#((this one has been in my submissions box for a hot minute oops))
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down-in-the-lab · 1 year ago
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Here's an insane comic with plenty of Gyro and Donald:
Sikyu: I have no clue what’s happening in the story (giant bird?? shenanigans??). But I’m living for these panels specifically
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We got some good posing and perspective in this one 👀✨
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thewritingginger · 4 years ago
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“Only good girls get gifts for Christmas” with Jumin/fem!Reader please!
We’re not gonna talk about the lateness of this. I hope you enjoy it and thank you for waiting 😅
imma be real I re-read this and edited it like 3 times and the last run-through I just accepted what was on the page so mind any possible mistakes.
Enjoy ~
Fandom: Mystic Messenger Pairing: Jumin Han x Fem! Reader Word count: 3,335 words Warning(s): NSFW 18+, dominant/submissive, masturbation, sex toy, mutual masturbation, orgasm denial, over stimulation, slight daddy kink, pet names; Kitten, slight degrading, fingering, some praise, super late oops
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It’s nearing 11 o’clock and Jumin is finally getting home from work. Coming through the door he made sure to be quiet just in case you’re sleeping. Putting his briefcase down on the dining room table he sighs, unbuttoning his blazer as he makes his way over to your shared bedroom. With his hand on the nob he pauses when he hears what sounds to be soft moans coming from the other side of the door.
Opening the door slowly he peeks in to see quite the sight.
You’re there, sprawled out on the center of the bed wearing nothing but one of his striped shirts completely unbuttoned, your chest bare. One of your hands is cupping and squeezing your breast, rolling your nipple between your fingers. As your other hand lays work between your open thighs. Stroking your soaked heat. Toes curled, soft breathy gasps and moans leave your rose petal lips. Watching this scandalous act brings a conniving smirk to his lips. His eyes roam over your unaware body, skin flushed pink as you edge yourself closer to your finish.
“Well. What do we have here?” He says breaking the silence. His sudden words startle you. Jumping you curl up to look at him resting against the door frame.
“Wh- Jumin how long have you been standing there?” Your voice is shaky from embarrassment. “I think a better question would be, how long has this been going on for?” He says walking over to your curled form. Folding the front of your shirt closed you respond.
“What do you mean? Well I guess not for very long. Maybe about 20 minutes.” Jumin chuckles at your shy response.
“No, no. I mean how long have you been pleasuring yourself without my promotion?” His clarification makes your face heat up.
“Uh. I don’t know.” You stammer, honestly unable to give an exact answer.
“Oh, well that’s very naughty of you, Kitten.” He tsks.
Walking over to the closet he opens it to pull out a small box. You watch as he opens it, retrieving two small black items. “You know, I wanted to wait till Christmas to give this to you but I think it’d be quite enjoyable to use now.” Jumin walks over to you. His hand extends, handing you something. Placing the mystery item in your hand reveals a black rubbery ball with a loop at the end. Once you see it you realise what it is.
Pulling out the chair from your desk, draping his blazer on the back. He sits at the end of the bed, staring at you. Your heart is racing at what could be going through his mind.
“Well… what are you waiting for? Continue.” He says sitting back in the chair. His legs crossed, arms relaxed on the arm-rests. Stunned, you take a second to respond.
“Continue? Jumin~” You echo his command, trying to question him, you’re cut off.
“Yes. Continue, using that.” A mix of embarrassment and excitement swirls in your chest. As he sits at the end of the bed, waiting for you to move. His form radiating a domineering confidence that sends a shiver down your spine.
Observing the new toy you bite your lip as you lean back against the pillows. “What do I do with it?” You ask earnestly. You couldn’t find a switch or button to turn it on and it didn’t seem like a toy for penetrating yourself with.
“Put it inside you.” Is all he said, giving you nothing to work with. Adjusting yourself on the pillows, you open the front of the shirt covering you. Taking your time, making a show out of it. Running your fingertips down the seams, eyes locked on Jumin's expression. His eyes follow your fingers like a hawk. Parting the fabric to reveal your smooth skin you see him raise a brow slightly, pleased with his view. With the loop of the toy hanging on your thumb you begin sliding your hands down your front over your breasts and across your opening thighs. Going up and down your form a few times teasing not only the eyes on you but yourself as well. Dipping one hand between your legs momentarily draws a slight growl from the man before you.
You smirk inwardly at his reaction.
Knowing he’s the one in control you can’t help but like the sense of power you feel watching him wait for you to carry out his orders. Taking the small ball in your fingers you start teasing your entrance with it. Drawing a blissful sigh from the contact. Once the toy is lubricated with your slick you slowly push it in.
The way you stretch around its shape pulls a sigh from your lips. Once the toy is fully in you, nothing but the loop sticking out. You bring both hands back up to massage your breasts, pinching your nipples every so often. The small sharp manipulations create small waves of pleasure through your body.
Without warning you feel the toy inside begin to vibrate. Your eyes shoot to Jumin, his stoic expression remains unwavering, you then notice the little remote in his hand. “I feel I’ve failed to mention what that little toy is, Kitten. Do you like it?” He asks, a smirk blooms on his lips. He seems to be enjoying himself a bit too much. But the soft vibrations coursing through your core feels good. You can’t help but give him an honest response.
“Yes.” He smiles at your breathy answer.
With your sex aching for more attention you draw one of your hands down. Sliding it along your inner thigh continuing your tease. Before making contact with your wetness you are halted. “Stop! I don’t believe I’ve allowed you to do that.” He says, stone-faced. Swallowing the saliva in your mouth you group your thoughts.
“Can I touch myself, please?” You ask, your voice shaky. Closing your eyes hoping he says ‘yes’. Feeling so hot and needing more than what you are being given. In effort to satisfy your senses you continue to let your palms roam your bare skin.
Humming he tilts his head to the side in thought.
“Tell me,  why should I let you touch yourself?  You never felt the need to ask before. Why now?” You let out a sigh of frustration. He’s got you right where he wants you, defenseless and at his mercy.
“Please. I’ll do what you say. I’ll be good!” You grip the bed sheets when you feel the vibrations get more powerful.
“You better be Y/n. Cause you know what they say, only good girls get gifts for Christmas.”
He watches your body tense. The look of frustration and lust is so tantalizing to watch. The blend of pain and pleasure apparent on your flushed face. How he loves to torture you. Giving you just enough to keep you wanting more. Building your desire for him. His touch. His taste. His gaze.
Everything.
His selfish desire to fill your mind with him, drives his actions. Wanting to make you so consumed with the thought of him. The thought of what he will do. Of what he *could* do.
“I’ll be good, I promise.” You plead. Your end feeling so far away, you resist the urge to help yourself. Knowing the only way to get there is to play his game, his deliciously-devious game.
Uncrossing his legs, leaning forward he looks over your needy body. “Ask me properly and then maybe I’ll consider.” You can see him smiling inwardly. The vibrations in your core make you groan through your response.
“Daddy, please let me touch myself for you.” You say. You look at him through your lashes. Hoping your words were enough to sway him.
Reclined in his chair, his head tilted, kissing his teeth before speaking. Every silent second feels like an eternity. “Open yourself up for me.” He says.
Your flushed face feels hotter from his lewd command. Licking your dry lips you spread your legs wider. Gliding your hands down your torso to your thighs. Your fingertips dance along the edge of your labia.
Sliding your fingers between your folds you begin to spread your lips for him to see your essence glisten in the dim lighting, coating your digits. Moving up and down your slit, your body twitching from the subtle touches, wanting more. Tired of waiting you test the waters by making a few slow circles over your clitoris. With no objection you continue. The pleasure stirring inside your belly makes your toes curl, and your eyes close. Resting  your head back to sigh at the smooth waves of warmth coursing through you. Between the soft hum in your vagina and the manipulations of your bundle of nerves your body temperature spikes and your head lulls against the pillows.
