to be so lucky.

Morgan swayed where he stood, hands suspended slightly above his head. Occasionally he would drift off and lose his precarious balance, his reflexes too sluggish to prevent himself from falling before the chain snapped taut and wrenched him back to painful awareness. The demons had left him to "rest" alone like this for... some time. He didn't know how long. It didn't really matter.

He was drifting in and out of awareness when gentle fingers touched his left shoulder. He jerked away as far as his limited range of movement would allow without losing his footing. It sometimes amused the claw vipers to treat him with a mocking kindness when they weren't being unbearably cruel. He didn't bother opening his eyes, didn't want to see the pleasure that played across their faces with each protest they could wring out of him. But the touch retreated and nothing followed. No cut, no strike, no burn. Just a voice saying something. It wasn't one of the demons, he realized. He struggled to focus. He hadn't been fully lucid in what felt like a very long time.

The chain suspending his arms gave way suddenly. Without its support, Morgan lurched backward. The chain connecting the shackles on his ankles pulled tight as he stumbled, unable to catch himself. This was more in line with what he'd expected, the breath coming out of him all at once in a surprised huff as he collided with the unyielding ground. Secondary pain crept like fire licking across his skin as partially healed wounds reopened at the impact. He caught the whimper before it left his lips, loosened the muscles in his throat so it came out a sigh instead. It was all the resistance he could muster. He was still so tired, even after the time that had passed. Hope flickered faintly as he curled onto his side in a futile, instinctual effort to protect himself. Maybe this time they would finally push him past the point of recovery. He tried to focus on the rhythm of his hatefully stubborn body as it refused to stop surviving. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. He anchored himself on the ragged breaths. Eventually - soon - they would stoke the ember of his pain into a bright flame of agony and it would consume him anew. But right now he was still something almost like a person, not just a conduit for anguish. He clung to that as best he could.

A hand touched Morgan's ribs, feather-light, then another one came to rest on his left shoulder again. He closed his eyes tighter. So it was going to be like this again, he thought dully. No preamble, just straight to work on his vulnerable arm. They had been favouring that approach lately. He waited, tense and trembling. Any moment now the hand would move down his arm, its claws painting swaths of agony across his flesh, heightening his sensitivity for whatever else they had planned. The longer it waited, the sharper his fear grew. This was another one of the games they liked, making it hard to guess when the pain was coming. There was no winning in this game. In any of them.

The voice was speaking again. Had it ever stopped? He hadn't made the effort to listen to them in a while. They didn't seem to like that, but this wasn't one of their voices, he remembered. Focus was elusive, but the sound finally resolved into words.

"... out of here. Think you can stand? I can always carry you if I have to." It sounded almost like Blaise, but that was impossible. He'd ruled out the idea of rescue long ago, dismissed it the moment it occurred to him. No one had any real reason to notice his absence, to go looking for him. They should have just assumed he had ventured out in search of information and fallen to any of the terrors of the desert. What point would there be in seeking him out? He had no knowledge that Cain didn't also have, no skills that couldn't be replaced by someone else. He cracked his eyes open, hardly daring to hope. This could still be some sort of cruel trick, a new game they had devised to toy with his mind.

It certainly looked like Blaise, for some reason. She crouched down next to Morgan, slipping her arm around his back. If this was one of their horrible games, they had gone to great lengths on the illusion. "There you are. I've got you. Come on now, up we go." She helped him to his feet and stepped back to look him in the eyes. Maybe it was real after all. "Let's get you out of here. What the hell did - no, never mind. We can talk later. Right now we have to go."

Still mentally scattered, not coherent enough to form sentences, not sure if he should even believe this was really happening, Morgan lifted his cuffed hands toward her pleadingly. He wasn't going to breathe freely until he was unbound, that much he knew for certain. And without any form of magic at his disposal, he was still totally helpless.

Blaise examined the cuffs, squinting in the dim light. "Do you know where the key is?" Morgan shook his head mutely. "Hm. I can probably pick this. Just need to get a good look at it." She glanced around quickly, then started to move toward the stone slab in the corner of the room. "Looks like there's a couple of braziers I can light over here, hang on."

Morgan moved to follow her more slowly, still hobbled by both the shackles and his unsteady legs. He was starting to feel more like himself with each passing moment, though. His eyes scanned past the doorway and he froze as he saw movement. It was one of the claw vipers passing by. Maybe it would keep going.

He was not that lucky. The demon stopped, then turned around to look at him. "It seems our little mouse has slipped from its trap," it observed as it slithered into the room. Morgan bared his teeth and stumbled back and to the side, positioning himself as far from Blaise as he could. If the viper was focused on him and had its back to the more formidable opponent, it would be that much easier for her to kill. His wits were returning, even though his coordination was lagging behind.

The snake demon played into the ploy a little too well, heading for him without so much as a glance around the room. It snatched the chain still trailing from his cuffs, giving it a rough yank that made him stagger directly into its waiting embrace. "It must be ready to play," it jeered, teasing its claws over his skin. Morgan hissed as they dug in, dragging familiar stinging lines over his ribs and down his side. Then the demon's eyes rolled back and its body went limp as an arrow sprouted from its throat. Well, that eliminated any lingering doubt. His eyes trained on the doorway now, Morgan stepped around the body and made his way over to Blaise as quickly as he could manage.

"Hey, are you... uh, you okay there?" Blaise was eyeing his side as she fished her roll of picking tools out of her pack. "I have some of those potions from Lysander if -"

"No," Morgan growled sharply. When he tore his eyes from the door to glance at Blaise, she was giving him a strange look. "It's not deep," he clarified. Words were starting to come a little easier now. These incisions were shallow, though they were bleeding freely. Still, he was never going to drink a healing potion again as long as he lived.

"All right, your call." She took the manacles in a gentle grip, examining them in the light. "You know, there's a locksmith in the city-"

"Please," Morgan said, hating the desperation in his voice. "I am useless in these." Now that freedom actually seemed possible, the restriction was getting unbearable.

"Okay, okay. Yeah. All right. I'll be quick as I can." Morgan kept his gaze locked on the doorway, watching intently for any movement. The risk was high, making her focus on this instead of just leaving. A selfish decision. He started to regret it after a moment, but by that time she was already deep in concentration. Every time he thought about speaking up to change his mind, the promise of immediate freedom won out over his deepening concern. It was a tense minute while Blaise worked at the cuffs, but they finally cracked open.

Morgan rolled his shoulders back, relishing the freedom of movement - and suddenly there was another claw viper in the doorway, this one brandishing a kris. It must have spied the corpse of the first one. Before Blaise had a chance to draw her bow, it was moving on them. Almost without thinking, Morgan poured his newly freed magic into the ground. It felt good to use it again, like stretching a cramped muscle. The earth whipped up around the demon, grasping tendrils ensnaring it before it had a chance to react. It looked briefly surprised before it was yanked under, its body disappearing beneath a mound of earth. There was a muffled crunching sound as the ground smoothed back down. The effort left Morgan light-headed, and he sagged against the stone. How long had it been? How weak had he gotten?

Blaise stared at the ground where the viper had been. "Is it dead?"

"Yes." He reached out mentally to examine the skeleton of the unfortunate demon. It was crushed beyond recognition. Perhaps he'd overreacted a little. He reached out again, more slowly this time. The earth rose up around his ankles to pry apart the metal shackles. It took more effort than he anticipated. He could tell he didn't have enough in him to form a whole new golem, but there must be... yes, there were plenty of dead beneath these sands. A single skeleton rose from behind him, shaky, weaponless. It creaked over to a weapon rack and seized a scimitar. That would have to do. He couldn't risk spending the energy on more.

"All right, come on. Let's get out of here. I don't have any of Deckard's scrolls on me but we aren't too far from a waypoint, then we'll get you back to the city. Be nice to get cleaned up, yeah?"

"...Yes." Morgan was suddenly acutely aware of the state he was in. It had been a baseline discomfort before, pale in comparison to the rest of the things going on. Layers of blood and potion were caked on his skin, and his hair was horribly tangled. He pushed aside the unpleasant sensations for the time being; that was a problem to solve later.

Blaise took the lead, retracing her steps through the winding corridors at a cautious pace. The skeleton took up the rear with Morgan between them. He was uncomfortably on edge, hypersensitive now that he was actually using his senses again instead of trying to ignore them. When they finally broke into the daylight, he had to close his eyes completely against the overwhelming brightness. The sun felt harsh on his skin. The sand felt sharp under his feet. He had to stop for a moment to try to reorient himself, pressing his hand over his eyes.

"Akarat's bane," Blaise said softly. He'd heard that curse on the lips of the mercenaries around Lut Gholein. That felt like such a long time ago. It sounded like it was aimed toward him.

"Sorry, I just need... a moment," he said. He cracked his eyes open to gauge how upset she might be. She was digging through her bag with a frown. She pulled out a square of brown fabric, shook it out, and held it out to him at arm's length.

"Here, put this on. You don't want to walk through town like that."

"I... thank you." It was a light cloak, much too large for him. He slipped it on gratefully. It got the sun off his skin, and its hood sheltered his eyes from the sunlight. "Thank you," he repeated. "For saving me. Again. I am in your debt."

Blaise waved her hand dismissively, looking away. "If anything, it's Deckard you should thank. He wanted to tell you about something he found. When he couldn't track you down, he asked me to go looking. Looks like it's a good thing I found you when I did. Come on, the waypoint isn't far."

Morgan followed in silence, concentrating on each step. If he narrowed his focus, the sensory barrage was less overwhelming. Somehow he made it back to the palace this way, just blindly following Blaise as she shepherded him into his room. He nodded numbly as she told him where she was going. Hopefully that information wouldn't be pressingly important. When the door clicked shut behind her, he breathed out a sigh he hadn't realized he was holding in. He was alone and unrestrained for the first time in... a long time. Probably. It had felt like an awfully long time. He pressed his back up against the wall, closing his eyes.

They opened again almost immediately as a bolt of irrational fear shot through him. He was still in the palace, he reassured himself, but for just a second it had felt as though he might open his eyes to find himself back in that gods-forsaken room, surrounded by demons that were all cold claws and relentless cruelty. That was impossible. He was safe now. This was real, not some feverish near-death fantasy. Morgan crossed over to the tub and leaned over it. His steps were unhindered. The ceramic was smooth and cool under his fingers. He took even, steady breaths to ground himself. This was real, he reminded himself again. His hands still trembled.

[janekfan]

Repress

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26917357 

Jon missed Martin.

And how could you miss a man walking little more than a meter in front of you?

But he missed him all the same.

He was accepted by Martin, knew his place, knew what was expected, knew he was loved despite how wrong he'd become. But ever since Basira joined them it had been different. It was different when Martin teased him with her, and he knew it was just teasing but still. It made him less sure of himself.

Less sure of his relationship with Martin.

Even more self conscious about the screams and the sorrow and the statements he had to take before they tore him apart from the inside out and left behind a cicada’s hollow husk.

And the doubt that he’d been able to push away all this time, side by side with Martin in this wasteland, raised its ugly head, washed away the warmth that came with him.

This is your fault.

Basira is right.

Martin can’t possibly be okay with this, with me.

Needing to take statements.

Of course he doesn’t want to hear them.

No one should hear them.

Disgusting.

Wretched.

Feeding off the fears of the people trapped in this place.

Using them for my own gain.

“Jon?” He looked up from his feet and the misplaced concern he saw in Martin’s face made the guilt rise.

“Hm?” Martin waited until Jon was beside him again to take up his hand, press his lips to the back of it.

“You’ve been quiet.” Jon tucked himself up under his chin, nuzzling into his jumper and ignoring Basira’s scathing look. His head hurt. Filled with buzzing, humming, crooning static.

“Just thinking.” The crease between Martin’s brows deepened but there was no lie to suss out.

“Okay.” He kissed the top of his head and Jon melted, tangling their fingers together before following after Basira.

Jon was dragging his feet, slowing down more and more with each step further through this realm. He had yet to take another statement, too embarrassed to ask, and he walked with his eyes closed to block out the glare, following the tug of where to go without having to look. He felt flooded with fears, statements begging to be let out, be told, feed the Eye, and he ached for it, stumbling more than once. He didn’t notice Martin’s presence beside him until he spoke.

“Jon, it’s.” If he stopped, he’d never start again, but Martin was in the way. “Hey, it’s been a while since you’ve. You know?”

“Haven’t needed to yet.”

Liar!

He was miserable and unwell and his head was pounding in time with his heartbeat but he shouldn’t need to do this, it’s not human and he thought he was becoming okay with it because Martin was becoming okay with it but now. Now with Basira in the ranks each step was a constant reminder that he wasn’t. He wasn’t human and probably never would be again. None of them have gotten through any of this without being changed.

The Eye was deafening, shouting, shrieking, demanding he give in and he pushed away from Martin on shaking legs, staggering a few feet away to be sick and he hated that he was literally “vomiting his horrors,” as it had been so eloquently stated before. The bitter taste of ink blossomed on his tongue, splashed onto the thirsty ground, and black ichor appeared like a brush stroke on his arm when he scrubbed it over his mouth.

“Jon!”

“No, it’s. I’m fine.” He turned back to him to prove it, taking another step only to drop to his knees when they buckled. “Headache. S’all.” Covering his face with both hands to block out the eerie light, the sky like that before a bad thunderstorm perpetually, aware of the weight of that gaze, pushing him down, down, down.

“We need to keep moving.”

“Just wait a moment, Basira.” Martin shot her a sharp look on his behalf. “Jon. Tell me, darling. What’s wrong?” Jon flinched when she scoffed, just a moment, a moment with Martin, please.

“Nothing, n’nothing.” Martin pressed his forehead to Jon’s, surrounding him, murmuring.

“It’s okay, just you and me here right now.” Some of the tension slipped away, replaced by trembling need.

“Pressure. Jus’...I. Not sure. So much fear and terror filling me up, like it’s. It’s crowding against the door.”

“Jon--” But it was pouring from him in a rush now, all the insecurities he’d been trying to ignore and the pain in his head overwhelming.

“I’m s’sorry, I’m, I’m trying not to l’let it out. I know. I know you don’t like it and Basira--” That small burst of energy was all he had left and his next words were a hoarse whisper Martin had to strain to hear. “It hurts.” Martin’s hand came up to cup the back of his neck.

“Jon, I don’t want you to hurt yourself trying to stop whatever this all is.” Shivering, Jon swallowed audibly. “You’re right, I don’t, I don’t like it.”

“I’m sor--” This time he guided his face into the hollow of his throat and he hid there, arms snaking around his middle, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket and clinging for dear life to his anchor, his reason.

“Let me finish.” Gently, Martin stroked his hair, lessened the ache by the smallest degree and it was bliss. “I like it even less when you hurt like this.” Martin pressed soft kisses to the skin he could reach and Jon sighed. “Alright?”

“Alright.”

“Alright.” Jon held tighter, tears welling up at the thought of letting him go, at the thought of being so exposed when he was feeling this fragile with Basira just meters away. Maybe he could hold out just a bit longer but no, the headache was crescendoing and he felt his limited grasp on the nausea slip just that much more, the words on the tip of his tongue vying for a way out. “Jon?” Once he started it wouldn’t matter anyway, he’d be lost to it, cut off from everything except his statement. But he couldn’t let go, instead rubbing his cheek against Martin’s shoulder.

“Would you?” Stay? He wanted to ask. Couldn’t ask. It was too much to ask. “I m’mean.” He tried to pull away and found himself held fast.

“Until you start. Then I’m running.” He could feel the smile, hear it in his voice, so he sat back and Martin thumbed a stray tear from his cheek before taking his hands in his own and Jon gave himself over to the Eye.

His head was cradled in someone’s lap, Martin’s of course, with his slow, careful fingers carding through his messy curls and he would maintain later that the gutteral noise of acknowledgment he made was completely intentional.

“Hullo, Jon.” He blinked dumbly, fuzzy and thick. “Looked like a doozy, that one.”

“Don’t really remember it, f’I’m honest.” It was comfortable here with Martin and his soft touches, but-- “Basira’s itching to get going.” Martin leaned down and pressed a dizzying kiss to his lips, stealing all the breath from his body.

“Let her wait a minute.”

[lyricalimerence]

No Matter The Season - JJ Maybank

a/n: so this is based off the song no matter the season by sara kays, it's an incredible song you should listen to it. this is my first time writing on tumblr so i hope it's okay and y'all like it!

word count: 1879

warnings: little angsty, some fluff, lots of hating on yourself, lack of body confidence

summary: you're insecure and jj lectures you because YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. all of you are beautiful and i know that it's just my word against what you think about yourself, but know that i think you're beautiful so don't beat yourself up or give up on yourself bbys. you're perfect.

i got my long sleeves on. baggy and way too long

The world was spinning on its axis, the sun rose in the east and set in the west, the tides pushed against the shores before being pulled out again. Everything was normal. It was just another day on the boat with the Pogues. Swimming, fishing, drinking cheap beers left over at The Wreck that Kiara’s dad so graciously donated to his daughter’s friend group. It was just another day. But as you stood in the mirror in the bikini Kie coerced you into buying when you two went to the mall as a girls’ weekend, you couldn’t help but notice everything you deemed was a flaw. Every little mark and every curve that was on you but not on Kie or Sarah.

Practically hearing the Pogues start to get antsy for you to hurry up, you reach into your closet and pull out your only warm clothes that were normally preserved for December and January. You let out a shaky breath and held up the hoodie to your torso, itching to just cover up all the insecurities that you have. Throwing the sweatshirt back onto your bedspread, you hold the pair of JJ’s sweatpants that he let you borrow but you’ve never returned, to your waist, remembering how safe you feel when they cinch in your waist and fall down past your ankles.

Dropping the pants to the laminate flooring underneath you, you hug your waist, as you suck in your stomach, feeling a manipulative dosage of serotonin surge through your brain when your arms follow your stomach into your ribcage and your stomach looks thinner in the mirror.

nobody has questions in december, but five months later, all i hear is:

Before you can pull the hoodie and sweatpants on to erase how you truly feel, a quick knock followed by the squeak of your bedroom door hinges rings out, revealing your blond haired boyfriend in your doorway.

