#I can explain if someone is SUPER curious but this particular. prompt? is like

[swiggity-swexual-i-am-asexual]

Here’s a sort of…. Prompt? Headcanon? Idea?? For Danny Phantom.

Let’s go with the,, semi-fanon idea of cores. We see the Far Frozen with ice powers, with their whole little civilization. They are ALSO the only ghosts we see that have any medical knowledge.

So what if ghosts with ice cores had healing powers? Danny is very durable, but he also (probably) has advanced healing.

Idk, it’d be a fun possibility to explore Danny ‘plays as a tank in irl superheroics 4 times out of 5’ Phantom finding out he can heal people while doing a school-mandated cpr class.

[wordingg]

Drunk Boys

Summary: Edwin agrees to go to a Halloween party with Charles. When they both start drinking enchanted alcohol, things get out of hand.

AN: Written for Dead Boy Ween, Day 11, prompt: Halloween.

Somehow these fills keep getting longer and longer. This is another one that I would be open to writing a sequel to, if there's interest in it. It ends on sort of an ambiguous sad note.

“The two of you are going to a house party? On Halloween?” Crystal asked incredulously.

“What, you think we can’t fit in at a house party?” Charles asked, sincerely puzzled.

“You, I understand. It’s Edwin that I can’t picture partying, let alone somewhere as informal as someone’s house,” she said with a pointed look at Edwin. He was seated behind the desk, occasionally moving papers from one pile to another in a transparent attempt to look uninterested in the conversation.

“It is not my preferred activity for revelry,” Edwin said, dry as the desert.

“Do you have a preferred ‘activity for revelry’?” Crystal asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Niko interrupted them to add. “It’s like an iconic teenager experience. I’m happy for you guys.”

Edwin frowned faintly in Niko’s direction, but held his tongue like Charles expected. Edwin was incapable of saying anything even vaguely not nice to Niko.

“Thanks, Niko,” Charles grinned, throwing himself onto the couch, even though there was definitely not room for him on the tiny loveseat. He ended up mostly sprawled across the girls’ laps, Crystal groaning and slapping his arms away and Niko humming happily and resting her bubble tea on his stomach.

“We’ve had a standing invitation for years, but this one,” Charles gestured at Edwin, who huffed and put his nose in the air, “has never been open to going.”

“Oh? Why the sudden change?” Crystal asked Edwin, her tone a little arch but mostly curious.

Edwin sighed and fiddled with the papers again. “No particular reason,” he mumbled, unusual for him but maybe he disliked all the attention.

Charles didn’t want Edwin to get self-conscious about agreeing to go to the party and change his mind, so he quickly changed the subject. “It’s like the biggest ghost event of the year! It’s super fun.”

“I didn’t realize ghosts had a social calendar,” Crystal said with a raised eyebrow.

“There are certain days of the year when spectral energy waxes and the veil that separates the living and the dead thin,” Edwin explained in what Charles thought of as his professor voice. If he was professor-ing at them, then Charles’ distraction must have worked, and he was back to feeling comfortable. “Both Samhain and Beltane mark days when the balance between light and dark, summer and winter, are perfectly balanced. This makes them ideal days for rituals regarding the dead.”

“He means that Aleister Crowley enchants a whole house every year and throws a crazy rager in it where ghosts can actually interact with the living and get drunk and all that,” Charles adds with a grin to the two girls.

“I suppose, if you want to be crass, you could explain it like that,” Edwin said crossly.

“Aleister Crowley is a ghost?” Crystal asked with big eyes “A ghost that throws Halloween parties?” she added, sounding even more surprised.

“He’s completely off his chump,” Edwin snapped, “A fake in all but the most rudimentary of magicks,” he added with a curl of his lip.

“We don’t like him, as a rule,” Charles said with an apologetic look at Edwin. Edwin was too busy scowling down at the surface of the desk to notice. “He called Edwin a, uh, what was it, a poodle something?”

“Poodle-faker,” Edwin spit, then winced, like just saying the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yeah, that,” Charles sighed.

“I’m sorry, but what does that mean? Poodle-faker? Off his chump?” Niko asked quietly.

Edwin made a face like he’d rather chew on a shoe than explain what those words meant, so Charles quickly answered, “Off his chump is like, he’s totally nuts, off his rocker like. Poodle-faker is like an old timey insult that means you hang out with women too much,” Charles added that last explanation carefully, hoping that his tone got across how stupid of an insult he thought it was. He didn’t totally understand what it meant or why that was an insult, but he knew that Edwin had been in a properly awful state for days after that casual insult, so it must have meant a lot to him.

“So, he’s a monumental dick,” Crystal said dryly.

“Yes,” Edwin agreed enthusiastically.

“Why do you want to go to a party thrown by someone who’s a monumental dick?” Niko asked as sincerely as she asked every other question that ever escaped her perfect pink lips.

“Because I’ll be there to kick his spectral ass,” Crystal said with a grin that showed the sharp points of her teeth.

“No way!” Charles exclaimed, sitting up fast enough that Niko’s tea almost spilled, though her quick reflexes saved it from toppling off of Charles’ stomach and all over the girls’ laps. “You guys can’t come,” he said frantically.

“Why not?” Crystal asked, her eyebrows communicating that she was two seconds away from wanting to fight him about it.

“Because any party thrown by Aleister Crowley is a dangerous place for the living to be,” Edwin said darkly, giving Crystal a severe look. “He has no respect for anyone, but he especially does not respect the living. Or women,” he added with a troubled frown.

“Ew,” Niko said quietly before sucking her drink loudly through her straw.

“We can all go to Miss Ava Gardner’s party on Beltane,” Edwin said with a nod, like it was already decided. “She is a consummate host and a lovely woman. You’ll be safe as houses there.”

That set them off on a completely different tangent, with Crystal and Niko asking Edwin and Charles how many dead movie stars they knew and how many lived in London and what Crystal and Niko could possibly do to earn a polite introduction.

They never quite circled back to why exactly Edwin wanted to go to Crowley’s Halloween party. Charles was happy that Edwin wanted to go, he had been trying to get him to agree to go for literal decades after all, but the lack of explanation was concerning. Crowley was shite, but the party was fun and it was a huge get together for all of undead London. Charles had been a ton of times, though it was a lot less fun without Edwin there.

Charles tried to push his concerns down. Edwin had agreed to go. Charles didn’t have to be let in on every little twist and turn of his best friend’s thoughts, he could just be happy that they were together.

---

The night of the party, Charles was a mess of nerves. Edwin seemed nervous as well, though Charles expected that had more to do with his anxiety over running into the host and less to do with the party itself. Charles got the impression that Edwin had never been comfortable around people when he was alive, based on the stories that Edwin told. But, Charles had never seen Edwin act anything other than confident and self-possessed in person. Still, Charles wanted the night to go well so badly that he could almost feel his stomach doing flips below his ribcage.

The girls had decided to aggressively have fun without them. They were both decked out in beautiful creative costumes. Charles definitely appreciated all the bare skin and glitter and makeup and Edwin seemed to be fascinated with the pageantry of it all.

Crystal was dressed in huge curling demon horns, red glitter, and a series of sinfully suggestive black leather body harnesses under a tiny halter top and distressed shorts and huge platform boots that looked like they were built with curb stomping as the one and only activity in mind. Niko looked like a dream in pastels and holographic fabric, every movement she made shining and glittering back in prismatic halos of color.

“I’m an angel alien. I think,” she said, adjusting a headband with pink pompoms on bouncing springs on top of her head. The pompoms bounced cutely every time she moved.

Charles barked out a laugh. “Hell yeah you are,” he agreed with a grin.

Edwin curiously fingered her plastic holographic skirt, watching the play of the warm orange light of the office lamps play across it. “You look enchanting. I can barely bring myself to look away from you,” Edwin said with a smile that Niko shyly returned.

“Am I enchanting?” Crystal asked with a teasing smile.

“You’re terrifying,” Edwin said, straightening from examining Niko’s outfit and trying to suppress of a smile of his own.

“And hot,” Charles added with a wink.

“Perfect,” Crystal declared, “Just as I intended.” She flicked a curl over her shoulder while Niko giggled.

Not much later, they were all off. The girls had an impressive itinerary of clubs and bars and parties planned out, but the boys had only one location in mind.

Every year Crowley’s Halloween party was held in a different location. That year it was being held in the Ragged School turned museum down in the East End.

By the time that Charles and Edwin got there, just as the sun set below the skyline, ghosts from all over the city were flowing into the building. The lights were on inside, making every old broken down window shine out into the near darkness of the crisp autumn night like a beacon. Music poured out of the open front door, an odd mix of music from all manner of eras and time frames. The nearby canal gave the chill a humid tinge, making the air around them feel even colder than it really was.

“It feels morbid, doesn’t it?” Edwin asked, frowning up at the squat square facade of the school. It wasn’t grand or beautiful like some of the old buildings left behind from Edwin’s time. Charles thought he might have read somewhere that the building was a warehouse before it was converted into a school for the city’s poorest children sometime around the end of the 1800s.

“Suppose it’s just because we’re school boys, init?” Charles asked. The building did look a little ominous, even with the bright lights and music and all the ghosts slowly making their way inside.

“You ready?” Charles asked with a smile, thinking it was probably better to move inside rather than linger and wonder about times past.

Edwin took a deep breath and visibly straightened himself, his chin tilting up, his shoulders pulling back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think,” he said doubtfully, despite his stiff posture.

“Brills,” Charles smiled. “Let’s head in.”

The inside of the Ragged School was absolutely packed with an eclectic mix of people both living and dead with the odd scattering of other kinds of supernatural creatures. The museum itself was pretty sparsely decorated, from what Charles could see through the press of the crowd. It definitely looked like a school, with glimpses of old wooden desks in big empty classrooms and a nice open staircase in the front hall with a polished wooden balustrade. It was obvious that the bits near the front entrance had all recently been repainted and polished up. Charles wondered if it would continue to look that way through the whole school.

Charles and Edwin didn’t have much of a chance to investigate, as they were quickly recognized by a knot of ghosts lingering near the front door.

“The Dead Boy Detectives themselves!” a pretty young man with curly hair and mutton chops said with a cheer.

“You’re both here!” a young woman with her dark hair shaved close to her head exclaimed in surprise. She was hanging from the neck of the young man who had spoken first, her dress so tiny that Charles would have blushed if he was able to.

“Are you on a case?” an older woman with a mischievous smile asked from their other side.

Charles recognized most of them from previous cases, though it was hard to remember while he was trying not to look at all the soft dark skin the young woman had on display. He thought that the guy with the mutton chops might have been haunted by a devil dog or something twenty years ago.

“Not tonight,” Edwin said shortly, nodding to them all.

“Yeah, just here for a bit of fun,” Charles said, winking at the older woman, even though it was the young couple who laughed.

“If you want to avoid Crowley, stick to the first floor,” the older woman said to Edwin with a knowing smile. “He thinks he’s holding court up there, but really he’s just making it easy for rest of us to avoid him.”

Edwin perked up a bit at that, some of the tension leeching out of his shoulders. “Thank you for the tip. I will do that.”

And then they were being buffeted through the crowd, bouncing from one group of ghosts to another. It was almost like a who’s who of spirits that the dead boys had helped or talked to or bargained with in the past thirty years. Everyone seemed happily surprised to see them and everyone was eager to talk. It was times like this that Charles was reminded of how deeply they had ingrained themselves into the supernatural tapestry of London.

Charles felt a little bit like he understood why girls fantasized about being the prettiest girl at the ball, because that night Charles certainly felt like one.

At some point, someone pressed a red solo cup into each of their hands. With a laugh, the ghost had explained, “It’s enchanted!” which made Edwin frown and Charles smile.

Edwin opened his mouth, probably to ask for the exact specifics of what kind of enchantment was on the cup, but Charles was already knocking it back.

It bubbled across his tongue in a familiar tang of sour and hops that Charles recognized from the bottles of bitter he and his friends used to sneak behind the school gymnasium after games. The taste of nostalgia was so strong it almost brought tears to his eyes. He had almost forgotten what it had tasted like, but that was it exactly.

“Charles,” Edwin sighed in exasperation. “Really. You should not drink things handed to you by a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger,” the stranger said. “You boys saved my pet goldfish from a hungry selkie three years ago. I owe you one.”

“See?” Charles said, elbowing Edwin gently with what he knew as a cheeky smile. “He’s an past client. We can trust him. Try it!”

Edwin looked doubtfully at the liquid in the cup. It looked like nothing more spectacular than tap water, but Charles knew that it wouldn’t taste like it.

After taking a bracing breath, Edwin tipped the cup up and took a sizable swallow. When he brought the cup back down, his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

“Oh,” he said faintly. “That tastes just like the wine tonic my mother used to make me take as a child.” He turned to Charles in surprise.

“To me, it tastes like the beer me and my pals used to sneak after school,” Charles said.

“And to me, it tastes like Jack Daniels and tears,” the strange man said mournfully. “Cheers, boys. Enjoy the party,” he said and then wandered off, sipping from his own red solo cup.

The party got noticeably more blurry after that.

Charles and Edwin kept their cups in hand and kept drinking from them. No matter how much they drank, the cups never seemed to empty, so they never had to wonder where they could get more and didn’t keep much track of how much they had drank. At least, Charles certainly didn’t. He couldn’t speak for Edwin, but it felt like he was keeping pace with Charles.

Edwin had stuck close to Charles since they entered the party, but the drunker they got, the closer they became. First, they started leaning on each other, then Edwin looped Charles’ hand around his elbow when he started stumbling, until eventually they were mutually clinging to each others’ arms to stay upright.

The happiness that Charles had felt when they first entered the party just kept building. He felt warm and comfortable, even more so when his own enjoyment was mirrored in Edwin’s face. Everyone was so happy to see them, they laughed when the boys stumbled and helped right them again, pretty men and women kept touching Charles’ sleeve hair and older women carefully fixed Edwin’s hair or righted his bow tie.

Charles felt like he was on top of the world. So, when he heard one of his favorite songs come on over the speakers set throughout the house, he didn’t hesitate.

“Come dance with me!” Charles insisted, already dragging Edwin into the middle of a nearby classroom that had been repurposed into a dance floor. The desks had all been pushed into the wall, a small knot of people already swaying in the center.

Edwin stumbled, his hair falling over his forehead for the thousandth time that night.

“Charles,” he mumbled, “I can’t dance.”

“It’s okay. It’s not that kind of song,” Charles assured him, pulling him into the knot of other dancers.

England Belongs to Me by Cock Sparrer was blaring over the speakers and people were jumping and banging their heads, but Charles wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Edwin. Edwin looked uncertain and ungainly, his long legs becoming so much less certain as they both became more and more drunk. But, his eyes were stuck on Charles, watching him, waiting for him, and it made Charles feel like he was at the center of the universe.

“It’s easy!” Charles shouted over the music. “Just bounce up and down!” Charles said, grabbing both of Edwin’s hands in his and popping up and down on the balls of his feet to the rhythm of the music.

Edwin tried to follow his instructions, but he looked self conscious. He squeezed Charles’ hands in his and looked down at their shoes which was just not the thing, was it? Charles let go of Edwin’s hands after the second verse and instead wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close.

“Just move with me,” Charles said with a grin and a squeeze. Edwin still looked completely lost, but now he also looked a little flustered which was perfect in Charles’ opinion. Charles kept bouncing, but now he also swayed side to side. After only briefly hesitating, Edwin put his arms around Charles shoulders and let him move him.

And then the song changes and Pure by The Lightning Seeds came on. The crowd around them was laughing and dissolving and then coming back together as new people took to the floor. Charles and Edwin stayed where they were, swaying, pressed together.

Charles looked into Edwin’s eyes and they were so intense and pretty in that moment. Edwin was a pretty boy, Charles thought, in a different way that people sometimes called Charles a pretty boy. People called Charles pretty because he had an earring and he styled his hair. Charles thought Edwin would look pretty no matter what he wore or what he did with his hair.

They swayed together, looking into each other’s eyes for longer than either of them would have been capable of doing sober. Charles remembered the song that was playing, the way he used to listen to it on loop the month before he died. The guy who was on the cover of the cassette, Ian Broudie, was cute in a way that Charles hadn’t let himself think about back then. But, when he would lay on his bed and close his eyes he would imagine that the singer was there in his room with him, singing him a love song with soft lips and softer looking hair and big glasses that made him look sweet and inviting.

Before Charles noticed it, Edwin’s lips were on his, soft as the Charles back then had imagined the boy in the song’s might be, sweeter than any kiss he’d had before then.

Charles barely got a chance to kiss back, before Edwin was pulling away. His brow was crumpled and his eyes were afraid. Charles tought that Edwin shouldn’t look so afraid, especially not right after kissing him.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t,” Edwin swallowed and his throat clicked, his adam’s apple bobbed against his collar. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I liked it,” Charles said. He heard the slur on his voice, so he repeated himself just in case. “I liked it,” he grinned and leaned in. “Do it again?”

Edwin met him halfway and they were kissing and swaying and music was playing. Someone whistled and clapped and Charles had enough thought to take a hand off of Edwin’s shoulder and point his middle finger in the general direction of the whistler to the raucous laughter of the crowd.

They kissed and danced and the music kept changing. It felt a bit like the room was spinning, but Edwin felt solid and perfect, so Charles just held onto him and kept kissing him until long after a living boy’s lips would have gone numb.

---

At some point, Charles and Edwin ended up on a couch.

“This does not seem historically accurate,” Edwin had muttered into the couch cushion, but by that point Charles was too invested in kissing every square centimeter of Edwin’s long beautiful throat to bother engaging in talk about Edwardian furniture.

“Perhaps you boys should get a room,” a feminine voice laughed from somewhere nearby. Long acrylic nails glided through Charles’ hair, scratching his scalp. “I think you’re scandalizing some of the geezers.”

“Don’t care. Fuck off,” Charles grumbled, waving a hand to banish the heavenly nails. Whoever she was, she laughed and removed her hand. Charles fumbled around until he found Edwin’s hand on his waist and slapped it onto his head instead. Edwin seemed to get the message and started scratching his short nails through Charles’ hair.

Edwin was laid out on a hideous plaid couch, his long limbs splayed out, his bow tie long gone, his shirt unbuttoned. His hair was a mess and his lips were wet with Charles’ spit. Charles had no idea how they had gotten to the couch or even a vague idea of where they were in the building, but he was glad to whatever drunken stumble or nice friend had gotten them there. They must have been at the edge of the party. There were a few people talking or necking in the room with them, but it was a lot wherever they were than it had been earlier.

Charles was cradled in the basket of Edwin’s legs, his strong thighs squeezing Charles’ hips every time he did something especially clever with his mouth. Somewhere in the back of Charles addled brain he knew he was hard and that Edwin was hard and that he had been rocking himself into Edwin for however long it had been that they’d been making out.

A small voice was starting to panic somewhere in the soupy mess of his brain. Edwin loved him. Charles had told Edwin that he didn’t love him like that. And now Charles was grinding Edwin into a dusty couch in the back of a house party while they were both drunk off their asses. That was not a respectful way to treat a friend.

Charles reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed his solo cup, tipping a huge swallow down his throat. His thoughts became pleasantly unfocused again.

Pushing himself up Edwin’s body in an indecent drag, Charles mouthed at Edwin’s ear. “You feel so good,” he groaned, thrusting down hard. Edwin gasped and moaned, thrusting up to meet Charles, the hand not buried in Charles’ hair reaching down to grab Charles’ ass and pull him against him harder.

“Oh-kay. Everyone out,” the woman’s voice from before called out through the room.

There was grumbling and laughing as ghosts and creatures started to slowly trickle out of the little back room.

“Who gave them solo cups?” someone asked in exasperation as they walked by. “They’re practically babies.”

“Jerry,” someone said with a snort.

“Jerry!” a number of people chorused their discontent with poor Jerry, but Charles didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to think about the cup, he just needed every thought that wasn’t about Edwin and how to make him make that sound again to go away.

Charles reached over and fumbled for his cup again, almost knocking it over. He tipped it back, his throat working to swallow and swallow and swallow until his stomach rebelled at the thought of swallowing more. Then, he passed the cup to Edwin, who wobbled his way up onto his elbows so that he could do the same.

Whatever happened after that was indistinct. Charles remembered more moaning, from both of them but especially from Edwin. He remembered the taste of Edwin’s skin and the feel of his soft hair between his fingers. He remembered pleasure singing up and down his spine and burning low in his gut.

He remembered that they clung to each other afterward and whispered sweet words against each other’s lips and nuzzled together so tenderly. No one had ever touched Charles as gently as Edwin did, but Charles would never be able to remember the words they whispered to each other as they did so.

And, even though ghosts don’t sleep, something like it must have stolen over them eventually, because Charles couldn’t remember anything after that.

---

If Charles had felt like a princess during the party, he felt like the scum of the earth the next morning.

It didn’t seem fair for ghosts to be able to get hang overs, but Charles couldn’t come up with any other explanation for why his head was pounding like it was. Even when he was alive, he had never gotten a hangover before, but he supposed enchanted endless solo cups were probably stronger than the cheap beer that his mates would steal from their parents.

Charles pried his eyes open to blink at the sunlight bright room and saw Edwin blinking tiredly at him from about two inches away. Charles screeched, lurched backward, and fell painfully onto the dirty floor beside the couch.

“Charles?” Edwin asked sleepily, leaning over the side of the couch and looking at Charles with concern.

But, Charles couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at his pale throat still plainly visible against his open collar, or his mussed hair that had felt so soft between Charles’ fingers, or his frowning mouth that had gasped and moaned just the night before.

“I know what he sounds like when he cums,” Charles thought wildly, before shooting to his feet in a burst of adrenaline as that thought seared itself into the inside of his skull, something he could never unthink or undo or bury.

“Are you alright?” Edwin asked, looking distinctly more concerned.

“Yeah! Brills! Perfect!” Charles shouted, his voice strangled and awful even to his own ears. Edwin’s face was folding into a more severe frown. Charles had to do something to salvage the situation. “My head is killing me, though. Can’t remember a thing about last night,” Charles laughed, wincing and pressing a hand to his forehead. Luckily, his head was actually killing him, so he didn’t even have to pretend to wince.