Watching your fingers work yourself makes Jumin’s pants become increasingly tighter. His bulge just aching to be released from it’s cloth confinement. Having just gotten started and intending to hold onto this moment longer he breaks the silence. “Slower!” His voice shakes you from your own world. Opening your lidded eyes you look at him as he repeats himself “I said, slow your movements.” His voice, more stirn. Reluctantly you do as you’re told. Circling your sensitive bud at a painfully slow pace.
“Good girl.” He praises. His voice, a low purr.  
The sound of your whimpers fills the air, the light touches drive you insane. Your hips begin to move, hoping to make more friction. Your actions cause him to tsk, turning off the toy. “Did I tell you you could move your hips, Kitten?” He asks sternly. Pushing your butt into the bed to hold yourself back you sigh in annoyance. “You didn’t answer me, Kitten.”
“No, you didn’t.” You say.
“That’s right, I didn't. So unless you can be good, Daddy isn’t gonna allow you to cum.” Your eyes shoot to him, a wicked smirk on his lips.
“Please, don’t.” You moan.
“Well if you do as I tell you then you won't have to worry about it.” He chuckles. Enjoying the power he has over you his body begins to warm up from the excitement. Turning the toy back on he then loosens his tie and slides it off of his neck, dropping it to the floor. Slowly making work of the buttons on his dress shirt he sees your hungry eyes study him. Exposing his chest, revealing his lean physique. He lets out a silent sigh as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin.
Watching you torture yourself and tease your twitching body makes Jumin quite pleased. The way your face contorts in frustration. Your mewls alone could send him over the edge right then and there. He needs more. “Keep your eyes on me.” He says. Forcing your eyes open, your vision blurred from lust. Your gaze roams over his body, admiring his toned chest when you see one of his strong hands working his clothed bulge. Massaging his erection through his pants pulls low groans from his lips, noticing your fixed gaze he chuckles. “Like what you’re seeing, Kitten?” He asks. You nod your head with a breathy moan.
A sigh escapes Jumins lips as he undoes his pants, a much needed release of tension. Reaching under the waistline of his boxer briefs he grips his girth. You watch as he pulls out his swollen member, precum coating the tip. His thumb catches the bead and rubs the tip slightly.
Looking up you meet with a stormy gaze. His eyes filled with lust. Without breaking eye contact Jumin draws a slow line across his palm with his tongue. Wrapping his spit coated hand around his cock he begins making slow strokes up and down his shaft. Watching his movements makes you unconsciously lick your lips.
“You like watching me stroke myself?” He asks. His lewd question lights you on fire. “Yes.” Your voice breathy. The air around you seems to be getting hotter with every passing second.
“You’re such a little slut, Kitten. Getting off by a man rubbing his cock to you playing with yourself. Your cunt dripping with need around a toy, but that’s not enough for you is it?” His degrading words make you moan, nodding your head.
“Pull it out of you.” He commands. Obeying you pull the still vibrating toy from your pulsating core. Whimpering at the loss, toy in hand. “Place it on your clit.” Without question you replace your fingers with the vibrating orb and your head falls back. A pleased sigh leaves your throat. “I didn’t say your eyes could leave mine!” He booms. Lifting your head you meet his eyes again.
Rubbing the toy against your clitoris, sends waves of ecstasy through your veins. Nearing your end your body tenses, resisting to close your eyes. Your toes curl. Your breath is rapid and just as you are about to come undone the toy stops.
Releasing a groan of frustration you notice the smile on the raven haired man's face. “Why?” You ask.
“You didn’t think I was just gonna let you cum did you? Oh, Kitten…” He tsks. His patronizing tone aggravates you. “Maybe I should make you aware that this is a punishment for your naughty behavior and you only get to cum when I allow it. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes.” You pout. Before anything else is said you suck through your teeth as the toy comes back to life without warning.
This little back and forth game went on for what seemed like hours. Each time bringing you so close to your end to then pull it from under you. You have lost count of the amount of times he’d denied you your pleasure.
Your body is so sensitive that each time the toy turns on you are seemingly seconds away from your end.
He stops it, your body convulses. “What’s wrong, Kitten?” He asks your tear streaked face. Your breath hitches.
“I can’t take it anymore.” You plead earnestly. Your body aches with need and tension. Muscles are sore from contracting.
“Yes you can and you will! You’re gonna be my good little slut and count to five for me. One for every time I stop and when we get to five I’ll let you cum. Can you do that for me, Kitten?”
“You promise?” You ask nervously.
“I promise.”
So the countdown begins. Each one more agonizing than the last.
Turning the vibrations on you clench your teeth. Your other hand holds your breast. Playing with your nipple. Your eyes close as the toy stops. “Begin counting!” He commands.
“O-one.” Your breath catches in your throat. Not even a second after you answered the vibrations begin again.
His large hand still stroking his cock as he watches you plead with your eyes. A choked cry comes from your mouth. Bracing yourself as you know what's to come. He stops the toy.
“T-two.”
Again.
“Three.”
On the fourth one you are in agonizing pain. The need to release is so strong. Not even having a second to breath before the torture starts again. “Look at me, Kitten. Just two more.” His words don’t help relax you.
It stops again. Your body shakes violently. Your legs close unconsciously. Tears stream down your cheeks. “Open your legs, Kitten.” Doing as you’re told your shaky legs part.
“F-four.” You count. Just one more. You don’t know if you can handle one more.
On this last one your hips scream at you. The vibrations coursing through your being send your head spinning. Your mouth slack-jawed as you look at Jumin. Thumb placed over the control button, his other, working his member. “I’m... Please ~” Your words come out but cut off by cries of pain and pleasure. You gasp as the toy stops once again.
“F-f-five.” This is the last one. Your shaky body, sensitive from the whiplash of pleasure it’s been given. Having a moment of rest your chest rises and falls rapidly with exhaustion.
Getting up Jumin walks over to your twitching body. “Now c-can I cum, Daddy? Please ~.” You ask. Your words, filled with deprivation. Uncaring of how you sounded.
“Yes, Kitten.” Sitting on the mattress next to you. You almost could cry just from his words.
“R-really? You aren’t lying?” You ask.
“No I’m not. Just keep your legs open for me.” Placing a hand on your inner thigh you whimper. The contact feels electric. His skin is so hot against yours.  
Looking into your eyes he presses the button once again. The jolt of electricity makes you let of a choked groan. The waves of your impending release courses through you. Knowing you can have it makes your excitent grow.
The room is filled with the sound of your moans and gasps. Watching as Jumin strokes his shaft, his fist moving faster than before. “You gonna cum for me, Kitten?” He asks.
“I- I can’t” You cry. Your overstimulated body twitches. Writhing on the mattress. You simultaneously feel everything and numb all at once.
“Yes you can love. Cum for Daddy.” His coaxing words makes you throw your head back. Searching desperately for your end. The one that seems so close but just not there.
“Please, Daddy. I-I can’t.”
From your pleading words Jumin throws the remote to the side, putting his hands between your legs. His fingertips play with your entrance. Coating them in your essence. Then sliding a long finger into your aching pussy, curling up. The intrusion pulls a guttural groan from your throat. “Ah, Jumin!” You moan his name. He adds another finger. His hands work both you and him.
A deep moan leaves his lips as he feels your walls squeeze around his fingers. His fist mimics it on his shaft. “Come on, Kitten. You’re so close.” He praises. His gaze, not leaving your face. Admiring how it contorts in pleasure. Your breathing becomes more rapid.
So close.