A smile etched its way across JJ’s face as he looked you up and down. Scanning every inch of your body, he soaked in your features and how perfect you looked in that bikini, “Damn, Y/N! You ready?”

You clear your throat and retreat into the skin you hate so much, “Yeah, gimme a minute?” JJ nods and respects your request, walking out of your room and closing the door, but leaving it open ajar. You grab the hoodie and sweatpants, turning to see the connecting bathroom, it looks so tempting to just try to make yourself throw up, but you know JJ will hear, and you can’t bear to disappoint him. He just likes you so much.

You pull the sweats on, covering every bit of skin besides the sandals that cover your feet, your fingers that barely stick out of the oversized hoodie, and your face that is on full display as your ponytail pulls your hair back. You slip out of the bedroom quietly, hoping that JJ was already back in the boat, but there he was, his goofy, fun-loving smile playing at his lips while he hears the door creak.

aren’t you warm?

“Y/N?” JJ asks when he sees your oversized clothes, his smiling dropping into a look of concern, “You know it’s August, right? It’s, like, hotter than Hell.”

“Yeah, I just got a chill or something. Might not swim today.” JJ cast one last glance of uncertainty before throwing his arm over your shoulder and walking out of the back door towards the boat with you, bumping your hips together as you walked.

aren’t you sweating up a storm?

Kie jumped up when she saw your and JJ’s shadow from behind the back screen door, excited to see you in your new suit because she’s wearing hers too. Her expression drops when she sees your sweater paws and your sweatpants. “Y/N? Aren’t you warm?”

“I’m freezing, guess I’m comin’ down with something,” you say, your voice becoming raspy as you look at the ground, feeling too self conscious at the idea of just being there, in a bikini, when Kiara and Sarah look that effortlessly good in theirs. You and JJ hop onto the HMS Pogue, settling into a comfortable position at the stern of the boat as John B pulls the boat away from the dock and across the marsh.

JJ leans his head slightly to rest his face in the crook of your neck as he starts to whisper sweet words to you about how gorgeous you look, whether you’re in a skimpy bikini or a fully covered in his sweats or in the dresses Kie lets you borrow when she drags you to the Midsummers parties so she isn’t alone.

are you aware that it’s hotter than hell out here?

You smile slightly as you prop your elbow up against your knee and rest your head in the palm of your hand. Sarah had veged out across one of the seats in the boat and is now fanning herself as sweat starts to collect at her hairline. “Phew, Y/N, aren’t you sweating up a storm?”

“I’m doing okay, actually,” you say, the drops of sweat forming a patch on the back of your hoodie. However, you can’t help but revel in how good it feels to cover up and not to worry about how you look.

Pope drops the anchor into the marsh as Kie, Sarah, John B, and JJ pull off their shirts to get to their swimsuits. They dive into the marsh as you lean over and rest your head on the edge of the boat. JJ stops just before he could follow Pope into the water. “You’re really not coming?”

maybe i would dress for the weather if i would feel better, but i have to tell them all i’m freezing

The sweat forming around your hairline and underneath your arms and on your back starts to accelerate as you become overwhelmed with another lie. You mumble under your breath as the fragment of your friend group swims farther away from the boat, “I would dress for the weather if I felt better, but I don’t.”

“What?” JJ asks, following your eyes with his, managing to secure eye contact with you despite your fidgeting glances. Fixing your gaze on the floor of the boat, you swallow and shake your head, refusing to repeat what you said, not wanting to have said it in the first place. “Feel better about what, Y/N?”

You look up at your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who would flirt with Kie before you two got together, calling her hot and gorgeous. Sure, JJ says the same about you, but he called her hot first and she made it clear that her door was closed. Crossing your arms over your chest defensively, you stand up, digging your toe into the rough vinyl you stood on out of nervous habit. As you straighten up, you suck in your stomach, almost involuntarily. “Look at me, J!”

“I’m looking!” JJ yells, his exasperation rolling off his tongue in the same way as sweat rolls down your back. “And I think you look beautiful, you’re perfect, so if this is about how you look, I don’t understand!”

“I don’t understand either!” You shout back, immediately biting your lower lip as you analyze what you just said. JJ’s expression contorts, his look of concern and confusion falling into one of realization and anger. He reaches out to you, grabbing the cuff of your hoodie and drawing you into him. He shifts his arms once or twice around your body, trying to avoid the places where you sweated through the fabric, but in the end he didn’t care about it.

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” JJ asks softly, the volume showing an air of compassion and love, but his tone showing his anger at you for thinking of yourself that way. “You are.”

“You can’t just tell me I’m beautiful and expect me to believe it.” You retort, your eyebrows furrowing as you grasp your bottom lip with your teeth even harder, drawing blood in an attempt to halt your lips from quivering.

“Why don’t you believe it?” JJ inquires, his tone softening to concern instead of anger as he pulls you into a seat next to him.

“You have eyes--”

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t look like Kiara and Sarah do, and they’re actually beautiful.” You say, your voice dropping to a whisper as JJ watches your every move, overanalyzing every little twitch your lip makes to avoid your eyes from spilling over and every time you subconsciously tug at the hem of your sweatshirt, making sure your tummy stays completely covered.

“Obviously you don’t look like them. They have different DNA, silly.” JJ says, attempting to get a laugh or even a giggle out of you, but you don’t budge. Your arms crossing over you tighter, whatever you can do to encase yourself in armor. “Y/N, just because you don’t look like someone who is beautiful doesn’t mean it takes away from your own beauty.”

“I know that.” You mumble as JJ reaches out to push the cuffs of your sleeves up to your elbows.

“You need to believe it. It’s like evolution. It is factual.” JJ insists, tracing images onto your wrists and twisting the bracelets that wrap around your wrist into different shapes. “Your hands help so many people when they’ve fallen and your arms have pulled up the anchor so many times.”

JJ motions for you to take your hoodie off, to which you begrudgingly oblige, immediately wrapping your arms around your torso in a hug as you do so. “Your stomach has eaten so many of my molding PB&J’s without complaint, and your abs have beaten Pope in a push-up contest.”

“My stomach complained, you just weren’t there for that part.” You say with a smile as you tease JJ, his hand coming to clutch his heart in fake pain. You laugh at his antics, only for him to pump his fist into the air in triumph for your laugh.

You shimmy off your sweatpants, showing your tanned legs. You curl into an upright fetal position, trying to hide your thighs and your stomach in one fell swoop. JJ lifts his hands to bring your knees in to lean against his stomach so he can draw circles around your kneecaps. “Your legs have taken you on so many fun adventures.”

Intertwining his fingers with yours, JJ pulls you up to a standing position, holding you an arms length away by your shoulders as you squirm, very aware a passing fisherman could see you. “And your body has danced at so many parties with me and swam to find great treasures in sunken boats.”

“Y/N, you are perfect. You’ve always been perfect.”

“You can’t expect me to--”

“You’re right, I can’t expect you to believe anything I’m saying because the only opinion that matters is your own. But, you are perfect to me and to the rest of the Pogues, and it is okay for you to be insecure about things. But, never, never ever, put yourself down because that shit hurts me too.”

no matter the season.

[ghostiewriter]

67/76 for hurt! Kiara and protective! JJ

OKAY SO😂I couldn’t decide between ansgty or goofy so I kinda mixed them, more towards the goofy side though since I have a few angsty prompts coming up! But yes, hope you enjoy! This does mention blood and injuries, just an fyi to people!

Word Count: 1.8K

Prompts: “I’m afraid.” // “I think you need stitches.”

This was supposed to be their chill day.

The day that was reserved for just them. No pogues, no adventures, no crazy ass plans. Just JJ and Kie.

Some may even call it their date day—although according to Sarah, hanging out and getting high does not count as a date. The couple were inclined to agree, these days weren’t a new occurrence. It was often how they spent their days together even before they officially became a couple, except now there was the odd make out session sprinkled throughout and far cheesier flirtation banter. But it was still their day and they cherished it.

The plan was simple enough. Kie had packed some food from the restaurant and grabbed a couple of beers, JJ was in charge of getting some decent joints from his cousin and the two of them would take the Pogue out for the day. It was probably the most romantic you’d ever see the couple get.

They had taken the boat down south along the coastline, it wasn’t very explored in terms of how often the pogues ventured down there but JJ was feeling a bit adventurous. Plus Kie had no arguments as she happily sat back and watched JJ steer, one hand resting on the metal framing in such as casual way whilst the other was on the wheel, but the brunette found herself quite happily distracted by the straining back muscles that were in her line of sight—his tank long abandoned somewhere with the sundress she had slipped on over her bikini for the ten minute drive from her house to the Chateau.

Maybe if either of them had taken a few moments to think about the area they had anchored in or even glanced at a map, the whole situation could have been avoided. So in hindsight, maybe it was slightly their fault for being so reckless. However, Kie was more inclined to blaming the bastards that dump whatever trash they wanted into the ocean, not only because of the harm it caused to the wildlife but apparently humans too.

A couple of beers in, JJ was tugging on her hand to drag her up from her seat as he terribly danced along to the music blasting from the speaker they had brought with them. “C’mon, stop being a bore!” He whined childishly as she begrudgingly got up.

“I’m not being a bore,” She laughed, letting herself sway a little to keep him happy as he continued to mouth the words to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!’ that was currently playing. “I was enjoying the show.”

“Hm, it doesn’t come for free, ya know.” He murmured as he puckered his lips, making little kissy noises until she finally gave in. And Kie had assumed that would be enough for him, that she could happily indulge in some of the crabsticks she brought. But in true unpredictable JJ fashion, he was throwing her over his shoulder without a warning. Kie squealed, her nails digging slightly into his back so she didn’t flip over.

“JJ, what the hell!” She exclaimed, but the giggles escaping her lips told him that she wasn’t really mad.

“Thought you’d appreciate the view.” JJ replied as he lightly spun around, a grin etched on his face when he heard her laugh harder.

“I don’t know,” She said, staring down at his ass. “I’ve seen better.”

“Oh, you’re going to regret that, Carrera.” He warned.

“I’m afraid,” She giggled back. “Not one of JJ Maybank’s notorious empty threats!”

“Have I told you how hot you look today, Kie?” He asked suddenly in an oddly innocent and un-JJ like way.

“Like I need you to tell me, I know I look great.” She sassed back, letting out a small gasp when she felt him slap her ass. She could practically hear the smirk on his face.

“I think you need to cool down a little.” He retorted, already making his way towards the stern of the boat. Her eyes widened slightly as she tried her best to hold onto him.

“JJ, DON’T YOU DA—AHHH!”

By the time she surfaced, she could already hear JJ’s laughs. She ran her hands through her hair, pushing it out of her face as she looked up at the blond with a glare. He was grinning innocently back at her.

“You look cool in there.” He snickered.

“You’re an ass.” She called back, moving her arms in gentle circles to keep herself afloat.

“Ah, but I’m your ass.” He grinned back and she didn’t disagree. Eventually, she had managed to convince him to come in with her—of course the asshole canon-balled in—the water actually feeling great against the midday heat.

They tried not to venture too far from the boat, although that wasn’t a problem when they realised quickly that most of the surrounding area was just marshy and not great for swimming.

“God, this feels horrible.” Kiara muttered as she glanced down, as though she would actually be able to see much. Still, didn’t stop her from trying.

“I kinda like it,” JJ spoke up, seeming to enjoy himself despite Kiara’s constant requests to head back to the Pogue. “Feels like I’m walking on a marshmallow.” He added nonchalantly.

“Congratulations, your eight year old self’s dream came true,” She commented with a small chuckle, almost as if she was imagining young JJ with his horribly done buzzcut. “Now can we please head back? I’m fucking starving.”

“Geez, you get cranky when you’re hungry.” He teased, promptly avoiding the splash that she had directed his way. He only cackled, yelling that the last one to make it to the boat gets a warm beer before he got his head-start back.

Kie only laughed, calling him a cheater as she followed suit. Except getting out of the marsh was a little harder that she assumed, kicking her feet and swearing under her breath whenever she got stuck again.

She felt a nip—or maybe it was more than a nip but the adrenaline of the competition was coursing through her—and when she went to kick her leg free once again, she felt a sharp pain run up her leg. Kiara didn’t even remember screaming until JJ was on his way back, eyes wide in concern.

“Kie, what’s wrong? What happened?” His eyes glazed over her as though he was trying to see the cause of her scream.

“M-My leg.” She whimpered, feeling her eyes well up with tears as she tried to free her leg once again, only to feel another shot of pain.

“Jellyfish?” He asked but she simply shook her head. “Okay, let’s get you back to the boat.” He murmured, heart racing when he saw some red residue on his hand after he helped her tug her leg free.

It was a hassle but JJ didn’t care, his first priority was getting Kie back somewhere safe and right now, that was the boat. He helped her up before he pulled himself onboard, his eyes falling onto her leg.

His eyes widened when he saw the massive cut on her leg, the lower half of her left leg covered in blood. He could feel his throat closing up, mind racing and hands shaking. Everything around him seemed to drown out as he stared at her leg, and it wasn’t until she felt her tugging his hand and calling his name that he seemed to snap out whatever trance he was in.

“Right, sorry!” He quipped before he grabbed a towel and placed it down on the seats before gently lifting her on top of it. He then disappeared to grab the first-aid kit they kept on board, but Kie didn’t miss the way his hands were a little shaky when he placed it down beside her, fingers fiddling as he attempted to open the box.

She won’t lie, the salt water made it sting like a bitch. It hurt and she probably should’ve been more alarmed at the amount of blood dripping down her leg, but she had never seen JJ so shaken up. She didn’t peg him as the squeamish type, so she couldn’t really understand what’s got him so freaked out.

“Jay…” She whispered softly, placing her hands over his. He finally looked up at her, sniffling slightly and it was then she noticed how red his eyes looked—though she wasn’t sure if that was because he was crying (or trying his hardest not to) or if he had just gotten some salt water in his eyes—but either way, she hated the broken look on his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I should’ve listened to you when you said we should head back.” He began to ramble, not seeming to have control over his words. “I shouldn’t have even thrown you in the water in the first place!”

“JJ, it’s okay.” She whispered, turning her body to face him as much as she could without moving her leg. “This isn’t your fault.”

“I’m still sorry—”

“Nope, no more apologising.” She scolded lightly, giving him a small—and hopefully comforting—smile. “C’mon, Doc, fix me up.” She added, nudging his shoulder a little. She relaxed a little when she saw the small smile on his face.

“Dr Maybank to your rescue.” He huffed out as he opened up the first aid kit, grabbing some wipes before he gently began to clean the wound and surrounding area. She watched him carefully, lip tugged between her teeth to contain her winces. She noticed the little crease between his eyebrows as he focused at the task at hand. If she didn’t feel a shooting pain down her leg every time he even touched it, she would’ve basked in the adorable scene of focused JJ.

“I think you need stiches.” JJ spoke up, staring at her wound with a thoughtful face.

She looked down at her leg, trying not to wince. It was a clean cut, probably from some broken glass hidden in the marsh. And it was deep, but Kiara didn’t think it was stitch-level deep.

“You’re being overdramatic, just need to wrap it up and dose myself up on some paracetamol.” Kie said with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, I watched Grey’s Anatomy with Pope,” JJ said, hands on his hips as he looked between Kie and her leg. “I think that makes me pretty qualified to say that you need stitches.”

“You watched one episode, dumbass.” She scoffed. “Just drive back, I don’t need you performing amateur surgery on my knee.”

Except it had taken at least fifteen minutes before Kie finally convinced JJ that she was comfortable and fine and that he could stop fussing over her. He only narrowed his eyes at her before pressing a kiss to her forehead and handing her a joint, saying it would help with the pain.

“You know, it’s kinda cute.” Kie called out, moving her eyes away from the passing scenery as she looked at JJ from over her shoulder.

“What is?” He asked.

“Your little protective mama bear side.” She said with a snicker. JJ rolled his eyes in response, but there was a smile on his lips.

“Well excuse me for being a caring boyfriend.” He huffed out.

“I said it was cute!”

“Yeah, yeah! Whatever!”

“Uh oh, mama’s mad.”

[sohotthateveryonedied]

I Swear that I’ll Be Around for You

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

“Alfred said you’re sick.”

Dick chuckles, then coughs. “World’s greatest detective.”

Bruce doesn’t exactly know what to say now. His hands hover, unsure. God, this was so much easier when Dick was younger. Every time he had so much as a case of the sniffles he would snuggle into Bruce’s side, let himself be cared for as if he were on his deathbed. Things are so different now.

It’s a late night. Then again, when isn’t it a late night? Bruce will forever hold on to his steadfast belief that anyone who maintains a normal sleeping schedule is weak and should be fed to wolves for their audacity. Bruce pokes his head into the kitchen where Alfred is wiping down the already spotless counters. “I’m heading up to bed now, Alfred, so feel free to do the same. Maybe try to be rebellious and sleep in for once.” Not that the old man will heed his advice. “Goodnight, Master Bruce. Oh, and do be quiet as you go upstairs? Master Dick has the flu and needs as much rest as he can get.” Bruce blinks. If he didn’t know any better, he’d be sure that his brain just got smooshed in a toddler’s fist with how long he stands there, vacantly staring at Alfred as his words sink in. “Dick is here? Since when?” Dick and Bruce haven’t said a word to each other for weeks now, possibly the longest they’ve ever gone without at least some sort of contact with each other. Their last argument was a bad one. Things were said, things they both regret. Bruce doesn’t blame his ward for spending all of his time with the Titans, moving on to forge his own path in a new life. “Since you left for patrol this evening,” Alfred says casually. “I’m certain I told you about it.” “I’m certain you didn’t.” Alfred shrugs. “Well, he’s here. Poor lad is sick as a dog, another tragic casualty of flu season.” “Hm. I’ll...be sure to check on him.” Alfred doesn’t turn around, but Bruce can feel his judgement with every pass of the sponge across gleaming marble. “What a marvelous idea, Master Bruce.” Translation? I hope the fuck you do, foolish bastard. Alfred truly has a way with words.