Edwin’s face went startlingly blank, the frown and the furrowed brow dropping off like they’d never been there. Charles held his breath and felt like the world did too.

After what felt like an eternity, Edwin faintly said. “Yes. Me too.” He looked away and swallowed and very briefly a pained look flitted across his face that cut Charles to the quick.

“No no no,” Charles thought. “That was wrong. That was the wrong answer! Fuck!”

Edwin sighed and began doing up the buttons of his shirt in sharp yanks and twists of his elegant fingers. “You really should listen to me, Charles. I told you it was foolish to accept mysterious drinks from strangers. Now we might as well have not come to the party at all.”

“Ah, well. I mean. It wasn’t that bad,” Charles stumbled. His heart was pounding in his chest and Edwin wasn’t looking at him. “It was a lot of fun before we started drinking, yeah?”

Edwin ignored him, running a hand through his hair to try and neaten it, though the effort was wasted. His hair was too mussed to be fixed by a little bit of finger combing.

Climbing to his feet, Edwin began to pull his clothing straight. But, it still looked rumpled, even to Charles’ untrained eye. He wondered why Edwin didn’t just imagine his clothing neatened like he usually did. He wondered if Edwin was as flustered as he was.

“We ought to be getting back to the office. The girls are likely wondering where we are,” Edwin said stiffly, opening the old wooden door out to the corridor and striding out. The school looked different in the daylight. The glass was old and dirty in the unfinished part of the museum, making the early autumn light look strange and anemic on the peeling paint and scuffed wood.

“Wait, Edwin,” Charles hurried after him, but Edwin didn’t slow down. His long legs ate up the distance down the corridor toward the general direction of the front hall. “I said wait!” Charles grabbed Edwin’s wrist.

Edwin stopped suddenly, twisting his head to the side to pin Charles with a venomous look.

“Do you have something you want to talk about, Charles?” he snapped.

Charles felt pinned to the spot, like Edwin had pinned him to a piece of corkboard like a bug. “Well,” Charles mumbled. He hesitated. He knew what he should say. He knew he should come clean and admit that he did remember what had happened, but there was a rock in his stomach and his tongue felt too numb to get the words out. “Well, no, I guess-”

“If you have nothing to say to me, then let’s get on with business as usual. Shall we?” Edwin asked.

He looked brittle in that moment, like he had spun himself up a facade made of glass and if Charles so much as touched him the wrong way he would shatter. Charles had done that to him, to his best friend in the world.

Charles let go of Edwin’s wrist. He felt small and pathetic and that he likely deserved much worse than Edwin snapping at him.

“Yeah. Okay,” Charles croaked.

Edwin looked at him for a long time, but eventually he nodded and turned back around. He started walking again, this time at a more reasonable pace. Charles walked just a step behind him and tried to force down all the feelings swelling up in his chest with nowhere to go.

He would follow Edwin and protect him and be his best friend as well as he could, Charles decided. That was all he could do.

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Fallout 4 characters (who've been to the capitol or at least heard about what happened there) react to sole survivor finding a tunnel snakes jacket and/or meeting butch and the lone wanderer who came to the commonwealth to meet sole survivor and co. after the railroad ending

Sorry if I made it too complicated

Thanks so much for the ask! This was a super interesting prompt! I only did a few companions (including Danse despite this being a railroad ending because I just couldn't help myself) but if there's someone I didn't include that you still want to see, just let me know! I hope you enjoy :)

Danse:

Danse stopped in his tracks, forcing Sole to halt in place a few paces back. They peeked their head out from behind his tall, power-armored frame, looking for signs of danger. In the distance, two figures made their way towards them, and Sole raised their sniper rifle in preparation, curious as to why Danse made no sudden moves to ready his own weapon. Sole held the scope of their gun to their eye, trying to find a good shot in case the pair turned out to be hostile. Noticing their action, Danse turned his head, bringing a large hand up to push the barrel of the gun roughly downwards.

“Hey!”

“There’s no need to have them in your sights, soldier. These civilians are no threat to us.”

“How do you know? What about exercising caution?” Sole adjusted the grip on their rifle, still not completely convinced that they weren’t in danger.

“I know because I’ve met these people before."

“You can tell who they are all the way from here?” They squinted their eyes at the figures in the distance once again, trying to make out any discernible features, but failing to do so.

“Yes, look at their vault suits.”

“Okay,” Sole started, “I know it all turned out fine with me, but not everyone wearing a vault suit is automatically a good person.” Danse closed his eyes for a moment, a bout of air escaping his nose in an expression of his annoyance.

“I know that. But look closely,” His voice lowered a bit as the two strangers in vault suits grew nearer. Now, Sole could almost make out the general features of their faces.

“Their suits say ‘vault 101’ on them.” Danse said the words with a weight that left Sole feeling as though they should know what he was talking about. He turned to look at them expectantly, almost confirming their theory, before noticing their distinct lack of recognition at his words.

“Vault 101 is in the Capital Wasteland," he explained, "only three people I know of have ever left that particular vault; I know one to be dead, and the other two travel the wastes together, performing selfless acts to aid the settlers in the Capital. One of them is called Lone, and they were once a great ally to the Brotherhood of Steel; they walked beside Liberty Prime in our war against the Enclave ten years ago.”

Sole furrowed their eyebrows, their gaze still trained on the blue-clad pair as they drew ever closer.

“And you’re sure this is them?” Danse nodded his head as he looked towards them, Sole continued, lowering their voice even more as their gaze rested on the approaching vault-dwellers, “And they’re no threat? If they’re still allied with the Brotherhood, that could be an issue, Danse.” They said the last bit rather softly, hinting at the ex-paladin's now severed relationship with the faction he was once so devoted to.

“I suppose we shall see.” Danse said, and Sole looked on as one of the pair acknowledged them with a wave of their hand, their partner behind them keeping his pistol lowered reassuringly.

“Greetings, civilians.” Danse said, effectively outing himself as a (former) member of the Brotherhood, as if the power armor hadn’t already helped with that a bit. This is why I do the talking. Sole thought as they let out a breath, trying to release some of the anxiety they felt building up in response to this strange situation.

“Hello.” One of them said, their eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion of the soldier and his companion. “Nice outfit,” they nodded towards Sole’s own vault suit, but before Sole could respond, Danse took another step forward.

“Do you still go by ‘Lone’?” he asked, and the one in front snapped their gaze up to look him in the eye, their bewilderment plainly written on their face.

“Hey!” said the man in the leather jacket behind them, “how do you know Lone’s name?”

“So, I suppose that’s a ‘yes,’ then.” Sole interjected. Lone looked back, flashing a perturbed look at the man behind them, and Sole’s gaze went up to Danse, hoping he would explain more. For both their sake, and for Lone’s.

“We haven’t met, but I was at the Citadel when you arrived after the Enclave took over your father’s water purifier.”

Lone's eyebrows seemed to raise slightly at that, as they nodded in remembrance.

"So, are you still with the Brotherhood, then?" The air seemed to sizzle and crack around Danse at the pressure Lone’s question exuded on him. Should he lie and say that he is? Or has Lone since cut ties with the faction as well? There was certainly no physical indication that they were still allied with the Brotherhood, but…

"Not currently." Sole answered for the ex-paladin, "I don't know if you've heard, but the chapter of the Brotherhood that was stationed here was wiped out." They felt Danse tense at their words. Now Sole was taking the risk, mentioning an event that had nearly demolished their relationship with the former Brotherhood soldier, but they had to say something. And this way, they weren’t giving away their position in relation to the Brotherhood.

"So I'd heard. It's a shame, really."

"I’ll tell you what’s a shame,” Lone’s companion spoke up, “that they lost their sweet ass ride. That's what I think. Never seen anything like it, now the whole damn thing’s been blown to smithereens."

Danse’s eyes seemed to glaze over at the mention of the destruction of the ship he once called home, and Sole knew he wouldn’t be much help to them now.

“So, you’re from the Capital? What is it that’s brought you out here?” They asked in an attempt to veer away from this troubling subject. Lone narrowed their eyes slightly, and Sole could practically see the gears turning in their head as they thought through what sort of information they wanted to divulge to the strangers in front of them.

“Wait, slow your roll there. We might kinda-sorta know this guy," Lone's companion gestured to Danse, "but who are you supposed to be, huh?” Sole noticed the man’s hand remained firmly grasped around the 10mm pistol he carried, and they wondered if perhaps Danse had been wrong about these two. It has been 10 years, these people could have changed. They could be anyone by now.

“My name is Sole.” They said simply, unsure how they should further embellish their title, given their uncertainty surrounding the pair in front of them. But, as it happens, it seemed they didn’t have to, for as soon as their name left their lips, Lone turned abruptly to their companion with wide eyes.

“You’re Sole?” Lone asked, their gaze turning to fall heavily on Sole, their eyes round in recognition.

“No way we just bumped into them like this. No way.” Lone’s partner shook his head in disbelief, and Sole looked up to see Danse’s stare break from the nothingness he’d been focused on to rest upon Lone’s perplexed face.

“I-- well, yes, I am. How do you…?” Sole trailed off, not sure what exactly they were trying to ask.

“Well, you asked why we came here.” Sole nodded to them, “It was to find you.” At that, Danse raised his laser rifle from the restful position it had held throughout the entire exchange thus far, as the possibly threatening words left Lone’s mouth.

“Easy there, sergeant major. We’re just gabbin’, no need for a defensive position.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m taking one. Always best to be prepared, civilian.” Danse looked down at Lone’s companion with furrowed brows, hands holding steady in their poised position on his rifle.

“Alright, everyone, let’s calm down. We just want to talk to you, Sole.” Lone said, hands slightly raised in an inoffensive gesture.

“Why?” Danse said, utterly unconvinced that the pair meant no harm. My, how the tables have turned so abruptly. Sole thought, I’d like to tell him I told him so, but something tells me now’s not the time for that.

Lone just smiled as Danse glowered down at them,

“If all I’ve heard is true, Sole is a hero." They said, "my aim is to find out what really happened with you and the Institute, and maybe, if I like what I hear, we’ll have a few favors to ask of you.”

“Favors?” Sole spoke up, “What did you have in mind?”

“We’ll go into more detail later, but let’s just say that the Capital Wasteland hasn’t exactly benefited from the Brotherhood’s… change in management. For now though, I’ll leave it at that. And we should get moving if we’re going to find shelter before sundown. I hear it can get pretty chilly up here at night.” Sole nodded as they considered all that Lone had said, and as their eyes found Danse’s, the pair silently decided to trust the Lone wanderer and their partner. For now, at least.

“Sole,” Danse said, “why don’t you take point.”

“Good idea.” Sole moved to step ahead of the others, heading north along the dirt road they had been following, before glancing back at the sound of Lone’s voice.

“Butch, why don’t you take up the rear.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” Butch turned to Sole and winked before doing as Lone had suggested, and the group set off to find shelter for the fast-approaching evening.

MacCready:

“Holy crap, where the heck did you get this?!” MacCready held up the leather jacket in front of him, eyes widening in awe. Sole looked over from where they stood outside their house in Sanctuary, squinting their eyes at the seemingly inconsequential jacket.

“That’s not mine.” They told him, turning back to unloading the scrap they’d acquired from the mission they and MacCready had just returned from.

“Do you even know what this is?” You looked back at him with a cocked brow,

“Does it look like I do?”

“This is a Tunnel Snakes jacket!” MacCready held the jacket with one hand, the other gesturing animatedly to the artwork on the back of it, Sole’s expression remained devoid of recognition, so MacCready felt the need to continue, “The Tunnel Snakes! It’s a gang. They’re from the Capital Wasteland. I’ve only ever seen one of these jackets once, and--”

“Oh, and what have we here?” A man in a vault suit with slicked back hair stepped out from the side of the house, flicking a cigarette butt to the ground, “hey, come check this out! Told you the Tunnel Snakes’ name got around.” The man gazed proudly at the jacket, a smug expression formed on his face as another stranger rounded the corner of the house. They also donned a vault suit, an amused smile playing at their lips as they rolled their eyes at their companion. The new stranger was odd, despite their age, they had an air of knowing about them. They were young, but their eyes seemed old, light lines shown on their face, telling the story of a life fraught with loss and tough decisions.

“Butch, we’ve been over this.” They said, “There’s like three people in the gang, and two of them live underground. The guy probably just thinks it’s a cool jacket.”

“Then how did he know the name, huh?”

“It’s on the jacket, Butch.”

“No!” MacCready interjected, “I do know you guys! We’ve met before, remember? Little Lamplight?”

Sole was now to the point of utter bewilderment as their head darted back between Mac and the two strangers. What the hell is going on here? Who are these people? Has MacCready ever mentioned a ‘Butch’ before? The stranger looked hard at MacCready, taking a few steps towards him, before recognition sparked in their eyes. Sole took a few steps forward in response, uncomfortable with the strangers’ proximity to their companion.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” They whispered, just loud enough for Sole to hear from where they stood beside the group. “I wouldn’t forget those wide, blue eyes. Look at you, little mayor MacCready, how’s it feel to be a mungo now, huh?”

“Holy shit!” Butch exclaimed, moving closer to MacCready to get a better look, “It’s the little mayoral punk from the kid cave!”

MacCready just laughed, his hand still clasped firmly around the leather jacket, as Sole stepped towards them.

“The hat’s changed a bit, but I see you’re still fond of sniper rifles.” The stranger nodded to MacCready’s rifle that lay on the ground next to where he stood. “Tell me,” they continued, “you still an asshole?”

Sole opened their mouth, only to be shut down by a glare from MacCready.

“You’re not allowed to answer that.” He pointed at them as he said it, and Sole rolled their eyes at him. MacCready then looked to the strangers, as if to answer their question, but before he could utter a word, Sole stepped forward.

“Okay, hold on, before anybody else says anything, I need to know what’s going on here. So, you going to introduce me to your friends, or what?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah, of course!” MacCready seemed to jitter with excitement as he bounced over to them, and Sole wondered who it was they saw energetically bobbing around in front of them, this certainly wasn’t the MacCready they knew. And judging by their befuddled expressions, Butch and the stranger thought the same.

“Sole, this is Lone, the one I told you about, who helped with the mutants at Little Lamplight? And purified all that water for the people in the capitol? Yeah, that’s them, and this is their partner, Butch, he was from the same vault and was an OG Tunnel Snake.”

“Yeah, the OG Tunnel Snake.” Butch said, bringing his hands up to flick his collar up, before realizing he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He smoothed his hands over his chest awkwardly instead as Lone looked on, a mix of disappointment and amusement playing on their face, before they turned their attention to Sole.

“So, Sole, you’re the one everyone’s been talking about.”

“I-- I am?”

“Yeah, you’re the reason we came all the way up here. The vault dweller from before the war, the legendary railroad agent, and the one who brought down the Institute. You're a hero, even down in the CW. But it's strange, you’re younger than I thought.” Sole blinked, and smiled a little bashfully, unsure how to respond to such praise coming from Lone, who certainly was a legend in their own right. Instead of speaking to them directly, Sole turned to MacCready,

“You told me that Lone was dead.”

“What? No, I--”

“No, MacCready, you said they gave their life for the people of the capitol, in that water purifier thing.”

Lone chucked from beside Sole, shaking their head.

“It’s okay. You’d be surprised by how many people think that's true. Anyway, you’ve clearly heard my story, but we’re here for yours, Sole. What do you say we go inside and talk?”

Sole nodded, gesturing for them to head inside the house. They glanced over to MacCready, who made an attempt at handing the leather jacket back to its owner. But Butch just slapped him on the back,

“Tell you what, daddy-o, you keep it. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Plus, I got plenty of those back home.”

Deacon:

The pair entered the memory den and Sole nodded to Irma as they made their way towards the stairs leading to the basement. As they headed down, Sole heard Deacon’s footsteps behind them falter. They turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised,

What is it? They asked him silently, the words written in their expression. He took a few steps closer to them, keeping his voice low as he answered.

“Do you hear that?” He asked, and Sole held their breath as they listened for whatever it was that had their companion concerned.

“Voices?” they whispered back, and he nodded.

“I don’t recognise them. Better let me do the talking.” Sole nodded to him, and stepped aside, allowing Deacon to take the lead. They were coming to escort a recently mind-wiped synth to their new home in the Jamaica Plain settlement. The only ones meant to be present were Dr. Amari and the synth, Charlie. Deacon and Sole had helped the synth, designation C1-44, all the way from Mercer safehouse to Goodneighbor, so they knew his voice well enough at this point. Sole had hoped that, with the Institute effectively gone, processes like this would become much less common, and the existing synths could live their lives in peace, with their memories intact. But C1 had specifically asked for a mind-wipe, the Institute’s depreciating thoughts and acts towards him had left him with an abhorrent self-image that he felt he needed to escape from. Deacon had been right, it seemed, even without the Institute, the Railroad’s work was never done.

Sole might’ve waited to peek around the corner before entering the room, but Deacon sauntered right in while they held back in the hallway. They had always admired the spy’s confidence, but how many times had he warned them about waltzing into a situation without preparation? They seemed to recall a number of instances…

“Bullseye, you comin’?” They rounded the corner at the sound of their Railroad codename, a little alarmed, only to find the room devoid of both Charlie and Dr. Amari. Instead, two strangers stood beside the memory pod in the room. One stood in front of the other, at the ready, while the man behind them leaned against the back of the memory pod.

“Where..?” Sole started, turning to Deacon, but he was looking back at the stranger in combat armor,

“See, Lone? Told you I knew them. I don’t always lie, despite what you seem to think.”

The one named Lone rolled their eyes at him,

“You may not have lied about bringing them here, but I seem to remember you describing them as much more… well, not quite as they are. Say, Bullseye, how tall are you?”

Sole opened their mouth to respond, but Deacon cut them off before they could voice a thing.

“Is that really what matters? So, I may have exaggerated a few details about their appearance, but everything else is true. They really took down the Institute after working undercover for months without detection, and they've saved well over a hundred synth lives.”

“Deacon.” Sole said, their uncertainty keeping them frozen in place by the entrance to the basement, “who are these people? Where is the-- ah, where is our client?”

“Oh, where are my manners?” Deacon brought a hand up to his chest dramatically before approaching Sole, throwing his arm around their shoulders, and urging them forward before gesturing to the people in front of them.

“This is Lone, the famed Railroad ally from the Capital wasteland. And you two have quite a bit in common, cuz, you see, Lone has also managed to take down a potentially world-destroying organization that happened to be bigoted, and inappropriately sanctimonious and self-obsessed. So I thought it’d be cute for you two to spend some time together, you know, swap war stories and pre-war recipes, stuff like that. You had pre-war food in vault 101, right?”

“It’s good to finally meet you,” Lone said, ignoring Deacon's attempt at humor, “I’ve heard so much.” Sole went to properly introduce themself, but was once again interrupted, this time by the man in the leather jacket behind Lone, who cleared his throat loudly.

“Oh,” Lone moved slightly out of the way so that Sole and Deacon could better see their companion, “This is my partner, Butch, he’s also from the vault.” Butch cleared his throat again, frowning at Lone.

“And? C’mon partner, you’re not telling me that’s all I am to you?”

Lone frowned slightly, appearing unphased, as though this were a common occurrence for them, “Butch also helped me take down the Enclave, and he assists me with the Railroad missions I’m involved with in the Capital.”

“Butch, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He said, walking forward and extending a hand towards Sole, who shook it tentatively.

“There, now we’re all on a first-name basis, why don’t we get moving? If we’re going to reach HQ before sundown, we’d better go now.” Deacon withdrew his arm from Sole’s shoulder, and started towards the door. “Hold on a moment, Deacon. What about our mission? You never answered me,” they continued, lowering their voice at their next question, “and now we’re taking these people to HQ? Does Des know?” Deacon looked at them with a disappointed expression,

“You’re killing me here, where’s the mystery if I explain everything? Where's the fun in that?” Sole flared their nostrils at him and heard Lone snicker from behind them.

“Really, we’ll talk when we get to HQ.” He said, turning back towards the stairs, “And of course Des knows.” He called over his shoulder, “I would never presume to waltz right into HQ with a couple of perfect strangers without her permission. Who do you think I am? Who do you think I think I am?” Sole caught the smug grin that spread across his face as he turned to take the first step up the stairs to the ground floor.

“Don’t worry,” Lone said, walking up from behind Sole, “We know Des. I’ve worked with her more times than I care to count, though I never have actually met her. That’s why we’re here, actually. To meet her, and the others I’ve heard about. And to meet you. Believe it or not, I’ve heard the most about you.”

“I suppose that means I’m not a very good agent.” Sole said, a little laugh escaping them as Lone’s words gave them some peace of mind regarding this odd situation they found themselves in.

“Eh, who cares about that. The Institute’s gone, so I don’t know why we’ve gotta still be all secret-y now anyway.” Butch’s voice came from a few steps down the stairs, and Lone shook their head at him, their exasperated expression seemed to mirror the one Sole usually had upon their face when Deacon opened his mouth. Maybe Deacon was right, they thought, as they reached the top of the stairs and the group made their way to the exit. Maybe Lone and I do have some things in common.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 𝑊𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐴𝑠𝑘 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑂𝑢𝑡: 𝑁𝑜𝑛! 𝐼𝑑𝑜𝑙 𝐴𝑈

❥𝐴𝑟𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐶𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑠 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑒𝑒: 𝐾𝑖𝑚 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑔����𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔

As a college student, you usually end up having to do a lot of projects that require creativity and lots of paint.

That's how you ended up in an arts and crafts store.

You found Hongjoong behind the counter, finishing up his task of arranging the ribbons on the shelf.

He smiled at you and immediately put his task down.

"How may I help you this evening?"

Knows exactly what you'll need better than you.

Often recommends other materials or throws in a few creative suggestions of his own.

He's always asking you what they're for, he's genuinely curious about your assignments..and even more curious about you.

Sometimes you end up doing some of your posters with him right there on days where there's nobody else.

You purposefully began buying things you didn't even need just to have an excuse to see the blueberry haired male.

He doesn't mind, he likes your company, even if it's strange you keep buying the same red glitter everyday.

One day you came in, and he was excited to show you the new Valentine's Day cards that just arrived.