You feel the knocks in your belly becoming undone. Your mind clouds as your end is near and in an explosion to uphoria your vision goes white. Your back arches. Fingers gripping the sheets. Moans and cries seep from between your lips. Unconcerned with the volume of your voice. Your lover’s fingers, still moving within you. After what feels like a blissful eternity  your body falls slack to the mattress. Your chest heaving from your intense ride. The toy in your hand drops to be forgotten, vibrating against the sheets.
Not yet finished, Jumin removes his fingers from your heat. Climbing onto the mattress he gets between your legs and strokes himself till he reaches his end. His moans vibrate through his chest as he ejaculates onto your belly. His hand continues as he milks out every last drop of his seed.
Falling down, his arms on either side of you. His face in your neck. There is silence as you both bask in the afterglow of your highs. Both breathless. Satisfied. Chests heaving.
After a minute he places a trail of soft kisses on your shoulder and up your neck. “Are you okay?” His low voice whispers.
“Yes. More than okay.” You admit tiredly as you bring your weak arms around his neck.
“Good. Let me go get you a towel.” He tries to move but you stop him.
“Wait, just stay here for a little longer.”
He doesn’t respond. Just relaxes back down in your arms. In silent praise he peppers your skin with soft kisses as one of his hands gently moves up and down your side. Finally he cups your cheek to meet your gaze. “I love you, Y/n.” Before you can respond he pulls you in for a kiss. Your arms squeeze him a bit. Your response lies within your kiss.
After Jumin cleaned you up you spent the rest of the night tangled in his arms. Fingers brushing through your hair and chasing kisses against your skin.
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I hope that was enjoyable. I am slowly painfully so getting through my wip list.
Till next time.
💛 ~
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ilguna · 4 years ago
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i also have a list of shit my history teacher (this year) has said and done so I will share it with you:
warning: its really fucking long bc he would say/do shit MULTIPLE times a day
goes onto the next slide, “it’s a meme, get it?” proceeds to explain the meme (its the hey arnold meme with the first)
also goes onto another slide, with the twitter opinion meme. at the end of the paragraph it says “this class smacks, I’m lit”
“I’m going to beat up your brother. i am going to pummel him.”
On the 6th day of class he finally realized that there was a total of 6 guys and the rest were girls
student: “You should not put it in (as an assingment)”. teacher; “laugh out loud, im dead”
he was teaching us how to write a DBQ, the computer had a pop up saying that the battery was low, and then a spider shows up out of fucking nowhere, hanging from the ceiling. he CLAPS it, jokes about eating it, and then sets it on his desk (not in the trash can 2 feet away) so he can “deal with it later”
his endless military stories, specifically ORANGE DESERT
he wrote “if you would have had your thinking skull on” on my first DBQ
him saying “I hate this” after typing a word wrong multiple times while teaching us DBQ’s lmfao
“For the lols”
Threw a box of tissues across the room into the trash can
threw a box of tissues at a student
he had this obsession with throwing expo markers at his whiteboard, trying to make it land on the metal part so expect that a lot.
“Do you want me to drown him in a bathtub?” (which was about a student’s dog that had separation anxiety lmaoo)
Sang the rain drop, drop top song
The collars on his shirt turned up
“He’ll be beaten for that distraction” (after his son called him during his lesson and he willingly answered)
“Stay woke” 
“It was a hot boy summer for him”
expo marker landed on the metal thing for once thanks to a towel that was there
kyle (it must have been a story or something i dont remember)
He woah’d at some point
HAHA so there was a kid in my class that had got caught with a bong on the second week of school and he was suspended. when he came back to class, we were going over what the south grew in the U.S. very early on into colonization. and he used the bong kid as an example of a tobacco farmer
tried to eat a balled up paper
“important revolutionary war stuff”
“My bae, George Washington”
“They could’ve killed g-dubz, but they didn’t”
called george washington “g-dubz” frequiently
“Facts”
“Swagtastic”
he got excited over a military general (baron friedrich von steuben) for being a gay military general--”That was very well respected!”
“He had a ton of swagger”--referring to ben franklin
“His nickname was the swamp fox. You guys can call me that”
The snowball fight story--his brother was friends with a kid he hated next door. my teacher challenged the kid--Eric--to a snowball fight. In preparation, my teacher had froze snowballs, and so when he did have the fight, he LITERALLY knocked Eric out and left him on the front lawn unconscious (he was an elementary school kid)
one time he gave us the punishment quiz by accident, tried to make up for it by giving everyone the answer to #6. however, it turned out to be wrong so he just gave us all 100′s instead
another military story of the goat he bought from an old man with his buddies. unfortunately they had to kill the goat to eat, but the FACT that my teacher said this “a cute little goat--you know, baaa?” as if we didn’t know what a goat was 
He was the golf/hockey coach!! so not only would he talk about beating up the kids in the golf club
he would also do random golf swings all the goddamn time! with no gold club or ball, it was just air.
“You are about to get clowned, young lady”
pronounced pamphlet as pamplet fora good part of his teaching career (another story he told us)
“It’s definitely not the declaration of independence you mouth breather!”
George washington = bae on a powerpoint
“you tied me up real good”
“France also popped off”
Compares the Connecticut compromise to ppap (with the song and everything!)
Told someone to shut up after they suggested that Iowa was the least populated state (he’s from Iowa)
hick iowa, to be exact
Wrote 23 as 32, realized his mistake and said “oop im dyslexic”
“If it’s a purge, I’m killing everybody”
“Federalism, not onion!’
“Who’s the dumbass guy? Ducey!” (our state governor)
he got arrested once. his mugshot is on google images and everything
he got arrested bc some guy was destroying his house w a baseball bat at a party his friendw as throwing (but it was at my teachers house). my teacher respectfully punched him and brought him to the front lawn. called the cops when the guy wouldnt leave and ended up being arrested too. teacher thought his career was over and threatened the guy the entire way to the police station
“laugh out loud!”
“We beat the begeezus out of a bunch of british people”
pronounced wolf as woof
“Who was his daddy? Who’s his daddy?”
Called a swim cap a bonnet
“Kick!”--then proceeds to kick a tennis ball. before that he had just thrown it to get out of his way
“Jesus, you’re a big boy”
for like 2 weeks straight he used that same tennis ball to try and erase a whiteboard. and im not talking rubbing it on the board, he fucking threw it at the wall, getting it off little by little. he eventually gave up, though
“I’ll snot rocket into the trash can”
“Cause I realize most of you are morons”
was obsessed with the cowboy boogie
“Every time I cough, my tail bone hurts”
“Do i look normal?”
“I look like an old man”
“Shut up your faces”
“I see you back there, queen”
“Some of you girls need to learn from this article”--the article was old & about girls being submissive
“that would hurt some people’s feelings, but I’m not gonna show it hurt mine”
“He’s just--’meow’”--about his cat
he had a sweater that had his face on it, photoshopped over a boxer that a student gave him. he wore it during winter
flicked a tennis ball across the room with a hockey stick. hit the coffee thermo on his desk, stared for a couple of seconds, and THEN realized that it was open
First off, all you kids making memes about dodging the draft--we don’t want your dumbasses anyway” --continued to rant for a few minutes after that
he HATED the national anthem with a burning passion
“I’m old as shit”
also, his cat’s name IS meow cat
more expo marker throwing
“Hey there handsome”-- to the teacher next door
“Henry clay is going to haunt you until april” (unfortunately we didnt make it that far into the school year bc of covid. disappointed that i didnt get to be haunted)
Singing electric avenue
“but here’s the tea”
“Flagstaff is like--” *reaches as high as he can to put expo marker on the wall
“I’m adopting all of you, and we’re moving to saudi arabia”
teacher: “I’m gonna break bowers kneecaps in front of you. you still want to be on strike?” not bowers but a different kid: “no...?”