Bruce goes upstairs, invisible anchors tied to his ankles and dragging him down the whole way. He and Dick have been on rocky terrain for so long that he finds himself unsure of what to say to the boy. Man, now. Dick has grown so much over the years, become a person all his own, and Bruce finds himself at a loss when it comes to finding common ground with him. Maybe that’s how it always goes with fathers and sons; with time comes distance, and with distance comes respect. In all honesty, Bruce would gladly lose the distance and the time. He’d keep Dick as the smiling eight-year-old he grew to love all those years ago. Bruce stops in front of Dick’s old bedroom and finds the door already cracked halfway open. He peers in and finds a lump under the covers on the bed, shivering even as his chest rises and falls in steady rhythm. Bruce creeps in soundlessly. Dick’s face peeks out from the mound of blankets, his complexion pallid and covered in a sheen of perspiration. His cheeks are flushed with fever even as he shivers in his sleep. Bruce can’t help himself from pulling the blankets up higher, tucking them around Dick’s shoulders. Bruce’s breath catches as blue eyes crack open, blinking a few times before blearily settling on Bruce. “Hey,” Dick croaks, not two decibels above a whisper. “Alfred said you’re sick.” Dick chuckles, then coughs. “World’s greatest detective.” Bruce doesn’t exactly know what to say now. His hands hover, unsure. God, this was so much easier when Dick was younger. Every time he had so much as a case of the sniffles he would snuggle into Bruce’s side, let himself be cared for as if he were on his deathbed. Things are so different now. Luckily, the exertion of talking alone seems to have been the limit for Dick, because his eyes close once again as he drifts back to sleep. Definitely sick, then. If he were any healthier, this would have ended in an argument or one of them storming from the room. Maybe Bruce should carry on with the latter, leave this one up to Alfred. After all, Dick is an adult now. He doesn’t need Bruce caring for him anymore. He doesn’t need Bruce, period. But Bruce watches Dick turn fitfully under the covers, his mouth twisted in a grimace as the illness ravages his body, and he knows he can’t stay away.

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

Dick wakes up smothered by warmth, and he can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. It seeps into him from all angles, a cocoon of heat that’s as comforting as it is sweltering. He’s a marshmallow browning over a candle, soft and squishy and warm. Dick has no clue where he is or what woke him up, and right now he doesn’t care. Maybe he’s in a fireplace. Is that possible? Can someone live in a fireplace without dying? Kori probably could. He should ask her if she’s ever visited a fireplace planet. Dick considers just going back to sleep to think on it more some other time, when something cool touches his forehead and his eyes open in shock. It’s dark, wherever he is. Dark and warm and comfortable, but that thing touching him? That just won’t do. Dick bats it away and makes contact with a wrist. Someone chuckles. “Just checking your temperature.” Dick knows that voice, he’s sure he does, but his mind is a swirling vortex of semi-coherent thoughts that are too jumbled to sort through right now. He’ll do it later. “How are you feeling, chum?” that same voice rumbles gently. How something can rumble gently, Dick isn’t sure, nor does he have the mental capacity to sort through it at the moment. The voice’s words are warped, too warbly to understand. Dick grumbles something nonsensical and pulls the thick blanket tighter around himself. Wherever he is, it’s too warm to leave. The surface beneath him is cushy but solid in the best way. Maybe he really has been turned into a marshmallow. Or maybe his bed is a marshmallow. Maybe the world is made of marshmallows and every minute of his life was just a dream before he wakes up back in Marshmallow Land. Would he mind that? Something pokes between his lips and slips under his tongue. Dick is too tired to fight it. After an amount of time he doesn’t think he’s all there for, there’s a beep and someone pulls the thing away. That same someone hums. “You still have a fever.” Then why does it feel like he’s freezing to death under all the warmth he’s swaddled in? “Are you thirsty?” Excellent question. What does being thirsty mean again? Dick manages an affirming grumble. Then something new prods at his mouth. Dick drinks the water, the liquid heavenly on his sore throat. His mouth is dry, almost sticky with the sensation, and the water is a relief he didn’t know he needed. Slowly, painstakingly, Dick opens his eyes and strains to take in the darkness around him. Black blankets. White pillows. Something soft and blue—a sweater? Dick’s eyes climb higher and find a face, and that’s when it clicks. He’s been sleeping with his head on Bruce’s chest, in Bruce’s bed. Huh. Dick is pretty sure he should be mortified right now, but all he has room for in his fever-compromised brain is how incredibly comfortable he is. Bruce says something. “Hm?” “I asked if you were cold.” Dick shakes his head, gripping Bruce’s sweater tighter in his fingers. “‘m fine.” Bruce makes another humming noise and picks up a novel from the nightstand, flipping to the page he left off at. His fingers card through Dick’s hair, soothing enough that it nearly puts him back to sleep. How long has he been here, sitting up with Dick while he battles the flu? Did Dick come to Bruce’s room on instinct, or did Bruce carry him here? If the former, why hasn’t Bruce kicked him out yet? The old days were a simpler time, back when Dick’s instinct every time he got sick or had a nightmare was to take up residence in Bruce’s bed, seeing as it was the biggest and the cushiest one in the house. Dick would climb in and snuggle against Bruce, hogging the covers all night, but Bruce never once complained. And now, fifteen years later, it looks like nothing has changed. “You’re good at this,” Dick says. “At what?” “Takin’ care of me. Being a dad. You’re good at it.” The hand in his hair stills. “I try to be.” Dick closes his eyes, soaking in the warmth, the steady tempo of Bruce’s breaths. “‘s why I came. I knew you’d be here, no matter what.”

[ashesofangst]

Lesson to be Learned

Trigger Warning: Knives; Blood; Character tied up with ropes; Character pinned by nails; Gore; Ripping guts out; Character death; Stabbing; Character getting cut opened; Implied Kidnapping

Characters: Anti and Dark

Summary: After coming back to the Dark Ego Mindscape and barging into Dark's office, Dark decides to teach Anti a lesson in knocking.

Note: The way I write Dark normally is with they/them pronouns.

6/21/21

__

Anti woke up in a daze. He blinked his sleepiness away and looked around to see he was in a dark, ominous room. He tried to move but found out he couldn't move his his hands nor his arms. In fact, he couldn't move any of his limbs.

The glitch demon looked at where he felt his hands were at and saw something that made him want to scream for help. His hands and elbows were pinned to the wall by nails, blood dripping from the wounds and falling slowly down his arm as if it's goal was to fall on the ground with quietest of splats.

He knew if he tried free them right now, they will make a hole in his hand. He was better off leaving them there until someone got them off for him. Anti didn't like the thought of waiting, but it was the best he could do right now.

He looked at where he felt his legs were at. He sighed in relief when he saw no nails pinning them down. It was just ropes tied to some anchors to the wall.

As the glitch demon tugged on the rope to get his legs free from the wall, the sounds of a door opening in the dark could be heard and echoed off the walls. That immediately got Anti to freeze. "Hello? Is anyone there," He called out, his voice quavering with clearly fear. He didn't know how he got here, and that person could why he is.

Out from the shadows stepped out the one and only Dark. They wore their black suit instead of their favored white suit for some reason. "Hello, Anti," They greeted, their voice surprisingly calm despite the situation the other was in. That didn't mean anything good for Anti.

Anti looked at the 3D person. "Could you help me get out? I don't like being trapped like this." He let a desperate whine afterwards to show how uncomfortable he was by this situation.

The person in a suit smiled and then shook their head. "I'm afraid I can not. After all, I put you there. Why would I let you go?"

Anti gulped. He was afraid of this. What was Dark planning? "Dark, please! Whatever prank or whatnot you're playing, let me go!" He didn't like how this going. He wanted to free and possibly running around as he causes chaos.

Dark shook their head with a bit of annoyance. "I'm playing nothing. Just teaching you a lesson," They stated as they walked back into the darkness of the room. "You like knives, right?"

Anti was confused by Dark's words, along with the fact the other asked that question. He was about to ask when Dark came out of the shadows with knives.

"One of these is yours by the way. I thought it would be fitting to hurt you with your own weapon," Dark told Anti as they sat the knives down. "Hmm.... Probably should use your knife last and start with the shortest one," They pondered as they stood with a small switchblade in hand.

Slowly, they approached Anti and held the demon by his chin. "A cut along the cheek would look good on you, you know?"

Anti immediately tried to move away and even tried biting Dark's hand. All were in vain as in the end, Dark got a cut on him. He yelped and squirmed, trying to get 3D demon away from, blood beginning to drip from his right cheek, just like hands and elbows were. The blood moved faster however and only made it to black shirt, not traveling any further.

Dark just chuckled. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" They pulled away and grabbed another knife, this one being a pocket knife.

They glanced at Anti as they thought where to hurt him next. "Your legs seem to not be injured yet. Let's hurt those now," They pointed out.

Anti tried to get his legs free once again, not caring if he could get only one leg free. As long as he didn't get hurt, he would be fine with that.

Dark just watched Anti struggle and laughed. "How funny. They came close to the glitch demon with the knife and casually held his legs down. Upon doing this, they carefully stabbed into Anti's left thigh and dragged the knife downwards.

Anti screamed at the top of his lungs and begged Dark to stop as blood pooled out of the wound, staining the seams of his jeans red. The blood stared to move down towards his knees as it stopped. It didn't make it to the ground, but it seemed to attempt to.

Dark smiled in satisfaction. Their work was going great. Well, for them at least, not so much for Anti. "Hm.... I think I should just skip right to your knife and finish this early. Wilford and the other egos have a meeting with me. I don't wish to be late," They stated.

Anti looked at Dark and immediately nodded. He didn't know what that truly meant, but he assumed it would mean he would be let go and never have to see Dark again.

“Of course you would want that,” Dark stated with a smirk. They put away the switch blade and picked up Anti’s knife. They glanced at Anti and smiled before coming close to him.

Slowly, Dark lifted up Anti’s shirt. Anti looked confused for a moment. What was the 3D demon doing? His scream for help was suddenly caught in his throat, and he struggled to get away from Dark again.

Dark just laughed and inserted the knife in Anti’s stomach, making the other demon scream in pain and agony. They carefully cut a line and pulled the knife out.

Blood poured out of the cut and stained his jeans with more of a red color. Faster then the other times blood spilled out of him, it flooded and spilled onto the floor. It was like a waterfall of blood was coming out of Anti.

Despite the blood spillage, Dark wasn’t done. They reached inside of the cut started pulling some of his organs out, specifically non-vital ones like his colon and appendix.

As soon as Dark was done and Anti was running low on blood, Dark looked at the glitch. “Maybe this will teach you not to come in office without knocking. If you live that is.” Swiftly and quietly, Dark left, leaving the dead body of another demon behind.

[bxthharmon]

Never Go Home Again, Pt. II || JJ Maybank x Reader

Words: 2327

Series Warnings: violence / talking about abuse / toxic relationships / talking about nudes sex tapes and sex tapes / drugs / underage drinking

Pt. Warnings: underage drinking

Series Summary: A new girl, a shoebox of old memories, a past she’s trying to forget coincide with a hotheaded, but selfless, boy.  teenagers getting in way over their heads

Pt. Summary: JJ helps you unpack, and the treasure hunt begins

A/N: I literally spent all day planning this series out, and I have a couple more parts drafted, so hopefully updates won’t be too slow! thanks for the love so far! anyone who wants to be tagged, let me know!

Chapters linked in my masterlist.

“masterlist”

JJ turned up at your house at eleven on the next Monday. Thankfully, you were home alone, so you invited him in, explaining that you were unpacking the last of your stuff. He had happily helped, putting your things on higher shelves that you couldn’t reach or doing the heavier lifting. You saw how he inspected each polaroid, photo or ticket, looking for clues to who you were in LA. 

His favourite discovery was a polaroid of you with a girl he didn’t recognise, both taking disgustingly huge bites of cotton candy at a carnival, recognisable as the same place the picture of your mom was, in the shoebox. He had mocked you for it, and you had explained that it was an annual funfair every March, and you and the friend had been high as kites on MDMA in the picture. When you were getting to the bottom of the last box, he found an envelope, stamped as a file from the Los Angeles Police Department, and he flipped it over, the seal worn like it had been peeled open and pushed shut a hundred times. He saw how you hunched up when you saw it, snatching it from him and pushing it under the shoebox in the wardrobe, ignoring his attempts to ask about it. He found a homemade farewell card, and when he opened it, the card was full of little notes from at least fifteen people; ‘Jamie’, ‘Lily’, ‘Ella’, ‘Mia’ and a long note on the back from ‘Cassie’. He put it down on your desk, amongst the picture frames and polaroids. Some of the stuff, you were more open about. When he found a plastic lightsaber, you had enthusiastically explained to him how you and your brother used to pretend to be jedis fighting the evil empire (aka, your dad), or the tickets to museums or theme parks or theatres. Each had a story, a reason, a clue. Every memento was a drop in a vast ocean of whatever had pushed your family of two onto the Outer Banks. 

When everything was away, you flopped down on the bed, pulling him in a tow, so you were in a similar position to only two nights before. You turned to look at him.

“Why aren’t you at school, Jay?” you asked, and his heart fluttered at the shortening of his already-shortened name.

He shrugged, “I had better things to do.”

“Like me?” he shrugged again, but his face gave away that he had skipped for you. “You trying to say you wanna do me, Maybank?”

He looked you in the eye, “At some point, hopefully.”

At that, you both completely cracked up, cackling and doubling over, laughter hurting your ribs. “Smooth.” you rasped out, between your bouts of laughter.

“Why aren’t you at school?” JJ asked.

“There’s only two weeks left so the principal decided it would be best if I just started in September.” you explained, and he nodded. You turned onto your side so you could face him properly. “Jay?”

He hummed in acknowledgement, snuggling into you, ever so slightly.

“Promise me you’ll go to school as much as possible for the rest of the term?”

He looked up at you, “You serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“Y/N, there’s only a month left.” he reasoned, “And finals are over so there’s literally no point.”

“Jay, there’s only a month left.” you mocked, “So you’ll manage just fine.”

He groaned, “Damn Y/N, I’ve known you half a week and you’re already making me a better person.”

Couldn’t be further from the truth, you thought, Oh JJ, if only you’d known back in LA.

“What can I say,” you grinned, “I just have that effect on people.”

The storm kept you wide awake. 

You couldn’t sleep with the sound of the window panes rattling and wind whistling past the house, so after a few hours, you wrapped yourself in your fuzzy throw blanket and shuffled down the stairs. You crept into the living room, seeing your dad asleep on the sofa. You sat down on the seat away from him, curling your feet in and pulling the blanket up to your chin. You sat there, every time your eyes drooped, a crash or bang would snap them right back open, alert. At some point, your dad woke up.

“Hi, honey,” he groaned, sitting up. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” you explain, wiggling your toes around a bit. “Storm’s too loud.”

He nodded, “How are your new friends?”

“They’re good.” you smiled, “Everyone here’s so different.”

“In a good way?”

“Yeah. they’re nicer, less judgy, less… I don’t know.” you trailed off. “JJ said he’d teach me how to surf.”

“Who’s JJ?” your dad frowned, “Sounds like a boys’ name.”

“Oh my God, Dad, chill.” you groaned, “We’re just friends.”

“Just friends?” he smirked, “Or just friends?”

“Dad, you’re literally the most infuriating person I know.” you threw your head back on the back of the armchair, too unsure of what you and JJ were to even want to describe it to him.

“Honey, just be careful, hm?” he softened, that smile on his face fading away, “You’ve been through so much lately, and I don’t want you to get hurt. You’re delicate.”

“I’m not delicate.” 

“Yeah, you are.” he looked at the floor, “and you don’t deserve anything this family has put you through, much less anything that boy did to you.”

That boy. God, comparing JJ to him was like comparing a puppy to Hannibal Lector.

“Well he’s almost three thousand miles away, so let’s just forget about him, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course, sweetheart.”

JJ appeared at the ass-crack of dawn, saying him and John B wanted a day out with the Pogues. He hadn’t relented when you said you wanted to sleep, and you found yourself giving in quicker than you would like to admit.

He waited for you to get dressed (bikini, shorts and crop tops seemed to be what you lived in, currently) and then dragged you to John B’s to get the HMS Pogue and go out to the marsh. JJ and John B had attempted to sweet-talk Heyward, and Pope ended up being (willingly) kidnapped. Next, you picked up Kiara, and her cooler full of beer, before heading to the marsh.

JJ, much to Kiara’s frustration, had decided it would be a great idea to try and teach you how to air the beer, using the speed of the boat. It was ridiculous, because you were somehow doing it better than him, even if you had beer all in your hair and bikini top. 

You were just getting the hang of it when the boat jolted to a stop, sending you and JJ flying fifteen feet forwards and crashing down into the waters.

You found yourself sinking, a frenzy of bubbles rising around you, the shape of JJ falling visible somewhere next to you. You kicked towards the surface, gasping as you broke the surface, pushing your hair out of your face as JJ appeared to your side, flicking his long hair out of his face.

“I think my heels touched the back of my head.” JJ complained, and you laughed, treading water next to him.

“At least I don’t have beer in my hair anymore.” You reasoned, clinging to JJ’s shoulder as you maneuvered out of your soaked shorts and threw them onto the boat.

“Pope,” you groaned, “What did you do?”

“Sandbar. The channel changed.”

“No shit.” JJ moaned. “Hey, I saved the beer though!”

“Congrats, JJ.” John B said.

“Guys,” Pope said, “I think there’s a boat down there.” 

“Right,” you laughed, “Sure.”

“No, no, guys, I’m serious. There’s a boat down there.” he insisted.

“Oh shit.”

You peered down at the shapes beneath you, recognising the shapes of a boat.

“You think there’s  a dead body down there?” Pope asked.

You inhaled, and then kicked downwards, the others following suit, as you all peered inside, trying to see anything of note, and then pushed back up, resurfacing.

“That’s a Grady-White!” JJ laughed, “A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy.”

You hauled back onto the boat, gushing about the wreck.

“That’s the boat I saw when I surfed the surge.” John B pointed out, making Kiara turn around to glare at him. “Maybe it hit the Jetty or something?”