In particular, this really cute one that played a song you've never heard before but that asked in the end "Will you go out with me?"

You giggled. "It's so cute. Who thought of it?"

Hongjoong smiled even more, holding the card out to you. "I did......it's for you....so what do you say?"

❥𝐹𝑙𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡: 𝑃𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑆𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑤𝑎

You really love to gift flowers to your loved ones, feeling that it's a sweet way of saying you're thinking of them.

You frequented a lot of flower shops, but something about this particular one made you want to keep coming back...

And it wasn't just the hot employee behind the counter. Or his super sweet and flirty personality.

It was that and much much more.

You loved the cozy and intricate way the arrangements were always lined up.

They made it a point to change them every week, sort of giving the shop a fresh look each Sunday.

Seonghwa also knew specifically what type of flowers to suggest depending on what it was for.

White tulips for when you wanted to apologize to someone, Hydrangeas to show gratitude, and even Sunflowers to show love to your best friend.

It was always fascinating to hear him speak about what each flower represented.

Just as fascinating as watching him delicately put them together in beautiful bouquets and tie them with a ribbon.

One time you came in and he was very excited to show you a new bouquet he made.

"Ta da!" He pulled out a bouquet with lavender roses as the main focus.

"They're so beautiful Seonghwa! What do they mean?"

"They represented enchantment and love at first sight...ideal for a blossoming romance..."

He grinned as he held them out. "From me, to you."

❥𝑃𝑒𝑡 𝐺𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑟: 𝐽𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑢𝑛ℎ𝑜

Getting a chow chow puppy as a pet was no easy task.

Especially when their hair is extremely fluffy and in constant need of maintenance.

Fortunately for you, a nearby pet grooming shop opened up recently.

So you walked, pooch in your arms as you looked at the cozy scene in front of you.

"Hello, I'm Yunho and I'll be assisting you today. And whom do we have here?"

Your puppy instantly took a liking to him, which was rare since he was a big scaredy cat for a dog.

"If my baby trusts him, I guess I have nothing to worry about. "

You really didn't. Yunho was so friendly and knew how to handle dogs perfectly fine.

He was just as playful as them and was very careful when trimming their hair or nails.

So you felt absolutely at ease leaving your child for a few hours with him while you ran some errands or went grocery shopping.

"Hi baby. Were you a good boy today?" You came to pick up your pooch one day.

"Oh they were an absolute gem as always."

You were about to leave when Yunho said. "Hey Y/N...I actually have a dog of my own at home....and they could use a friend.."

"Oh? So you want to arrange a play date for them?" You asked.

He blushed and smiled shyly as he admitted. "Date for them and maybe....us too?"

❥𝐵𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑆ℎ𝑜𝑝 𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑜𝑦𝑒𝑒: 𝐾𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑒𝑜𝑠𝑎𝑛𝑔

Truthfully, Yeosang frightened you the first time you walked into the shop.

He just stared at you with a cold stare as he warned you to keep quiet in the place.

You definitely didn't want to get on his bad side.

So you just stuck to browsing the shelves, picking out the books you wanted and buying them.

Then after getting more brave, you took advantage of the tables and desks they had inside to either catch up on homework or read what you just purchased.

You just loved reading, especially poetry or sonnets.

You always got so lost in your book, you only realized what time it was because Yeosang tapped your shoulder.

"It's 5 minutes to closing. You should probably go home now."

It became a routine of coming to the shop right after school, curling up on the chair in a back, your nose stuck in a book.

Unbeknownst to you, Yeosang always watched you, took notice of the genres you were fond of. He'd be lying if he said he didn't find you cute and attractive.

You were just as mysterious and quiet as he was, and he was intrigued to get to know who you were.

One day, you came in as usual, waving to Yeosang who just sat by the register.

You sat in your usual spot and noticed a tiny folded letter on the corner. You opened it up and read its contents, a quote from one of your favorite novels:

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."- Pride and Prejudice.

You looked up to find Yeosang peering at you from his own book, for the first time, a smile on his sculpture like face as he waited for your reaction.

❥ 𝐵𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝑆𝑎𝑛

Being the coffee addict you were, of course you had to try out the new shop that opened up.

The fresh scent of espresso filled your nostrils the moment you walked in and it was heavenly.

And the barista at the counter was pure eye candy.

And you soon found out he was sweeter than any cinnamon roll or cream Danish they sold there.

"May I interest you in any of our specialty drinks?"

But you were a simple person, you just wanted straight black coffee.

He seemed taken aback and somewhat disappointed at your choice.

But at least you weren't a picky customer that tried his patience.

So you just regularly came to get your straight espresso.

One day he asked "Can I please just try something?"

You couldn't say no to his little pout, so you let him.

You watched as he did your regular espresso shots and looked to be adding some type of cream.

He giddily went back to the counter and held it out to you.

There on the very top, he had created a heart out of latte foam...

And on the cup, he had written his phone number and added the words "call me ;) "

❥𝐷𝑎𝑦𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝐴𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑡: 𝑆𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑖

You had always been more than willing to help babysit your cousin during summer break.

You adored that child like none other.

But you had recently gotten a job and couldn't watch him all the time

So you opted for the nearby daycare center to help you when you had to work.

The first sight that greeted you was a tall young man who had tussled hair and paint staining his apron.

"Hello. I'm assistant Mingi. How can I help you today?" He greeted you both and then let out an 'ouch' when something hit him from the back.

Feeling safe with the environment, you began taking your cousin every other day to the center and picking him up after your shift ended.

You always saw Mingi there.

He usually helped your cousin with the homework assigned to him over break.

Or he was simply goofing around with him, it was quite endearing to see.

You were content to see the little boy make friends and break out of his little shell.

You came to pick him up as usual. "How was it today? Learned anything exciting?"

"I learned that Mingi thinks you're cute and has a crush on you." He snickered as he pointed to Mingi.

"Hey! Shhhh!! You promised not to say anything!" Mingi laughed nervously as he looked at you rather worrisome.

You blushed and smiled. "It's ok. They think you're cute too Mingi." Your cousin interjected, now exposing you and prompting you two to confess your feelings.

❥𝑃𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑒𝑟: 𝐽𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑊𝑜𝑜𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔

Having the world's biggest sweet tooth was a blessing and a curse.

And right now the biggest issue was finding a new pastry that you had not tried before.

But you had practically gone through all the bakeries in town, knew what they had to offer.

So you decided to stop by a very old bakery that you had not gone to in forever.

And you weren't joking when you said forever, the place had changed so much, you hardly recognized it.

You also didn't recognize any of the people working there, having been a regular before.

You looked through the assorted pastries on displays, hoping to find something to catch your interest.

"Hello there pretty one."

You were startled by the loud voice behind you. You turned to see a cute guy smiling at you.

"Were you looking for something in particular?"

You explained that you were looking for something new or special and his eyes instantly lit up.

He ushered you to follow him to the counter, where he pulled out a tray of peach shaped pastries.

"These are Italian peach cookies, meant to look like actual peaches. Try one and tell me they're not the best thing you've ever tried."

You ate one and your whole mouth was engaged. They were absolutely amazing. "They're so good. I love how sweet they are."

Not wanting to miss the opportunity, Wooyoung smirked. "If you like sweet things, how about going on a date with me?"

❥𝐴𝑟𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝐴𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑡: 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜

Jongho was no strange face to you and you were no stranger to him.

He often worked part time at the local arcade during summer break.

You and your friends hung out there a lot after you guys got done with your respective jobs.

"Hey." "Hi." You both always shyly greeted each other like that for 3 years now, sometimes starting small conversations.

Your friends often rolled their eyes at you, telling you to work up the courage to ask him out.

His friends, and coworkers, were also trying to do the same to him.

"They're totally into you." But Jongho would only blush and brush it off as pure fiction.

One night, he noticed how someone came up to you and tried to hit on you.

You looked visibly uncomfortable and seemed to be wanting a way out of the situation.

When they leaned in too close for your liking, and his, he marched right over there.

"Is there a problem here?" He made it a point to flex his arm muscles, making the person apologize and just scurry off.

"Are you ok?" He asked, wanting to make sure you were fine, which you said you were.

He was gonna go back to the counter, but he had to ask."Y/N...would you like to go out on a date sometime-"

"Yes!" You immediately answered, not letting him finish, suddenly feeling awkward for sounding so desperate.

But Jongho only smiled. "Don't worry, I would have done the same if you had asked me out."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners.

[gentlemancrow]

jonmartin, pre-romance, #15/28??

I did manage to get BOTH of these in! So we have a combo of "You called me, remember?" and "It's too early for this". Much like the others, the MINUTE I read this prompt an idea popped into my head that I just HAD to go with! This is actually based off a real life incident I had with a friend (They know who they are...) but it fit both Jmart and the prompt PERFECTLY! The names have been changed to fictional characters to protect the innocent. (Hint I was the Martin in this situation) Anyway this was super fun and cute to write and I made myself all squishy a lot. HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3

There were precious few reasons why Martin’s mobile should be ringing at exactly 5:47 am on a Tuesday, and precisely none of them were good. Still, the anxiety inducing sound alerting him to something ominously, ambiguously amiss struggled to worm its way through a rather lovely dream of his acceptance speech after being awarded poet laureate. The poem he had prepared for the occasion was marrow-deep and hauntingly beautiful, or at least he remembered it that way until suddenly he was reciting the lyrics to Abba’s ‘Waterloo’ instead and sweating profusely as the audience began to murmur in disgust amongst themselves. Waterloo was indeed blaring, but from the ringtone of his phone, not from his lips, and his stomach performed a cold somersault with the force of the wave of anxiety that had begun in his dream and crested up to lap at the base of his barely functional brain. The few synapses he needed for basic motor function and reading comprehension crackled to life as he clumsily batted the buzzing device on his nightstand into his hand and squinted blearily at the name.

It was small. That was an immediate relief. If the care home had been calling about an incident with his mother, either her health or the staff’s as a result of her, it would have been the full moniker of ‘Sunrise Acres Care Home’ ticking across the caller ID. Yet small implied a name, a person, someone he had in his phone and not just a random spam call, and anxiety spiked again as Martin scrubbed at his eyes until ‘Jon’ appeared in white hot letters on the screen. Sleep dissolved from him in an instant and he sat bolt upright in a tangle of covers as he smashed the green answer icon with his thumb and threw the receiver to his ear.

“Hullo?! Jon? R’you okay? What’s happened?” he demanded, voice still slumbery thick and groggy.

“Martin!” Jon’s silky, prim voice, thinned out to a tin can vibrato over airwaves, answered, “Good, you’re awake. I need your help. Urgently.”

Martin was already out of bed by the time ‘need’ reached his ears, yanking on the first pair of jeans he spotted in the laundry heap on the floor and hopping on his free leg to the en suite with his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder.

“I’m on it!” he assured him despite having no clue what ‘it’ was, exactly, “I’m coming to you as soon as I can. Where are you? Are you hurt? Should I bring a first aid kit? I don’t think I have a first aid kit… should I buy a first aid kit? There’s a Boots just down the block from my flat, I could-“

“Martin, stop! What the hell are you on about?” Jon’s annoyed tone cut through his panic like a scalpel.

Martin stopped in the doorframe of the bathroom, brows knitted, jeans puddling around the one leg he’d managed to get through and left once again in naught but his boxers as he gripped his phone back into his hand.

“Huh? What are you on about? You said you needed help!” he snapped.

“I do! But not like… not like THAT. What kind of mortal peril do you imagine I would find myself in at a quarter to six in the morning?”

The initial surge of adrenaline fizzling out uselessly in his veins the more Jon talked, Martin sagged against the doorway and pinched his temples as he strained his words through a colander of civility.

“I don’t know, Jon. You called me, remember?”

“Right, right…”

A terse, lowly hissing silence of dead satellite replaced Jon’s voice, twisting Martin’s nerves as acrobatically as he twisted to avoid the point. He kicked off his jeans and stalked grouchily back to bed where he threw himself face down and unmoving.

“So, what is it then? Wi-Fi gone tits up? Forgot how long to steep Darjeeling?” he hissed into his rumpled duvet, a little nastier than he would have liked given the deadly combination of interrupted slumber and primordial biological survival instinct.

“I uh…” Jon’s voice deflated over the speaker, “I have a… problem.”

“Yes, we’ve so very, very clearly established that. What kind of a problem, exactly…?”

“A problem of an upsettingly… Arachnid nature.”

“A spider…?”

“…Yes.”

Martin propped himself up on one elbow, eyes narrowed with genuine and curious concern.

“Wait like a… like a spooky spooky spider? Or just an ordinary kind of spooky spider?” he inquired with as much levity as he could muster, given one of the likely options.

“Stop saying spooky. And the ordinary kind. I think. No, I’m sure of it. It’s merely the sitting on my kitchen wall like it owns the place and staring at me rudely with all eight eyes, judging me for skipping breakfast again, kind,” Jon answered with clinical pointedness.

“O… kay…?” Martin drawled, suppressing a giggle, “So, what’s the problem then?”

“What do I do?”

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again as he doubted that he had actually heard Jonathan Sims, the irascible, pompous, only capable of truly looking at him down his nose Head Archivist Jonathan Sims, ask him, a lowly assistant, what to do. With a spider. It would have been almost adorable, had he not scared the life out of him initially, but even that knocked it only down a single peg to helplessly charming.

“I-I mean, the normal thing one does when encountering a spider in one’s home? You kind of only have the usual two options? Er well, three, if you count just leaving it be, but I doubt you’re amenable to that one.”

“No, absolutely not, out of the question,” Jon declared swiftly.

“Didn’t think so,” Martin chuckled, rolling onto his back and sagging in relief into the mattress.

“So?” came the impatient invitation to continue.

“So what?”

“So, then what do I do?” Jon repeated brusquely.

“Well, you either kill it or let it go, of course! What else is there to do? Invite it to brunch?”

“I know that! I’m not an idiot!” Jon erupted furiously, “Good lord, Martin! Do you really think I would have called you because I didn’t know the only two options for dealing with an eight-legged criminal invading my home were kill it or let it go? Really?! Did you suppose this was the very first spider I ever encountered in my life? Is that what you thought? Or perhaps I had my own personal valet to attend to all of my insectoid tribulations, hmm? Just call the bug butler, he’ll attend to it straightaway! Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth? Or do you customarily just air out whatever inane notions blow through your ears, no matter how puerile? Christ!”

Martin let the phone drop onto the bed beside him, away from the verbal darts hurled directly into his eardrum and taxing the output matrix of the speaker, as Jon launched into an affronted, mortified tirade, smirking and shaking his head.

“It’s too early for this…” he mused to himself ruefully, rubbing both hands over his face and eyes.

Once the phone stopped humming and glowing white hot with remote rage, Martin scooped it back up and yawned into the receiver.

“You alright there, Jon?” he asked in a gentle tone.

A ragged sigh crackled into a blip of feedback from lips too close on the other end of the phone.

“…Not really?” came Jon’s tremulous reply, “Listen, I’m sorry I went off on you. That was unfair of me. I-I just… I really… really hate spiders.”

Something squeezed in Martin’s chest, something about the confident bass flayed neatly out of Jon’s usually assertively solid mannerisms, leaving it abnormally thin and rickety. He sat up on the bed, cradling the phone much more gently to his cheek.

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he assured him, “If anybody sympathizes about being afraid, you definitely called the right person. Need me to stay on the line with you while you whack it? A good heavy book will probably do the trick, or if you need speed and agility a rolled-up newspaper or a magazine might be better?”

“No! I wasn’t calling because I needed advice on how to murder the damn thing! I’m quite capable of doing that on my own. Frankly, I’ve taken rather a vested interest in honing my spider termination methodology over the years. I called you because… well you were going on about how you thought they were…” Jon trailed off in a series of garbled sounds of disgust, “Cute… of all things.”

Martin grinned and had to put the phone on his bare chest a moment, as if Jon might somehow perceive his giddy glee through the receiver.

“To be fair I’m a little odd that way. Most people feel much the same as you do about them,” he commented as he picked it back up.

“True, but that’s not even the whole of it!” Jon went on exasperatedly, “I also overheard you talking… must have been to Tim or Sasha but… you were explaining about how helpful they are to the ecosystem and what a vital role they play in that natural order of things, and how we always see images of them eating butterflies and beautiful things that make them look sinister, but how really they mostly control pests and the like… how you thought they got kind of a bad rap?”

“Wow I uh… I can’t believe you remembered all that,” Martin muttered, freckled cheeks dusting a light pink, “But what does that have to do with your unwanted houseguest in particular?”

“It was the last part, mainly. That’s what got me. The part about fear. That they’re afraid, too… You said there had been studies that showed a clear fear response in spiders… to us. They’re afraid of us, demonstrably more so than we are of them…”

One word of all of those slipped between Martin’s ribs and into his heart. Too. They were afraid, too. His thumb stroked and consoled the edge of his phone unconsciously as Jon blustered on, unbothered by his own unconscious admission.

“And now I can’t do it! Now I have to set this bloody spider free because you think it’s cute and want to make friends with it, and I can’t make it an innocent victim of my fear and I have no idea how!”

Martin couldn’t help but smile, imagining how Jon must be in his flat on the other end, scrunched in a corner all hunched up shoulders and furrowed brow with hackles bristling, squaring off with a creature who was possessed of no knowledge of the fear she symbolized, or the grace to understand the iconographical divorce to her salvation. Only Jon, quivering and still bed-rumpled and frazzled, could understand the magnitude of cupping that fear in the palm of his hand while reaching out to him with the other. And now Martin understood it, too.

“Hey alright, I’ve got you. Steady on Jon, we’re gonna get through this together. I’ll talk you through the steps, you just follow what I say, okay?” he instructed in his best 999 operator performance.

A beat of silence ensued, followed by a much more robust and emboldened, “Okay.”

“So, what you want to do first is get a glass.”

“A glass?”

“Yeah, like a water glass. And a stiff piece of paper or cardboard or something. If you’ve got a bit of post lying about, flyers and coupons and the like, those usually work well.”

There was a period of distant shuffling, clattering, and indecipherable muttering as Jon gathered his weapons, then sucked in an audible breath through his teeth.

“Alright I’ve got them, now what?” he asked, sounding a bit winded.

“Now you very carefully put the glass over the spider, then slide the paper under the glass so you trap it inside. Then you can take it out without touching it or worrying about it scuttling off on you and set it free wherever you think it’ll be happy!” Martin answered sweetly.

“Okay, okay. I think I can do that,” Jon chanted for steadiness, “I’m putting the phone down so I don’t louse it up, but d-don’t hang up, stay on with me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jon. I promise. You’re okay.”

“O-Okay… Okay… Okay…!”

Martin listened as Jon’s voice grew distant, but somehow stronger, more like a war cry, with the soft pad of socked feet on tile, then a short stretch of silence, and then a chorus of oaths and yelping, rising to the crescendo of a door being messily flung open, shut, then opened and shut again. A drumbeat of returning feet rolled mutely close and melded into the scratchy rustle of the phone being picked back up.

“I’m back,” Jon announced.

“Is it done?”

“The deed is done… your little friend is enjoying some lovely pink dahlias out front as we speak.”

“I’m pleased for her! And… for you, too,” Martin said, voice melting into lilting tenderness, “I’m honestly really proud of you, I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I… Ah… No, it wasn’t. Thank you, Martin,” came the sheepishly measured rejoinder.

“You’re very welcome.”

Martin smiled privately to himself, and ran a loving thumb down the edge of his phone once more.

“So then may I rightly assume I have permission to come in an hour or so late today so I can go back to sleep?” he continued, already knowing the answer as he flopped back down on his pillows and rolled up into the covers.

He was relieved to hear a husky chuckle rumble through the phone.

“Yes, yes. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

“Brilliant, see you in a bit then? And for lunch?” he added hopefully.

The brief silence as Jon calculated his response hung thick and palpable in the digital airwaves.

“Lunch sounds good,” he replied at length, “See you then.”

“G-Great! Great! See you!”

Their phones clicked mutually off without the awkward jumble of sign-offs, pleasantries, and accidentally stumbling over each other’s words. Martin thought glimmeringly of the spider hunting free in plush pink petals, none the wiser, and of Jon, with new and irrefutable proof that not everything ugly or quietly cunning in the world lurked behind to cast its shadow over him. A spider could be just a spider, and Martin back asleep with both hands still clutching his phone to his chest, dreaming of singing Waterloo again, but this time to a rapt audience and thunderous applause.

[bluenet13]

What's Really Keeping You Awake?

Written for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: 9-1-1: Lone Star

Characters: T.K. Strand, Carlos Reyes, Nancy Gillian, firefam (mentioned).

Prompt: Arm in a Sling

Summary: When T.K. gets hurt at work he tries to hide the injury from Carlos. But he should have known his boyfriend is always one step ahead.

Links: ff.net - AO3

T.K's fingers tapped impatiently against his thigh as he waited for his call to get picked up.

"Hi, babe, everything okay?" Came Carlos' eventual greeting.

"Hi, yeah, everything's alright. Just wanted to let you know that I won't be going home tonight after shift. Going with Owen instead," T.K. said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Why?" Carlos asked suspiciously. "Is he okay?"

"Nothing special, no issues with his recovery. Dad's just been feeling it since mom left and then we moved in together," T.K. explained.

"Isn't that why Mateo moved in?" Carlos wondered, "I mean, the guy needed a place to live, I get it. But we both know Captain Strand wasn't the obvious choice."

"Yeah," T.K. said, not able to argue that fact. "But Mateo is staying with Paul for the weekend so I just want to keep my dad company."

"Hmm." Carlos audibly sighed. "Are you sure nothing happened?"

"Yes, of course," T.K. said, forcing his voice to stay calm and collected.

"Are you in the hospital?" Carlos blurted out.

"What? No!" T.K's responded, letting out a nervous exhale.

"Tyler," Carlos said in his best threatening tone.

"I promise, I'm not in the hospital," T.K. assured, pursing his lips.

"Are you in an ambulance?" Carlos asked next, wanting to cover all bases.

"I work in an ambulance," T.K. said simply.

"You know what I meant," Carlos grumbled.