Cleaned the shades in the middle of him explaining something
“You know your pinky toe? this little roast beef?”
THE TURTLE SOUP STORY. when my teacher was still a kid, he found a turtle in the wild, and brought it to his grandparents house (they owned a farm). he took care of the turtle for a while, even after his grandfather found out. until one day he came home and saw blood everywhere, went to find the turtle to see it was gone. then found his grandfather chopping up the fucking turtle so they could have it for soup for dinner. his grandfather literally made him fatten up the turtle so they could eat it
“Did mr.*****--?” (referring to himself in 3rd person, also blocked out to protect privacy)
“i’m going to staple your nostrils closed. staple, staple. ‘I can’t breathe mr.*****!’ should’ve done your DBQ!!”
his pedo stache 
stood with a paper and smiled, thinking that a student was taking a picture of him when it was really the paper
doesn’t know who gaston is???
him: “I’m going to staple your noses together. One staple” Student: “*****’s piercing parlor!”
*singing* “beauty and the beast”
“I’m going to tackle you”
more random golf swinging
“What’s up (my name)?” me: hi *he then hits the bun on the top of my head on his way in the door*
And he did it again the next day
he literally made kids compete with pastries
which reminds me, he brought donuts in 2 days in a row like a week after that and make us (his first hour) take bites bc he realized he didn’t want to eat it. one of the girls was glad to take it from him, everyone else told him no
“Good morning (my name) how are you?” me: “I’m sick again... do you need help? (with the door)” him; “Actually, yes” (normally he can open the door even when his hands are full but there was a stack of pop tart boxes that were as tall as him so) i opened the door, he goes in and says, “thank you (my name), for not being rude”
the following quotes are for the Hot Seat
Student: “what do you do--?” him: “you’re in the hot seat!”
“Some people cry”
“La *****, luxurious”
“You sit here, and you stare (into the projector light)”
basically everyone in the class had to answer a question as a review. there was a stool in front of the smartboard, perfectly placed so that the projector light would LITERALLy be in your eyes. i actually got the question right on some miracle.
“2 points of weed?”
“Can I get some of that hot leaf?”
“They will make more drugs! You can’t do that much drug!”
“You guys bullied me and stole it”
“Whole rest of the nation sucked an egg”
“Whelp, let’s just kill myself”
“Do you guys know david chapel?” *sigh when everyone says no*
*some girls singing the national anthem* Him: “no! none of this, none of this!”
“Calibri’s for idiots” (the font)
“The only thing that was in--shit”
“and uncle sam--gettin lit”
“Their daddy--UH--”
“They’re going to blame the jews--my people” (he got a dna test done, he’s not actually jewish)
“Whatever you say, boomer”
“Use my words to plagiarize in college”
“I’m jewish, that’s offensive”
“Tell him he gave me instant cancer”
Me: “can i go to the bathroom?” him: “I’ll allow it”
him: “He’s antisemetic and it hurts my feelings” student: “what does that mean again?” him: “Hates jews :(”
“You guys can call me kingfish if you’d like”
~ after we said no to the nicknames, we tried to make one for him ~
student: “cornhusker!” him: “no, that’s offensive... and it’s also nebraska”
student: “corn picker!” him: “no--that sounds like a racist term or something”
“Unless corona really does take over--” (thank u, mr. for ruining the school year”
Student: “how old was she (his mom) when she had you?” him: “thirteen”
“My mom just turned 40 the other day...” (a joke)
him: “My brother got t-boned by a semi truck last night” Student: “Why are you laughing?” him: “Because he lived.”
“Yeah bc I would hide out in a public school with 300 new kids a year” (about him not living in iowa so he’s hiding out in az to get away from his “criminal record” (refer to the 1 time hes been arrested))
“Baby death?”
“Their family has more money than jesus”
*Standing outside the door yelling “CORONA” to students walking in”
“Hey I’m *****, f-word, blah, blah”
“We should fight our cats.”
“OH that’s a big chonk cat.”
“Mortal Kombat is pretty cool. I haven’t played in 25 years”
he told us in class once that we shouldnt open the front door if cops show up at a party. just to shut the blinds and be a little quieter bc the cops cant legally open the door
also one time he had a gun pointed to his face but he never finished that story bc he never liked it
during quarantine he set a DBQ as 1000 points (and i still didnt do it)
and “Here’s the tea, kiddos!”
honorable mentions: all the time he’s sent out emails bc theyre fucking hilarious
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i-am-too-sick · 6 years ago
Note
I'm sure you've gotten plenty of sick-with-a-stranger submissions already, but I'll offer mine cause why not. So maybe Orrin goes out on his own, he has an errand to run or a movie he wanted to see or whatever. It probably would've been fine if he hadn't been coming down with something. He knows he should stay home till he feels better, but doesn't, cause he's Orrin. He ends up pukey and faint in a public bathroom (or somewhere even more public) and some kind passing bastard takes pity on him.
Nov(emeto)ber Day 14: Sick With a Stranger
Watch me inadvertently add/include a possible brand new character to the line up. Oops.
@monthofsick
Warning(s): vomiting
Orrin had decided not to take Ruby with him tonight. He was only going to the movies—a nice, leisurely activity that was sure to relax him and keep his heart rate steady.
But he hadn't been feeling that great, and in order to avoid the lecture on how he should take better care of himself, he decided that he needed to get out of the house, the fever chills that rose the hair on his arms and the funny rumbling feeling in his stomach be damned.
He took the bus, and it felt nice not to be stared at for having a dog at his heels. He blended in with the crowd, an insignificant speck in a rolling sea of people, and he absolutely loved it.
By the time he got to the theater, he was downright queasy. Hot bubbles of air kept escaping through his mouth and he did everything to muffle the sounds behind his hands. The greasy, buttery smell of popcorn only turned his stomach more, and the lobby felt like the air conditioning was on full blast. He was freezing.
He was starting to think that coming out on his own was a huge mistake. He felt like he was truly coming down with something now and whatever it was, it was hitting hard and fast.
He stood in line behind a group of friends. They were waiting to give up their ticket stubs and they were all raucous and lively. One of them announced he was going to the bathroom, and it took every once of willpower Orrin had not to immediately follow him. He felt downright sick now, burping thickly but quietly into his fist.
The group moved along and Orrin was grateful not to have to endure the smell of their concessions or hear their voices that grated against his skull. He held out his ticket, just wanting to sit down in the cool, darkened theater.
"No minors past eight o'clock."
Orrin looked at the guy standing at the booth, irritation flashing in his eyes. "I'm 19."
The guy raised his eyebrow. "Do you have an ID?"
Orrin dug in his pockets, but came up empty. He'd bought his ticket online, so of course he'd forgotten his wallet at home.
"You can get a refund at the box office," the guy said, and he sounded sympathetic. He paused before he added, "Hey, buddy, you okay?"
Orrin blinked, confused, and it was only then that he realized he was swaying. He felt like he was pitching back and forth on a ship, and the chills from before were replaced by an intense heat the licked up the back of his neck. He was downright nauseous now and he could tell he was about to be sick.
Turning on his heel, Orrin made a beeline for the men's room, knocking into people in his haste for some privacy. He stomach lurched the moment he pushed the door open, and he barely had time to get to the sink before he heaved into the basin.
Nothing came up at first and each retch was a strain, scraping at his throat and bringing tears of exertion of his eyes. He folded his arms in front of the sink and waited, futilely hoping the nausea would abate.
"Are you all right?"
The genuine note of concern had Orrin looking up into the mirror, seeing the reflection of someone familiar. It was the boy from earlier, one of the ones who had been with the group in front of him. He was washing his hands and looking over at Orrin like he was afraid he might suddenly grow a second head.