“You surfed the surge?” Kie asked, frustrated that they could be so reckless. 

“That’s my boy, Pogue style.” JJ grinned, and you shook your head at him, rolling your eyes.

“Wait,” You paused, “Do we know who’s boat that is?”

“No,” John B shrugged, “But we’re about to find out.”

“Dude, it’s too deep.” JJ scorned.

“Only for the weak and feeble, JJ.” John B responded.

“Well I’m not resuscitating you. I’m making that clear upfront.”

You took the anchor. “Resuscitate me then.”

“Diver down, fool.” Pope shrugged.

“Y/N-” JJ started.

“Diver down.” you jumped, letting the anchor pull you to the bottom.

Everything was blue and hazy, your eyes stinging in the salty water, but you adjusted, knowing you didn’t have long. In your short amount of time before your lungs would collapse, you scanned over the controls, finding a set of keys. You pushed back, out of the boat, and let the air in your lungs pull you to the surface.

“Oh my God that took forever!” Kie sighed, JJ finding your eyes with panic set in his features.

“Any dead bodies?” Pope asked.

“Looting potential?” JJ asked.

You shook your head. “All I found was some motel keys.” You held them up, squinting in the sun but still treading water.

“Great, we salvaged a motel key!” JJ said, sarcastically.

“Guys we should report the wreck to the Coast Guard, maybe we’ll get a finder’s fee.” Kiara reasoned.

“And not work all summer!” JJ grinned, “Thanks Agatha, ya biatch!”

Following JJ out of the boat, something about the motel was setting you on edge, making your stomach churn uncomfortably.

You began to walk with JJ, when Pope called out to you, “Y/N, Don’t let him do anything stupid, he doesn’t listen to the rest of us.”

“I’m not making promises.” You shrugged.

You looked back at John B and Kiara as she told him to “be careful”. You shot her a questioning look, and she simply shook her head. You took the keys from John B, walking a couple of feet ahead of the two boys. You scanned the room numbers, pretending not to listen to them talk about Kie. If you didn’t feel bad about the place already, hearing the way JJ talked about Kie seemed to be adding to the feeling.

“Twenty nine.” you cut them off, taking the keys off John B, “This is us,”

“Housekeeping!” JJ mocked, and you shoved his shoulder playfully, gaining access to the door, which you unlocked.

JJ and John B took a beeline to the map, while you went through the bathroom, finding nothing but unused shampoos and body washes.

“Find anything?” John B asked as you came through.

“Just a Dopp Kit,” you shrugged, sitting down on the bed.

You left JJ to his rambling as you handed a John B a code to unlock the safe with.

Stacks of cash, a gun, an envelope. Your eyes widened, and you let out a whistle. You called JJ over, and he immediately grabbed the gun, both you and John B yelling for him to put it back as he asked for a picture.

Hearing a crack on the window, you saw Pope and Kiara signalling that there was someone at the door. JJ confirmed this, peaking through the blinds. 

You forced the window, allowing John B out, before following. JJ followed you, shutting the window after himself. You shuffled along so he could stand, only giving you space for one foot, right on the edge of the roof. You grabbed the post in front of JJ and he wrapped an arm around you to keep you from falling.

You could see John B and JJ mouthing to each other, but you couldn’t see, what with JJ being in the way and being preoccupied with trying not to fall. JJ turned slightly, to look back at Pope and Kiara. His grip loosened, and you almost lost your footing. 

JJ, pulled you back in, allowing you to regain balance, but the combination of your small scream and the clatter of the goddamned gun falling, one of the cops looked out the window. 

In JJ’s attempt to stop the two of you from being seen, The two of you ended up face to face, barely an inch apart, with his grip holding you tight as fuck. You could smell weed and mint on his breath. 

“Your eyes are really blue.” you murmured, watching how they lit up as he stifled a laugh.

You were sitting on JJ’s lap with an arm thrown casually around his neck, ever conscious of his fingers tracing patterns on your side, as the group were talking about what your next moves were.

“So we need to lay low right?” you began, the group nodding, and an idea popped into your head. “Okay, so if you're laying low, everyone would expect you to stop doing shit right? Be super discreet about everything?” the group nodded, unsure of your path, “well, in that case, do what they least expect.”

“Hand ourselves in?” JJ joked, and you sighed, exasperated.

“This place is the polar opposite of LA, but it has one thing in common - with my area at least. It’s fucking full of broke teenagers, and if broke teenagers are good at anything, it’s getting a hold of vast amounts of alcohol, right?”

“Fuckin’ amen.” JJ muttered, and the others all looked at you in confusion.

“So, gather your resources, and throw whatever the Outer Banks version of a beach party is!”

“Let’s throw a kegger.” Kie grinned.

Tags: @tangledinsparkles @jellyfishbeansontoast @lolitstiana @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch

[thirsty4theextraordinary]

Everything Burns - Chapter 15

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Fire, violence, implied violence. 

Word count: 2081

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Chapter 15: Better Class of Criminal

By the time midday came around The Joker and Jester were ready and waiting. He had briefed her on his plan or rather as he called it, 'idea' of going to pay Harvey Dent a visit in hospital.

He had asked Scarlett to get him a nurses outfit so early that morning she had gone home to raid her closet finding one that was given to her by mistake and was far too large.

It was an odd turn her life had taken but she was rather enjoying it and she could no longer see her life any other way, the thoughts of going back to work filled her with dread, but the thought of a life without Jack was even worse.

She had agreed to go with him and a few of the 'boys' to the meeting with the mob that afternoon, to pick up the Joker's payment.

Jester prepared herself to leave as she pulled on her boots, the boys switched on the TV and something caught her ear. With one boot on and the other off she hurried over in an odd limp-y fashion and snatched the remote out of the goon's hand before turning the channel back to what it was just on.

On the TV was the usual news anchor for GCN and below him was the caption.

Later on GCN

REVEALED: BATMAN'S TRUE IDENTITY

In the upper left corner of the screen was a video link to another man.

"He's a credible source, an M&A lawyer from a leading consultancy. He says he's waited as long as he can for Batman to do the right thing. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. We'll be live, at 5, with the true identity of the Batman. Call in at 5 to have your say." Said the News anchor and Jester quickly pulled on her other boot before running to tell Joker.

"So he knows who the Bat really is and he's going to broadcast it on TV," clarified Joker, looking up at her from behind his desk, she simply nodded. He burst out into hysterical laughter and she was a little taken aback. She had expected him to be pleased but not this happy, but then this was Jack and he didn't do things by half measures.

"Well you said there was a number do you remember it?" he asked and she nodded he held out a pen and scrap of paper and she wrote down the number that had come up on screen.

"Well done Jester!" he said laughing again before he pocketed the number and stood pulling on his coat.

At 3 thanks to the Joker's police 'connections,' they were told about Maroni going to see Gordon. They knew he had ratted them out, having told Gordon where The Joker was going to be. The 'boys' were sent on a small errand after that to fill the basement of Gotham General with a large amount of ammonium nitrate. They had it rigged up within the hour but were not back in time for the meeting so The Joker and Jester were left with just four goons. The hospital explosion would be the distraction they needed to get the cops off their backs while they paid Harvey a visit.

She was surprised how quickly the Joker could get things done, and it was somewhat of an honour to witness him at work.

He caught her staring at him when he got off the phone with one of the goons and shot her a quizzical look.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Nothing. It's just awe inspiring to watch your brain work. I mean less than an hour ago you were told about a police ambush and already you have a way out and a pretty spectacular one at that. I just forget sometimes that you are an absolute genius" she said and he chuckled.

"Come on, let's go check on our guest," he said, as he walked past her his hand ran along her side, it was some kind of a habit now.

After a night in the boot of a stolen cop car, Lau was surprisingly well, and Jester squeezed his cheek playfully when they opened the boot to make sure he wasn't dead, yet.

The meeting with the mob was on a container ship, the money was already there and waiting. At 4 they left for the meeting, knowing full well the police were planning their ambush.

They arrived at the docks just past 4 and The Joker jumped out the van before offering a hand to Jester which she gladly took. The goons followed behind with a bound and gagged Lau. The docks were empty apart from the enormous red coloured container ship. It was enormous and Jester looked around the ship curiously. There must have been thousands of shipping containers all stacked at least ten high. As a door to one creaked slightly, something snapped inside of Jester and she stopped in her tracks. She couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or cry. Joker turned back to look at her, watching the turmoil going on inside her head. The sound of a chainsaw motor rumbled in her ears. 

"Come on Jester," he said and she seemed to come back to herself, a twisted grin spreading across her face. She skipped over to him laughing slightly to herself.

He led them down into a large room within the container ship, in the middle of the room was a huge pile of money. It must have been at least half a storey high and spread out across much of the room.

"Put him on the top" the Joker said to the goons motioning to Lau, and they dragged him up quickly. Either Lau was stupid or very clever as he did not struggle as the Joker climbed up the pile behind the goons with a chair. He placed it on the top and the goons pulled Lau into it before the Joker dismissed them and left them to go look out for the Chechen.

He began to tie Lau, who was now dressed in a straight jacket to the seat.

"He's here" shouted the voice of the goon no less than a few minutes later and the Joker looked up from his place, before ducking back down to continue tying Lau to the chair securely.

Jester stood back to lean on the wall as she heard footsteps approaching. The Chechen was a skinny man with a shallow face and sharp features and he smiled disgustingly at Jester as he entered the room.

"Not so crazy as you look." said the Chechen loudly to the Joker who began to stand up on top of the pile.

"I told you, I'm a man of my word," said Joker standing up fully, on top of the pile of money before he patted Lau on the head sarcastically and jumped down the pile, sliding down most of it to come to a standing stop in front of one of the goons. He looked back at the money as piles of it slid down in his wake.

"Where's the Italian?" the Joker asked though he knew full well that Maroni would not be coming.

"I don't know, but he's not here so he doesn't get a share. We go 50/50" said Chechen in his broken English. The Joker shrugged at this before picking up wads of money and beginning to launch them up at the Lau hitting him in that face a few times.

"Please" Lau begged and Jester laughed loudly as yet another wad of money hit him.

"Joker-man, what you do with all your money?" asked the Chechen pointing to the pile with his lit cigar.

"You see, I'm a guy of simple taste," said the Joker turning to the Chechen.

"I enjoy... dynamite … and gunpowder... and gasoline," he said the last one much louder than the rest. The Joker took a step back, as a goon with a gas can came in and began to soak the bottom layer of cash in petrol.

"What the...?" exclaimed the Chechen rushing towards the goon angrily.

"Ah, dah, dah. dah." sung the Joker pointing his gun at the Chechen who stopped dead in his tracks.

"And you know the thing that they all have in common?" the Joker asked the Chechen approaching him again.

"They're cheap," he said with a slight growl in his voice. Jester glanced down at her phone, checking the time, it was just past 5, and she shot the Joker a meaningful look.

"You said you were a man of your word," said the Chechen , the cigar in his mouth causing him to slur.

"Oh, I am." said the Joker before he pulled the cigar from the Chechen's mouth. He held the cigar up blowing on the end a few times.

"I'm only burning my half," he said before he turned and threw the cigar at the petrol-soaked pile of money. It was engulfed in flames in seconds and Lau began to wiggle in his restraints. The Chechen face went grey and he looked at the burning cash in horror.

"All you care about is money." spat the Joker to him.

"This town deserves a better class of criminal... and I'm gonna give it to them." said the Joker, his face close to the Chechen's.

"Tell your men they work for me now." said the Joker poking the Chechen hard in the chest with his gun.

"This is my city," he said and the Chechen moved his face away.

"They won't work for a freak," the Chechen said.

"Freak." mimicked the Joker making fun of the Russian's accent.

"Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches? Hm?" the Joker said as he brought his knife out and waved it in front of the Chechen's face.

"And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is." shouted the Joker, as a tow of the Chechen men came up behind the Chechen and held a blade to the Russians throat, before pulling him away.

"It's not about money, it's about sending a message." muttered the Joker to himself, before he pulled his phone out his pocket and began to dial.

"Everything burns" he cried loudly as Jester began to laugh.

"I had a vision" began the Joker into the phone, after a few moments Jester moved over to him and began to play with the buttons of his waistcoat.

"Of a world without Batman. The mob ground out a little profit and the police tried to shut them down one block at a time. And it was so boring! I've had a change of heart. I don't want Mr Reese spoiling everything but why should I have all the fun? Let's give someone else a chance. If Coleman Reese isn't dead in 60 minutes then I’ll blow up a hospital" said the Joker before he hung up and pushed his phone back into his pocket. He looked down at the raven haired clown still playing with the buttons of his waistcoat.

He reached out and pulled her chin up so she was looking at him before his arms moved to encircle her waist, he leant in and kissed her hard and she let out a squeal of delight. He bit hard on her bottom lip, drawing blood and she grinned at him.

"Come on gorgeous," he said, taking her hand in his and leading her away from the flaming pile of cash.

The Joker really was a man of his word as before they left the ship, he did indeed chop the Chechen up into little pieces and feed him to his beloved Rottweilers.

"Can we keep them?" Jester cooed as she knelt down and stroked one's head as it ate lumps of its old master.

"You want to?" The Joker asked as she began to scratch the dog behind the ear, causing its back leg to kick strangely.

"Yes, please, they're so cute and they are trained as attack dogs, they could be useful," she whined looking up at him with big eyes.

"Sure, put the dogs in the van," the Joker said, turning to his new men, who without question led the three enormous dogs away.

"Thank you," she said getting up and moving closer to him.

"Anything for you" he purred against her ear as he brought her close to him again.

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

Thank you so much for reading, sorry it took me longer to post this chapter but things have been a bit mad at home recently. Hope you enjoying please, please like and reblog. 

[izzyfandoms]

Sailors and Seashells

(This is the next instalment of the Clouds and Moss AU series! This part was vaguely requested by @imtryingthisout! It focuses on Virgil, and also Sanders Shorts Anxiety, who I have called Pan, not Andy, because that's the name I prefer lol. Hope you enjoy!)

GENERAL TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgromlin @aroaceagenderfluid @birdsbookshiddeninrealbirdskin

CLOUDS AND MOSS AU TAGLIST: @emerald-and-fluorite

WARNINGS: Pirates, background character death, blood, murder, drowning

Masterpost

Clouds and Moss AU Masterpost

The sea was something to be respected. 

It was something to be feared, too, especially by those who angered the god, but, above all, it was to be respected. It was a living, moving entity, far beyond mortal comprehension, only occasionally taking the form of a man to walk the shorelines and talk with the sky. He was no less dangerous in this form than in any other. 

Everybody knew this. 

Or, at least, Pan had thought that everybody knew this. It turned out that some people were remarkably ignorant, and didn’t realise that insulting Virgil, the almighty god of the sea, while on a boat, of all things, was a monumentally stupid idea. 

So much so, that when Pan’s captors had begun to do this, the first emotion that settled in his chest was incredulity. 

And then fear. 

A pure, horrible fear, that made his stomach swirl and his breath stutter, because while Virgil wasn’t exactly known for harming the innocent, his usual response to being disrespected so blatantly was to snatch up the culprits and drag them down into the seemingly-bottomless abyss that was his domain, never to be seen again. (An overreaction, in Pan’s opinion, but, hey, he wasn’t the god). And, though Pan was a pretty devout follower of Virgil, having become a sailor specifically to worship him, he was also currently on a ship with said culprits – sprawled out across the deck, his hands tied, a sword at his throat – so he figured that his chances of survival, right now, were pretty low. 

“Look at him,” A pirate mocked, swinging his leg and kicking Pan in the ribs. “He’s about to cry.” 

Pan would’ve come up with an absolutely devastating response to that, really, he would have, but he was busy trying to remember how to breathe, and hoping that all of his bones were still in one piece, so he was just a bit preoccupied. 

“Are all followers of Virgil this weak and cowardly?” The pirate continued, gesturing to their numerous captives – members of Pan’s crew, some of whom he’d already begun to consider his friends, even family – and addressing his own crew with a grin. “Wonder what that says about the god, himself?” 

Pan exchanged a panicked look with a nearby woman. She was similarly tied up, her shirt torn, with a line of red down her cheek, dripping blood. They weren’t sure what scared them more: the pirates, or the possible wrath of a god. 

The latter, probably. 

“Which one of them should we kill first?” 

The captain’s sword wandered from captive to captive, barely scraping at their skin, but close enough that most flinched at the touch. He looked rather smug at that, grinning madly, especially as his crew began cheering him on. Then, suddenly, he stopped at Pan, his blade grazing the smaller man’s neck, and Pan just about felt his heart stop in his chest. 

Someone grabbed his arm, yanking him up and dragging him over to the side of the ship. Pan stumbled as a dirty hand clutched at his hair, forcing him to look over into the deep, dark water, face-to-face with his fate. 

“Where’s your god, now?” The pirate taunted. 

“I’m right here.” 

The grip on Pan disappeared, and he spun around, his eyes immediately landing on the new figure standing in the centre of the deck, his arms crossed. His skin was tinted purple, rippling like the waves of the sea, and his eyes were like infinite black abysses – almost emotionless, but tinged with irritation. 

Pan’s breath caught in his throat.  

Well, he supposed he’d be dying today, either way; he might as well go down in history as killed by an angry god – a warning to others who strayed down the same path – instead of dying forgotten at the hands of pirates. 

He closed his eyes. 

His ears instantly filled with the sounds of rushing water, and screams being ripped from unsuspecting throats. Pirates were being thrown off the ship, left and right, plunging into the water and never resurfacing, dragged down by slimy, violet tentacles. The lucky ones blacked out immediately; the unlucky were conscious as they were eaten alive by cave-like mouths of jagged teeth. 

Pan waited. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

Nothing happened. 

The noise quietened down: no more screaming, no more splashing, all that remained were the sounds of people mumbling, and the ship rocking beneath them. The ropes around Pan’s wrists turned ice-cold, tearing themselves apart, before falling to the deck with a quiet thump. 

Pan opened one eye, and then the other, looking around cautiously. 