"Stop worrying, Carlos. Everything's okay. Just trying to be a good son," T.K half-lied, chuckling to himself as he silently wondered what it said about him that in this situation Carlos' first thought was that he was trying to hide an injury, unlike most others who would have thought he was having an affair.

"Okay, I will see you this weekend then?" Carlos relented, but his tone letting on that he wasn't happy.

"Yeah, I will call you tonight. Love you, baby," T.K. promised, then ended the call, again, just a little too quickly.

Putting his phone back in his pocket, T.K. sighed and turned back to Nancy. "Sorry, you can keep going."

"Carlos is going to kill you when he finds out," Nancy offered helpfully, "but lucky for you, I don't think anything is broken so you won't have to go to the hospital. At least, you weren't lying about that."

"Yeah, lucky me." T.K. rolled his eyes, doing his best to suppress a grunt as Nancy prodded the area around his shoulder.

"But, on second thought... I have to pop it back in, maybe you want to go to the hospital for that?" Nancy questioned, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"You are enjoying this, aren't you?" T.K. asked with a groan.

"Maybe, a little. Not the injury, tho. I'm sorry the patient knocked you off the ladder," Nancy said sincerely, "but I'll enjoy hearing of Carlos' reaction when he finds out," she added with a grin.

"Well, too bad he won't find out," T.K. challenged, "or I'll tell Tommy that you broke her favorite coffee mug. You know, the super cute, purple one her girls got her for mother's day?" His familiar smug smirk now plastered on T.K's face.

Nancy grunted but said nothing, knowing she was beat. "Ready?" She asked instead, knowing there was no way T.K. was voluntarily going to a hospital for a dislocated shoulder.

Suddenly reminded why he was sitting at the back of their ambulance, T.K. instantly lost his smile and blanched a little. Because no matter how many injuries someone has had, popping in a dislocated anything always hurt like a bitch, especially when you couldn't take any painkillers. But still, he nodded, closing his fist around his shirt and bracing for the pain.

"I'll be quick," Nancy whispered and without warning moved her hands to either side of T.K's shoulder and yanked.

"Son of a…" T.K's yelped, his words cut short by a loud pop as his joint set back into place.

"Sorry, Strand," Nancy said, a guilty smile replacing her previous grin. "I know you won't take anything strong, but can I give you some Ibuprofen?"

T.K. just shook his head, his mouth set in a straight line as he tried to breathe through the pain.

"You're going to be sore," Nancy pushed, gazing down at T.K. with a knowing look as she maneuvered his shoulder into a sling.

"I've OTC painkillers at home, I promise I'll take some if the pain gets too bad," T.K. lied, grunting as the movement jostled his injured joint.

"You mean at Owen's house, right?" Nancy asked (not so) innocently.

"You can really be mean sometimes." T.K. pouted, trying to bite down a grin.

"You just make it too easy. But really, I know you won't take anything, so at least ice your shoulder when you get home and remember to sleep on your other side," Nancy directed, wishing she could offer her partner some relief from the pain but knowing that with T.K's history that simply wasn't an option.

"I'll be okay, Nance. Thank you for taking care of it, I'll be careful," T.K promised, then rolled his neck as he got accustomed to the feel of the sling around his arm.

"And no nighttime activities for you," Nancy said softly, looking at T.K. with a knowing smile, "but on second thought, I don't think that will be a problem now." Her grin turning into full-blown laughter.

"You only say that cause you're jealous," T.K. said, sticking his tongue out. Then jumped out of the ambulance, smiling to himself as Nancy made a face and tossed a roll of gauze at him.

As Nancy finished organizing everything in the back, T.K. sat down on the ambo's bumper and sighed, wishing he could go home to cuddle with Carlos instead of to an empty apartment. But he was tired of the trouble magnet jokes and Carlos saying he was taking years off his life, and this was too simple an injury to worry his boyfriend over. So, he would just have to suck it up.

A few minutes passed with the partners just chatting about everything and nothing as they waited for Tommy to get back after dropping their patient at the hospital.

"You okay, Strand?" Was Tommy's first question as soon as she returned to the ER's parking lot.

"I am, Nancy checked it out and we're ready to go," T.K. said and raised to his feet, trying very hard not to cry out when the movement jerked his shoulder.

"Are you sure you don't need to be looked at?" Tommy was still staring at T.K with a worried expression, even when the question was directed to his partner.

"He will be okay," Nancy explained, "nothing got broken and the joint should heal nicely after a few days of rest. Plus, T.K. is not a liar and he absolutely wasn't at the hospital today," she couldn't help add, the corner of her lip tucking upward.

"Do I even want to know?" Tommy asked no one in particular, shooting a curious look to her two, young coworkers.

"Probably not. Let's go," Nancy said with a chuckle, getting into the back of the ambulance and sitting on the bench. "You can sit at the front, Strand. Just don't go getting used to it," she added as a way of response to T.K's raised eyebrows and silent question.

"Thanks, partner," T.K acknowledged, happy with the sort of truce that he had reached with his new partner, and even more with the way that agreement was slowly evolving into a real friendship.

The ride back to the firehouse was spent in comfortable silence, all three paramedics lost in between their thoughts and the low music coming from the speakers. Tommy did her best to avoid any cracks in the pavement but still shot sympathetic glances T.K's way every time he grunted or winced.

Reaching the firehouse, T.K's ignored everyone's concerned stares and just walked quickly to the locker room. Knowing with the sling taking off his shirt would be a pain, he decided to just leave on his uniform and wait until he was home. He would want to shower and better to go through the hassle just one time.

After promising all his teammates that yes, he was okay, and yes, he would call if he needed help, and no, he didn't need a ride (especially when he was planning to go to Owen's and not Carlos'), T.K. was finally able to escape all the mother henning and quietly get into his Uber.

Going up the stairs and inside Owen's apartment was more difficult that it should have been, with T.K. dropping the keys as he tried to open the door with his non-dominant hand and as he continued to fumble with the strap of his duffel bag, which kept rolling down his shoulder. The ordeal left him winded, and with a very big desire to just face plant on the couch and sleep for the next many hours. But he had worked more than half a shift before he got hurt so he was in desperate need of a shower.

So, T.K. just dropped his keys, wallet and phone on the kitchen counter and walked to the guest room, his face losing all color as soon as his eyes landed on the figure sitting on the bed.

"Hi baby," Carlos said cheerfully, even as his eyes narrowed and his lips turned upward into an innocent smile.

Letting his bag fall to the floor with a thud, T.K. had the sudden urge to turn around and run, instead he tried to give Carlos his best apologetic grin as he looked straight into his boyfriend's eyes.

"Want a chance to explain before I start asking questions?" Carlos said, making T.K. wonder if that's how he started interrogations with the people he arrested.

"What are you doing here?" T.K. asked, ignoring Carlos' question and trying very hard not to squirm under his boyfriend's gaze.

"I asked first," Carlos said matter-of-factly.

"Long, boring story I'm sure you don't want to hear," T.K. mumbled, hoping against hope that Carlos would just let it go for now. Then he tip-toed towards Carlos and tried to wrap his arms around his boyfriend, but Carlos just jumped out of the bed and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Whoa there, cowboy. Slow your roll cause you're not getting out of this so easily," Carlos quipped, a scowl now adorning his features too.

"What do you want me to say, Carlos? I got hurt at work." T.K. awkwardly raised his injured arm, trying to emphasize his point, before he dropped both shoulders dejectedly, and turned his eyes to stare at the ground.

"I think that part is obvious," Carlos simply stated, "but I'm more interested in the part where you thought it was a good idea to lie to me and hide the injury."

"I didn't lie, everything I said was technically true," T.K. tried, letting out a nervous chuckle.

"In this case, omitting the truth is the same as lying."

"I'm sorry, Carlos. I just didn't want to frighten you again. I mean, come on, we haven't even been really dating a full year and I've already been shot, kidnapped and knocked unconscious with a concussion. I know you all joke that I'm a trouble magnet, but I also know you worry. And you have enough worries at work to also lose sleep over me," T.K. rambled as he paced around the room, "besides, I don't want you realizing that I'm just too much for you," he finished barely above a whisper, sad eyes moving to Carlos' again.

Carlos remained silent for a few minutes after that, seemingly mulling over T.K's words, before his arms uncrossed and he moved towards his boyfriend, engulfing him in a quick hug before he stepped out of his space again.

"First, I'm a cop, babe, do you really think a dislocated shoulder will really scare me? You know I've seen it all, and yes, it's worse when things happen to you, but I know it's the nature of both our jobs."

"I'm sorry," T.K. whispered, cutting Carlos off and taking a tentative step forward.

"Wait, let me finish," Carlos said, raising his hands to stall T.K's movements. "I won't get mad if you get injured, but I don't like you lying to me. Or emitting truths," he amended before T.K. tried to find another loophole, because sometimes his boyfriend really took to his mother. "You once said we made a pretty good team. And you were right, and we have only gotten better with time."

"In more ways that one…" T.K. said smugly, his eyes going to Carlos' lips, and then further down.

Carlos let out an outward moan, even if he would argue it was more like an annoyed groan, as his lips parted on their own volition and he ended up having to bite down on his lower lip as he tried not to give into T.K's charm.

"Yeah," Carlos easily agreed, his deep voice sounding even huskier. "But don't go trying to distract me, you're not out of the doghouse yet. So as I was saying, I don't care about a dislocated shoulder, but…"

"Wait, how do you know about the shoulder?" T.K asked, "and how are you even here?"

"Will you stop interrupting me?" Carlos said, sounding mildly exasperated, "I called Mateo. I knew you were hiding something, and I know Marjan, Paul and Judd would have been more difficult to deal with. Mateo might be a damn good firefighter but that boy can't lie to save his life. He told me what happened, then I called Captain Stra- Owen, and turns out he thought I was working a shift tonight so that's why you were coming here."

"What have we talked about interrogating my team, Officer Reyes?" T.K. wondered out loud, wishing his boyfriend wasn't so good at his job.

"Well, I wouldn't have to if you gave me another choice," Carlos challenged, eyebrows raised. "But again, as I was saying, we're a team T.K. and I can take anything you, or life, throw our way. You might be high maintenance but you'll never be too much for me," he added, a teasing smile now gracing his lips, easing the harshness that had taken over his features.

"I'm high maintenance? I'm not the one that only eats homemade tortillas, can't get veggies that are not from the farmer's market and forces me to get up at dinner and get the salt because God forbids you handle it to me and doom our relationship forever," T.K. mumbled under his breath, the twinkle in his eye showing that his words carried no heat.

"It's not my fault that Latinos have many superstitions. Or that I need to do so much stress cooking because my stubborn and daredevil boyfriend keeps getting in trouble. Which brings me to my last point, I do lose sleep over you, T.K," Carlos began, stepping towards him and moving his hands under his shirt. "But not because I worry about you. I do, always will. But when I go to sleep, with your body next to mine, I tend to have other things in mind." Pushing, T.K. all the way back until he fell onto the bed, Carlos let his lips hover just above T.K's for a moment before he leaned forward, crashing his already parted lips into T.K's waiting ones.

The moment quickly became more heated as they deepened the once sweet kiss, both their hands now exploring every reachable part of their boyfriend's body. That is, until Carlos let too much of his weight fall onto T.K, making the man gasp and groan as his shoulder took the brunt of it.

"Too bad you're injured and I can't show you the type of things I think about," Carlos croaked, pressing a kiss just on the edge of T.K's lips, before he pushed his body away from the bed, and out of his boyfriend's reach.

"Oh come on, babe. You can tease like that and just leave me hanging," T.K. breathed out, trying to grab Carlos's shirt, but his fingers only brushing a bit of exposed skin along his hip.

"Don't pout, babe. It's not a good look on you. Plus you'll get wrinkles and I happen to love your smooth skin," Carlos said, trying to ignore the electricity coursing through his body starting from the spot T.K's fingers had touched.

Not missing the way Carlos' body just quivered, T.K looked at his boyfriend with his perfected shit-eating grin, his eyes practically undressing the other man, just as his boyfriend silently did the same.

"Lucky for you, I have other ideas to show you how being with you could never be too much. In fact, every moment we spend together is just never enough," Carlos said sweetly, like usual being the first to give in. Extending his arm to his boyfriend, Carlos pointed to the bathroom with his chin as his free hand was already removing T.K's belt and unbuttoning his pants.

"I like the sound of that," T.K. rasped out, barely able to form words. He then took Carlos' hand, letting his boyfriend pull him towards him, as his free arm reciprocated, briskly and awkwardly loosening Carlos' sweatpants, and pulling at the hem of his shirt.

"Good. The hot water will be good for your shoulder. Plus, you're still in uniform, I can only assume you didn't shower at the station. It's only natural that we do that before I get you into bed," Carlos explained simply, "so you can rest your shoulder, that is," he added, but his darkened eyes showed that right now taking care of T.K's injury was the last thing on his mind.

Brain short-circuiting, T.K. only nodded as he let Carlos remove the sling on his arm and the rest of the clothing that still got in between their desires, before he let his boyfriend lead him into the bathroom.

Later on there would be time for T.K. to continue apologizing and explain more about how he got hurt, for Carlos to take care of his shoulder and comfort his boyfriend, and for both of them to further promise that they were it for each other, that they were both in it for the long run and there was never a need to hide things because they would always be a team. But for now, all thoughts of T.K's injury and small lie were out of their minds, and Carlos and T.K. just relished the presence of the other, the feel of their bodies pressed together, as they let the steam of the shower dissolve their insecurities and fears, and just got lost in each other.

"Wait, what if my dad comes home?"

"Too bad you will have a lot of explaining to do. There's a reason I asked you to move in with me," Carlos said, finally getting his chance to be the smug one.

And whatever was said next was lost to the outside world, as the door to the bathroom slammed shut, and only T.K's groan and Carlos' laughter could be heard over the splash of the shower.

[pinkprimrose05]

GX Month Day 18: This Wasn't in the Rule Book

@gxmonth

Ao3 Version Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33473653/chapters/83310418