Orrin felt something hot and acidic creeping up his throat and before he had a chance to answer otherwise, his lunch decided to make a reappearance. He retched and coughed, two more viscous waves of sick splattering into the sink, before only a trickle of the water he'd had at the house splashed onto the mess.
He felt far from finished, but the nausea seemed to have died down to a more manageable level. The real concern now was the jelly like consistency of his legs and the rushing sound of blood in his ears. He felt faint, and he stumbled back, saving himself from slamming his face into the counter if he passed out.
"Wow, easy there."
Two strong arms hooked themselves beneath Orrin's armpits and slowly lowered him to the floor. He'd forgotten all about the stranger who had been surreptitiously washing his hands beside him.
"Do I need to call an ambulance?"
Orrin shook his head and fumbled for the phone in his pocket. Quinn should be called at the very least. He unlocked his screen, his hands shaking as he searched his brother's name.
"Are you sure? You're white as a sheet and you look like you're about to pass out."
"I might," Orrin said without thinking.
The stranger's eyes widened, and he looked terrified. "Maybe I should get a manager." He seemed completely out of his element, and getting a manager meant that looking after Orrin was no longer his concern.
"Quinn," Orrin rasped, coughing and swallowing a bitter stream of saliva. "Call my brother Quinn."
"Uh...y-yeah, okay." The stranger took Orrin's phone, finding Quinn's name and pressing call.
Orrin listened as the stranger did his best to explain the situation. It was a hard thing to describe when he had no idea who he was talking to or even who he was talking about. Fortunately, it seemed as though Quinn got the gist, and after several minutes of frantically waving his arms and stammering into the receiver, the stranger hung up and rested the phone on Orrin's knee.
"I'm going to stay with you until he gets here," he said. He sounded like there were many other things he'd rather being doing instead, but he also sounded as though he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"Probably a good idea," Orrin replied. He held up his arm, jingling the silver medical bracelet he wore on his wrist.
"Yeesh," the stranger said. It seemed as though he thought he should have waited until after the movie to use the bathroom. He handed Orrin a couple paper towels, before squatting down beside him. "My name is Teddy, by the way."
Orrin almost smiled. The stranger had bright red hair and big blue eyes—the name Teddy didn't really seem to fit him.
"Noted. I'm Orrin."
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imnotinclinedtomaturity · 7 years ago
Text
4A
title: 4A summary: Most people’s soulmate tattoos are fairly short – “excuse me” or “nice to meet you” were common phrases. Most people just don’t say that much in one breath to a complete stranger. Most people, however, are not Phil’s soulmate. Thus, while everyone else has pretty, dainty phrases on their forearms, Phil has an entire paragraph crammed between his elbow and his hand in teeny tiny print. aka Dan’s a flustered mess when he finally meets his soulmate. words: 1.8k genre: fluff, soulmates au rating: g
Most people’s soulmate tattoos are fairly short – “excuse me” or “nice to meet you” were common phrases. Most people just don’t say that much in one breath to a complete stranger. Most people, however, are not Phil’s soulmate. Thus, while everyone else has pretty, dainty phrases on their forearms, Phil has an entire paragraph crammed between his elbow and his hand in teeny tiny print. The size, combined with the messy handwriting, caused Phil to spend hours deciphering what the first words his soulmate will say to him actually were. On his sixteenth birthday, Phil couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed that he was still clueless as to how his first interaction would go.
Since then, hundreds of hours in classes, work, and procrastination have been spent trying to make out the words. Over half a decade later, he’s pretty sure he’s correctly identified enough words to get the gist of what it says. Now it’s just a matter of waiting.
Phil sat on sofa in his brother’s lounge, idly flipping through a magazine, while he waited for his brother and his girlfriend to finally be ready to leave. A light knock at the door brought him out of his daze.
“Phil,” he heard Cornelia call from the bedroom, “can you grab the door? We’re expecting a package!”
With a sigh, Phil tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and walked to the door. His mum’s birthday present teetered slightly as the magazine collided with it. When he opened the door, he found a slightly smaller boy with a similar fringe holding a box and standing awkwardly in the hallway. Phil opened his mouth to ask where he should sign, but was cut off before he could say anything.
“Hi, I just moved in and this got delivered to me and the grouchy woman down the hall said to bring it to this apartment.” As the boy talked, Phil could slowly feel a smirk growing on his face. The boy, however, wasn’t quite making eye contact and continued rambling. “Are you Cornelia? Obviously you’re not. Are you her husband? Boyfriend? Sorry – just – here.” The boy shoved the package into Phil’s arms before turning around to retreat back towards what Phil assumed was his own apartment.
“So, do you always talk this much?” He called out.
The boy stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around to face Phil. The awkward expression was replaced by a cheeky grin accompanied by an adorably deep dimple.
“Only when I’m caught off guard by incredibly hot guys.”
Now it was Phil’s turn to blush. He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Phil, Cornelia’s quasi brother-in-law.”
“Hi,” the boy smiled. “I’m Dan, Cornelia’s new neighbor.”
“I’ve been waiting about six years for that package, you know.”
Dan leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. Phil caught a glimpse of his own sloppy scrawl on Dan’s left forearm.
“Man, I knew the Royal Mail was shit, but I think that might be a new low. To be fair, I’ve only had it about ten minutes.” Dan chuckled quietly and Phil knew immediately that he would have no problem falling in love with that laugh.
Cornelia appeared behind Phil, carrying both her and Martin’s and Phil’s presents in her hands.
“Did you get the package, Phil?” Cornelia’s eyes drifted to Dan, who was still leaning in the doorway. “Oh, hi,” she said to Dan.
“Hello, I’m Dan.” Like a perfect gentleman, Dan extended his hand to shake Cornelia’s. “Your package got delivered to my place by accident.”
“Thanks for bringing it by! Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around.”
“Yeah, I just moved into apartment 4A last week.”
“Lovely to meet you. We’d love to have you over for tea sometime soon.” Cornelia turned to Phil. “Martin just called the cab and said he’d meet us downstairs.” She grabbed the package from Phil’s hands and tossed it onto the couch.
Phil didn’t break eye contact with Dan. “Sorry, it’s my mum’s birthday or else I’d…”
Dan straightened up. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll be in my apartment—4A—all weekend, ya know, unpacking and stuff in 4A. So yeah, uh, whenever. 4A.”
A wide smile spread across Phil’s face and his tongue slightly poked out. He laughed quietly at Dan’s lack of subtlety. “Sorry, what was that? I think I missed it. Did you say 5C?”
“Shut up you spork. I’m just gonna…” Dan took a few steps backwards and gave Phil a small two-fingered salute with his left hand. This time, Phil got a better look at the words on Dan’s forearm: So, do you always talk this much? His stomach involuntarily did a flippy-over-thing at the sight. Dan turned around and scampered into his apartment, quickly shutting the door behind him.
Cornelia shot Phil a confused look, but grasped his wrist and pulled him towards the stairs without question. “Come on, let’s go before we miss the cab.”
Phil remained silent as they trudged down the four flights of stairs to the lobby. In the back of his mind, he heard Martin yell at them to wait up. Together, the three of them waited in the crisp November air; while they stood on the pavement, Cornelia huddled into Martin for body warmth.
The cab came and Phil climbed into the backseat, as if on autopilot. His thoughts drifted to caramel eyes and a long brunette fringe. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear Dan’s chuckle. He replayed their short interaction in his head over and over again on the way to the restaurant.
“Phil. PHIL. PHIL.” Martin’s fingers snapping loudly in his face pulled him out of his daydreams. “I said we’re here. Get out of the cab.”
“Oh. Oops.” Flustered, Phil opened the door and gracelessly clambered out, holding the door opened for his brother.