The pirates were gone, dead. The only people still remaining on board the ship were Pan’s crew – now all untied, whispering amongst themselves and helping each other up. 

And Virgil. 

It was odd, to say the least, that he was still there. 

The sea god had moved to the other side of the ship, but was now still, staring into the swirling ocean, watching the waves crash and fall. His dark hair was adorned with white and purple seashells, unaffected by the wind, and his robes were as black as the deepest depths of the ocean. Pan was unsure whether he was supposed to keep watching out of respect, or look away and give him privacy. 

A few minutes passed, and soon all of the other humans had quietened down, too, all awkwardly watching Virgil. They exchanged confused looks with one another, but none dared speak up, fearing the consequences of disturbing him. 

The sea god didn’t notice at first, but, when he did, he looked almost surprised. 

“Oh, um...” Virgil shifted from one foot to the other, before straightening up, towering over them, his startled expression smoothing over. “Is anybody injured?” 

Some mumbled vague responses, though most just turned to Pan, which confused him. He wasn’t their captain, or even their first mate, but he supposed that Virgil did only arrive once Pan had been directly threatened, and the god’s motivations were still unknown, so perhaps this was the safest bet. 

“Uh,” Pan felt his face redden as Virgil’s gaze turned on him. “I think there are some- some minor injuries, but nothing life threatening... as far as I know.” 

Pan’s ribs ached, and his body was covered in scrapes and bruises – he was sure that his crew were all in similar conditions – but he wasn’t sure that that was serious enough for Virgil to care about. 

“Hm.” 

There was a beat. 

An invisible, icy-cold wave washed over Pan, and his whole body shivered. A layer of frost began coating his skin, pulling it back together, healing his wounds. It seeped through his flesh, into his bones, freezing them into a solid block of ice, and fixing them, too. 

He was unable to move, to react, to respond, like a frozen statue of ice. 

And then the feeling suddenly disappeared, and Pan was himself again. 

He gasped for breath, stumbling forward, only just catching himself before he could slip and fall to the deck. Nausea rose in the back of his throat, but he swallowed it quickly, unable to stand the thought of throwing up in front of a god. 

The other surrounding humans reacted similarly, yelping in surprise, some tripping over their own feet, others catching each other before they fell. 

Virgil watched them – a little confused, but mostly straight-faced. Then, he turned back to Pan, his stare like an anchor, weighing down the human’s soul, keeping him in place. He wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or not. 

“This ship is yours, now.” 

“What?” 

“This ship is yours, now,” Virgil repeated slowly, a little impatient. 

Pan blinked like a startled deer. He would’ve repeated the question once more, but was worried about angering the god, so, instead, his mouth snapped shut, and he nodded. 

Virgil seemed to approve of that, nodding, too, satisfied, pausing for another moment, before disappearing in a cloud of mist. 

That was followed by almost a full minute of heavy silence, and then one of the nearby sailors burst out laughing, bordering on hysteria. He was a giant of a man, with muscles the size of Pan’s head; it had taken four pirates to tie him down, and not without casualties. He strolled over to Pan, slapping him on the back – almost knocking him over – with a wide, genuine grin. 

“Well, you heard the god, this is your ship. What now, Captain?” 

[cryptidvoidwritings]

8. July | Night out

*flings into the void*

Music thumped through the speakers of The Barge, loud enough to start Alonzo’s blood pulsing through his body in time with the bass line. He wrinkled his nose a little. It wasn’t the worst music he’d ever heard but it wasn’t what he’d call good. Still, at least the sound system was a quality one and the music wasn’t so loud that he’d have to scream to be heard. The Rum Tum Tugger took one look at his face and laughed, pulling him in close for a hug.

“These guys are just the opening act,” Tugger said against his ear. “I promise my friends are better.”

“As long as they’re not worse,” Alonzo muttered.

“I think you’ll like them. Oh, good, there’s Bombs.”

He led Alonzo to the bar and waved at the redhead tending it; Alonzo was pretty sure that ‘Bombs’ had to be Bombalurina- Tugger talked about her often enough. He leaned on the bar and eyed the other patrons, ready to swipe a stool at the earliest opportunity. Tugger slotted in behind him, warm and solid; like a shield from the bar’s patrons.

Tugger propped himself on a hand and grinned at the bartender. “Hey, babe. Looking fabulous.”

The bartender flicked her eyes up from the shaker she was working long enough to offer a sultry smirk. It was a friendly enough smile, but it was calculated for the other patrons who were watching and waiting for her to take their orders.

“Hello to you, handsome. Took your time getting out tonight; I was starting to think I’d be left on my own to suffer open mic.” Her eyes trailed over Alonzo curiously and her smile became a shade more sincere. “Is this...?”

“Yep. Alonzo, it is my singular pleasure to finally introduce you to Bombalurina.”

“Welcome to my humble abode, Alonzo. What can I get you?”

“Vodka on the rocks, thank you.”

“The usual, Tugs?” she asked.

“You know it.”

Bombalurina stepped away to pour the drink she’d been working on. Alonzo tipped his head at Tugger, nodding to the man on Tugger’s other side who was signing a bill and looked like he was with a girl. Alonzo was hopeful they would have seats once the two were gone.

“You have a usual?”

“Only when Bomba’s on shift. I’m not here enough for anyone else to know me.”

“I’ve never been anywhere enough times to have a usual.”

“Pays to have a friend as a bartender,” Tugger grinned.

His hand curled around Alonzo’s hip. The man pushed the check towards the middle of the bar and half-stood; almost before he had finished putting his coat, Rum Tum Tugger had the stool out from under him and was nudging it towards Alonzo. Tugger took the girl’s stool from her with a bit more care and sat so that their knees touched as they sat facing out to the stage.

“Vodka rocks and a Green Beast,” said Bombalurina behind them.

“Thanks, babe,” Tugger said. He turned just enough to drop a card on the table. He picked up the drinks and passed Alonzo’s glass over. “Start a tab for us?”

Bombalurina took the card and punched some buttons on the screen of her cash register. Alonzo eyed the drink in Tugger’s hand as the other man took a sip. He couldn’t tell if it was the light or if the drink was a shade of green.

“Is that supposed to be green?”

“It is a Green Beast,” Tugger said. “Absinthe, lime juice, and sugar water.”

“Sounds sweet,” Alonzo wrinkled his nose.

“‘S why I only let Bombs make them for me. She knows how to balance it to perfection. Wanna try?”

Tugger held the glass out. Alonzo leaned forward and sniffed. It didn’t smell like cotton candy or anything like that. He decided it would be worth the risk and tipped the glass just enough to take a drink without spilling.

“Not bad,” he allowed.

Tugger turned the glass just a hair, amber eyes on Alonzo’s dark ones, and took a sip from where Alonzo’s lips had touched. He grinned behind the rim of the glass. Alonzo rolled his eyes but even couldn’t help smiling even as he smacked Tugger’s knee gently.

“You weirdo.”

The band on stage finished their set and the host of the open mic night came forward to lead the smattering of applause and announce that the next band would be taking the stage in fifteen minutes. Radio music started playing through the bar sound system and Alonzo watched the Rum Tum Tugger watch the crowd. They chatted idly; drinks diminishing in their glasses until they were gone and Tugger waved at Bombalurina for two more.

“Tugs!”

A small blur of orange hair all but jumped onto Tugger’s lap; Alonzo was impressed that neither of them went flying off the narrow stool, but he supposed that was at least in part due to Tugger’s broad chest and strong thighs acting as anchors.

“Now that’s a greeting,” Tugger chuckled.

He hugged the body attached to the orange hair (a lithe, female body under a loose tank top and pair of denim shorts) tight to his chest. Bombalurina placed their drinks on the bar and Alonzo took the fond smile on her face to mean that this was also a friend.

“Jerrie’ll be so excited to see you!” said the female.

“I should hope so. It took you two long enough to get back to my neck of the woods. Oh! Let me introduce you to Alonzo, my...” Tugger paused and raised an eyebrow in question over the orange hair. Alonzo shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “My boyfriend. Boyfriend, this is Rumpleteazer.”

Alonzo valiantly attempted not to go pink. Rumpleteazer hopped down from the half-seat she had in Tugger’s lap and, before Alonzo could react, kissed the side of Alonzo’s chin.

“We’ve heard so much about you, it’s good to meet you for real.”

“Th-thanks,” Alonzo said. “He’s been in raptures over your guitar.”

“Ugh, he is a cute one, it almost hurts,” Rumpleteazer complained. She poked her finger into Tugger’s chest. “You’d better stay after, or I’ll not be held responsible for the others’ actions when they find out you didn’t stop to say hi. Hope you like our set!”

And with that, Rumpleteazer walked off, a distinct green drink in hand.

“One more, Bombs,” Tugger said without missing a beat.

Bombalurina laughed and slid him a glass. “She hasn’t changed at all.”

“Doubt either of ‘em have. The band still has five?”

“Six now. They collected a guy called George somewhere.”

“Put ‘em all on my tab.”

“All?”

Tugger grinned. “Tell Jerrie he’s cut off at two and Plato can have a soda. Anyway, I’m going to see ‘Straps and dad later this week. Something paid off and it needs to be split.”

She walked off, and Tugger knocked his knee into Alonzo’s. Alonzo rested his hand on it, absently tapping his fingers in time to the music. It was with mild interest that he watched the next band members start to take the stage and set up for their set. He recognized Rumpleteazer right away. A man with a very similar shade of orange hair joined her, adjusting a microphone and setting an electric bass in its stand.

Alonzo pointed. “Is that Jerrie?”

“Mungojerrie, yeah.”

Tugger leaned in closer than was strictly necessary. His lips brushed Alonzo’s ear when he spoke. Alonzo let Tugger’s voice shiver pleasantly down his spine. In short order, Tugger pointed out Electra, Jemima, and Plato, and finally, the one assumed to be George. Bombalurina appeared with new drinks for them and took their empty glasses.

Between the dimming light and the third drink, Alonzo leaned in to Tugger’s side, enjoying the wiry arm wrapped around his shoulder and letting himself float on Tugger’s scent. He smelled different almost every day as new things caught his attention- recently he’d been on a baking kick and often smelled like bread. Tugger nosed into Alonzo’s hair.

Then his ear was accosted by warm breath and Alonzo shuddered. One hand clutched a fist full of Tugger’s jacket.

“Tugger!” he hissed.

Rum Tum Tugger retracted the tip of his tongue from the shell of Alonzo’s ear and met Alonzo’s semi-indignant glare with a grin. He licked his bottom lip with the quickest, teasing flash of his tongue and adopted an innocent expression. Then he leaned in and stole any complaints directly from Alonzo’s mouth.

Alonzo sighed into the kiss. His eyes slid closed. Vaguely he was aware that the band had started their introductions. Even more vaguely he was aware that they were in a public bar where people could see. None of that seemed to matter much when Tugger’s hand cupped the back of Alonzo’s head and tangled into his hair, tugging gently. When he pulled back from the kiss, Alonzo allowed a breathy whine to escape.

“Band’s pretty good, huh?” Tugger chuckled.

Alonzo huffed a laugh. “Better than the first.” He eyed the other end of the bar, finding the restroom sign pointing around a far corner. It didn’t look like there was anybody waiting. The lingering sensation of their alcohol-tinged kiss hummed pleasantly in his veins. “Hey, are the restrooms here singles?”

“Hm? Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“You have 60 seconds before I lock the door,” Alonzo said.

He slid off his stool and headed for the bathrooms. He Let out a brief sigh of relief that there was, in fact, nobody there. The doors were not marked for a particular gender so as Alonzo reached the 20-second count he looked to make sure Tugger saw him standing at the door of one. Tugger’s eyes were locked on him as he slid into the water closet. Alonzo hadn’t even counted to 30 when the door was pushed open behind him.

“Cheeky minx,” Tugger said, delighted.

Alonzo laughed. “Get down here.”

Tugger locked the door and threw some paper towels onto the floor. He dropped to his knees and brushed Alonzo’s hands out of the way, popping the button on Alonzo’s jeans and dragging them slowly down. His fingertips feathered over Alonzo’s hips, teasing; Alonzo grabbed the sides of his face and tipped it up, soaking in the sight of the Rum Tum Tugger’s wide-blown pupils.

“Better be quick,” he said.

“You think I can’t get you off fast?” Tugger asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“I’m counting on it.”

Tugger’s answering, husky laugh rang in Alonzo’s ears; far better music than anything coming from outside.

[pettyprocrastination]

Do you have any headcanons for the first time sitches, Max, and Val go out together -K

HELLO BABES

The first time stitches goes out with Maxwell is on accident, he stumbled upon her and Cujo at a park while he leaves his office to clear his head and ends up spending the day with you and the “mutt”. 

The first time Stitches and Valerie go out together is because val dragged her lingerie shopping because “I need something to wear under my dress at the gala.” and you end up being thrown lacy one pieces and downright obscene outfits that she “just has to see you in.”

But the first time they actually go out together is on accident! They're taking Alistair out for a “family day” (something they don’t often do) and they happen to see stitches there as well!

Mostly because their soon is v soft spoken and withdrawn, but slowly begins to open up with stitches and talk about the things he enjoys, not the things he has to do like school and summer lessons and cello (he thinks it’s just too big for his tiny body!)

One of the things he likes? Fish. Kid fucking loves fish. Will rattle off in your ear about fish until he dies PLEASE ask him about fish. 

So at some point after they stop by and check on her progress (which they really just do because they all enjoy her presence but theyll never admit it.) She tugs val and max to the side and mentions it. 

“You know, you should take the kid out sometime. As a family.” She offers. “The aquarium is a great place for it, I think he’d really like it.”

Maxwell’s face scrunches up at the mention of the aquarium, fish and poor people all packed in one building together? No thank you. 

But before he can even say anything she’s already cut him off. “I’m not trying to be a backseat driver or anything but-” she smiles, a touch shy and reminiscent. Something they aren’t used to seeing from the snarky seamstress. “My pops would always take me, it was one of my favorite places to go. Still is really, but little stuff like that means the world to kids.” 

Valerie ignores the way her heart cinches up at the way she shows such care for their son. 

“It’s just a suggestion.”

So that Saturday, Maxwell Lord has taken the day off of work and is crinkling his nose at the smell of the public aquarium while his son stares at the tanks in awe. 

“It smells like fish.” He grumbles under his breathe, his wife rolled her eyes at his astute observation. 

“It’s an aquarium maxwell, there’s nothing here but fish.” Her eyes widen at a pair of teenagers sucking face in front of the lionfish. “Well, fish and apparently horny children.”

“Why did I let you convince me to do this?” Maxwell has already stolen a glance at his watch. “I could be-”

“Dad look!”

Maxwell’s head whipped up, heart guarded by gold practically melting at the sight of his son watching the sea turtles with glee. “That one is waving at me!”

His wife smiled, intertwining her fingers with his as she began to walk towards Alastair. “That’s why.”

Alastair spent the day zipping from exhibit to exhibit, rattling off facts about each fish that made the actual employees surprised. Maxwell loved seeing such passion in his son, so he did his best to reciprocate. 

The issues was he knew fuck all about fishes. 

“That’s a manta ray!” His soon looked up at the glass dividing them, watching the creatures glide through the water as if they were flying. “Their wingspan can reach more than twenty feet.”

“Hm yes.” Maxwell looked at them with a contemplative nod before speaking. “Very wide indeed, and....flappy.”

His wife coughed into her hand to hide her laughter. 

The Lords felt ready to pass out into the plastic and hardly comfortable chairs in the food court when their son saw a sign in front of the darkened doorway of a room that seemed enveloped in a purple light. 

They read the wording and felt the aches in their feet as they knew they wouldn’t get a break anytime soon. 

“JELLYFISH!”

As tired as they both felt, the parents couldn’t be happier. Valerie’s feet were pinched by her heels with each step and Maxwell was no doubt sweating in his suit but to see their son giggling and running with excitement, finally being a child, was worth every ache and pain they endured. 

The room had no overhead lights, most of, if not all of the lighting came from the jellyfish themselves or their tanks. Some were deep purples as the slowly moved through the water, growing big then small in little thrusts the pushed them along. Others were electric blues and shaped like tiny mushrooms gently drifting around the tank. Some were big, with appendages like shreds as the slowly moved without motive, with couldn’t help but unsettle Maxwell as he stared at them. 

It was oddly captivating. 

“You’re a good man maxwell.” Valerie spoke to him as they both stared at the jellyfish. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze. He wasn’t sure when exactly, but along the past few months he’d begun to see her in a different light. He didn’t feel a twinge of annoyance at her prescience anymore, but instead he felt it when she wasn’t there, off-kilter and incomplete like a piece of him was missing. Fucking his secretaries now made him feel sick to his stomach and he had stopped doing so last week. She wasn’t a burden weighing him down, she was now his anchor. 

He hadn’t told her of these feelings yet. Or his feelings for you. 

Maxwell looked over at his son, staring in a trance at the jellyfish with a smile. “I’ve never seen him so happy before.”

She knew what he meant to say. 

“I know Max.”

His wife’s blue eyes caught a glint against the tank and turned, on the other side of the room a chain rested against a woman’s chest as she watching a tank of jellyfish with a calming smile. The blue light dances across her face and curls, making her look nearly ethereal in the slightly crowded room. 

She turned and walked over, tugging Maxwell along with her until she was right behind you. Stitches eyes widened when she saw their reflecting against the tank glass before it melted into a cool smile. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

“Three actually.” Maxwell corrected. “I believe it’s you I have to thank for my aching feet while chasing around a fish-happy eight year old.”

She snorted, the imagine of him tired and achy in his three piece suits was just too good to give up. “If you want me to say I’m sorry you’re looking in the wrong place.”

He sighed, letting his hands fall to his hips as he arched his back with a loud pop! “Actually-” He furrowed his brows and took a deep breathe. “I’m here to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Stitches took a step back in surprise and he groaned. 

“Don’t make a big deal out of this.”

“Oh no, too late.” she set your hands on your hips, eyes shut as she basked in the information. “Say it again, I need to remember this moment.”