Why yes, it's prompt bending time! Wish this day came a bit later into the month so it was closer to the release date of Duel World ARC-V but, oh well, what can ya do? ...Oops, looks like I spoiled the chapter. Yes, this year's AU prompt also doubles as a celebration of ARC-V coming to Duel Links, and it's probably the one prompt I'm most excited to write because hoo boy I've been waiting for this moment for sooooo long! 8D

~~~~~

"Manual Reboot Successful. Initiate Sign-Up Process? "

..

"Initiating Sign-Up Process. Establishing Connection...Please Enter WORLD_ID."

..

"Response Recorded. Initiating Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6..."

"..ERROR. Failed to Connect to WORLD_ID SERIES6. Continue Sign-Up Process and Retry?"

..

"Response Recorded. Continuing Sign-Up Process."

..

"Response Recorded. Aborting Connection to WORLD_ID SERIES6...Connection Aborted"

..

"...Sing-Up Process Completed. Initiating Log-In Sequence..."

..

..

..

"ERROR."

-----------

Yuuma sat by the river, waiting for something big to happen.

He knew he wasn't support to be there. Tour Guide hade explicitly told everyone to not get close to the Gate during new world maintenance, but being his curious self, he guiltlessly ignored the warning. Why? Because of the aforementioned new world, of course!

From what he knew about it -which wasn't much, but Juudai-senpai had been rambling about all the different Duelists, Decks and weird game mechanics that they might see for two weeks straight and that sort of gave him a general idea-, this new world thing was a pretty big deal in Duel Links, and with it being so covered up, Yuuma was all too hyped to see what it was like for himself, consequences be damned.

He'd tried world-switching to no avail, as he sebsequently found out that the game wasn't only staggering log-outs, it was also staggering travelling through Duel Worlds for however long he was stuck here. He'd tried asking everyone he knew about it over his D-Gazer too, but that didn't work, and neither did begging a sleepy Kaito to try and hack the game for more info..

..Which led back to him sitting by the river, kicking his legs back and forth as Emperor's Key swayed in the morning breeze, dangling from the string in his hand while he kept waiting, waiting, and waiting some more...

"Yuuma?"

"Eek!" The Xyz Duelist practically jumped five feet into the air upon hearing his name being called, thoughts racing in frantic circles as he turned to see someone approaching...then immediately relaxing when he realized exactly who that someone was.

"Three!"

Michael Arclight smiled, waving gently as he tottered to the river bank and sat down next to Yuuma, who sighed in relief at knowing he wasn't in grave trouble for getting caught near the Gate. The two traded greetings, then settled into silence as they gazed at the horizon, at the clear sky and rising sun of their Duel World's landscape. If it were him, Michael would be content with just staying like that and admiring the view, but the ball of excitement next to him wasn't about to share that sentiment anytime soon.

"Sooooooo..." Yuuma began "What are you gonna do today?"

"Hm? What do you mean?" His friend gave him a puzzled look, and Yuuma made a broad gesture with his arms in response, as if that was supposed to mean something.

"You know, about the, uh, the new world? Are you gonna visit that? Duel people there? I don't know what to expect from it to be honest, it's the first time for us and I'm reeaally excited and also curious and I can't wait to see what will happen...but we can't find out anything before the maintenance ends, and it looks like it's gonna take a while and I'm getting bored so, what are you gonna do?"

Michael hummed thoughtfully, glancing at his Duel Disk "Well, I was thinking of waiting until things settled down before doing anything about all of this. A game this big can get quite unstable with such a huge update, you know? That's why I came here anyway, and..." the pink-haired Duelist blushed faintly "..I may or may not have decided to ignore what Guide-san said about the Gate in the process. Please don't tell anyone I was here?"

"Don't worry, my lips are sealed." Yuuma said, mimicking a zipper sound as he ran two fingers along his lips for effect "No one will ever know of your super classified one-time incident of breaking the law...not that that law made sense anyway. I mean, COME ON..."

Michael giggled, listening as Yuuma launched into a full-on rant about how meaningless them 'closing' the Gate area was. He wasn't exactly wrong though; if it was about as dangerous as Guide said, surely there would be some obstacle or lock to stop people from getting too close, right? Surely she wouldn't just count on everyone to not be reckless enough to ignore her, right? Unless...

Unless the error she's dealing with here might cause serious backlash if she tried inputting a new command that also interacts with the Gate, in which case-

Any other thought that would have followed that trail instantly vanished when the Gate suddenly exploded with blue light, and in that moment, Michael's world went quiet.

-----------

"Unacceptable! This is unacceptable! I have a fucking job interview in two hours, how am I supposed to get ready in time for that??"

Yuusei sighed, running a hand through his already mussed hair for what was probably the eighth time in thirty minutes. Tour Guide's sudden announcement of an emergency maintenace -one that somehow overlapped with the new world's- had put everyone on edge, even more so after they found out they couldn't log out until it was over. As a result, every single Duelist currently in the 5D's World had gathered at the Deck Editor and unanimously decided to wait out the maintenance period there...but some of them weren't particularly happy about being stuck in the game for however long it took.

Chief of those was Jack, who kept pacing next to the table Team 5D's and co. clustered around, all while throwing several uncharitable insults at Guide, Isono, Kaiba, and basically everyone affliated with the Duel Links staff.

"Why do they have to keep messing up every time they launch one of those new words?? I swear, if I see any of those little-"

Carly instinctively covered her ears when the Resonator Duelist let out a particularly nasty swear, and Crow shot him a miffed glare from behind. Yuusei sighed again, then slowly pushed himself out from his chair to rest a hand on Jack's shoulder.

"Jack, please go get a cup of coffee and cool down." He said in an uncharacteristically pleading, tired tone "We're all stuck here, we all have important things to do, and some of us haven't slept for twenty-six hours. It'd do everyone a lot of good if you stopped yelling at empty air for a while."

Jack crossed his arms and huffed, but forced himself to simmer down regardless.

"...Fine. I'll go get myself some coffee and 'cool down' or whatever, but not because you asked me to, it's because I need some fresh air." And with that, the former King of Duels strode out of the Studio, coat flapping dramatically in a gust of wind before he went completely out of view.

"Good riddance." Crow let his head drop on the table with a low thud, raising a thumbs-up in Yuusei's general direction, and while he normally wouldn't agree with that sentiment, the Synchro Duelist was currently grateful for the calmer atmosphere of the place, now that Jack was gone. He slid back into his chair, hoping to get some shut-eye to compensate for staying up for all of the night before...

"Guys, we have a problem."

...Or not. Yuusei looked up in time to see Bruno -No, stop it, that's Antinomy- dropping in the chair between him and a barely conscious Kiryuu, the computer in his hands flashing with several warning signs overlapping on top of strings of code, which kept appearing and disappearing at a seemingly random pace. This, the noiret decidedly thought, peering intently at the screen, definitely doesn't look good.

"The energy output is spiking around the Gate area and the ones close to it." Antinomy explained to no-one in particular, his usually passive face set in a stressed frown as he clicked away at the keyboard "It appears that whatever issue that caused this emergency maintenance has gone completely out of control, and while we don't know exactly what that means, compressing so much energy in a certain area, no matter how broad..."

"...is bound to make it blow up." Yuusei concluded, eyes widening as his mind caught up with the implication behind that "This means the Duel Studio and everyone in it will be affected if anything happens to the Gate."

Antinomy nodded "Exactly. It could be that someone is trying to log in, and that's why I'm asking you to go and- dammit!" He swore, fingers moving across the keyboard at a far more frantic pace when the computer let out a series of long, loud beeping sound. Yuusei was pretty sure he got whiplash from how fast he turned to see what was going on-

-but before he could register more than the word "ERROR" bolded in blue across the screen, he felt a shock of static, and then...nothing.

-----------

"Automated Reboot Successful. Log-In Sequence...Complete."

"Connecting to WORLD_ID SERIES2...Connection Successful."

"Linking with.."

"..Sakaki Yuuya."

-----------

The first thing he felt when he came to was a gentle breeze tousling his hair, rays of sunshine lighting up his eyelids, and droplets of water spraying his face every couple seconds. It wasn't raining, that much he gathered, which meant that he'd most likely spawned near a fountain or a river, since there was no trace of the salty scent of seawater in the air.

Yuuya opened his eyes. Sure enough, there was a fountain to his left, its marble structure adorned with a ring of green leaves that carried all kinds of colourful flowers, water flowing from it center and from the sides. Pushing himself up, the tomato-haired Duelist looked around, taking in the rest of his current surroundings, and the first thing that caught his attention was a huge, round portal thingy that hovered in the air, with glowing lines of blue circuitry running through its silvery white perimeter.

That must be the Gate, he thought that's how I came here.

A bit further ahead was what seemed to be another portal, but this one was rectangular in shape, unlike the Gate's circle, and it was completely blue as well. Yuuya watched as the portal rotated in place slowly, the other side of it coming into view with the label 'Duel School' appearing on top of it. Curious, he reached out a hand to touch the portal...

...only to pull back immediately when the pixels forming it fizzled and crackled with electricity, shocking him.

"Ow ow ow ow ow!!" Yuuya clutched his stung hand with the other, hissing in pain at the contact before letting go of his hand. He sucked in deep breath then slowly exhaled, wiping the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes before turning away from the Duel School to keep walking (and to will away the sick, fleeting memory the shock had sparked for a moment).

Yeesh, that wasn't a great first interaction... he grimaced, waving his hand in the air in hopes that it would calm the stinging pain down But that doesn't mean I can't find something good if I keep looking. I wonder where all the other Duelists are.

The path he was walking down split into two at the end. Yuuya turned around, chancing one more look at the admittedly beautiful yet strangely desloate area he started in. He chalked its emptiness up to it being quite early in the morning...but then again, it wasn't morning for everyone around the world, so maybe it was just that the area was mainly used as a terminal, which would explain why he was the only one there...

Wait.

Wait.

He shouldn't be.

Switching his Duel Disk on with a quick swipe (which was an honestly stupid action in hindsight because damn his hand stung hard from that), Yuuya dialed the very first contact on his list, running the hand with the Disk strapped to it through bi-colored bangs and pushing them out of his face as the device rang once, twice, three times. Where was everyone else? He, Yuzu and Gongenzaka had logged in at the same time, and Sora had told them he'll jump in right after, so why was he the only one to come out of the Gate?

*Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din, din-ding...Din-di-di-din-*

"Hello."

Yuuya blinked, then did a double take at the soft, young voice that came from the other end of the call. That...that wasn't Yuzu. He swallowed.

"..I'm sorry, who am I talking to?"

A few moments passed before the voice replied "My name is Sera. You must not recognize me, but please don't worry, the owner of this device is safe and sound, and if you wish to talk to her, she is here with me."

The line went silent then. Well, almost silent; Yuuya could hear bits of chatter and the sound of someone fiddling with the Duel Disk...before said someone decided to blast his eardrums full-force, like she always did.

"Yuuya! Where the heck are you?!" Yuzu cried out, and he found himself smiling at the familiar loudness "I've been looking for you everywhere!!"

He winced when her voice cracked on the last word, hand running through his hair again as he laughed nervously "Sorry, sorry! I...honestly don't entirely know where I am yet. Thought we'd start at the same place, but I guess we didn't..." He glanced around for any sort of landmark to pinpoint his position, then remembered where he came from at first and settled on that "Um, can you see the Gate? I'm standing close to it."

There was a beat of silence, then an audible sigh. "I see," Sera muttered at length "Sakaki-san, I think you have logged into a different Duel World than the one Hiiragi-san and I are in at the moment..because we're standing right in front of the Gate."

It took a full ten seconds for Yuuya's brain to register that, and when it did, all that came out of his mouth was a drawn-out "Whaaaaaaat??"

"...You skipped the rest of the tutorial, didn't you?" Yuzu's voice carried a hint of amusement and fondness, before assuming a more serious tone "Okay, look. If you check your Duel Disk, you'll find two arrows in a circle at the top left corner. Click that, and you'll get a list of the five different Duel Worlds in the game. Sera said that something happened before we came here that stopped everyone from travelling between those worlds, and apparently there was a sixth world that we were supposed to log into but didn't...anyway, the highlighted name will show you the world you're in. I'm in the fourth one right now..."

Yuuya listened as Yuzu explained what happened to her after logging into the Duel World, following her instructions all the while. A quick check told him that he was in the second world, the one labeled 'Duel World Series 2'. He nodded along his friends' words, and when she finished, he took yet another look at his surroundings.

"Alright, gotcha, I'm in the second world." He said, and it was then that he decided to head left "I guess I'll go take a look around the place, see if I can find out where everyone else is, and wait until we can all switch to the same world. It's great to hear you're alright, Yuzu. Take care!"

"Hey, that's my line!" She quipped in response, and Yuuya could practically hear the playful grin on her face "But seriously, I'm glad to know you're doing fine too. See you later, Yuuya."

And with that, the line went dead. Not even bothering to turn his Disk off, Yuuya broke into a quick jog, humming a cheerful tune to himself and grinning widely as he started rhyming the tune to his steps. Yuzu was fine, she was okay, they'll find each other soon enough and meet up with their friends, and they'll have tons of fun exploring the game, just as they planned.

Yeah, that's the spirit!

He only slowed down when the smooth, metallic path turned into dirt, patches of grass growing randomly in the way and on the sides, as well as a pair of trees and a few stray daisy bushes. A huge structure that felt so very out of place loomed ahead of him, its futuristic design and neon blue lines contrasting sharply with the simple greenery surrounding it, despite only being separated from that by a ring of gray tiles at the end of the dirt path. Upon closer inspection, there appeared to be a floating label above it that spelled out the words "Duel Studio", and a sliding door that opened on its own when Yuuya came close. The Pendulum Duelist stepped through-

"Ack!"

-and promptly crashed into a blur of black, stumbling backwards as a result. Leaning on the now-open door for support, Yuuya nursed his head with his free hand, letting out a small sigh before he looked up to check on whoever it was that he bumped into...and froze when he locked eyes with them.

That shade of gold was...familiar.

Yuuya's eyes widened, and the brunette facing him mirrored the action for a split second, before his shock faded into a passive scowl that clashed with his fluffy, Kuriboh-like hair. Yuuya opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure exactly what, but the taller male turned back to the Duel Studio, subtly motioning for him to come along, and whatever it was that he wanted to say went out of the window.

"Follow me." His voice -slow, deep and clear- carried a distinctly authoritative tone as he strode ahead, and after a moment of apprehension, Yuuya found himself trailing behind. The guy looked like he knew where he was going, and didn't exactly seem opposed to talking to him, which meant he could possibly get some answers to the pile of questions building up in his head, and well, weird gut feelings aside, that was actually a good thing.

The two sat at a round, red table in a distant corner, and then just...stared at each other. Yuuya waited for the Kuriboh-haired Duelist -at least, he guessed he was a Duelist, judging by the strange custom model of a Duel Disk on his left arm- to say something, anything, but nothing came out, and he wasn't sure exactly how to start the conversation, so...he kept waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And waiting.

"............"

And then decided that was enough waiting. "Umm...are you even gonna say anything?" Yuuya asked after a full four minutes, half expecting to get no response..

..but the guy actually rolled his eyes at him, like he'd asked a stupid question or something "What are you expecting me to say?"

Huh. Okay, this man was kinda bad at conversing. Yuuya held back a sigh, plastered on a smile instead, and tried again.

"Hmm, how about an introduction? That sounds like a good start." He held out a hand "Nice to meet you, I'm Sakaki Yuuya. And you are..?"

The brunette's stared moved to Yuuya's outstretched hand, then back to his eyes...and then he sighed, holding his own hand to his temples as he mumbled something in a foreign language Yuuya couldn't make out (but assumed was an exasperated statement, based on the tone of what came next).

"Dear Lord, why is it that every single one of them turns out to be a child?"

"Huh?"

"You can see Duel Spirits," He said, pointing at Yuuya. It wasn't even a question, just a factual statement he threw as casually as someone discussing the weather forecast "and you most likely have a special bond with at least one of your cards, that may even go as far as your very soul being bound to it. Is that correct?"

A few moments passed in silence, and then: "How did you-"

"I knew that was the case. Listen to me, Sakaki Yuuya; I do not know the exact extent of your knowledge about the nature of this world, or that of the darkness you possess, but know this-" gold eyes narrowed dangerously, and Yuuya flinched in spite of himself "Duel Links is not just a game. There are greater forces behind the creation of the Duel Worlds, ones that can tamper with your memories and thoughts, even call back beings that were supposed to be gone forever and link different dimensioms. Your status as a Legendary Duelist means you are directly involved in everything that might happen in the new world, so proceed with caution, or prepare to deal with the consequences."

Yuuya reeled back in his chair, face going white. He stared down at his pendulum, gripping its dimly glowing crystal tightly in his hands -had it been doing that for a while? He had no idea. His head was starting to feel light, his throat got all choked up, and he was sure he'd be shaking if not for how tense his muscles were. What- what had he gotten himself into? If he'd known it was more than a game, if he'd known they'd be thrown in the middle of crossfire again-

Deep breaths, Yuuya, deep breaths.. He told himself before he got too lost in thought, inhaling sharply. Calm down, let it out slowly, relax.....yeah, there we go.

"Why are you telling me this?" The teen asked once he was certain his mini-panic attack was over, and he must've been imagining things because he could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on the other's face when he replied.

"In all honesty," he began slowly, the edge to his voice almost completely gone "I have had enough interdimensional conflict to last me a lifetime, and I would really rather not deal with any more of it if I can. I assume you understand where I'm coming from here?"

Yuuya hummed absently, and that seemed to be a satisfying answer to the brown-haired Duelist, who pushed himself out of his seat and turned to leave, but not without allowing himself another final sentence.

"Very well then. For your own sake, as well as everyone you may care about, I hope you're actually smart enough to follow my warning. Until we meet again...or not."

And with that, he walked away, disappearing behind the staircase to the right. As soon as he went out of sight, Yuuya let his head fall down on the table with an unceremonious flump!, making some inchoerent noises when the sound of some lady announcing the end of the 'Maintenance Break' blasted over the intercom above his head, and he became distantly aware of other voices and some footsteps sounding not too far from him.

*tap*

Alright, so he and everyone else have basically jumped into yet another grand scheme that caused conflict across different dimensions, but this time the stakes weren't as clear as in the Interdimensional War.

*tap-tap*

The thought was admittedly daunting, and he was a hundred percent sure no-one he knew would like to go through something like that again..

"Oi."

But on the bright side, it seemed that they weren't the only ones dealing with this sort of thing, which meant they could easily find many allies in the different Duel Worlds...yeah, if they kept an eye out, they should be all right-

"Oi!"

Yuuya's head snapped up when he realized someone was calling out to him, and when he looked up, he was greeted with the smiling face of..

"You again??"

..the same Kuriboh-haired Duelist?

"Sorry, what?"

Yuuya did a double take. Yeah, no, that wasn't him; the eyes were colored soft brown instead of hollow gold, and he was wearing a red jacket instead of a black robe too- Yuuya mentally scolded himself for overlooking the differences (but also found it somewhat funny because, you know, he had to deal with this kind of confusion more than once before).

"Nevermind, I think I confused you for someone else. My bad." He gave the red-jacketed brunette a sheepish grin, gesturing at the empty chair opposite to his, then watching as he placed his also strange custom model of a Duel Disk on the side of the table before sitting down himself, fiddling with the device all the while. Even the way he composed himself was different; this guy felt far more lax and chill compared to the other one, and it made Yuuya relax a bit in turn, the silence that stretched between them feeling more comfortable.

"So, let me guess..." Red Jacket began a bit later, leaning a bit forward with a curious glint in his eyes "You're one of the new kids?"

A small nod "You can say that, I guess. I'm Yuuya, and you?"

"Yuuki Juudai. Pleased to meet you, kiddo- wait, I can call you kiddo, right?"

"Sure, unless you're somehow younger than me, which I doubt because of the..height difference."

Juudai smiled again "Aight, kiddo it is then. I gotta say though, I'm impressed you managed to switch worlds that fast. Took me a whole week to realize that was even a thing."

He laughed, and Yuuya chuckled with him. "Actually.." he said afterwards, rubbing the back of his neck with a small, bashful smile "A friend told me about it, and I couldn't even use it when I first arrived. Something about an error happening with the new world and shutting down the whole game, I think? Yean, that locked out the switch thing for a while, and it stopped everyone from logging out too."

"Woah, for real?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Damn," Juudai slammed a hand down on the table "you sure had one heck of a first day, kiddo. Guide must be freaking out with all of this going on."

Yuuya blinked, confused "Guide?"

"Oh, you don't know her?" The older teen asked, quirking an eyebrow "She's, ah, the Duel Spirit of Tour Guide From the Underworld. Pretty much the one who manages this place, since the actual owner doesn't give a shit about the shenanigans happening around here, and she also runs the Duel School. You can go hit her up if you have any questions about the game; she's a great help for new players."

"A Duel Spirit..." Yuuya echoed quietly, stare moving down to the Deck slot of his Duel Disk. He closed his eyes for a moment, then looked up at Juudai and asked "So anyone can interact with them here? The spirits, I mean."

"Of course! It's part of the game's charm, y'know?" He answered, throwing a wink at Yuuya before continuing "Being able to hang out with all your monster friends, even if you might not see them in real life..I don't think anyone would pass up on something that cool."

The younger Duelist smiled at that, hand subconsciously touching the top of his Deck, which earned him several happy murmurs and a particularly loud roar as well "Yeah, that does sound pretty cool. I gotta try it sometime later."

"You totally should." Juudai agreed, taking out his own Deck and shuffling through it as he added "In the meantime...would you like a good ol' tabletop Duel? My old-ass relic of a Disk is being particularly laggy today, and I heard you had this cool summon mechanic with the backrow zones- what was it called again? Pendant? Pending?"

"It's Pendulum Summoning." Yuuya clarified, tentatively taking his Deck out of its slot when Juudai did the same "And uh, sure, I can show it to you if you want."

The brunette's smile turned into a wide grin as he whipped out a pair of folded game mats from his pocket and placed them on his and Yuuya's side of the table, putting each of their Decks on the far right before punching a fist in the air "Heck yeah! I'm finally the first to Duel the new kid with the new cards, this is gonna be a lot of fun!"

"Definitely!" He nodded, his own smile widening as he drew his starting hand with a little more flourish than necessary for a tabletop Duel- not that he really cared, what mattered at the moment was that, even if he was going to have to fight again later down the line, he was going to enjoy Dueling to the maximum as long as he could. No use worrying about the future, all he came here to do was have fun, and fun was he going to have.

Watch out, Duel Links, here I come..!

"LET'S DUEL!!"

~~~~~~~

THE END, finally. This, for whatever reason, took me three weeks to finish alongside the other prompts (okay actually Yuuya's POV slipped from me and I barely managed to end it where I did), and I couldn't even make it on time ffs. There goes my plans to deliver all chapters on time...but I at least hope you enjoyed reading. ...Oh yeah, you may have noticed by now that I left some loose ends here and there (like the conclusion of the chapter for the residents of Duel Worlds ZEXAL and 5D's, AKA those poor souls who got a mass reboot error and received no answers as to why), and to that I say...nothing. Yeah, you gotta wait a little while longer to see what happened to them after the reboot. That said, I shall now take my leave and return to the land of Ao3, see y'all on...someday by the end of the month, I guess.

[freunwol]

do you happen to have any more phanlumi food i'm so sorry but i'm starving dfgkjdfkjdfg

YELLS UH its been a hot minute but i will provide uwu

- i stand by them not telling the other heroes abt them dating for like way too long, i think eventually phantom would just wanna keep it quiet to fuck with them when they finally did reveal it however much later (”ive had so many conversations with you two how the fuck did you keep it secret” “honestly i dont know either”)

- i also stand by lumi writing shitty poetry with his whole heart, like super stilted but he means it so much...idk that hed be bad at poetry in general but when it comes to his own feelings he doesnt know how to express them aside from Very Literally or not that much at all

- which on the topic of that, makes properly opening up abt his own stuff hard, both out of embarrassment for being too honest AND potentially initially feeling like he should be able to shoulder phantoms weird bull and not burden him...that falls apart as they like talk n shit but i think when theyve just done that Single Genuine Convo i mentioned he’d still have that feeling.

- phan prolly feels like utter trash when lumi explains how much finding out he’s part bm fucked w him...like he thought it would just get on his nerves but no he was having an existential crisis Oops

- lumi doesnt rlly blame him tho...not really. like he knows holding it against him would be silly considering tensions were high at that point and phan didnt know, but... :thinking: (ik thats not happy but even for a while lumi likely still shoves any resentment down, force of habit yknow? and hopefully eventually he’ll feel comfortable enough knowing phantom wouldnt hate him for bringing up past stuff that he could properly communicate stuff that hurt)

...im curious how much of this will change once they rewrite stuff LMAO that whole hc was based on the hom encounter and how much i dislike it kfjdghskfjdshgfdjsk

- tho BASED on the hom encounter, taking it at face value, phan would prolly understand more why lumi snapped back since phan happened to swing a bat at a hornets nest. and given how phan is he may just forgive it on that since lumi would honestly never say something like that unless he was really at the edge of his rope (THESE ARE ALL SO SERIOUS BUT INSECURITIES AND COMMUNICATION ARE IMPORTANT PARTS OF A RELATIONSHIP YKNOW UR GONNA KNOW SOMEONE MORE THAN LIKE ANYTHING ELSE OK THEY HAVE HURDLES!!!)

- i think if they have an argument every sentence is preceded by like “you know i love you but that chair does not fucking go there”

- phan goes between growing his hair out and having it short, and when its long lania braids it and stuff. lumi never comments on it but he thinks it cute

- phan tries to convince lumi to grow his out but lumis afraid it’ll make him look like wm so he tells him to dye then grow it which prompts an eye roll followed by a slightly too serious deliberation on what color would be fitting (brunette lumi? :eyes:)

- phan tries and completely fails to teach lumi how to dance

- oh my god there was a fluff text abt lumi and lania making a cream cheese spread and i cant entirely remember it but its dear to me and wait ho0ly shit

- they prolly cant cook like ~20 star michelin chefs~ on the lumiere but having just a plain ol homecooked meal would prolly send phan into tears when he first tries it

- and he cherishes all the little snacks and bits and stuff lumi and lania makes and tries to help out but aside from like chopping vegetables he doesnt rlly know what hes doing

- fuck super domestic phanlumi melts my heart im just picturing him and lumi gathering apples from nearby trees and theyre chatting and the light through the trees catches on lumi perfectly and phans heart melts hOUGH good shit

- and on the flipside i mentioned him and phantom looking at the moon on the lumiere and one particular night even tho lumi never rlly paid any attention to his looks it hits him perfectly and he just understands what ppl see all at once

- and he cherishes the nights they can do that even more now

- these have been kind of phantom centric oops but i think, again, lumi really cherishes being able to talk honestly with him and understand him- and being able to express that even in a minor way. hes a very caring person T~T

i wrote so much more than i thought i would and i can prolly write more but like. soft idiots

[razieltwelve]

The Kids Are Fighting Again (FGO x Final Rose)

“Augh!” 

Fujimaru tried and failed to hold back a chuckle as Diana clutched at her head.

“Someone help!” Diana cried. “This mean girl is picking on me!”

The ‘mean girl’ in question was actually Diana’s sister. The group had stumbled across her on their way to confront the current ruler of Gaul. The pink-haired girl had taken one look at Diana, chopped her over the head, and then declared she would be joining them because someone had to keep her little sister out of trouble.

“Oh, be quiet.” Averia glared. Despite being a twelve-year-old, her glare was truly menacing. It made him wonder if she actually possessed Mystic Eyes of some kind. “I leave you alone for five minutes, and you end up getting summoned on another planet because, apparently, their history is going berserk and humanity could be wiped out. Can’t you at least try to stay out of trouble?”

“Technically,” Diana pointed out. “You left me alone for more than a decade since, you know, you died first.” Diana rubbed her head. “And it’s not like I could just stand by and do nothing.” She struck a pose, chest puffed out, and hands on her hips. Since she was a little kid, it looked absolutely ridiculous. “Besides, Fujimaru here is a true believe in the power of friendship. There was no way I could leave him to fend for himself.”

“...” Averia covered her face with one hand. Unlike Diana, who was dressed entirely in absurdly bright orange, she was dressed in a jeans, a jacket, and a baseball cap. If he didn’t know better, he’d have assumed she was just so regular person who’d gotten caught up in the Singularity. “Even death can’t stop you from getting into trouble. I guess I’ve got not choice.” She nodded firmly. “I’ll be coming along. Don’t worry, though, I’m no slouch. I can pull my own weight.”

“Excuse me,” Mash asked. “But what sort of Servant would you happen to be?”

“I’m a Caster,” Averia explained. “Basically, I summon things to fight for me. I also have access to powerful buffing and de-buffing abilities, so if we come up against someone strong, just keep them away from me, and I’ll stop them from doing anything scary.”

“That sounds handy.” Fujimaru smiled. “Welcome to the group, I guess. We’re supposed to go defeat the ruler of Gaul, so we’d be glad to have the help.”

“It looks like you’ll need it.” Averia pointed. “Because your allies just seem to be charging toward the enemy without anything even close to a plan.”

X    X     X

Mash was curious about what sort of abilities Averia would have. Whenever anyone asked about her family, the first person that Diana always mentioned was her Super Awesome Sister Who She Had Never Defeated. The verbal capitalisation of the words only added to the idea that Diana’s sister was some kind of invincible killing machine capable of obliterating entire worlds.

Now, some of that was undoubtedly exaggeration. Mash considered Diana a good friend, but the little girl was definitely prone to exaggerating. Then again, she had also witnessed Diana drop kick a dragon into the sunset during the Orleans Singularity using her Devastatingly Deadly Dropkick of Doom Version 5.4™, so she couldn’t dismiss Diana’s words entirely. 

“We should probably help them,” Mash murmured as Boudica and Spartacus led the charge into the enemy ranks. 

“You should take Fujimaru and some of the others and sneak into the enemy camp while their army is distracted.” Averia sighed. “I’ll help out over here.” She motioned, and a chess piece appeared in her hand. “The battlefield is something I know very well.”

The chess piece was a rook, and Averia crushed it in her hands. It vanished, and a massive, spectral tower appeared around her. All along its length, openings appeared, and Mash could make out the ends of cannons poking out.

“It’ll be fine,” Averia said. “Just leave this part to me.”