Dinner passed by in a blur. Several times, his mother asked him why he was particularly aloof tonight, but Phil brushed it off each time. Tonight was his mother’s special night and he didn’t want to overshadow her birthday celebrations. After the third time his mum expressed concern, Phil tried his best to push his encounter with his soulmate to the back of his head and engage more.
It wasn’t until he was standing outside the restaurant waiting with Martin and Cornelia for their cab again that he let his thoughts drift back to Dan.
“Cornelia?” Phil interrupted her conversation with Martin.
“Hmm?”
“What was in the box? From earlier?”
Cornelia smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m not telling you.”
Phil cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”
“It’s your Christmas present, silly.”
Without warning, Phil flung himself at Cornelia, embracing her in a tight hug. “Thank you thank you thank you.”
Cornelia patted Phil’s back as best as she could, given that her arms were pinned to her side by Phil’s smothering hug. “I’ve gotten you a present every year for four years. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, well, you never need to get me one again because you’re never going to top this.” Phil released her, stepping back.
“Okay, nerd, you haven’t even opened it yet.”
“No—I—uh…” His cheeks reddened. “Dan.”
Martin, who missed the entire interaction earlier, muttered, “Who the bloody hell is Dan?”
However, Cornelia’s eyes widened. Her eyes traveled down Phil’s right arm. “Was that…?”
Phil nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah it was.”
This time, it was Cornelia who smothered Phil. “Oh my god. I’m so happy for you.” She stepped back, reaching up to squeeze Phil’s cheeks between her hands. “Does this mean you’ll stop spending every moment you can at our apartment?”
Phil smiled so wide it hurt. “Yeah, but I can’t promise you’ll see any less of me. He is your neighbor, after all.”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Martin interjected.
“My package got delivered across the hall by accident and the new neighbor brought it over.” Cornelia roughly grabbed Phil’s arm and shoved it towards Martin’s face.
“Okay…?”
Cornelia rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so dense. Phil’s soulmate brought the package over.
A look of realization spread across Martin’s face. “Oh… Oh! Congratulations!” Phil smiled, suddenly eager to get back to the apartment. He was secretly hoping to bail on the Great British Bake Off marathon they had planned.
The ride back seemed to take an eternity. When they finally arrived at the apartment, Phil awkwardly loitered by the door while Martin and Cornelia hung their coats and set down their things.
“I’m sorry to be rude, but do you mind if I maybe go across the hall instead of watching the Bakeoff? See if Dan’s awake still?”
“Take the spares so you don’t wake us up when you come back.” Phil barely caught the keys Cornelia tossed at him.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Martin smirked.
“It’s not like that—I’m not going to… that. I just want to meet him. Properly.”
Cornelia shoved his shoulder lightly, pushing him in the direction of Dan’s apartment. “Get out of here. Have fun.”
As he stood in front of 4A, Phil took a steadying breath to try to calm his nerves. Before he could chicken out, he knocked lightly on Dan’s door. A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly 23:00. He hoped Dan wasn’t an early sleeper.
Much to his relief, the door opened barely ten seconds after he knocked. Dan had changed into black joggers paired with a black tshirt and had clearly showered since Phil saw him earlier. Phil’s eyes were immediately drawn to Dan’s hair, which was a wet, curly mop on top of his head. Self-consciously, Dan fiddled with the curls, trying to tame them into submission.
“You have curly hair,” Phil murmured, stunned.
Dan flushed. “I know. I look like a fucking hobbit.”
Phil desperately wanted to reach out and run his hands through Dan’s hair, but they’d only just met and he didn’t want to freak Dan out. Instead, he said, “the cutest hobbit I’ve ever seen.”
The redness of Dan’s cheeks extended to his ears, but he smiled shyly and Phil could see a hint of his deep dimple. “Do you want to come in?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
As Phil entered the apartment, he scanned the lounge. It was obvious that Dan was still moving in, but the room was littered with knickknacks. A large Muse poster hung on the opposite wall. A charizard plushie sat haphazardly on the sofa. A boxed set of the Studio Ghibli movies balanced precariously atop the television. Mario Kart was paused on the screen.
No, Phil thought, I won’t have any trouble at all falling in love with this boy.
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iminclinedtowriting · 7 years ago
Text
4A
title: 4A summary: Most people’s soulmate tattoos are fairly short – “excuse me” or “nice to meet you” were common phrases. Most people just don’t say that much in one breath to a complete stranger. Most people, however, are not Phil’s soulmate. Thus, while everyone else has pretty, dainty phrases on their forearms, Phil has an entire paragraph crammed between his elbow and his hand in teeny tiny print. aka Dan's a flustered mess when he finally meets his soulmate. words: 1800 genre: fluff, soulmates au
Most people’s soulmate tattoos are fairly short – “excuse me” or “nice to meet you” were common phrases. Most people just don’t say that much in one breath to a complete stranger. Most people, however, are not Phil’s soulmate. Thus, while everyone else has pretty, dainty phrases on their forearms, Phil has an entire paragraph crammed between his elbow and his hand in teeny tiny print. The size, combined with the messy handwriting, caused Phil to spend hours deciphering what the first words his soulmate will say to him actually were. On his sixteenth birthday, Phil couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed that he was still clueless as to how his first interaction would go.
Since then, hundreds of hours in classes, work, and procrastination have been spent trying to make out the words. Over half a decade later, he’s pretty sure he’s correctly identified enough words to get the gist of what it says. Now it’s just a matter of waiting.
***
Phil sat on sofa in his brother’s lounge, idly flipping through a magazine, while he waited for his brother and his girlfriend to finally be ready to leave. A light knock at the door brought him out of his daze.
“Phil,” he heard Cornelia call from the bedroom, “can you grab the door? We’re expecting a package!”
With a sigh, Phil tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and walked to the door. His mum’s birthday present teetered slightly as the magazine collided with it. When he opened the door, he found a slightly smaller boy with a similar fringe holding a box and standing awkwardly in the hallway. Phil opened his mouth to ask where he should sign, but was cut off before he could say anything.
“Hi, I just moved in and this got delivered to me and the grouchy woman down the hall said to bring it to this apartment.” As the boy talked, Phil could slowly feel a smirk growing on his face. The boy, however, wasn’t quite making eye contact and continued rambling. “Are you Cornelia? Obviously you’re not. Are you her husband? Boyfriend? Sorry – just – here.” The boy shoved the package into Phil’s arms before turning around to retreat back towards what Phil assumed was his own apartment.
“So, do you always talk this much?” He called out.
The boy stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around to face Phil. The awkward expression was replaced by a cheeky grin accompanied by an adorably deep dimple.
“Only when I’m caught off guard by incredibly hot guys.”
Now it was Phil’s turn to blush. He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Phil, Cornelia’s quasi brother-in-law.”
“Hi,” the boy smiled. “I’m Dan, Cornelia’s new neighbor.”
“I’ve been waiting about six years for that package, you know.”
Dan leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. Phil caught a glimpse of his own sloppy scrawl on Dan’s left forearm.
“Man, I knew the Royal Mail was shit, but I think that might be a new low. To be fair, I’ve only had it about ten minutes.” Dan chuckled quietly and Phil knew immediately that he would have no problem falling in love with that laugh.
Cornelia appeared behind Phil, carrying both her and Martin’s and Phil’s presents in her hands.
“Did you get the package, Phil?” Cornelia’s eyes drifted to Dan, who was still leaning in the doorway. “Oh, hi,” she said to Dan.
“Hello, I’m Dan.” Like a perfect gentleman, Dan extended his hand to shake Cornelia’s. “Your package got delivered to my place by accident.”
“Thanks for bringing it by! Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around.”
“Yeah, I just moved into apartment 4A last week.”