He looked over to his wife, who raised her hands in defense. “You’re the one who took her advice.”

Maxwell pointed an accusatory finger between the two women. “You know, I really hate that you two are best friends now. You know that?”

His wife simply blew him a kiss in response. 

“Alastair is overjoyed, he has been all day.” Out of the corner of her eye Stitches sees the boy in question turn to face the three of you with a gasp. 

“I have you to thank for that.” Was all his father could get out before she felt a tiny body ram into her side. 

“Stitches!”

Stitches smiled and crouched down, ruffling his hair. “What’s up little man?”

She were special to their son, special to them all. They weren’t sure how to tell her or if they ever would, but now they would settle for sitting in the cramped food court with their seamstress, eating greasy food their son begged for while he told her about the length of whale sharks. 

[phantasticworks]

Never Stop (You Still Get My Heart Racing)

hiiii!! (Two updates in one day??? who is she???) I hope you all are having a great week and enjoy this little birthday fic that I am posting late because i forgot to start it until yesterday (whoops) enjoy!! <3

read on ao3

Words: 10k

Summary: Dan and Phil celebrate Dan's 29th birthday at home. A cute, fluffy engagement fic that somehow took me two days and turned out to be 10k words.title from Never Stop by SafetySuit

Warnings: Swearing, smut

"Dan," a whisper says, right next to his ear. "Dan, come on, get up." The voice is insistent, and quite honestly, grating on Dan's last sleep-deprived nerve.

"Fuck off," he mutters into the pillow, muffled voice losing some of its heat.

There's a low laugh, and then a hand settling in his unacceptably long hair. "Dan," he sing-songs. "I've got a surprise for you."

Dan cracks an eye open. "Hm?"

Phil grins at him. "You're so easy," he teases. He tugs on a curl, light enough that it doesn't hurt.

"Ow," Dan says anyway, just to be a brat.

"That didn't hurt," Phil replies, doing it again.

"How would you know?" Dan huffs.

Phil rolls his eyes. "You like it when it hurts, so bitching about it wouldn't make any sense."

Dan narrows his eyes. "Did you wake me up at the ass-crack of dawn just to kink-shame me?" He demands.

Phil's lip twitches like he wants to smile. "It's nearly one in the afternoon."

"And?" Dan grumbles.

"It's your birthday," Phil says, almost conversationally.

"Cheers," Dan says dryly. "One year closer to death, eh?"

Phil frowns. "I told you I don't like that joke," he says, his voice soft and quiet.

Dan sits up at that. "I know. Sorry." He leans in, kissing him softly in apology. "Good morning," he says when he pulls away.

There's still something unsettled in Phil's eyes, and Dan feels a sinking guilt in his stomach for causing it. He really wasn't feeling all that existential today, at least not yet, but the comment was just a knee-jerk reaction of his, as it always was. Still, he hated seeing Phil upset, especially when he knows he's the cause. Rather than follow that rabbit down the hole that would likely ruin his whole day, he smiles at Phil tentatively. "I heard something about a surprise?"

Finally, some of the light comes back to Phil's face, and he grins, nodding excitedly. "Yep, Norman and I have been hard at work all morning," he declares.

Dan snorts. "Our fish son is a free loader, I seriously doubt he contributed much.

Phil splutters, looking horrified. "Talk about our fish son like that again and you won't even have joint custody after the divorce!"

He's joking, and Dan knows he is, but that word still unsettles him in the worst way. He smiles, a little shakily. "I don't like that joke, either," he reminds him gently.

Phil's face falls in concern. "I- right, I'm sorry. I wasn't even- I was joking, Dan."

Dan nods, leaning in and kissing Phil's lips once more. "I know that. It's okay."

Phil tries to deepen the kiss, and Dan lets him. Even after ten years together, some mornings he was still awkward about sharing kisses when one of them hadn't brushed their teeth yet, but today was his birthday, and he fully planned on accepting every kiss that was offered to him. Phil's fingernails scratch gently at the back of Dan's neck, a shiver creeping down his spine at the feeling.

"Surprise?" Dan whispers against Phil's mouth, pulling away just enough to let the word out.

He expects Phil to let it go in favor of more sleep-warm kisses, so he's surprised when instead Phil puts more space between them, his eyes lit up with joy for whatever he's got planned. "Out of bed, sleepyhead, we've got places to be!"

Dan grumbles as he's pulled from the bed. "We can't even leave our flat, Phil, I seriously doubt we've got anywhere to be."

Phil tuts at him. "You have no idea what we're doing for today, so zip it." He suddenly spins to face Dan at the door, tilting his head consideringly. He studies Dan long enough that Dan starts wiping at his face and brushing off his t-shirt.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" He demands, feeling embarrassed.

Phil smiles at him, shaking his head. "No, of course not. Do you want to brush your hair or change?"

Dan snorts. "For who? Our fish?" He shakes his head, incredulous at the very suggestion he wear anything other than pajamas and bed head around their empty flat. "I'm fine, the surprise can see me in my fresh out of bed look, I don't care."

Phil has a very suspicious grin on his face at that, but shrugs. "Okay, suit yourself," he says with an amused voice.

He leads the way out of their bedroom and heads for the lounge, a certain skip in his step that leads Dan to drag his feet behind him, suddenly cautious about what this surprise could possibly be. It can't be a dog, they'd agreed that can't happen until they move into the new house. Other than a fluffy animal or food, Dan's not sure what else Phil would be so excited for him to see, so he feels a little unsettled, like he's going in blind.

The first thing he sees in the lounge is decorations. Black and silver streamers hang precariously from the tops of the open windows, fluttering gently in the breeze floating inside. Black, white, and grey balloons dot the ceiling, and Dan notices a bag on the coffee table. He smirks, thinking about how Phil probably just got lazy and stopped airing them up after he got so many done. His gaze flits around, stopping on the table where they keep Norman's tank. He notices two things at once, and his breath catches in his throat.

Norman's tank is decorated on the outside, two balloons anchored to the top with candles, and a little black party hat balanced (or probably taped) to the corner, as if Norman's tank is wearing it. As cute and thoughtful as that gesture is, that's not what stops Dan in his tracks. Because next to that, on Phil's laptop, is a Zoom call, several very familiar and smiling faces beaming at him from the screen.

"Happy birthday!" They cheer, waving at him. Martyn, who's in a little square with Cornelia, pops a birthday popper, laughing when it startles both Kathryn and Karen, who are in their own squares at the top of the screen.

"I..." Dan starts, voice a little choked. He blinks the blur out of his eyes, his gaze searching the room for Phil's.

Phil's got such a pleased fucking look on his face, looking fond and smug and happy- and Dan can't really help himself. He stumbles forward, clutching Phil's arms and pressing a sloppy kiss right on his mouth, right in front of their family. Even with as long as they've been together, in private and in public now, it still sends a little nervous thrill through him to display his affection so publicly.

"Happy birthday, Dan," Phil whispers in his ear, wrapping his arms around Dan's shoulders in a tight hug.

"Thank you," Dan chokes out, his head going to rest on Phil's shoulder. He smiles at the screen, laughing a little before wiping his eyes and waving at their families. Pulling away, he goes to sit down in front of the laptop, pulling Phil along by his wrist. "He didn't tell me that he called you guys," he says instead of a greeting.

Karen laughs. "I told him he should make it a surprise," she says brightly.

Dan rolls his eyes. "You're awful, all of you, for being accomplices in this."

His nan is there, too, and he feels a brief flash of panic thinking about what she just saw, but her kind, loving smile is enough to reassure him. Phil squeezes his knee then, and Dan blinks at him, smiling brightly. "I figured if I told you it would take you at least half an hour to make yourself presentable, and I just didn't have that kind of time," Phil teases.

Dan goes to argue before suddenly realizing his hair is an absolute mess. His eyes bulge out, and he swings his head around to look at himself on the screen, groaning when he sees it. Predictably, everyone laughs at him. "I look like I have a whole dog on my head!" He whines.

"You could've let me cut it," Phil says cheerfully, miming scissors and putting his hand close to Dan's head. Dan swats it away.

"Absolutely not!" Dan disagrees. "I like being not-disfigured," he says, rolling his eyes as he looks back at the screen, shaking his head.

Kathryn and Nigel are grinning at their banter, as is Martyn. His mum just rolls her eyes. "You're so dramatic, child," she scolds playfully. "But, speaking of dogs, someone here wants to say hi!"

Dan laughs, but coos when his mum tilts the screen down, Colin popping into frame.

"Colin! Hello," Dan says in his puppy-talking voice. "Hello, Colin. You good boy! Did Mum make you some cake for me?"

Karen snorts. "Not hardly. I'd rather it didn't become tradition that he eats every single thing I try to bake."

Kathryn laughs at that. "It's a compliment to the chef, dear! He doesn't want to miss out on the lovely food!"

Now it's Dan's turn to snort. "Not quite, Mum, he sicks it back up immediately after. It's not even edible for a dog, apparently," he cackles.

Karen looks betrayed. "Don't go telling on your mother, young man!"

Dan can't help but laugh. "Yes ma'am," he agrees sarcastically.

"Did Phil give you your birthday present yet?" Martyn asks.

Dan turns his head to look at Phil, quirking a brow in surprise. "Is this not it?"

Phil looks pleased with himself as he shakes his head with a little smile. "No, I got you something else, but you can't have it until later."

Momentarily forgetting they're literally sat in front of their whole family, Dan quirks his eyebrow suggestively. Phil blushes, shoving him. Dan grins, turning back to shake his head at the faces on his screen. "Is it another candle? Or is it like a box set for an anime? Ooh! Or is it-"

Nearly all of them are laughing at him. "Dear, why on earth would we spoil it?" His nan asks.

Dan narrows his eyes. "Does this mean that all of you know what it is?"

No one answers.

"Oh, you f-"

Before he can swear, Phil interrupts. "It's one o'clock, should we try him again?" He asks.

Dan's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "Who?" He asks.

Phil doesn't even look at him. Karen nods on her screen, reaching for her phone. "I'll text and ask if he's gotten his computer sorted.

Dan pinches Phil's side, and he squeals, squirming away. "Ow!" He whines.

"Who are you talking about?" Dan demands.

Phil only smiles, not responding. Dan fully intends on bullying it out of him, audience or not, but then Kathryn is speaking and he loses the opportunity.

"I really do hate that we can't come visit, love," she says, sounding ashamed. Nigel nods along.

"It's alright," Dan's quick to reassure her. "Not everyone can have Philip's birthweek of endless celebrations," he jokes, nudging Phil gently.

Everyone laughs, except Phil, Dan notices. He only looks slightly embarrassed. Dan risks another affectionate gesture, leaning in and kissing his cheek. "It's okay bub, we know you can't help it, you're the baby, you're spoiled."

Phil laughs at this, smiling at Dan sheepishly. "A little bit," he admits.

Dan smiles, shaking his head. They're interrupted by the sound of someone else joining the call. Dan blinks at the screen in confusion, waiting for their shitty wifi to load the pixels.

"Speaking of the spoiled baby of the family," his mum says, her voice amused.

Adrian smiles and waves. "Happy birthday, Dan!" He greets.

Dan stares at him, more than a little surprised. It wasn't like they didn't talk at all anymore, if anything they talked more now than they used to. But Adrian had texted him an early happy birthday yesterday, so Dan wasn't expecting to hear from him again anytime soon. "Hi," he greets, a little late. "What're you doing here?"

Adrian laughs. "I can't pop into your zoom call to say happy birthday?"

"I mean, you already did," Dan says, rolling his eyes. He smiles to soften the sarcasm. "Thanks, though." His brother nods, grinning back at him. Dan's eyes flick across the screen, taking in all the faces of these people he loves so much. It fills his heart with something warm and gooey to think about how Phil arranged all of this for him, because he knew how bummed Dan was that he couldn't see anyone on his birthday. Despite the fact that he typically didn't mind not seeing his family, the fact that the option was taken from him hurt more than just choosing not to see them would. He knows he's got to think of a good way to thank Phil for this, but he knows that whatever he decides on will be something his family will not be present for.

They're talking amongst themselves now, his mum and Phil's talking about recipes or something, with Dan's nan nodding along and giving advice like grandmothers do. Nigel has disappeared, predictably, as the other introvert in Phil's family is definitely not a fan of big family zoom meetings like this. Dan doesn't blame him, honestly, and appreciates that he was there at all.

Phil puts his arm around Dan's back, rubbing his hip gently. Dan can't help but smile at the small gesture, dropping his hand to Phil's thigh and squeezing. They get dragged back into conversation eventually, and spend the next half hour or so chatting to everyone and getting caught up on all the family gossip that everyone has to share. Eventually, Adrian has to sign off to get some work related thing done, followed shortly by Dan's Nan, who has tea to prepare. They both tell him happy birthday again, and Dan's face hurts a little from grinning when they say they love him.

"I think Corn and I better hop off too, actually," Martyn says a few minutes later. "Happy birthday, mate. Eat lots of cake for me, yeah?"

Dan grins and nods. "You know Phil will eat enough for a small village, Mar."

Phil's brother laughs in the face of Phil's following protests. "He's right, don't argue."

Phil rolls his eyes anyway. Cornelia steps in, ever the pacifist. "It's rude to fight on Dan's birthday," she chastises. Martyn mimes zipping his lips and Phil huffs. "Happy birthday, Daniel. I hope you like your birthday present." She winks then, but logs off the second Dan opens his mouth to ask.

"Damn it," he sighs.

Phil giggles. "They wouldn't have told you anyway. I had them all swear to secrecy."

Kathryn makes a noise of disagreement. "I did no such thing," She argues, smiling broadly.

Dan smiles slyly. "Kath," he begins. "My favorite mum-in-law, you could just give me a tiny hint and-"

"And nothing!" Phil interrupts, shaking his head adamantly. "No hints, just secrets here."

Dan rolls his eyes and Kathryn laughs. "Well, Philip, if you really didn't want me to tell-"

Phil narrows his eyes at her. "I'll hang the call up, Mum, I swear."

She chuckles at this. "Fine, fine. Daniel, happy birthday, dear. We love you very much. Nigel and I sent you a gift and I believe Phil is hiding it somewhere, like the scoundrel he is." She winks when she says it.

"You told me to make sure he didn't open it till his birthday!" Phil argues.

Kathryn shrugs. "I didn't think you'd actually have the self-restraint for that, dear."

Phil huffs, and Dan hides a giggle behind his hand. "Bye, Mum," Phil says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

"Bye, dear. I love you both. Ta, Karen! Send me that recipe when you get a chance!"

Karen waves at her with a smile and a nod of agreement, and then it's just the two of them and Dan's mum. She smiles gently at Dan. Phil leans over, kissing Dan's head softly. "I'll let you guys talk for a bit."

He stands, but Dan reaches out for him, confused. "Where are you going?" He says, his voice full of complaint.

Phil rolls his eyes. "I'm going to set up your next surprise," he says with a wink, and then he's gone.

Karen waits for Dan to get his bearings, watching him with an amused look on her face. "He's very thoughtful, Dan," she says, catching him even more off-guard.

"What do you know?" he asks immediately.

She laughs, but shakes her head. "You know I won't tell you. But just seeing him with you, he's very sweet."

Dan's heart speeds up a little. They'd talked a little about Phil and their relationship when he visited for Christmas, but it was still a little thrilling to hear his mum talk about him knowing what she knows now. "Yeah?" He asks, clearing his throat.

"Yes," she nods. "You picked a very good one. I'm quite a proud mum, actually."

Dan blushes, looking down as he tries to bite back his ridiculous smile. He hates that he's so easily pleased by this news, but as deprived as he was throughout his childhood, he craves that affection and pride. "Thank you," he says eventually. "He... He's really wonderful, yeah."

"I can tell," she says, smiling. "You know I've always just wanted you to be happy, love. I know it's been a year since you came out to us, but... even before, we've always just wanted you to be happy."

He's not going to cry on his birthday. He's just not. Rubbing at his eye and pretending like he has an eyelash trapped there, he takes a moment to collect himself and force his tear ducts to behave. "I am," he whispers. "I'm the happiest I've ever been, I think."

His mum nods, and smiles. "That's good, love. That's so good. I'm happy for you, for both of you."

Dan nods too. It gets quiet then, but it's not awkward like it would have been only a few years before. "Thank you, for doing this, by the way. I know he probably didn't think of this all on his own," Dan laughs, rolling his eyes a little.

Karen nods, but looks a little surprised. "I mean, you're welcome, but he actually called me and asked me to."

Dan blinks. "What?"

Her eyes twinkle with amusement. "Yes, he called me a few days ago and asked if I'd do this. I didn't help him come up with it, I'm afraid."

Surprised, but definitely impressed, Dan nods. "Well... Thank you, anyway. For calling and everything. This was a really nice surprise."

She has a knowing grin on her face. "You're welcome, love. I hope the rest of your day is just as nice, but I know it will be."

Dan shakes his head, exasperated. "You people and your secrets," he says in mock disappointment.

"I promised not to tell," she informs him, raising her hands in surrender. "But I think he's probably waiting for you, so I'll let you go find him." Dan nods. "I love you, Daniel. Happy birthday, little Bear."

He smiles at the nickname. "Thank you, Mum. I love you too. Talk later," he says with a wave.

There's that look again, and she grins. "Oh, I fully expect it."

He rolls his eyes but bids her a farewell before signing off and closing the laptop. He stands and stretches, realizing with a start that they'd started the call nearly an hour ago. Passing Norman's tank, he gives it a little pat, greeting their pet. "Hello, Norman."

Dan wanders into the kitchen, sighing at the smell of coffee. He spots Phil doing something at the counter, so he hops up onto the opposite one, sighing loudly to alert him to his presence. "That was a really nice surprise," he says after a minute.

Phil turns to look at him, offering a soft smile. "Yeah?" Dan nods, holding his arms out for a hug. Phil willingly steps forward, wrapping his arms around Dan's waist and stroking his back. "I thought you might enjoy it. The next best thing to seeing them in person, for now."

"Yeah," Dan agrees. He kisses Phil's forehead. "It was really nice." He sniffs the air, pulling away. "Is that caramel?"