There was a thunderous roar, and the cannons fired, unleashing a blazing salvo that carved a swathe through the enemy ranks. A second salvo followed soon after, blowing craters into the ground and sending bodies flying every which way.

“It’s not very subtle,” Averia admitted. “But it gets the job done.” She tilted her head to one side. “And now they’re headed this way, just as expected.” A knight piece appeared in her hand. She crushed it, and spectral knights appeared, charging off to meet the incoming soldiers. “Go on, this will end quicker if you and the others can deal with the enemy commander.” 

X    X     X

“Behold!” Diana cried. “The Power of the People’s Elbow!”

Fujimaru couldn’t help but grin at the look of exasperation on Averia’s face. They had somehow managed to survive Altera’s attack, but they needed to defeat her before she could use it again. Thankfully, a bit of cooperation had allowed them to distract Altera long enough for her to be caught in one of Averia’s Noble Phantasms.

“I can’t believe she’s actually going to use that technique...” Averia sighed. “Well, she’ll probably survive using it since her opponent can’t resist it right now, but still...”

"Your Noble Phantasm is truly splendid,” Nero said, interrupting anything else Averia was going to say. She smiled sunnily and ruffled the girl’s hair, prompting a vicious glare from the Caster. However, Averia was powerless to do anything except glare since she needed to devote her attention to maintaining her Noble Phantasm’s effect. “To think a Noble Phantasm existed that could not only cancel the target’s skills and abilities but also seal away their Noble Phantasms as well!”

“Could you please stop ruffling my hair?” Averia asked.

“Umu... you look even more adorable when you glare,” Nero replied, continuing her hair ruffling. “And look, your sister is about to deliver the finishing blow!”

Restrained by the others, Altera was unable to dodge or defend herself as Diana bounded forward, climbed up onto Boudica’s shoulders and then flung herself into the air toward the other Servant.

“Taste the power of friendship, villain!” Diana screamed as she descended toward her target elbow first. “This is the elbow that shattered the world and smashed the seas, this is the elbow that brings all evildoers to justice! It is the elbow of...”

“She must be using some kind of Noble Phantasm to do that,” Fujimaru murmured. “Because she should have hit Altera by now.”

“It’s built into the technique,” Averia explained. “She can actually ramp up its power without using more energy by ranting more about how awesome it is before it connects.”

“This is the People’s Elbow, the Elbow of Justice... the Exceedingly Excellent Elbow of Existence Erasure Version 7.9™!” Diana roared as her elbow finally - finally - connected with Altera. A blinding flash of light followed, and when it cleared, there was nothing left of Altera. Slowly, Diana lowered her elbow and struck a victory pose. “Once again, the elbow goes undefeated...” She stared off into the distance. “And once again, the power of friendship triumphs.”

X    X     X

Author’s Notes

As strange as it might seem, Averia and Diana actually work extremely well together. In particular, Averia has a Noble Phantasm called Time Out that stops its target from using skills, abilities, and Noble Phantasms. It is massively expensive to use, and she can't do anything else while using it. However, with Diana around to elbow/drop kick/gut punch whoever she is targeting, that’s not a problem.

If you’re wondering why Diana drop kicked the dragon in the previous singularity, it’s because it tried to eat her. Incidentally, whenever Averia is around, Diana insists on getting a piggyback because she is once again smaller than Averia.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here. I’ve recently released two stories, Attempted Adventuring and Surviving Quarantine, as well as two audiobooks, Two Necromancers, a Bureaucrat, and an Army of Golems and Two Necromancers, a Dragon, and a Vampire. If you like humour, action, and adventure, be sure to check them out.

[eyesfixedonthesun22]

Spark

Summary: There was no particular cause for celebration, no world threat thwarted, and no one’s birthday. The Avengers were relaxing.  Pairing: Stoner!Bucky x Gender Neutral Reader Warning(s): Drug Use: Marijuana, Cursing, Smut (18+), Voyeurism Word Count: 3,126 Gif Credit: @vivacite Beta Reader: My darling honey bun, @supersoldiersruined-me​ Notes: This is my entry to @barnesrogersvstheworld 4K writing challenge. My prompt was “Come over here and sit by me.” Thank you so much for hosting this, Attie! I’ve had a fascination with the idea of stoner!bucky for months now. Can’t wait to write more for him. 

Rooftops made you smile. It didn’t matter if it was a rooftop club, sprinting across various buildings to catch the villain of the moment, or the hidden perch you’d made at your childhood home. Being high above everyone, in your own little universe, made you smile. The Avengers Compound had the best rooftop. Technically they had the best of everything, if you asked Tony. Screw the rest; as long as you could keep the rooftop.

In the winter, the climate control dome was raised against the elements; giving off the feeling of living in a temperate snow globe. Once things started warming, the dome was lowered, and the rooftop became a mecca for the entire team.

The roof was expansive with plenty of nooks and hideaways to enjoy a good book, sunbathe, or relax undisturbed. It was littered with greenery. Flowers of all shapes and colors dotted across the shades of green. The east end housed the large garden area that was a favorite of Wanda’s. The west end had a brilliant sparkling pool half-shaded by a large wooden pergola. In the center was a large fire pit surrounded by earth toned bricks. That’s where the outdoor kitchen, bar, and lounge were all situated. It frequently hosted team get-togethers and summer barbecues. Triangular slivers of canvas stretched tight between supports to form a stunning geometric pattern around the firepit. They allowed the heat and smoke to rise undisturbed while anyone lounging below remained shaded from sun or rain.

Tonight, the entire team was gathered. There was no particular cause for celebration, no world threat thwarted, and no one’s birthday. The Avengers were relaxing. The evening was perfect for it. The sky was dusky purple; not yet revealing its stars. It was comfortably warm without making you swelter and sweat. Clint had manned the grill while Nat and Wanda helped prepare the side dishes. You were stuffed and your mind wandered to dessert.

“S’mores time!” Tony singsongs as he navigates from the elevator over to the lounge with a huge tray filled with supplies.

You should get up to help him but you’re far too comfortable. You and Bucky share an oversized cushion near the fire pit. Your back rests against the small retaining wall behind you while Bucky lays with his legs casually draped in your lap.

“Need me to explain to you what a s’more is, old man?”

Bucky may have glared at you, but you only feel the retaliating pinch. “I’ll have you know s’mores were invented before my time.”

“Impossible. There is no time before you. You’re ancient.” Another pinch. This time you tickle the sole of his foot causing him to squirm away. You regret the tickling.

Bucky walks over to the dining table and rummages through his various jacket pockets. When he’s found what he was searching for he plops down once more, head resting on your lap. He shakes an orange bottle vigorously in front of your face.

“Let’s make the s’mores s’more fun.”

“What the hell do you mean?” The rest of the team has come to gather around the fire. Nat assesses the seating arrangements and cocks her brow at you. Your return expression couldn’t say mind-your-damn-business more if you wanted. The casual intimacy you share with Bucky is nice, but it’s never progressed. Everyone was aware of the dance you two were doing except Bucky.

Bucky shakes the bottle once more demanding your attention. “According to the DSM-5 and my lovely therapist, I have depression, anxiety, PTSD, and I’m sure a whole litany of other diagnoses. One positive is that I qualify for my medical marijuana card.”

“Thank god. I’m sick of you pilfering my stash!” Clint chimes in.

“As I was saying,” he huffs, “I used my card to stock up on some ‘special chocolates’. I thought we could use some of them in the s’mores.”

“Weed works for you?” Bruce asks, clearly curious about the inner workings of super soldier metabolism.

“Shocked me too. But yes. Just need a higher dose. I’ve been smoking for years before it was legal.”

“Bucky Barnes, The Winter Stoner,” you chuckle. Your joke earns massive cackles from the entire team.  Another affectionate pinch to your side.

“I won’t share with you if you keep teasing me!”

“I don’t want any if I can’t tease you!”

Some of the team welcome the special chocolate to their desserts, others opt for cocktails. You hesitate when faced with your own decision.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

“I haven’t…”

“Never?”

“I have before. But back in high school. I took a couple hits off a friend’s bowl and had such a bad asthma attack I vowed never to touch the stuff again. Not to mention how unsettling it can be for my type A personality to feel out of control.”  

Bucky quirks his lips into a contemplative smirk. “I’m not forcing you, but I think you’d like this. I got an Indica strain.”

“Meaning?”

“Indica. In-da-couch.” Your face remains blank. “It’s relaxing. Other strains can give more of a head high, paranoia, and that out of control feeling you don’t want. Indicas help me turn my brain off and relax.”

You hesitate for a half beat longer before reaching for the chocolate.

“Hold up, darlin’.” He snatches the handful of chocolate from you. “You should probably only have one square of the special and two of the regular on your s’more. Don’t want you loopy high. Just relaxed high.”

“Don’t feel like babysitting loopy me?”

“Only looking out for ya, doll.” He kisses your temple before carrying the marshmallow clad skewers over to the fire; leaving you to grab the plate with the rest of the supplies.

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

The night buzzed. Everyone on the team was either tipsy or stoned; content and bubbly. The summer stars were hidden from view. A large storm had blown in during the past hour. It didn’t seem to bother anyone. They all knew full well the fire pit area was sheltered allowing the festivities to continue unhindered.

The team had dispersed to various parts of the rooftop. A group was enjoying a nighttime swim while another splintered off to the grill for more snacks. You hardly paid attention. You watched the thunderstorm intently as it rolls across the grounds of the compound. Thunderheads collapse into destruction only to be remade higher and darker than before as the storm inched closer and closer. You took a deep breath and realized how happy you are. It wasn’t some out of control stupor but a delicate boost of your mood.  

“Someone’s feelin’ it.” Sam’s voice cuts through your revere. You hide your face in Bucky’s shoulder unable to contain the giggles. He rubs gentle strokes up and down your back.

“You okay, doll?” He whispers low enough only you can here.

“I’m great, Buck.” You gaze up at him. “Certainly capable of kicking some asses at cards.”

You abandon the shared cushion and go investigate Sam and Steve’s card game. If you’d looked back, you would have seen the disappointment on Bucky’s face from losing your proximity. There’s plenty of chairs near the boys but the marijuana has made you overly social, so you plop right on Sam’s lap.

“Hey there, Agent.” Sam purred seductively. One hand holds his collection of cards and the other rests on your hip. Steve glances over at Bucky knowingly.

“Deal me in, gentleman!”

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

Sometime during the fifth hand, the storm officially arrived. The patterns and strategy which usually come naturally to you are muddled and poorly formed while stoned. A card shark you were not. The symphony of rolling thunder and lightning crackling was distracting you anyway.

Those of the group that had gone swimming had called it a night with the first flash of lightning. Your group of four were all that remained on the rooftop in your little oasis. Bucky had been feeding the fire, content to read his book while you played poker with Sam and Steve. He glances over at your face as if sensing your straying focus. You smile warmly at him and declare you’re folding this hand.

“It’s not even your turn!” Sam scoffs.

“Let it be, man.” Steve says noticing how Bucky’s looking at you.

You rifle through the large storage cabinet and dig out your favorite blanket before walking over to Bucky. He had collected the majority of the outdoor pillows creating a massive personal lounging nest beside the fire.

“Darling,” he acknowledges you; looking up from his book and setting it aside. You smile back and hold up the blanket like a suggestion. “Come over here and sit by me.”

He’s reclined against the mountain of pillows at his back, but his large frame manages to occupy most of the floor cushion. He pats the area between his legs.

You’re unsure if it’s the weed or Bucky’s own natural high he seems to impart on you, but you’re acutely aware of his body as he embraces you; your back to his chest. He reaches for the blanket, forming a cage around you with his arms as he fluffs it out to cover you both. You settle in against him, seeking his warmth. The storm has dropped the temperature and you have far too much skin exposed to fight off the subtle summer chill.

“How you feeling, doll?” The words are mumbled against your scalp. It sends a cascade of tingles through you. “Is it too much?”

Is he talking about the weed or his proximity you wonder?

“I’m actually plateauing? It’s not as nice as it was a couple hours ago.”

He reaches out of your field of vision producing a multicolored glass object. “I was gonna take a hit or two. Wanna top up? Your call, love.” With that one word you almost felt as though you had already taken one. He can’t see your face, so you nod. “What about the asthma?”

You feel the rumble of laughter reverberate out from his chest behind you. “I haven’t had an attack since I was eighteen, you ass!”

“Better safe than sorry, love.” That pesky word again.

He wraps his arms around you, holding the glass bowl in front of your face. His warm breath tickles your ear as he narrates his actions.

“Now I’m gonna do the hard part for you; so you don’t have to worry about that. I’m gonna hold the lighter to the bowl. You can start inhaling. I want you to squeeze my leg when you’re almost done inhaling.”

“Why?”

“See this little guy here? This hole on the side is called a carb. It helps clear the smoke from the bowl. When you squeeze my leg I’ll move my thumb off the carb, giving you a full hit.”

You wondered if anyone else explained getting stoned like a mission briefing. Probably just Bucky. “Got it.”

You lean forward placing your lips around the mouth of the bowl. Despite the mild anxiety, it doesn’t escape you Bucky’s lips have been on this same spot. The lighter sparks and he brings it towards the edge of the bowl. For a moment, you forget to inhale and simply watch the flame lick the sides of the glass and burn a corner of the green herb. You inhale gently, filling your lungs with smoke. You squeeze his thigh and see his thumb move. A rush of smoke fills your lungs to capacity. You hold it for a handful of seconds before sputtering-fuck! You can’t stop the coughing fit.

“It’s okay, honey. Coughing is normal.” His warm palm strokes soothingly up and down your arm.

“Is losing an entire lung normal?”

“Guess that asthma is still hanging around.”

Bucky smugly takes four more hits cough free while you recover. You turn your body to watch his hands move with practiced grace over the glass. He blows smoke rings on his last hit.

“Showoff.” It’s your turn to pinch his thigh. “Gimme another.”

“I don’t know, doll. We don’t have an inhaler up here and I really don’t wanna explain to the med staff why you’re in respiratory failure.”

“Don’t be an ass, Bucky.”

You’d never know but every time you say his name tingles fizz at the base of his neck in admiration.

“I have an idea.”

“Uh oh.” He continues on ignoring your sass.

“Have you ever heard of a shotgun?”

“The sawed-off form lives in my thigh holster.” Your sentence sent sparks straight to his jeans. How dare you be so unaware of his pain.

“As much as I adore your sarcasm, a shotgun is when I take a hit and pass it to you. It makes it less intense and could save your lungs a bit.”

“Pass it from where?”

“My mouth.” You could swear Bucky’s face held a subtle flush.

Agreeing to the shotgun plan, you scoot to be on your knees between his legs. Face to face. The blanket draped over your shoulders like a cape.

Spark, burn, inhale.

Bucky places his hand on your jaw, thumb against your chin; guiding your face towards his. His palm on the sensitive skin near your neck ignites you.

You part your lips and lean in to meet his but stop short. The distance between you both must be razor thin. He exhales gently. You inhale. The smoke is mellower this time, smooth and tingling. You take everything he gives you, hold, and exhale. Neither of you have pulled away.

“How do you feel?”

It’s a whisper. Your lips still parted. You feel his flutter against yours as they form the words. Lightning crackles in a spiderweb design followed by a delicious rumble of thunder. Bucky moves a hand to rest on the back of your neck.

“I feel like that. Lightning and thunder.”

Bucky closes the final distance between you. His lips press pillowy soft against your own. He’s timid. It’s as if he has no idea you’ve wanted this since you joined the team. You deepen the kiss pressing him back into the pillow nest. He tastes like s’mores. Smokey marshmallow and chocolate and something entirely his own.

“Fuck.” It’s barely above a whisper but the tone is sinful. “Babydoll, we can’t.” Your expression flips between shades of disappointment and hurt. “Doll, no. I want this. I want you. God I wish you knew.” He cradles your face, blue eyes meeting yours. “Sam and Steve are right there.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure, Barnes?”

His eyes glint; awoken by your challenge into some feral state. The responding kiss was bruising and deep but no less tender. You felt your insides thrum in turn. Bucky’s nips onto your bottom lip and neck only stoked your ravenous need for him to be closer.

Your legs straddled his lap, all prior sense of hesitation abandoned. You’re vaguely aware of Sam and Steve still engrossed in their game across the fire. The pouring rain swallows the heavy lewd breaths shared between you two.

“You’re killing me, darlin’.” Bucky sighs his words into the crook of your neck. He can’t bring himself to remove his lips off your skin. You pull back anchoring yourself with his eyes. His bottom lip is tinted from love bites. His previously tamed hair is tousled and knotted in your hand.

“I want you, Bucky.”

“Show me.”

The command falls from his mouth; his tone brown sugar sweet. You lean to taste him once more-

“Fucking hell-” You attempt to match his suave delivery, but it comes out a strangled moan. Bucky’s placed one hand on your hip and one on your ass. Using his leverage, he had pressed and pulled you against him. The new friction had your head reeling. You couldn’t help but think back to something you had read as a child in a weather book.

Lightning is a violent electrostatic discharge.

Your clothed core makes the trip down his body again while he suckles behind your ear.

Two electrically charged bodies temporarily equalize.

On the return drag, you feel the pressure of his erection against your own burning desire. The clothing between you two doing little to quell the want.

Lightning usually occurs during a thunderstorm.

This may as well be lighting. Bucky’s firm grip on the flesh of your hips had set a languid pace which ignited a molten plasma deep in your belly.

Push. Pull. Lightning. Thunder.

Each pass between the two of you creating your own storm while the real storm raged around you. There was no frenzy of ecstasy. Delicious sparks of pleasure are delivered to each of you with every collision of your hips. Your release rolled in slow and steady but powerful, like the thunderheads had earlier in the evening.

You’d have laughed if you were able. The two of you dry humping beside a bonfire while your friends sat not ten feet away. It was the stuff of horny teenagers, but you couldn’t help yourself. You were caught up in the storm and the chase to your own release.

“Bucky, I-” the declaration died in your throat with a particularly firm grind of his hips up into you.

“I know, darlin’. Me too.”

Something so simple shouldn’t be able to ignite you like this; yet it felt like charged particles danced along your skin each place Bucky touched with them all pooling low in your abdomen searching for the chance to explode.

“More.” It’s closer to a choked moan then a word. His lips never leave yours as he rolls you gently below him. The friction delivered from his weighted frame grinding against yours is better than before.

He ruts once more against you, grounding you. A lightning show explodes behind your eyelids, vision going white. Your core quakes with the aftershocks of your release while Bucky rides out his own.

Your hips still against his no longer searching for friction. The air around you feels moist and suffocating. You can’t be sure if it’s from your actions or the humid storm air. Regardless, you shimmy the blanket off stealing a glance over at your teammates. Sam and Steve appear to have switched games and are engrossed in rapidly flipping their cards over; occasionally slapping the pile and cursing at one another.

“Inside?” You jerk your head to the elevator. “It’s all sticky and gross.”

“Well I’m sorry! It’s not my fault I-” You purse your lips, struggling to maintain a straight face. “You meant the weather?”

“I did. But knowing I can get you all hot and sticky is always fun.” His eyes go wide. “Let’s go grab a shower, Sargent. Help you cool off.”

“Something tells me you’re gonna have the opposite effect.”

You grab his hand, eyes glinting as you tug him towards the elevator. Maybe he was right.  

[ericxanders]

Hold Your Breath || Eric&Owen

@owenepierce

Eric and Owen explore breathplay, and someone calls someone Daddy. No prizes for guessing who.

June 2020

Unfinished; clearing servers

Eric

The mention of breath play had Eric intrigued. He had some experience with the kink but it had been a while since he’d fully enjoyed it — and Owen, he was confident, would be a wonderful submissive to enjoy it with. Caleb was swimming, so he knew they’d have a few hours to play before he joined them. He had already come to the conclusion that after something as intense as this, a quiet, relaxed evening with good food and cuddling would be exactly what the doctor ordered. He was as prepared as he could be for the scene ahead when a knock on the door announced Owen’s arrival. He greeted him with a warm smile. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever get tired seeing you kneel for me angel.’ He grinned. ‘Come on in, through to the living room.’ He invited.25 

Owen

It had been a while since Owen had submitted for Eric. In that interim, Owen had been scening with various people, picking up other tricks and skills along the way - so he was excited to demonstrate some of those newfound abilities to the Dominant he’d mainly started off submitting to. Arriving at the all-too familiar suite, Owen dropped to his knees and bowed his head obediently as he did so. Without the hesitation he might’ve had a month and a half ago, the blonde submissive knocked on Eric’s door. Owen didn’t lift his head until after Eric’s initial greeting - and when he did, there was a distinct, warm smile gracing his features. “And I don’t think I’ll ever tire of lookin’ up at you, sir.” He responded cheerfully before rising to his feet and making his way past Eric and into the living room. Twirling around happily, Owen beamed at Eric. “How’ve you been, sir?”(edited)

Eric

Owen’s energy was infectious, and like he had every time they’d spent time together, he brightened up the room. ‘I’ve been good. Busy — apparently the better weather prompts people into wanting to hire a photographer.’ He chuckled. ‘I’ve missed you though.’ He admitted honestly. ‘Spending time with you puts me in a better mood. It should be a more regular thing.’ He smiled. ‘And how have you been? We don’t get to catch up properly on our runs.’ He remarked, as he took a seat on the couch. He placed a cushion on the carpeted floor next to him. ‘Come kneel by me angel. Let’s catch up a little and talk about the scene I have in mind.’

Owen

Owen gushed at Eric's confession and stepped closer to him, reaching out to take his hand and give it a little squeeze. "Aww, you're adorable. Y'know you don't have to miss me! I'm always down to hang out with you - so I hope that when you're not busy takin' pictures of people, you never hesitate to hit me up." Smiling after Eric as he took a seat on the couch, Owen followed suit and knelt on the cushion the offered to him. "I've been great! I've been doing a lot of scenes with a lot of different people, so I feel like I've learned a lot. I even did one with Blaine and Sam! They're great. I'm so glad you suggested I go and talk to him, sir. Not only am I learning a lot about being a good submissive, but Blaine and I have become pretty good friends, too." He propped his head on Eric's knee as is he were a literal Golden Retriever and grinned up at him. "But - yes! Our scene for the day. I'm excited to hear what you've got in store for me."