“Lovely to meet you. We’d love to have you over for tea sometime soon.” Cornelia turned to Phil. “Martin just called the cab and said he’d meet us downstairs.” She grabbed the package from Phil’s hands and tossed it onto the couch.
Phil didn’t break eye contact with Dan. “Sorry, it’s my mum’s birthday or else I’d…”
Dan straightened up. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll be in my apartment—4A—all weekend, ya know, unpacking and stuff in 4A. So yeah, uh, whenever. 4A.”
A wide smile spread across Phil’s face and his tongue slightly poked out. He laughed quietly at Dan’s lack of subtlety. “Sorry, what was that? I think I missed it. Did you say 5C?”
“Shut up you spork. I’m just gonna…” Dan took a few steps backwards and gave Phil a small two-fingered salute with his left hand. This time, Phil got a better look at the words on Dan’s forearm: So, do you always talk this much? His stomach involuntarily did a flippy-over-thing at the sight. Dan turned around and scampered into his apartment, quickly shutting the door behind him.
Cornelia shot Phil a confused look, but grasped his wrist and pulled him towards the stairs without question. “Come on, let’s go before we miss the cab.”
Phil remained silent as they trudged down the four flights of stairs to the lobby. In the back of his mind, he heard Martin yell at them to wait up. Together, the three of them waited in the crisp November air; while they stood on the pavement, Cornelia huddled into Martin for body warmth.
The cab came and Phil climbed into the backseat, as if on autopilot. His thoughts drifted to caramel eyes and a long brunette fringe. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear Dan’s chuckle. He replayed their short interaction in his head over and over again on the way to the restaurant.
“Phil. PHIL. PHIL.” Martin’s fingers snapping loudly in his face pulled him out of his daydreams. “I said we’re here. Get out of the cab.”
“Oh. Oops.” Flustered, Phil opened the door and gracelessly clambered out, holding the door opened for his brother.
Dinner passed by in a blur. Several times, his mother asked him why he was particularly aloof tonight, but Phil brushed it off each time. Tonight was his mother’s special night and he didn’t want to overshadow her birthday celebrations. After the third time his mum expressed concern, Phil tried his best to push his encounter with his soulmate to the back of his head and engage more.
It wasn’t until he was standing outside the restaurant waiting with Martin and Cornelia for their cab again that he let his thoughts drift back to Dan.
“Cornelia?” Phil interrupted her conversation with Martin.
“Hmm?”
“What was in the box? From earlier?”
Cornelia smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m not telling you.”
Phil cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”
“It’s your Christmas present, silly.”
Without warning, Phil flung himself at Cornelia, embracing her in a tight hug. “Thank you thank you thank you.”
Cornelia patted Phil’s back as best as she could, given that her arms were pinned to her side by Phil’s smothering hug. “I’ve gotten you a present every year for four years. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, well, you never need to get me one again because you’re never going to top this.” Phil released her, stepping back.
“Okay, nerd, you haven’t even opened it yet.”
“No—I—uh…” His cheeks reddened. “Dan.”
Martin, who missed the entire interaction earlier, muttered, “Who the bloody hell is Dan?”
However, Cornelia’s eyes widened. Her eyes traveled down Phil’s right arm. “Was that…?”
Phil nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah it was.”
This time, it was Cornelia who smothered Phil. “Oh my god. I’m so happy for you.” She stepped back, reaching up to squeeze Phil’s cheeks between her hands. “Does this mean you’ll stop spending every moment you can at our apartment?”
Phil smiled so wide it hurt. “Yeah, but I can’t promise you’ll see any less of me. He is your neighbor, after all.”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Martin interjected.
“My package got delivered across the hall by accident and the new neighbor brought it over.” Cornelia roughly grabbed Phil’s arm and shoved it towards Martin’s face.
“Okay…?”
Cornelia rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so dense. Phil’s soulmate brought the package over.
A look of realization spread across Martin’s face. “Oh… Oh! Congratulations!” Phil smiled, suddenly eager to get back to the apartment. He was secretly hoping to bail on the Great British Bake Off marathon they had planned.
The ride back seemed to take an eternity. When they finally arrived at the apartment, Phil awkwardly loitered by the door while Martin and Cornelia hung their coats and set down their things.
“I’m sorry to be rude, but do you mind if I maybe go across the hall instead of watching the Bakeoff? See if Dan’s awake still?”
“Take the spares so you don’t wake us up when you come back.” Phil barely caught the keys Cornelia tossed at him.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Martin smirked.
“It’s not like that—I’m not going to… that. I just want to meet him. Properly.”
Cornelia shoved his shoulder lightly, pushing him in the direction of Dan’s apartment. “Get out of here. Have fun.”
As he stood in front of 4A, Phil took a steadying breath to try to calm his nerves. Before he could chicken out, he knocked lightly on Dan’s door. A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly 23:00. He hoped Dan wasn’t an early sleeper.
Much to his relief, the door opened barely ten seconds after he knocked. Dan had changed into black joggers paired with a black tshirt and had clearly showered since Phil saw him earlier. Phil’s eyes were immediately drawn to Dan’s hair, which was a wet, curly mop on top of his head. Self-consciously, Dan fiddled with the curls, trying to tame them into submission.
“You have curly hair,” Phil murmured, stunned.
Dan flushed. “I know. I look like a fucking hobbit.”
Phil desperately wanted to reach out and run his hands through Dan’s hair, but they’d only just met and he didn’t want to freak Dan out. Instead, he said, “the cutest hobbit I’ve ever seen.”
The redness of Dan’s cheeks extended to his ears, but he smiled shyly and Phil could see a hint of his deep dimple. “Do you want to come in?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
As Phil entered the apartment, he scanned the lounge. It was obvious that Dan was still moving in, but the room was littered with knickknacks. A large Muse poster hung on the opposite wall. A charizard plushie sat haphazardly on the sofa. A boxed set of the Studio Ghibli movies balanced precariously atop the television. Mario Kart was paused on the screen.
No, Phil thought, I won’t have any trouble at all falling in love with this boy.
37 notes · View notes
danandphilsecretsanta · 8 years ago
Text
4A
To: @love-and-hate-3
Most people’s soulmate tattoos are fairly short – “excuse me” or “nice to meet you” were common phrases. Most people just don’t say that much in one breath to a complete stranger. Most people, however, are not Phil’s soulmate. Thus, while everyone else has pretty, dainty phrases on their forearms, Phil has an entire paragraph crammed between his elbow and his hand in teeny tiny print. The size, combined with the messy handwriting, caused Phil to spend hours deciphering what the first words his soulmate will say to him actually were. On his sixteenth birthday, Phil couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed that he was still clueless as to how his first interaction would go.
Since then, hundreds of hours in classes, work, and procrastination have been spent trying to make out the words. Over half a decade later, he’s pretty sure he’s correctly identified enough words to get the gist of what it says. Now it’s just a matter of waiting.
Phil sat on sofa in his brother’s lounge, idly flipping through a magazine, while he waited for his brother and his girlfriend to finally be ready to leave. A light knock at the door brought him out of his daze.
“Phil,” he heard Cornelia call from the bedroom, “can you grab the door? We’re expecting a package!”
With a sigh, Phil tossed the magazine onto the coffee table and walked to the door. His mum’s birthday present teetered slightly as the magazine collided with it. When he opened the door, he found a slightly smaller boy with a similar fringe holding a box and standing awkwardly in the hallway. Phil opened his mouth to ask where he should sign, but was cut off before he could say anything.
“Hi, I just moved in and this got delivered to me and the grouchy woman down the hall said to bring it to this apartment” As the boy talked, Phil could slowly feel a smirk growing on his face. The boy, however, wasn’t quite making eye contact and continued rambling. “Are you Cornelia? Obviously you’re not. Are you her husband? Boyfriend? Sorry – just – here.” The boy shoved the package into Phil’s arms before turning around to retreat back towards what Phil assumed was his own apartment.