There's a laugh as Phil retreats back to where he was, doing something else before returning to Dan with two mugs, full of something that looks vaguely like- "Here you go. A caramel macchiato."

Dan blinks at the cup, a little afraid to accept it after Phil's terrible Easter Dalgona coffee disaster. "Babe... Is it edible? I know you like to try new things, but-"

Before he can complain too much, Phil takes a sip of his own mug, and smiles. "I've been practicing it for about a week now. It's good, I promise." Suddenly all of Phil's late night jitters recently make loads more sense.

"Okay," Dan says, still a little cautious. He takes a sip of the drink, his expectations very, very low. He's pleasantly surprised when instead of whatever he'd expected, he gets a lovely burst of flavor on his tongue. "That's... That's actually really good, Phil," he says, going for another sip.

"Told you so," Phil says triumphantly. He takes a drink of his own and sighs, smacking his lips loudly to annoy Dan.

Dan gives him a look, but drinks some more of his coffee, something nagging at his memory. Before he can piece it together, Phil pats his thigh. "C'mon, lets go sit on the balcony and drink our coffee and name some more of our pigeons."

Dan is so, so fond of this man.

~~~

They sit out on the balcony for what feels like hours, lounging around and taking selfies, at Phil's insistence. He even brings out Dan's polaroid and gets a few cute coupley photos that Dan knows will be pinned to their fridge by tomorrow. Eventually, Dan decides he wants a snack.

"I was actually going to make you dinner, did you want to help?" Phil asks.

Dan makes a happy noise. "What are we having?"

Phil bites his lip, pretending to consider it. Dan doesn't buy it for a minute. If Phil's planning this day out like Dan thinks he is, he already knows. "I was thinking I'd do some chicken katsu, maybe. Does that sound alright?"

Dan leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. "That sounds great."

There's a smile on Phil's face when Dan pulls away, and he wants to kiss it off. Before he can, Phil takes his hand and guides him back inside and to the kitchen. He starts pulling ingredients out, instructing Dan to grab any pans that they might need. Dan rolls his eyes at this but does as he's asked before going for the cupboard where they keep wine glasses. He goes about filling them up while Phil starts getting the food started.

"Here," Dan says, handing him a glass of wine. "What do you want me to do?"

Phil smiles at him, kissing his nose gently. "You can just sit and watch, baby. It's your birthday, so let me take care of this."

Dan gives him a look, crossing his arms. "This isn't how we usually do birthdays," he finally says. It's been nagging him all morning. "You're starting to make me feel like a shit boyfriend because I don't do all this for you on yours," Dan says, feeling genuinely a bit put out.

Phil turns to look at him, a his lips turned down in a frown. "No, love, you're not a shit boyfriend," Phil argues with him immediately. "I just wanted this one to be special for you. This is your tenth birthday that you and I have spent together, you know."

"Yeah, but-" Dan starts to argue.

"Just let me do this, yeah? Try to relax, okay? I'm allowed to spoil you on your birthday, you know," he says, voice teasing.

Dan steps closer before Phil turns away, putting his hand on the back of Phil's neck and guiding their lips together. He deepens the kiss almost immediately, sliding his tongue into Phil's mouth. "I love you," he says when he pulls away.

Phil looks a little dazed. Dan swells with pride knowing he can still do that, ten years later. "I love you too," he says, offering a smile. "Now, go sit. I need some thinking space to cook, and you're a distraction."

Dan smirks at this. "Am I?"

Pursing his lips, Phil nods once. "Absolutely. Shoo, go sit at the table and look pretty."

"Alright, fine, fine," Dan agrees, going to sit down.

"Actually," Phil says, spinning around to face him. He gestures in the direction of their bedroom. "I think you should go shower and get dressed."

Dan gives him a weird look. "Oh...kay?"

Phil smirks. "Wear something nice, okay?"

There's a prickle of something then, in Dan's heart. This is starting to feel strangely staged. "Alright. Something nice." He waits a beat before asking, "Are we going on a date?"

Phil grins proudly. "Maybe," he says conspiratorially. "But you can't go unless you're all dressed up.

Dan snorts. "I hope that extends to you as well, Mr. Cookie Monster Pajamas."

Phil rolls his eyes. "Go, shower, dressed, now."

Giving him another kiss, Dan mumbles an agreement before disappearing down the hall.

He's thrilled at the effort Phil is putting into this, and a thrum of nervous excitement is under his skin, making him nearly vibrate with anxiety. He puts his energy, nervous as it is, into choosing a nice outfit. He knows they aren't leaving the flat, but somehow that doesn't deter him any. He finds one of his many black t-shirts, and after a moment of deliberation he also grabs his monochrome flowery shirt he likes to wear over it. It’s been a while since he’s had to pick out a date outfit, so he takes a while to consider it before finally deciding it’s fine and Phil will probably compliment anything he wears.

After a thorough shower, he gets dressed and spritzes some of Phil’s cologne on, taking one look at his hair and deciding to let it air dry. He’s as ready as he’s going to get by then, so he waltzes back into the kitchen, pleased when he notices the way Phil looks at him when he comes in. “Hi,” Phil greets with a grin.

“Hi,” Dan parrots, smirking at him when he realizes Phil’s changed clothes as well. He’s wearing the only pair of ripped jeans he owns, matching Dan’s, and his maroon button-down, dotted all over with little white flowers. Dan laughs when he notices the theme. “I see we both went with flowers today,” he says in a teasing voice.

Phil smiles at him. “I guess we did.” He reaches for Dan, and he goes willingly, stepping into his face and wrapping his arms around Phil’s neck before bringing their lips together. They kiss languidly for a bit but eventually Phil pulls away, nipping at Dan’s lower lip. “I love this shirt on you,” he mumbles. “It makes your arms look so nice.”

Dan snorts at the compliment. “Thank you. I’m glad you like them.”

Something about the clumsy phrasing has them locking eyes, and in an instant they’re nearly doubled over with laughter. Dan can’t remember a time he felt so awkward accepting a compliment from Phil. It feels like they’re on their very first...

Phil gestures outside, where Dan is just now noticing two places set at their little balcony table. “It’s not exactly a skybar, but... it’s close enough,” he says softly.

Dan blinks at the scene before his eyes flicker back to Phil’s. “You... you’ve been recreating our first date?” His voice pitches up a little on the end.

Phil looks sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding Dan’s eyes. “I mean... yeah, kind of. I knows it’s not nearly the same, because it’s not Starbucks and the Apple store and the skybar but really-“

Dan interrupts him with a firm kiss. He cradles Phil’s face in his hands like he’s precious cargo, because he is. This is the most precious gesture anyone has ever done for him, and he feels love and warmth and affection singing in his veins as he sucks Phil’s lower lip into his mouth. "That's so fucking sweet," he mumbles into Phil's mouth.

"I love you," Phil says in response, pushing his hands up the back of Dan's shirt.

He pulls away too soon for Dan's liking, and Dan can't stop the sad noise from leaving his throat. Phil laughs at him, predictably. "C'mon, none of that now. We need to eat dinner."

Dan pouts. "Maybe I'm hungry for something else now," he argues.

Phil gives him a cheeky smile. "Later, I promise. The night's still young, bub."

Glancing at the clock, Dan's genuinely surprised to see that it is already almost seven in the evening. Well, time certainly flies when you're having fun, he guessed. He follows Phil onto the balcony, smiling when he sees several candles flickering on the table, as well as two places said on either side. There's a bottle of wine there, as well as their wine glasses from earlier, which are now empty. Dan chooses not to ask Phil if he drank them both for the aesthetic.

"Alright, have a seat and I'll bring the food out, okay?" Phil says firmly. He waits until Dan follows the instructions, then drops a kiss to the curls atop Dan's head.

"M'kay," Dan hums, his eyes fluttering shut, absolutely content right now.

Phil smiles before disappearing back into the flat. He's gone for several minutes, and when he's back he has a plate in each hand, stepping very carefully so as not to drop then. Dan grins fondly as Phil very, very carefully sets Dan's plate in front of him, his brows furrowed in concentration. "Thank you, waiter," he says, voice teasing.

Rollins his eyes with a grin, Phil shakes his head and returns to his own seat. "Wine?" He asks, holding the bottle up and filling his own glass first.

Dan nods. "Please," he says, holding onto the base of his own glass in case Phil gets a little too overzealous with his pouring. "Thank you," he says when Phil takes a seat. "This is really lovely."

Phil has a proud little smile on his face. "Good, I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," he says with a clumsy wink. Dan has to laugh at him. Ten years in, nearly eleven, and Phil is still absolutely uncoordinated in nearly every way.

They tuck into their food, making appreciative noises and small talk as they eat. In a lot of ways, it does feel like a first date. Not only is the setup similar to their own first date, but something about the nerves Dan feels reminds him of that very first day in Manchester all those years ago. And if Phil's plan was to make Dan feel wooed, it's absolutely working, just as it did then.

Something occurs to him then and he can't help but glance up at Phil and tilt his head in question. "You know the one thing you can't recreate from our first date?" he asks, a smile in his voice already just remembering it.

"What's that?" Phil replies, smirking. Surely he's already thought of this, if he's thought of everything else.

"The Manchester Eye," Dan reminds him. "Unless you've built a Ferris Wheel somewhere, I think you get no stars for that part of the date," Dan announces, mostly joking.

Phil doesn't even look bothered. "Ah, but we haven't finished the day yet, have we? Don't doubt what tricks I have up my sleeve, Danny boy," he says with a suspicious grin.

Dan's nose crinkles delicately at the nickname. "Alright, fine," he concedes easily. He's not that bothered about it, honestly. It's not like he doesn't love and appreciate everything Phil's done already in and effort to recreate that first day, and the fake Starbucks, the balcony date, it's all so well-thought out and lovely that Dan could never be bothered by the lack of some recreation of the finale of their first date.

“How was the food?” Phil asks, nodding to Dan’s mostly empty plate.

Dan grins. “What do you think?” He says in a jokey kind of voice. “I finished it, didn’t I?”

Phil rolls his eyes, kicking him gently underneath the table. “Thank you for the compliment, rat,” he says drily.

Hitting his foot against Phil’s again to prompt a footsie match, Dan smirks. “Oh I’ll give you a compliment alright.” He punctuates his terrible line with a wink and Phil rolls his eyes once again.

“Not in front of the food, please,” Phil replies in a deadpan voice.

Dan snickers and Phil cracks a smile. “Why don’t you go inside and get ready for bed while I clean up?” He suggests.

As sweet as that is, and as much as Dan really does want to be lazy, he shakes his head. “No, I think I’ll stay and help.”

Phil starts to protest so Dan quickly stands and starts collecting dishes. When Phil pouts, Dan smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of Phil’s mouth. “It’ll get done faster if we both do it. And if the itinerary for today is following our first date...” he smirks. “Then we’ve got a busy night ahead of us.”

There’s a pink flush across Phil’s cheeks, but he doesn’t argue, going to collect the things Dan couldn’t grab and blowing out the candles while Dan walks inside. They make quick work of filling the dishwasher and putting leftovers away and Dan makes the executive decision to take the wine bottle and their glasses into their bedroom. They didn’t normally drink very much but Dan was feeling very happy and very thirsty and maybe a little in love. Getting wine drunk with his favorite person in the world sounds like the exact best way to end the day.

“Do you want to watch a movie before bed?” Phil asks, surprising Dan into turning around.

“Uh... aren’t we gonna...” he trails off. Sex doesn’t embarrass him, not at all, but he doesn’t want to be wrong about the assumption that they’d be fucking tonight.

Phil smiles at him. “We will, later. But we just ate and I wanna watch a movie.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but shrugs, going to put the wine up. He didn’t want to risk spilling it on the sofa they don’t own. “Okay. Let’s watch a movie, then.”

“Pajamas first, then Netflix and Phil,” Phil announces with a grin.

“That joke’s past it’s expiration date, bub.”

“Of course it is. And you laugh anyway,” Phil retorts.

And Dan can’t exactly argue that, so he follows Phil to their room to pick out the coziest pair of pajamas he can find.

~~~

Dan’s not surprised when Phil asks to pick the movie and he’s even less surprised to see the Wall-E loading screen pop up on their TV. That’s not to say he doesn’t immediately snuggle with Phil on the sofa as the movie starts, because he does. He also kisses his cheek, nuzzling it like a cat before dropping his head to Phil’s shoulder.

“Blanket?” Phil asks, gesturing to the other end of the sofa where they left their sad pimp blanket the other night.

Dan tugs it over and allows Phil to tuck them in, feeling kind of like a little kid but enjoying the attention anyway. He curls up as close to Phil as he can, swinging his legs over Phil’s lap and snuggling close under the comfort of the furry blanket. The movie has already started and Dan knows the story by heart by now but he’s still just as captured by the beautiful animation and touching themes as he was the first time.

“We didn’t do this on our first date,” Dan whispers against Phil’s neck.

Phil pinches his hip. “So? Maybe I just wanted to watch it.”

Dan huffs, swatting Phil’s hand away from his side. They swat at each other for a few seconds before eventually Phil settles it by lacing their fingers together. Dan kisses his neck, but nibbles some skin as reprimand. Phil makes a noise and squeezes Dan’s leg but otherwise doesn’t move, and Dan smiles, knowing he’s winding him up.

They watch the rest of the movie in relative silence, occasionally quoting lines from it and making jokes but when the credits start rolling Dan finds himself a little sad that it’s already over. Phil pats his leg beneath the cover, letting his hand go. “Alright, babe, let me up. I’ve got some things I need to take care of before bedtime.”

Dan quirks a brow at him as he moves his legs off Phil’s lap, allowing him to stand. “Is it birthday related?”

Phil ruffles his hair with a smirk. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just emails.”

A frown tugs at Dan’s lips but he nods. “I might scroll through Twitter for a bit,” he says.

Phil nods before leaning down and pushing Dan’s curls off his forehead to kiss the skin there. “Alright. Come find me in a bit, yeah?”

Dan nods, his eyelids fluttering at the feeling of Phil scratching gently at his scalp. “M’kay. Half an hour?” He asks.

“Sure,” Phil agrees with a smile.

He leaves Dan with another kiss before he heads to their room, so Dan occupies himself with social media for a bit. He answers some happy birthday messages from friends and distant family, and eventually he makes his way to twitter. He smiles when he sees the pictures Phil’s tagged him in. After tweeting a cheeky reply, he scrolls through all the fan art and edits, seeing lots of familiar usernames on his screen as he scrolls. He tweets a thank you to the people who donated to Mermaids in his name, his eyes misting a little at the thoughtfulness of the gesture. Every year it made him so proud to see how much his fans cared about the things that were important to him.

Eventually his half hour is up and he’s on his way to the bedroom, eager to see what his birthday present is. He’s not even particularly concerned about what it is at this point; the gesture of the day itself has been plenty for him.

His expectations aren’t set on one end of the spectrum or the other, so he’s not really expecting or hoping for any particular thing when he opens the door. And even if he was, it probably wouldn’t have crossed his mind to expect the lights off, aside from some newly hung fairy lights over the bed, casting the room in a soft glow. He steps around the moving boxes that line the wall next to the closet, looking around at all the glittering lights. He’s smiling already, his gaze taking in the candle on their dresser, the nice expensive one Phil got him for his birthday a couple years ago.

His gaze catches on something shiny on the bed. The low light of the room makes it hard to tell right away, but when he looks closer Dan sees that it’s a circle made of metal. He’s confused until he reaches out to pick it up, then he gasps. Holding it closer to his face, he sees the little stand it’s sat on, and each little cart dotted along the line of the circle. It’s obvious what it is now.

Before he can get too emotional over the gift of a little metal statue of the Manchester Eye, Dan hears a throat clear behind him. He whirls around, heart in his throat, confused when no one is there. He’s about to panic when his eyes flick down and- oh.

“Hi,” Phil says in a soft, quiet voice. “You told me on my birthday that I could do this when I was ready, and be as romantic as I wanted. I planned a trip to Manchester for real, but obviously that didn’t happen.”

Dan lets out a choked sound, his eyes wet. “Phil,” he starts. “I didn’t know-“

“Shh,” Phil shushes him gently. “It’s okay.” He reaches for Dan’s hand, smiling when he allows him to take it. He strokes his thumb across Dan’s hand, looking at him with affection in his eyes. “Are you okay with this? Are we ready for it?”

Dan nods, feeling a little light headed all of a sudden. “I need- can I-“ he stumbles back, sitting on the edge of their bed.

Phil smiles, dropping to both knees and settling between Dan’s, still holding his hand. “So. I wanted to take you to Manchester for this. I’ve had it planned for... several years, honestly. Probably since the other flat.”

That’s news to Dan, and apparently the look on his face proves it. Phil giggles. “Oh,” Dan says dumbly.

“I knew we weren’t ready then and wouldn’t be for a while, if ever, but now that we’re on the same page... it just seems like a good time. And since we can’t go anywhere, this at-home date was the next best thing I could think of.”

Dan smiles, leaning in and kissing his forehead. “I loved it,” he assures him.

Phil looks pleased. “I wanted this to be something you remember forever, and I know you’re a slut for a good story telling experience, so I figured you’d enjoy telling people how I proposed,” he teases with a grin.

Dan blushes. “Phil,” he whines.

“Shh, let me talk,” Phil chastises. He smiles at Dan, pausing for a moment just to look at him. Dan squirms, nervous under the attention. “Our first date was everything to me and we didn’t even know we were on a date at the time. It wasn’t until later, after you kissed me on the wheel and then when we slept together at my parents’ house that we talked about it and decided that was where our story began. And, this is where the next chapter of that story begins.” He stops again, taking a deep breath. “So. Daniel, my best friend, my companion through life-“

“Phil!”

He’s shushed once more.

“My actual soulmate,” Phil finishes with a grin. He kisses Dan’s knuckle softly. “The love of my life,” he adds, nuzzling the spot on his left hand where a ring would go. “Will you marry me?”

Dan’s breath catches in his throat. He knew this was coming, obviously, after the speech Phil just made and honestly the day as a whole. Still, hearing it now, out in the open like that, fills him with warmth. He wraps his arms around Phil’s neck, pressing their foreheads together gently. “Yes,” he whispers. “Of course I will.”