Eric

‘I’m really glad to hear that. All of it. I think the way you’ve embraced your mark is something rather beautiful.’ He observed. ‘I knew from our first scene together you were going to shine.’ He praised. It was exciting to see how Owen has grown into his role as a submissive — he’d never doubted the blonde would excel. ‘I’m definitely curious about the scenes you’ve been doing, what kinks you’ve been exploring. If you’re happy to share, we can talk about that later though.’ He nodded. Owen seemed to immediately settle and make himself comfortable, and Eric threaded his fingers through his hair. ‘Well, I’m sure it’s no surprise that ever since you posted about breath play, I’ve been thinking about that.’ He laughed. ‘That’s something I’d really like to explore with you. But it can be more dangerous than a lot of kinks so I think it’s something we should ease into. And something that requires us to have more than a safety word.’ He explained. ‘I want us to come up with a safety signal too. Something you can do easily if for whatever reason you can’t verbalise you’re word.’ He explained. ‘And I’ll definitely check in with you a lot more than usual.’ He assured him. He wanted to ensure he did everything he could to put Owen at ease. ‘Do you have any experience with breath play? Either participation or witnessing it?’ He asked.

Owen

Owen beamed at Eric's praise - like he always did when the other complimented him. Eric had a way of making him feel especially valued - not only as a submissive but as a person, in general. "Yeah, I'll definitely tell you all about some of the stuff I've been doing. Most of it's super hot." Owen added naturally with a little giggle. There'd be a better time and setting for that, though. For now, Owen settled into his cushion and listened intently as Eric explained the scene he had in mind and the intricacies that went along with it. The blonde nodded when Eric mentioned the potential dangers of the kink they were about to explore and nodded again in understanding of the necessity of a more complex system for safeword-ing. "I mean, I've definitely been choked a little during sex before - which I guess would be breath-play at is most simple. It was super hot. The lack of oxygen kinda heightens everything. There's a little adrenaline involved as well as that immediate feeling of being like...owned that I really enjoy. Plus, I'd imagine it'd give the dominant part a similar feeling of power and all that. Seems to me like a fun time all around, but I totally understand why you've gotta be careful when exploring it beyond a little choking." Owen admitted. "How would we go about doing that, by the way? Like...how else would you take my breath away? Besides choking me or just...y'know, looking as handsome as you always do." The blonde added with a flirtatious little smirk.(edited)

Eric

‘I can’t speak for all Dominants, but I want you to know this isn’t just a power thing. Not for me. It literally blows my mind how much trust a submissive puts in me with this sort of stuff. That’s what makes this all so rewarding and arousing.’ He clarified. Yes, power and being in control felt good, but it wasn’t his driving force. He laughed at Owen’s flirting, and shook his head. ‘I thought that safest way for us to start might just be for me to tell you to hold your breath.’ He explained. ‘Perhaps it’s the photographer in me, but I’m a voyeur and I think I know you well enough to deduce that you like putting on a show. So you’re going to masturbate for me; you’re going to put on a show and you’re going to do it while holding your breath.’ He grinned. ‘At first, you’ll be allowed to breathe out when you need to but that means you stop touching yourself. The pleasure stops. We’ll move on to you only be allowed to release your breath when I tell you too. And then, if you’re a very good boy for me, you’ll earn my hand around your throat.’ His mind flashed with images of exactly that; his hand around the submissive’s throat as he was allowed to cum. ‘And who knows, if you enjoy it as much as I hope you will, next time, we can talk about using my belt.’

Owen

"Any submissive would be crazy not to trust you, sir. ...I mean - I realize that everyone's got their own issues - but honestly, you're an amazing Dominant and person in general. I always feel super safe with you, and I'm sure that's not a thing that's gonna change in this scene either." Owen assured Eric, perking up as Eric began to explain how he saw the scene playing out. At Eric's closing point, Owen couldn't help but imagine Eric looming over him - one end of a belt in hand and the rest of it secured tightly around Owen's own neck. The image was enough to make his cock jerk slightly with arousal under his jeans. Biting his lip, he nodded earnestly. "Okay - I think that sounds perfect, sir... A real easy way to start - and the reward of getting your hand around my throat...hopefully while you're pounding me is more than enough incentive for me to do all I can to please you throughout this whole thing." Owen smiled, his eyes darkening slightly with lust. Reaching up to rest a hand on Eric's upper thigh, he gave him a squeeze and cleared his throat. "So... How do you want me, then?"

Eric

‘’Oh, I don’t have enough time to tell you all the ways I want you.’ He winked as he stood to his feet. He offered Owen a hand to help him stand. ‘But I think we should move this to the bedroom.’ He laced their fingers together and led him through, and when the door was closed, he turned and pressed him against it. Perhaps making out was an unconventional way to begin a scene, but Eric wanted to ease into this. He wanted to kiss him, be the one to arouse him rather than just having him strip. ‘Hands up above your head. Cross them at your wrists.’ He instructed firmly, before placing one hand over where they crossed to hold him in place. He kissed him. Soundly. Deeply. And he allowed his free hand to palm against his crotch as he did so.

Owen

Remaining on his knees as Eric stood, Owen smiled up at him and only raised himself up at Eric's direction, keeping hold of his hand as they made their way to the other's bedroom. Upon entering, Owen squealed out cutely as Eric swiftly and expertly moved to press him against the door as he closed it. Having a particular affinity for kissing during scenes, Owen was always thrilled when it wound up being a shared sentiment. Following Eric's instructions, Owen raised his arms, crossing his lips over each other, keeping his gaze locked headily with the other's - his own lips parting slightly in anticipation of what was to come. It was tough not being able to tug at the back of Eric's hair and urge the kiss on, but it was arousing nonetheless. Sighing into the heated exchange as their tongue's mingled desperately, Owen arched against Eric's fondling, breathing through his nose in an effort to prolong the kissing for as long as he could.

Eric

It felt only fitting, given what was to come, to kiss him until they both felt breathless. He only pulled away from his lips to kiss his neck, to nip and bite at sensitive skin in an attempt to leave his mark. Without looking, he fumbled to undo his jeans, sliding his hand between the denim and thin fabric of his underwear. He squeezed and half-stroked him through the material. After several long minutes, he pulled back. ‘I’d really like you to take your clothes off now handsome.’ He grinned.

Owen

As always, their make-out session was intense to say the very least. Eric knew just how to kiss him, where to suck at his skin and how to hold him during it all that set almost every last one of Owen's senses on fire. By the time Eric was requesting that the other strip down, Owen had been reduced to a flushed, panting mess of arousal, his cock forming a noticeable bulge in his pants in lieu of Eric stroking him over the fabric. Nodding breathlessly, Owen stepped forward and furiously disrobed, pulling his. shirt off and stepping out fo his pants and underwear, his cock springing forth excitedly after all the attention. Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Eric's neck, pulling him in for another heated kiss. It was so like Owen at this point to forget his place in this sort of way. He just got so easily caught up in the romantics of it all that he'd forget the overlying themes of what they were doing - it was a flaw in his submission that warranted correction, for sure.

Eric

He was surprised when Owen kissed him. Surprised enough that it took him a beat to respond him. He laid his hands against the blonde’s chest and pushed back. He was gentle, not forceful but his intent was clear. Perhaps it was his fault for kissing him in the first place. ‘Ah-ah.’ He warned. ‘You don’t touch or kiss me without permission submissive.’ He reminded him. He used his mark like a pet-name; a soft reminder, full of affection. ‘You can kiss me as enthusiastically as you want when we’re not in a scene.’ He explained. ‘I want you on your knees, palms down in the floor in front of you. Slide them forward until your forehead is touching the floor. Hold that position, and breathe on my counts. Remember your place in this scene angel. Take a beat to bring yourself back to what we’re doing.’ He instructed. It wasn’t a punishment. He didn’t need to be punished, but he did need to refocus on the scene and Eric hoped a simple breathing exercise, in a position that embodies submission would help.

Owen

Owen couldn’t help the little pout he made when Eric gently pushed him away. Smiling sheepishly in response, Owen was reminded of his role in the scene thanks to the literal verbal expression of his mark as the accompanying order that went along with it. “Okay. Sorry, sir.” Owen apologized and dropped to his knees, placing his hands on the floor and sliding them forward, bringing his forehead to the floor. The position was almost like a yoga pose, but with his vision obstructed and the context of what they were doing, it served well to readjust Owen’s mentality back to where it needed to be. He took in a gulp of air and held it in anticipation of Eric’s impending order to exhale and then to inhale again.

Eric

‘Let that breath out. Good boy.’ He praised. He continued that trend a little longer. Unintentionally, it served as an introduction to Eric controlling his breathing. He crouched down, and touched his hair after a few minutes. ‘Come back up to your knees for me.’ He greeted him with a smile. ‘Good boy.’ He praised again. ‘When you’re ready, come to bed with me.’ He took off his shirt, but stayed clothed otherwise. He sat in the bed, and spread his legs, creating space for Owen. ‘I want you to sit here, and lean back against my chest. Right now, whenever you’re comfortable, I just want you to touch yourself. Don’t worry about your breath. I’m going to instruct you on that when it’s necessary.’ He directed. ‘Starting like this, you can still breath out of you have to. You can use your safeword any time. Because the only thing restricting your air is you, we don’t need a safety signal for this part.’ He clarified. He crooked a finger. ‘Now get over here.’

Owen

After the refocusing exercise, Owen brought himself up on his knees at Eric’s direction and smiled warmly back at him. He felt much more at home in the scene, now, and was more than ready to focus all his energy on pleasing his current Dominant. “Thanks, sir.” Owen stated happily at Eric’s praise. He stayed where he was and watched for a moment with admiration as the other stripped his shirt off, his blue eyes visually drinking in Eric’s lean, toned form. He was almost zoning out (although not enough to not take in and understand his instructions) and was brought pleasantly back to reality with Eric’s final, domineering command. The tone of his voice was notably different. It was deeper and filled to the brim with that natural, yet still playful brand of Dominance that Owen was drawn so desperately to. “Yes, sir.” Owen uttered quietly before rising to his feet. He made his way to the bed to join the other man. Situating himself in between Eric’s legs he leaned back gently against Eric’s chest and sighed. He cast a gaze shyly at Eric to his right and then down at his semi-hard cock before he reached out and began to stroke himself, his blue eyes fluttering to a close as he did so.

Eric

As tempting as it was to kiss his neck, he suspected that would drive them both to distraction and he needed to concentrate. ‘You’re so beautiful like this.’ He encouraged. Before he incorporated breath, he want to lull Owen into a perfect state of comfort and relaxation. He reached around him and slid his hands down his thighs, before moving one to rest on his lower stomach. ‘I’m going to count back from three and then I want you to hold your breath. Keep stroking that gorgeous cock until you let the breath out, then your hands move. Immediately.’ He explained. He tried to be as clear as he could about what he wanted so the submissive understood what was expected of him. ‘Three, two, one. Hold it.’ He directed.

Owen

Owen smiled to himself at Eric's compliment, sighing out at the sensation of Eric's hands against his skin. Registering Eric's instructions, Owen nodded and began to stroke his cock, listening for the Dominant to count down - and once he did, he ceased breathing but continued to jerk at his hardening cock, his eyes furrowing in concentration as he worked hold his breath for as long as he could. Finally, the need for oxygen overwhelmed him and he stopped jacking his cock instant and gripped his own thighs sharply as he took in a much needed breath, leaving his cock throbbing and desperate for more.

Eric

‘Good boy.’ There was something incredible about the way someone changed when their breathing was at all restricted. Owen tensed ever so slightly, but his hand continued to move over his length exactly as instructed. ‘I want you to take three, slow deep breaths and then I’m going to count down again.’ There was a small part of him that wanted to rush ahead, but the larger part of him knew it was important to introduce this play slowly. He was timing everything in his head, keeping a count so that when it did come to his hand or his belt blocking airflow, he had a solid idea of how long was long enough. ‘Three, two, one.’

Owen

"Okay, sir. I'm ready." He asserted after taking in the three breaths Eric directed him to take. The second the word 'one' was uttered from the Dominant's lips, Owen shut his mouth and concentrated solely on pumping his cock. While the desperation for oxygen grew, so did the intensity of the stimulation provided from his hand to his own member. It was if everything was enhanced - as if he'd lost a sense. Owen felt his arousal building and by the time he finally took in the gulp of air he needed and released his member in the process, there was a dot of pre-cum seeping from the slit of his cock. Panting Owen turned to Eric slightly and exhaled shakily. "That's....wild. Wow."

Eric

‘Feeling good gorgeous?’ He asked with a grin. It was obvious by the expression, his statement, his breathlessness, that he was, in fact, enjoying this and feeling good. ‘Same deep breaths for me.’ He encouraged, as he inched his hand closer to Owen’s cock. He was curious if anything would be different if he were the one touching him. ‘I think I’ll be the one to touch you this time.’ He explained. ‘Same rules apply; hold your breath and as long as you do, that needy cock of yours gets the attention you crave.’ He teased playfully. ‘Three deep breaths again when you’re ready gorgeous. Three, two, one.’ He counted back, and once Owen’s breath was held, he began to jerk his length.

Owen

Owen nodded eagerly, still breathless and flushed. "Yes, sir. Very, very good." It was all he could manage before he was raring and ready for another round. This time, Eric asserted that he'd be the one doing the stroking, the idea making his cock twitch in anticipation. After taking the necessary gulps of air, Owen held his breath and fought with all he could not to sigh out as Eric began to jerk him. To his dismay, the pleasure was just too good to last. He broke and let out a moan and with it, the stroking stopped, causing Owen to groan in frustration. "Sir." He whined out with a little pout.

Eric

He chuckled, bringing his hand away immediately. ‘You’re so cute when you’re whining.’ He teased. ‘Look at the mess you’re starting to make.’ He remarked. He ducked his head to kiss his neck. ‘And a pout to go with it. Adorable.’ He repeated this several times, and each time he was rewarded with beautiful sounds; breathless moans, needy whines. He could feel the way Owen’s chest was heaving as he caught his breath each time. And then he wanted to push it further.’You’re doing so well sweet boy.’ He praised. ‘But from here on out, I’m going to decide when you’re allowed to breathe again. On my count like before, you’re going to hold your breath and I’m going to continue to play with your cute little cock. When you start to feel like you need to breathe, tap my thigh once. I’m going to try to push you just a little beyond that tap, and then I’ll give you permission.’ He explained. ‘If you need to breathe right away, give me two taps. That’s your safety signal. Do you understand?’ He asked. When Owen confirmed his understanding out loud, Eric counted him down again. ‘Three, two, one.’

Owen

Owen was a mess in Eric's arms. His cock was achingly hard by now and his pre-cum was seeping from the tip of it in copious amounts, lubricating his shaft and making every stroke Eric granted him that much more pleasurable. Smiling breathlessly at Eric's praise, Owen perked up and listened for the instructions on the next phase of their scene. It was an intimidating notion - but that was the point of pushing oneself - to discover limits and uncover pleasure from places and extents previously thought to be unreachable. "Yes, sir - I understand. One tap means, you kinda need to stop - two taps means, okay I'm dying." The blonde teased playfully, his personality still shining through despite the seriousness of the scene. At Eric's countdown, Owen inhaled and endured another simultaneously brutal and erotically sensational thirty seconds or so before he tapped Eric's thigh once. It was about five grueling extra seconds until Eric ceased stroking, forcing Owen to take in a desperate gulp of air as he stared a head at his hard cock, throbbing desperately towards its release.

Eric

‘Look at your adorable little cock.’ He teased fondly. He rolled his hips slightly, knowing Owen would be able to feel his own arousal pressing against his lower back. ‘All red and flushed — just like you.’ Owen was always beautiful but there was something more beautiful about him in moments like this — little moments Eric was lucky enough to experience. ‘You’re doing so well, good boy.’ He praised. He knew he was pushing him hard, but he was responding to it exactly as he’d hoped. He was rising to the challenge and obviously enjoying this new kink. Three times more he had him hold his breath, and three times more he stopped short of letting him cum. He whispered against his ear as the blonde caught his breath. ‘You know we’ve been ignoring that needy hole of yours? Would you like me to fill it for you gorgeous?’ He prompted, nipping at his neck.

Owen

”Mmf.” Owen’s breath hitched as he felt Eric rolling up against him. He bit his lip at the telling sensation of Eric’s arousal pressing up against his back - it was always secretly satisfying when he got any indication that the Dominant he was serving in a scene was turned on, as well. It was his job to play the role of the desperate, moaning submissive, but the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one in need was validating to say the very least. Giggling breathlessly at Eric’s comment, Owen nodded. “No thanks to you, sir.” He teased playfully, his blue eyes honing in on his throbbing member that stood upright in front of both of them. After a few more rounds, Owen’s desperation had piqued to the point where he was rutting back against Eric, obviously conveying the message that he needed more than just his cock played with. At the Dominant’s question, Owen nodded a little too eagerly. “Oh, god - yes, please. My hole is so needy for you, sir. Mmf, please, please - fill me up.”

Eric

‘You’re adorable.’ Was there any other way to describe a submissive pleading to be filled and fucked? Honestly, yes but right now, adorable fit Owen perfectly. ‘An adorable slut pleading for cock.’ He teased fondly. ‘Shift over, and lay back.’ He instructed. He moved when Owen enabled him to do so, and sourced the lube he was looking for. He wasn’t about wasting time now. He helped tuck a pillow under Owen’s ass to lift him up slightly, and used a generous amount of lube over his fingers before he pressed one against the submissive’s hole. ‘Same rules gorgeous. Hold your breath; when you let it out, I stop fucking you with my fingers.’ His fingers were itching to close around his throat. That rush of control, of trust fuelled him in a way he couldn’t describe. He positioned himself comfortably and flashed him a grin. ‘Three, two, one.’ He counted down and eased a finger inside him, moving slowly at first so as not to hurt him.

Owen

Owen smirked proudly at Eric’s continued praise. Ironically, he was even a little proud at being called an ‘adorable slut’ - which, in retrospect was an odd oxymoron, but he felt it was one that he embodied quite well; there was a side of him that was cute, romantic and lovable and there was another, darker side that attributed to his heightened sexuality. Eric was consistently talented at bringing forth both of those sides and making the most out of them. Shifting his weight, Owen did his part in raising his ass up onto the pillow Eric offered, granting the Dominant better access to his entrance. “Mmm, got it, sir. This whole thing is making me really, really hate the fact that I need to breathe.” The blonde said with a laugh. He nodded his understanding and, just like before, took in a breath and held it obediently, squeezing Eric’s thigh to keep from moaning out at the oh-so pleasant intrusion. Finally, he broke and gasped out, immediately whining at the absence of the sweet stimulation Eric was providing. “Sir - that...fuck. That felt so good. Again, please.” He begged.

Eric

This scene was always going to be hot. He knew that much, but it was like his brain forgot just how hot Owen was when he begged. 'It has the opposite effect on me -- I like that you need to breathe, because I think it's cute how far you're willing to push yourself just to have my hand on your cock, or something stretching your greedy hole.' he teased fondly. He counted down again, and added a second finger. He sped up slightly, and crooked his fingers inside him. He was eager, and he walked a line between making sure Owen knew how wanted he was, without being so eager than he thought he'd get away with no more teasing. When Owen let out his breath again, Eric looked at him innocently. 'Anything you want sweet boy? Or shall I just keep playing with you like this?'

Owen

“Oh, there’s so, so much I want, sir.” Owen rasped out, a whine falling from his parted lips at the cruel absence of Eric’s touch as he took the breath he, unfortunately, had to take. “Mostly, though…” Owen sighed out, turning his head slightly to meet Eric’s fond gaze. “I wanna please you. I want to turn you on and I want you to fuck me. So, so bad.” He rutted back against the Dominant and blew out a breath through his lips. “How can I earn that, sir? I’m...so, so turned on. I just...need you inside me. Completely. I’ll do anything, sir. If I could like never, ever take a breath again, I would.” He begged and pleaded pathetically, his face flushed with desire.

Eric

He was so beautiful, so submissive and so unashamed in his pleading. Eric felt trusted, and that was his biggest turn-on. Owen having behaved perfectly for him throughout this scene, and his own lust winning out was all it took to drive him to giving Owen exactly what he wanted. 'Sweet boy, if you don't think I'm already turned on --' he gave a chuckle and shook his head. He shifted between his legs and spread them wider before leaning over the submissive to kiss him hard. 'I'm going to choke you gorgeous -- if you need me to stop, click your fingers.' He waited for Owen to confirm he understood before he grabbed a condom from the bedside table. He rolled it over his cock, letting out a soft groan as he paid attention to his own arousal for the first time.He held the base of his length as he pressed against Owen's hole, and keeping his gaze on the blonde submissive, he rolled his hips forward. He was tight, and hot and looked incredible. 'You look so good taking my cock angel. Such a sweet thing.' he praised. He gave them both a minute to adjust, to catch their breath before he started fucking into him -- easily finding a comfortable pace. Slow. Steady. One hand was splayed flat against the bed, supporting his weight and the other rested comfortably against Owen's throat. He didn't apply pressure at first; he started doing that gradually; focusing on making it more difficult to breathe rather than cutting off his air completely.

Owen

Owen bit his lip to stifle the little giggle that threatened to pass through his lips at Eric’s teasing comment. “Maybe I don’t know, sir. Maybe you should help me to understand just how awfully turned on I’ve gotten you.” Owen teased back, punctuating his playfulness with a little, all-too purposeful wiggle of his booty back against Eric’s groin. Owen let out a sigh as Eric spread his legs, a tell-tale sign of the inevitable. At Eric’s clarifying instructions, Owen nodded, unable to ignore the shiver of excitement and adrenaline that noticeably coursed through his body as the reality of Eric’s power hands around his own throat grew nearer. Leaning forward to give Eric room to prep himself, Owen pouted a little at the groan. He wanted every last utterance of pleasure that passed through Eric’s lips to be a direct result of his own ministrations. Furthermore, he wanted to feel the other’s length in every conceivable away. He needed it - and he knew, his hard work at submitting throughout the scene was about to pay off and award him the very thing he craved: Eric, and Eric’s cock and everything Eric was.