“So, do you always talk this much?” He called out.
The boy stopped in his tracks, slowly turning around to face Phil. The awkward expression was replaced by a cheeky grin accompanied by an adorably deep dimple.
“Only when I’m caught off guard by incredibly hot guys.”
Now it was Phil’s turn to blush. He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Phil, Cornelia’s quasi brother-in-law.”
“Hi,” the boy smiled. “I’m Dan, Cornelia’s new neighbor.”
“I’ve been waiting about six years for that package, you know.”
Dan leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms across his chest. Phil caught a glimpse of his own sloppy scrawl on Dan’s left forearm.
“Man, I knew the Royal Mail was shit, but I think that might be a new low. To be fair, I’ve only had it about ten minutes.” Dan chuckled quietly and Phil knew immediately that he would have no problem falling in love with that laugh.
Cornelia appeared behind Phil, carrying both her and Martin’s and Phil’s presents in her hands.
“Did you get the package, Phil?” Cornelia’s eyes drifted to Dan, who was still leaning in the doorway. “Oh, hi,” she said to Dan.
“Hello, I’m Dan.” Like a perfect gentleman, Dan extended his hand to shake Cornelia’s. “Your package got delivered to my place by accident.”
“Thanks for bringing it by! Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around.”
“Yeah, I just moved into apartment 4A last week.”
“Lovely to meet you. We’d love to have you over for tea sometime soon.” Cornelia turned to Phil. “Martin just called the cab and said he’d meet us downstairs.” She grabbed the package from Phil’s hands and tossed it onto the couch.
Phil didn’t break eye contact with Dan. “Sorry, it’s my mum’s birthday or else I’d…”
Dan straightened up. “No, no, don’t worry about it. I’ll be in my apartment—4A—all weekend, ya know, unpacking and stuff in 4A. So yeah, uh, whenever. 4A.”
A wide smile spread across Phil’s face and his tongue slightly poked out. He laughed quietly at Dan’s lack of subtlety. “Sorry, what was that? I think I missed it. Did you say 5C?”
“Shut up you spork. I’m just gonna…” Dan took a few steps backwards and gave Phil a small two-fingered salute with his left hand. This time, Phil got a better look at the words on Dan’s forearm: So, do you always talk this much? His stomach involuntarily did a flippy-over-thing at the sight. Dan turned around and scampered into his apartment, quickly shutting the door behind him.
Cornelia shot Phil a confused look, but grasped his wrist and pulled him towards the stairs without question. “Come on, let’s go before we miss the cab.”
Phil remained silent as they trudged down the four flights of stairs to the lobby. In the back of his mind, he heard Martin yell at them to wait up. Together, the three of them waited in the crisp November air; while they stood on the pavement, Cornelia huddled into Martin for body warmth.
The cab came and Phil climbed into the backseat, as if on autopilot. His thoughts drifted to caramel eyes and a long brunette fringe. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear Dan’s chuckle. He replayed their short interaction in his head over and over again on the way to the restaurant.
“Phil. PHIL. PHIL.” Martin’s fingers snapping loudly in his face pulled him out of his daydreams. “I said we’re here. Get out of the cab.”
“Oh. Oops.” Flustered, Phil opened the door and gracelessly clambered out, holding the door opened for his brother.
Dinner passed by in a blur. Several times, his mother asked him why he was particularly aloof tonight, but Phil brushed it off each time. Tonight was his mother’s special night and he didn’t want to overshadow her birthday celebrations. After the third time his mum expressed concern, Phil tried his best to push his encounter with his soulmate to the back of his head and engage more.
It wasn’t until he was standing outside the restaurant waiting with Martin and Cornelia for their cab again that he let his thoughts drift back to Dan.
“Cornelia?” Phil interrupted her conversation with Martin.
“Hmm?”
“What was in the box? From earlier?”
Cornelia smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I’m not telling you.”
Phil cocked his head to the side. “Why not?”
“It’s your Christmas present, silly.”
Without warning, Phil flung himself at Cornelia, embracing her in a tight hug. “Thank you thank you thank you.”
Cornelia patted Phil’s back as best as she could, given that her arms were pinned to her side by Phil’s smothering hug. “I’ve gotten you a present every year for four years. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, well, you never need to get me one again because you’re never going to top this.” Phil released her, stepping back.
“Okay, nerd, you haven’t even opened it yet.”
“No—I—uh…” His cheeks reddened. “Dan.”
Martin, who missed the entire interaction earlier, muttered, “Who the bloody hell is Dan?”
However, Cornelia’s eyes widened. Her eyes traveled down Phil’s right arm. “Was that…?”
Phil nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah it was.”
This time, it was Cornelia who smothered Phil. “Oh my god. I’m so happy for you.” She stepped back, reaching up to squeeze Phil’s cheeks between her hands. “Does this mean you’ll stop spending every moment you can at our apartment?”
Phil smiled so wide it hurt. “Yeah, but I can’t promise you’ll see any less of me. He is your neighbor, after all.”
“Okay, what the fuck is going on?” Martin interjected.
“My package got delivered across the hall by accident and the new neighbor brought it over.” Cornelia roughly grabbed Phil’s arm and shoved it towards Martin’s face.
“Okay…?”
Cornelia rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, you’re so dense. Phil’s soulmate brought the package over.
A look of realization spread across Martin’s face. “Oh… Oh! Congratulations!” Phil smiled, suddenly eager to get back to the apartment. He was secretly hoping to bail on the Great British Bake Off marathon they had planned.
The ride back seemed to take an eternity. When they finally arrived at the apartment, Phil awkwardly loitered by the door while Martin and Cornelia hung their coats and set down their things.
“I’m sorry to be rude, but do you mind if I maybe go across the hall instead of watching the Bakeoff? See if Dan’s awake still?”
“Take the spares so you don’t wake us up when you come back.” Phil barely caught the keys Cornelia tossed at him.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Martin smirked.
“It’s not like that—I’m not going to… that. I just want to meet him. Properly.”
Cornelia shoved his shoulder lightly, pushing him in the direction of Dan’s apartment. “Get out of here. Have fun.”
As he stood in front of 4A, Phil took a steadying breath to try to calm his nerves. Before he could chicken out, he knocked lightly on Dan’s door. A quick glance at his watch told him it was nearly 23:00. He hoped Dan wasn’t an early sleeper.
Much to his relief, the door opened barely ten seconds after he knocked. Dan had changed into black joggers paired with a black tshirt and had clearly showered since Phil saw him earlier. Phil’s eyes were immediately drawn to Dan’s hair, which was a wet, curly mop on top of his head. Self-consciously, Dan fiddled with the curls, trying to tame them into submission.
“You have curly hair,” Phil murmured, stunned.
Dan flushed. “I know. I look like a fucking hobbit.”
Phil desperately wanted to reach out and run his hands through Dan’s hair, but they’d only just met and he didn’t want to freak Dan out. Instead, he said, “the cutest hobbit I’ve ever seen.”
The redness of Dan’s cheeks extended to his ears, but he smiled shyly and Phil could see a hint of his deep dimple. “Do you want to come in?”
“I’d like nothing more.”
As Phil entered the apartment, he scanned the lounge. It was obvious that Dan was still moving in, but the room was littered with knickknacks. A large Muse poster hung on the opposite wall. A charizard plushie sat haphazardly on the sofa. A boxed set of the Studio Ghibli movies balanced precariously atop the television. Mario Kart was paused on the screen.
No, Phil thought, I won’t have any trouble at all falling in love with this boy.
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