Phil makes a pleased noise before leaning in to kiss him firmly on the mouth. “I love you,” he mumbles.

“I love you too,” Dan giggles back, petting Phil’s hair. “This was very romantic,” he says. “I’m very impressed.”

Phil kisses his dimple. “I thought you’d like it,” he says with a grin. “Oh!” He says suddenly, jumping back and shoving his hand in his pocket. “I did it wrong.” He sounds sad, or disappointed.

“Did what wrong?” Dan asks, confused.

“The proposal!” Phil whines, holding up a small black velvet box. “I had the ring and I forgot to get it out and do the whole thing.”

Dan kisses him. “It was perfect. It wasn’t wrong at all.”

Phil kisses back, allowing Dan’s tongue to sneak in a little bit before pulling away enough to speak. “You wanna see your ring?”

Dan nods, suddenly very excited. Phil hands him the box and sits back while Dan opens it. “Oh,” Dan gasps, brushing his finger across it. “It’s... it’s gorgeous, Phil, fuck. How much-“

“I’m never telling you how much it was so you can forget that question,” Phil says immediately, not meeting Dan’s eyes.

“Phil,” Dan says, fondly exasperated. “We’re buying a house! We’re supposed to be saving money! What if-“

Phil, who’s normally the kind of man who lets his boyfriend speak, interrupts him with a kiss. “I’ve been saving up for it for a while now. I promise none of it came from our forever home fund.”

Dan eyes him suspiciously. “How long?” He asks, just out of curiosity.

There’s a twitch of Phil’s lips before he lets himself properly smile. “Since 2011.”

He doesn’t mean to start crying again, but hearing that date, which doesn’t even seem like a real year anymore, causes Dan to duck his head and suck in a few calming breaths. “Fuck,” he breathes wetly. “You really... you’ve really wanted to marry me that long.”

Phil offers a sheepish smile. “Longer, actually,” he admits. “I knew I wanted to marry you sometime after that first day in Manchester, probably the week in November.” He smirks then, clearly up to something. “But it took me until 2011 to realize your expensive taste and how I might want to save up for it.”

Dan gives him a look but Phil only laughs easily. “Can I... is it okay if I go ahead and try it on?”

“Of course,” Phil says immediately with a soft smile. He holds a hand out for the box and Dan hands it to him, letting him take the band out and slide it onto the ring finger of Dan’s left hand. “Perfect,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing the ring.

Dan can’t help but hold his hand up closer to look at it more carefully. “What’s it made out of?” He asks, turning his hand this way and that to see the light reflect off the tiny diamonds embedded in it.

“Black titanium and black sapphires,” Phil says. “I figured we’d consider the one you gave me and this one our engagement bands and when it’s time for an actual wedding we can get a matching set.”

“I like that idea a lot,” Dan replies, his gaze flickering from the ring to his fiancé. He grins at the sound of the word in his head. “How do you feel knowing that you’re going to be married to me?” He asks teasingly.

Phil leans in and kisses the side of his mouth gently. “Like the luckiest man alive,” he whispers.

Dan can’t help but blush at that statement, but rather than argue, he puts his arms around Phil’s neck and kisses him again. “I love you,” he says for maybe the twentieth time today. “I think this has been my favorite birthday yet.”

Phil sighs, resting his head against Dan’s chest. “I love you too, Bear. I wanted you to have such a good day today. I’m glad you liked it.”

Dan smiles against his hair. “It was lovely, really.”

“Good,” Phil says, kissing his clothed chest. “There’s cake in the fridge, by the way. For later.” His voice is muffled by the fabric as he kisses his way down.

“For later?” Dan taunts.

“Yep,” Phil replies, winking up at him. “We’re busy right now.”

“Oh are we?” Dan says, voice hopelessly sarcastic.

“Shh,” Phil whispers, kissing the front of his pajama pants. “Less talking. More taking clothes off.”

Dan snorts at the lack of finesse. Ten years in and Dan guessed there was only so much they could do to keep the romance alive. He pets Phil’s hair as he kisses the band of Dan’s pajamas, hooking his fingers under the elastic and tugging gently. “Can I?” Phil asks, always the sweetheart.

"Yeah," Dan murmurs, lifting his hips and allowing Phil to pull them down his legs. He's gone for no pants, something not lost on Phil, who rolls his eyes.

"You're so lazy," he mutters, leaning down to kiss Dan's thigh before throwing the pjs across the room carelessly.

"You pretty heavily implied I'd be getting laid tonight, bub, so my pants-free decision was your influence too, you know," Dan says, quirking a brow in challenge.

Phil hums agains his skin, kissing up his thighs. "Alright, fine," he says finally. He kisses the soft dip of space where Dan's thigh meets his hip. He's so, so close to where Dan really wants him, and Dan makes a low whine in his throat. "Ten years later and you still have no concept of waiting," Phil taunts.

Dan bucks his hips pointedly. "I can wait. I just don't want to," he argues. "Unless... Did you want to..." He gestures vaguely to the chest by the closet where they keep their toys.

Phil smiles but shakes his head. "Not tonight. I think we'll stick to the basics, yeah?"

Dan nods, a little relieved. As much as he loved when they tried new things in the bedroom, he really was quite tired and that kind of exploratory sex took a lot out of him, physically and emotionally. And tonight he's honestly had enough on the emotional front, so he's happy to hear they'll be sticking to what they're best at.

"Do you want to fuck me?" Dan asks, brushing Phil's hair back.

"Yeah," Phil answers simply, mouthing at the skin at the base of Dan's cock. "Do you want me to?"

"Mhm," Dan hums. "Are you gonna suck me off first?"

Phil blinks up at him. "I can, yeah. Do you wanna go twice?"

Dan considers it, then shakes his head. "I'm actually pretty sure I'm gonna pass out the first time I orgasm, so no. But you can blow me while you prep?" Dan suggests cheekily.

Phil narrows his eyes. "You're just trying to get me to do all the work," he complains.

"But Phil," Dan says sweetly, stroking his cheek. "It's my birthday."

"I knew you would use that excuse," Phil sighs. "Go fetch the lube, you brat."

Dan grins, crawling up the bed and rummaging through Phil's drawer. He hears the sound of soft clothes falling in a heap somewhere, probably thrown in a random direction of the floor for them to trip over later. "Here you go, bub," Dan says, handing him the bottle. His gaze rakes over Phil's naked body, smirking appreciatively. "Someone looks happy to see me," he teases, gripping Phil's cock and giving it a few tugs.

Phil groans, swatting his hand away. "Cut it out," he whines. "Your hand's all dry."

Staring Phil dead in the eyes, Dan brings his hand to his mouth, spitting in it and bringing it back to his cock again. "Better?" He asks when Phil's eyelashes flutter.

"Mm," Phil hums, pushing his hips into Dan's hand over and over. "It's good, babe, yeah." His eyes flicker open again, and he smiles softly at Dan, a total contradiction to what they're doing. It makes Dan's skin burn with excitement. There's no preamble to it as Phil leans in and kisses him, wrapping a steadying hand around the back of Phil's neck. Dan sneaks his tongue into Phil's mouth, licking excitedly. "Lie back, love," Phil whispers when he pulls away eventually.

Dan does as he's told, making himself comfy on the bed before spreading his legs, holding onto his thighs tightly to keep them there. He watches the way Phil stares at him appreciatively, running the dry tip of his index finger over Dan's perineum and tracing over his hole. "Lovely," he murmurs.

"Fuck off," Dan says, voice full of affection.

Phil smiles down at him. He bends, kissing the bend of Dan's knee. "Ready?" He asks, popping the cap on the bottle and spreading the lube over his fingers.

"Mhm," Dan hums, wiggling his bum. "C'mon."

"Bossy," Phil mutters, circling Dan's rim for a moment before gently pressing. Dan sighs as that lovely finger slips inside, nearly without any pause. He's so used to being full these days, when their days are filled with little to do other than have sex and wonder when life will go back to how it was before. But he's not thinking about that right now. Now, right now he's thinking about the way Phil's finger stretches him open just right, how his added finger slides in just the way he needs it too in order for it to feel really good.

"Good?" Phil asks after a few minutes, glancing up at Dan's eyes.

"God, yes," Dan gasps. "So good. Go ahead and add a third."

Phil complies without second-guessing him, and Dan nearly goes cross-eyed at the burn of the stretch. It's so fucking good. Phil's still cautious and slow, his movements gentle even as Dan begs for more, faster. It's at moments like this, when Phil puts Dan's wellbeing and safety over his own desires, that Dan really appreciates how he really is the perfect partner.

For some reason, he feels like now is a good time. to share that thought. "Phil," he moans.

"Mm?" Phil replies, sounding distracted.

He taps at Dan's prostate then, and Dan loses his train of thought for a second. "You're perfect," he mumbles when he remembers.

"What?" Phil laughs, his eyes glittering with amusement.

Dan feels too good to feel embarrassed for how seemingly random his outburst is. "I love you so much," Dan murmurs. "You're so good to me."

Phil kisses his knee again. slowing the movements of his hand. "I love you too, baby. Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?"

"No," Dan says vehemently. "No, keep going. You can fuck me now, I'm good."

He feels the loss keenly when Phil pulls his fingers out completely. "Are you sure?" He asks, stroking Dan's thighs.

Dan nods. "Yeah, I want it to hurt a little."

Phil rolls his eyes. He himself didn't usually like it when he could feel the burn, but Dan was an odd one like that. "How do you want it?" He asks. Dan waggles his eyebrows suggestively and Phil huffs. "Don't make it weird," he says.

Dan only laughs before rolling over onto his side. "Could you, like... Stand on the side of the bed and do it from there? Or lay down behind me?"

There's something fond in Phil's gaze as he leans down and kisses Dan's chest. "Sure, bub." He climbs off the bed and tugs Dan back towards him by his hips. There's a moment of pause where he lubes himself up, Dan assumes, and then there's that familiar pressure at his hole. "Relax," Phil reminds him, pointlessly.

"Yeah," Dan mumbles, arching his back and taking a deep breath to allow his body to go lax and pliant. The slide goes easier, then, and Phil sinks in slowly, stretching him just enough for Dan to feel the stretch. He moans quietly, covering his face with his arm to quiet the noises. They've had many complaints from neighbors over the years, and he's learned the measures to take in order to quiet himself a little more.

He's surprised to feel Phil shove his hand away from his mouth. "Don't do that," Phil quips. "Be as loud as you want, tonight."

Dan feels his chest flush at the words. That was new, for them. "Is this what all engaged sex is like?" He says breathlessly as Phil slowly begins moving his hips, trying to give Dan plenty of time to adjust before fucking him properly.

Phil laughs behind him. and then he feels hot breath against his neck. "Soon," he whispers. "When we have a home of our own, with no nosy neighbors. Then you can make all the noises you want."

The idea sends a shiver down Dan's spine and he clenches around Phil's cock. "Fuck," he whines when Phil grinds against him helplessly. "You can move, baby, go ahead."

Phil kisses his shoulder. He keeps his lips there, pressing open kisses against the skin stretched across his shoulder blade as he starts properly fucking him, hips knocking against Dan's ass with a noise that leaves very little to the imagination. The position, paired with the way Phil's cock naturally curves, has him hitting Dan's prostate on every thrust, something they generally have to work a little harder for.

"So good, fuck," Dan gasps, clutching at the sheets as he pushes his ass back against Phil, matching him for every thrust. "Fuck, I'm not gonna last long, Phil."

"Me either," Phil replies. The confirmation that they're both right there together has Dan's eyes rolling back in pleasure. Sex with Phil is always earth-shattering for him, but there's just something about sex with Phil when they're both this happy, this in love- it makes things about a hundred times more intense.

Dan is working his ass back as much. as he can lying on his side, but eventually he feels a cramp in his side and has to give it a rest. He's already close, but he needs something else to get him there. Reaching back blindly, he grabs Phil's hand, guiding it down to his cock. "Touch me," he begs.

"You needy little thing," Phil teases playfully.

Those words don't spark joy the way they sometimes do and Dan whines. Phil, who knows every nuance of sound Dan's ever made, understands immediately.

"I love you," He whispers in Dan's ear, slowing his thrusts. Instead of hard and fast, he starts going slow and deep, pumping Dan's dick at the same pace, thumbing at the head on every upstroke, just how Dan likes it. "You're so good for me, every time. So good. Love you so much."

Dan keens under the affection, baring his neck for attention, which Phil immediately gives, licking and sucking at the skin there with a heat and focus that Dan didn't expect from him, considering the other tasks literally in his hands. "I'm-" Dan cuts himself off with a moan. "Gonna come, gonna come," he pants, bucking his hips into Phil's fist.

"Let it go, bub," Phil whispers to him, kissing his neck. "I've got you."

And that's what gets him. Just that affection, that reassurance, is the sexiest thing Phil could ever say. Dan's a goner, releasing into Phil's hand with a punched out sigh. "Fuck," he whines as he works himself through the aftershocks. When he's finally finished, he slumps against the bed, exhausted. He can still feel Phil inside him, moving faster now that he's chasing his own release. Dan clenches around him to help, and Phil slows down.

"Want me to stop?" He asks against Dan's throat.

"No," Dan whispers, spreading his legs a little to give Phil a better angle. "I want you to come, too, baby. Go ahead."

Phil kisses his jaw. "Thanks," he mumbles. "Can I-" he pats Dan's thigh like he wants him to move.

Dan falls limp, allowing Phil to maneuver him however he wants. "How do you want me?"

Phil licks his lips. "On your back," he replies. Dan complies immediately, and Phil stays standing, dragging Dan's hips to meet his own. He slides back in smoothly, thrusting at a sloppy pace. Dan can tell he's close. "Can I-" Phil starts, taking Dan's spent cock in his hand.

Dan rolls his eyes, but nods. "I'll never understand it, but go for it, bub."

A giggle falls from Phil's mouth. The paradox of that sweet noise compared to the loud sound of smacking skin echoing in their room has Dan's dick twitching in Phil's hand. He grins. "It's neat. I don't know why I like it either," Phil says with a shrug.

With another roll of his eyes, Dan gestures for him to get on with it. He winces, just a little, at the overstimulation when Phil starts stroking him again, but Dan knows he's close, and he's not about to deny him of that sweet release now. It's almost better like this, he thinks, when Dan's already finished but Phil's still searching for that relief and Dan gets to watch the pleasure, pure and unhidden, as it washes over Phil's face when it finally, finally hits him. His eyes clench shut and he's nearly breathless for a pause before it seems to hit him all at once, and then he's coming inside Dan, squeezing his hand around his cock.

"Fuck, Dan," Phil says with a laugh. Dan's confused at first, until he looks down and realizes what just happened. "You were barely hard that time," Phil says, voice soft and incredulous as he looks down at where Dan has just come a second time, all over his chest.

"Yeah, well," Dan mumbles petulantly. "Shut up," he whines.

Phil laughs, sliding out of him and searching for the baby wipes they keep in the nightstand for this. "I didn't say anything," he argues.

Dan huffs. "Well you don't have to look so fucking pleased with yourself," he replies, crossing his arms as Phil cleans him up gently.

"Sorry," Phil says, not an ounce of actual sorrow in his voice. He tosses the used baby wipes into the bin before patting Dan's thigh. "Shove over, bub."

They get situated in bed together, Dan whining about being cold until Phil pulls the sheet over them. Dan knows, realistically, that he'll be burning up in less than an hour, but for now he just wants a cuddle under the sheets. They lie in blissful silence for a bit until Phil laughs.

"What?" Dan asks, blinking up at him.

Phil gazes at him, smirking. "Can you believe that our whole family knew I was going to propose to you today and they didn't tell you? I'll be honest, I didn't think they had it in them."

Dan sits up. "They... they all knew?" He asks slowly.

Phil nods, looking rather pleased with himself, like a little boy who knows he's gotten away with eating too much candy before dinner. "All of them."

"Even... Even my mum? Nan?" Dan tries to keep the panic out of his voice. He's not mad, he's just... surprised. Overwhelmed. In a good way, mostly, he thinks.

Phil looks a little hesitant now. "Yeah... Was that not okay?"

Dan shakes his head, leaning in to give Phil a reassuring kiss. "No, that's fine. I'm just surprised, is all."

"Yeah?" Phil asked.

Dan nods. "How did they take it?"

Phil grins. "They seemed very happy for us. I, er... I actually talked to your mum about it a while ago."

"How long ago?" Dan asks, warily. After finding out just how long Phil has planned on proposing to him, Dan isn't sure he's ready to hear the answer to this.

"After my birthday," Phil replies, surprising Dan. So, not years ago, which is a relief, especially considering he hadn't been out to his family until last year. "I called her a few days after we talked about it, and asked if she would be okay with me asking you to marry me."

Dan's eyes water at that. "Phil," he says in a very fond, chastising voice. "You asked my mum for permission?"

"No! I mean... Not really," Phil amends. When Dan gives him a disbelieving look, Phil shrugs. "I basically just said I love you and wanted her to know that I intended on marrying you. She was very chill about it."

Dan raises an eyebrow. "What did she say, exactly?" He asks, suspicious.

Phil grins sheepishly. "She said I better intend on it or else I'd just wasted ten years of my life."

There's a pause and then Dan groans, rolling his eyes. "God. She's the worst." He doesn't mean it, not really. Not anymore.

"No, she... It was nice," Phil says, shrugging simply. "We had a nice chat about marriage and you and everything and... I dunno, it was nice. I finally understood what you're always saying about how much you love my mum."

Dan smiles, tucking a strand of Phil's hair back into place. "Yeah?" He asks quietly.

Phil kisses the palm of his hand. "Yeah. It was really nice, talking to the person who birthed my favorite human on earth," Phil says with a wide smile.

Even ten years in, and Dan still flushes with embarrassment, ducking his head and nuzzling against Phil's neck. "Shut up," he whines.

There's a soft kiss pressed to his head. "Happy birthday, Dan," Phil whispers.

And what a happy birthday it was.