For a moment, the hitching of Owen’s bated breath at the mere touch of the tip of Eric’s length against his entrance was the only sound that punctured the bedroom. That silence was broken by Eric’s sweet, sweet praise and the moan that pushed through Owen as the other finally entered him. Before he knew it, Eric was pounding up into him, practically lifting the pair of them off the bed. It was wonderfully intimate moments like this one that really enlightened Owen to the effect he had on the people he wanted. He may be a submissive but in some twisted, ironic way, being held at the neck and fucked mercilessly from behind by an extremely authoritative Dominant: Owen felt powerful. As his pleasure mounted and his own cock leaked down onto his stomach in response to Eric’s movements, the pressure against Owen’s bared neck increased, and with it - so did every other facet. “Oh, sir...you, oh, god.” Owen moaned out, relishing the complete and utter feeling of possession. “Take me, sir. Please.” The blonde pleaded shamelessly, punctuating his plea by clenching his ass back against Eric’s intruding member.

Eric

He fucked him harder. Deeper. But kept an agonisingly slow pace. He squeezed his hand around his neck tighter, feeling completely in control and revelling in the rush of power. In that moment, he felt like he owned Owen, that the blonde was completely at his mercy and more than that, he liked being at his mercy. 'You're mine.' He felt possessive, and he was comfortable enough with Owen to let that show. His words left his lips in a growl, coloured with desire and lust. He squeezed tighter; this time enough to cut off his air supply. He counted in his head. Just ten seconds this time. He moved his hips faster and the sound of skin smacking against skin filled the air. 'Fuck' he groaned. He felt himself heat up. 'You feel so good. Just made to take cock and look pretty all the while.' he teased.

Owen

Owen thrilled at the way Eric completely owned him physically at that moment. The verbal affirmation that then and there, Owen belonged to the dominant that was controlling not only his pleasure but the very breath he drew or didn’t, worked to add to his arousal. Owen whimpered and then felt Eric grip his neck harder than he had throughout the duration of the scene. In that brief span of time, Owen’s pleasure was maximized. His blue eyes fluttered to an elated close and he floated away on a blissful wave of utter, total submission. When Eric released his grip, Owen gasped for air and clenched back against Eric’s member, his own cock standing up from his body, dripping precum down onto his abdomen. “Mmm, daddy. Fuck me harder. Please.” Before Owen could stop himself, the word was out. His face flushed. Less-so now from the breathplay and more-so out of the hope that if Eric wasn’t fond of the name, he’d ignore it.

Eric

A few things clicked in his head very quickly. He swore he’d heard Owen almost use that particular honorific on several occasions but he’d always stopped short. Eric has never wanted to press him because he was confident when Owen felt more comfortable, he’d bring it up or he’d use it exactly as he had. The last person who called him that had left a very bitter taste in his mouth but that person didn’t even enter his thoughts now. He smirked. ‘Listen to yourself — begging for Daddy’s cock.’ He spoke confidently. Hopefully reassuring Owen that it was perfectly okay and encouraged to address him like that. His mind was that perfect haze of pleasure, lost in what they were doing, how Owen made him feel, without being too detached to pay attention. ‘And look at your pretty little cock.’ He grunted, continuing to tease. ‘Making a right mess angel.’ He slammed his hips forward harder. He tightened his grip on the submissive’s neck again slightly. ‘Shall we play a game? See how long you can hold out?’ He prompted.

Owen

Owen couldn't help the sigh of relief he let out when Eric played right along with the slip-up he'd just made. "Well, I just need it so, so bad." Owen whined, intentionally pressing back into Eric, rutting back in a pathetic display of utter, shameless desperation. Owen's half-closed blue eyes drifted obediently to his own cock at Eric's direction and immediately let out a delighted yelp at the way the Dominant punctuated his tease with a particularly sharp flex of his hips, forcing his cock against Owen's sweet spot, henceforth worsening the very mess the other had mentioned. "I...I can't help it. You feel so good in me, daddy. Filling up my hole, so, so well. Owning it...mmf." The blonde stiffened slightly in anticipation for another round of choking when Eric's rough, powerful hand closed around his bared neck once more. "I'll win that game, sir." Owen muffled out, a slight smirk on his tone. "Your pleasure is what matters. I wanna make you feel good. Wanna feel you cum thanks to my hole and thanks to everything I'm doin' that turns you on. I'll cum only when you let me, daddy.... Promise." Owen gulped and trailed his hand up and down Eric's lean, muscled thigh. "What game are you thinkin' of, though?"

Eric

His reassurances were adorable. Eric knew Owen wouldn’t cum without permission. He trusted him in that. He trusted the submissive to communicate with him if that was becoming impossible. ‘You’re such a good boy for me, the game is making you cum. I’m going to squeeze my hand around your pretty throat and you’re going to stroke your cock while I fuck you. If you can cum before you need to tap out to breathe, you have my permission. I’ll keep fucking you after, sensitive or not.’ He informed him, shallowly moving his hips. He thought that might be an appealing incentive to inspire the submissive to push himself just a little more. ‘If you can’t cum for me before you need to breathe — Well, you’ll still get to cum eventually. But you’ll be going to bed with a very red ass.’ It wasn’t a punishment. Owen liked spanking as much as he did. It was intended to be playful, and his smirk gave him away. ‘I feel like this game might just be win-win for both of us.’ He grinned, thrusting hard as he sought out that sweet spot inside the blonde.

Owen

Angling his head slightly so that he could look back at Eric, he caught that boyishly handsome grin and returned it, a gentle smile gracing his otherwise flushed expression. "That's what it's sounding like, sir. I can't decide if I'd rather win or lose this game..." He let out a breathless little laugh and reverted his gaze to his hard, dripping cock. Reaching down, the submissive gripped his own member at it's base and gave himself a little squeeze - that mere stimulation made his cock throb noticeable, demonstrating just how close he was to his release. The added fact that Eric was consistently fucking up into him with measured thrusts certainly didn't disuade him from opting towards trying to win at their little game. There would be way more opportunity for Eric to spank Owen. They always made time for that. For now, Owen wanted to show Eric just how much having the other's hand around his throat turned him on. Owen gave a little nod and furrowed his brows cutely. "I'm ready, sir. Fuck me. Please."

[threewaysdivided]

Yo hey!!! I just read through your YJ:DW series and I absolutely love it??? So much??? You write absolutely marvelously and have such a wonderful devotion to characterization and everything feels very Real and Natural. Your pacing is most excellent, you really know when things need to be lingered on and when they don’t need much more than a passing mention. And g o d I absolutely adore how you characterize so many characters, but particularly Danny. Like, he’s still the same Danny from the-(1/?)

show, but he’s changed in very particular ways that really match with what he’s been through. He’s very cautious and nervous and frightened after everything that’s happened, afraid to trust, to let people know too much. And that makes sense with everything he’s been through! He’s been on the run for so long, settling in one place definitely chafes at him. More than he feels it should, but it does. And like! He’s so wary and on edge with meeting the Team and the League members. I am def- (2/?)

-initely looking forward to seeing even more of their interactions. And like!!! The team’s reactions!!! Are so well thought out and just fantastic. Like, how Robin is aiming for a mix of normalcy and just a touch of protectiveness. And M’gann is curious and welcoming and doing her best to be Team Mom without being overwhelming. And how Wally is so intensely disbelieving and flippant QND almost abrasive to Phantom. I really wonder how he’s going to change in his approach to Phantom,- (3/?)

-like if he’ll dig his feet in even further to the point of rejecting reality in an attempt to maintain the reality in his own mind, or if he actually will start considering the science behind ghosts possible. I’m so excited to see how that develops. Also, aside, can I just say I loved getting Black Canary’s perspective on things with the last chapter? It revealed a lot more of Danny’s proper abilities and strengths than ya’d necessarily be able to piece together with a younger perspective-(4/?)

-and it just really helps develop the dynamics of everything even more. I’m wondering if you’re going to end up giving Danny enhanced strength or not, and if so to what degree, as an aside, explaining a bit more why he might be pulling his punches. I also wonder if he has any hesitation with fighting living folks who aren’t actively trying to hurt him, seeing as he mostly has experience fighting Ghosts and Hunters. Also also, I’m just so excited to see them all go on a mission!!! (5 or 6/?)

-Aaaah I could keep gushing for a Good While but I’m forgetting how many asks I’ve sent and I don’t want to bother you toooo much, so Imma just finish with you write beautifully and I’m So EXCITED to see where you go with things and like aaaaaaaaah, ya kno!!! (6 or 7/ 6 or 7)

Okay, first things first, you are absolutely not bothering me.  You found a piece of free content that I put up and - with no obligation or expectation -  sent me six messages detailing how much you liked it, and that’s Delightful.  It made my morning.  ‘Bothering’ is more than welcome on this blog.  Encouraged, even!

We’ve got a lot to cover so let’s get to it:

Danny’s Characterisation

Danny’s character has been a bit of a challenge to balance at times but I’m pretty pleased with how he’s shaping up.  There was this trend I noticed back when I started where - even in fics I really like - people had a frustrating tendency to swing him too much in one or the other direction; either turning him into a confident wise-cracking hyper-powerful hyper-skilled Troubled Badass™ who everyone respected even if he was humble about it, or into a Sad™ Broken™ Tormented™ cinnamon roll who just wanted love and who trusted and is trusted by every hero with minimal persuasion, when really he’s somewhere in the middle.

He’s a hero, yes, but he’s also a teenager.  He’s experienced and competent, but it’s in the self-taught way that leaves him with rough edges, blindspots and a lack of technical skill.  He can be a good, confident leader when the situation calls for it but he’s also someone who reads as fairly socially introverted and canonically has personal self-confidence issues, anxious and depressive traits and really wants to be accepted by his peers.  He’s friendly and funny and likeable but lacks social experience in a casual setting and can struggle with expressing his feelings, knowing the right thing to say/ do and being open with people.  He’s not just one or the other.  He’s both.

I also really wanted to explore the Death and Secrets plot points with more emotional detail.  It felt like a lot of the time in stories where he lost his family, Danny would either stall out in a tormented Grief State right until a Power of Love/ Friendship-prompted revival toward the final act, or he’d be sad for 5-10 short chapters then bounce back to his old self and go off with his New Family like it ain’t no thing.  With Deathly Weapons I want the characters to have to grow and come together naturally; to earn their healing and show why/how they’d come to like and trust each other, or decide that the other person is worth making the investment.

The Team

It’s kind of funny in hindsight but the Team’s development was a oddly late addition to the planning.  Which was fine for Arc I - being very Danny-centric - but then, as I was brainstorming Arc II it kind of hit me that if I was going to call this fic Young Justice: Deathly Weapons I should really try to showcase what I liked so much about the series.  And then I realised how much Danny’s experiences (canonical and DW-verse) and Team Phantom paralleled different members of the S1 cast, and how much character exploration potential there was to be had.  Arc II is basically just 8 teens looking at each other and going “We’re not so different you and I” in various settings for 20+ chapters.

There’s this nice quote from Stieg Larsson that I think sums up how I see both Danny and the different members of the Team fitting together: 

“I’m not going to compete with you. I’m better than you are at what I do. And you’re better than I am at what you do.”

All of them have at least one thing they’re good at, and at least a few weaknesses that other members can cover.  Their skills are complementary, their personalities and experiences are complimentary and none of them feel redundant in being there.  And with the extra challenges a DW-verse AU opens up, it creates a space where Phantom can slot in without having to displace an existing well-established member.

It also makes revolving perspective a lot of fun as I can tag in whoever’s mindset and perspective best fits the tone and information that needs to be delivered, rather than risking any one character losing their characterisation to their role as de facto narrator.

Despite how he’s acting right now, Wally is actually one of my favourites.  Needless to say there’s a lot more going on with our resident speedster than simple garden-variety ecto/paranorma-phobia, but that’ll be explored more in the chapters Flashpoints, Combustion and Equilibrium.

Training and Powers

Bruce and Dinah both make fun writes because they’re adults with more maturity and experience, which makes them great sources of diegetic exposition and perception that the main Team wouldn’t carry as well.

I’ve gotten a few questions about Danny’s powers in that chapter and how close they play to canon, so I should probably clear that up.  First thing is that DP’s canon is very wibbly wobbly about Danny’s power set (Is it super-strength letting him lift that or is he touch-transferring flight to make it weigh less?  Are those ectoblasts actually fire or was that just an animation flourish?  Can he teleport or is he just really fast and invisible? Does him lifting a rake that one time mean he has telekinesis or was it just a quick sight-gag?) so I’ve had to make some calls with grouping and sometimes dropping or altering edge-case powers to create a system that makes sense.  The other thing is that Chapter 17 is Danny explaining the things he consciously uses on the job and exploring how they compare to similar DC powers, rather than detailing out every single aspect that makes him different from regular humans.  (Kind of like how you wouldn’t bring up your own lung capacity, 20/20 distance vision or excellent patellar reflex unless someone drew your attention to it).  The chapter mostly serves to do some character set-up for later and drop some needed exposition so that Danny won’t have to be breaking the flow of future missions to explain very basic facts about his abilities the first time he uses them.

As for pulling his punches, some of it is certainly to do with him being uneasy about fighting breakable living beings when he’s used to ridiculously tough Ghost Beasts, and some of it was specifically due to who he was paired against.  But again, that’s something we’ll explore in future chapters.

Pacing and Writing

At this point I can only put this down to lots of planning, drafting and taking inspiration from the styles and structures of some very, very good published authors.  Quite a few chapters started out as simple exposition dumps or time skips before I realised that they’d have more value expanded out into full entries of their own.  (My drafting process = step 1: write too briefly, step 2: balloon to massively bogged down self-indulgent explorations, step 3: reign it in to something readable).

Books I definitely took stylistic influence from:

1. Steig Larsson’s, Swedish crime-mystery series The Millenium Trilogy.  Lisbeth is one of my character references for writing both Batman and Robin.(NOTE:  Hard MA+ rating, cw for explicit discussions and depictions of misogyny, homophobia, violence, gendered violence, sexual assault, stalking, drug use and Nazis.  Good books but Discretion Advised.)

2. Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief.General influence/ reference for prose and imagery, especially for the tone of Roads to Safe Places (ch.15).(Beautifully written story about humanity, but set in WWII-era Germany so be advised that Nazism, Nazis, War and Death feature heavily.)

3. Patrick Rothfuss’ The Kingkiller ChroniclesGeneral influence/reference for style and prose, YJ:DW Ch. 15′s title is a deliberate call out to the same title in Chapter 18 of KKC Book 1.(Fantasy books with some fantasy violence and a little bit of sex but nothing especially shocking.)

I’m just so excited to see them all go on a mission!!!

Me too!  Quick question though:

Just one?  Or are all of these okay? 😏

Now that I think about it there’s a weird dearth of story missions outside of the one needed for set-up in most YJxDP stories.  Not sure why.  Anyway, Deathly Weapons is a beast, we’re going to do at least 10.  I gotchu fam.

Aaand I think that’s everything.  Thanks for dropping in, feel free to stop by anytime.  Hope to see you around! ❤

[thunder-the-ranger-wolf]

Flowers Flowers Everywhere (except for when it counts)

Well this is a long time coming! Originally planned as a thank you for the cards sent out by @scifigrl47, this is now a birthday present. You asked for Tony getting flowers and I really hope you like how that played out. Happy birthday!

One (Lady's Slipper, among others)

There were enough flowers to fill a shop scattered throughout the lobby. They’d been checked repeatedly for nefarious objects that might have accompanied them, and since there were none, they reached their intended destination without trouble. They started going home with employees, since they always showed up at Stark Industries.

It’d make a nice centerpiece, an HR representative mused as he snagged a pot on the way home after a long shift.

My wife absolutely adores these, a janitor recalled easily when she came in one day to find a particular bouquet she’d only seen in magazine cut-outs.

Some of them went to Tony himself, and Pepper had taken to wearing a different flower in her hair specifically to hear him groan whenever he saw her. It was their newest form of teasing and he loved it as much as she did.

Point being, they had no idea who was giving these flowers. Nobody did. Not the truck drivers who handled deliveries for the building, not the janitors or security guards who had to check each bouquet and clean up after them each nice. They just knew that the building smelled delectable and the flowers came fresh every day.

This first set were numerous bouquets in all colors and shapes. Some were rare and left alone, some were common and more than happy to leave with a coworker. But they were all thoroughly investigated to no end, and everyone was curious as to who could possibly send such a surprise.

  Two (Coriander)

"This… whoever's doing this. It's possible they could be a rival.They might see you as an opponent." Steve wondered.

The super soldier left the tower for his early morning run and came back to a lobby full of white. It could have been mistaken for snow, the way petals floated through the air and coated every surface, but a storm had passed through a few days ago and snow wasn't quite on the menu. Rain, on the other hand…

Steve wondered if these flowers would survive a trip outside the building as he joined the security guards inspecting each bouquet. They had the process down, especially since JARVIS was on the case, but they were more than happy to have Captain America's help. Steve was glad to put his nose to good use, and while the flowers reeked, he couldn't detect any of the usual poisons he'd know of and the guards tested each petal they could get their hands on.

"Why a rival?" Pepper wondered.

"Coriander means hidden strength. Everyone knows that Tony is a genius. But what if whoever's doing this thinks the company as a whole is something to stand of its own accord?"

"SI has been standing of its own accord long before Tony or I were born." Pepper deadpanned.

"Oh yeah, definitely." Steve acknowledged, recalling several inventions he'd used during the war bearing the Stark name. "Never did get that flying car, but I guess that means whoever this is, they're new to the game. Scoping out their competition. I mean, SI isn't the only company in the news for this."

"Fair enough…" Pepper admitted. "Whatever they're doing, they best wrap this up. As soon as we figure out who they are, we'll be gunning for them."

"Thought you didn't do that anymore." Steve quipped cheerfully.

"Exceptions, Steve, exceptions. As it turns out, leaving the game doesn't mean burning all your bridges."

Pepper stalked towards the elevators and Steve waited a few minutes before he followed her. Crossing the CEO of anything wasn't a bright idea, but she'd been there long before Stark Industries made the switch to green energy. Clearly, that fire hadn't gone anywhere.

  Three (Goldenrod)

Eventually, Tony found the flower shop they were coming from. It was maybe three and a half blocks from SI and it didn’t look all that fancy at all. If not for the logo, no one would know what they sold. A lot of the city was like that, and for good reason: There wasn’t enough space for big fancy signs everywhere and if you sold a good product, everyone would flock to you anyway.

The casier did not expect a billionaire to walk in.

“Good morning, Mr. Stark. She blurted out nervously.

“Good morning, Ms. Delian.” He offered smoothly, having barely glanced at her nametag. Sheila Delian had blonde hair and hazel eyes that went wider than a disco ball when she saw him.

“You must be coming in about the flower order, then. My boss expected someone from SI to send a cease-and-desist order, but we never thought it’d be you.”

“There won’t be a cease-and-desist order.” Tony determined. “Not yet, anyways. People like the flowers and there’s plenty of employees at the Tower. We could easily wait this buyer out.”

“But you want to find him.” Sheila confirmed. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? I don’t know how much help the shop can be.”

“Why’s that?”

“The order was sent in through our website through a series of prepaid cards. A different one for each order. And each order insisted on as many arrangements as we could allow per sendout."

"Do you know when the orders were placed?" Tony prompted calmly.

"Oh! That… that's definitely something I can look up. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, it's just that this is the worst time for such a huge order, I-. Not your problem. Okay, first order came in on a Saturday, I remember that much. It can't have been long after the Spring festival. Everyone gets flowers around that time but this was all to one place-. Okay. February 13th is when the first order for Stark Industries came in."

"How much were they?"

"I can't tell you that. I'm sorry, sir. I'm close enough to losing my job as it is. All you have to do is say the word, I can get someone on the delivery team to spread the message that these flowers are unwanted."

"No need, and I'd rather not stir up anything with whoever's sending these. Thank you for all your help, Ms. Delian. I hope your day gets better."

Shelia nodded and offered the standard thanks as the bell that signaled his exit jangled overhead. He left behind three-hundred dollars in twenties and a goldenrod that she knew for a fact hadn't come from the store. He hadn't even browsed the aisles…

Sheila winced, wondering how this situation got so out of hand, and weaved the flower through her braids. Hopefully its message of encouragement and good fortune would rub off on her.

Four (blue and white Hydrangeas)

It got to be more than a bit ridiculous a few days later, when Security had to go through dozens of notes attached to as many bouquets. All of them were addressed to Tony and each of them were different in some way shape or form. One group of notes was sweet, describing how the flowers smelled and a picnic they'd be good for. Another involved promises of Tony's favorite foods not long after. What made the employees of SI suspicious is that these were foods he actually liked as opposed to something snagged from an interview or a passing remark. Tony has eaten countless meals in front of countless people, so someone was bound to get some of his favorite foods right. But the fact was that many articles in the genius behind SI involved false information or caricatures of who the man actually was. He allowed it in the name of privacy, and it would definitely help narrow down the pool of suspects.

The thing is, it wasn't unusual to find a flower shop bogged down with orders around Valentine's day. The person who'd done this was arrogant enough to wait until the day before and wealthy enough to ensure their orders got through. But considering the date it encompassed, these mystery bouquets weren't very appreciated.

This particular set wasn't exactly his favorite flower. Some of his employees took them home but at the end of the day, he was left with an array of blue and white hydrangeas. A quick search revealed that they supposedly meant frigidity, apology, boasting, and bragging. Tony didn't really know what to make of that. Boasting sounded less like someone's well-wishes and more like he was being played. If this fucked wanted to apologize, the best way to do so would be to quit with the godforsaken flowers and perhaps explain all this. Bit of a stretch, considering this had been going on for a few weeks, but it would have been nice.

Five (Golden Tulips)

They stopped the day after Tony visited the shop and everyone let out a breath they didn't know they were holding.

Nothing was poisonous, nothing was hidden in the notes, nothing about these flowers were dangerous save for the mysterious benefactor.

Plenty of names had been struck from the list. Fans had been contacted, employees vetted, colleagues grilled, to little avail. The answer came one dreary afternoon during a briefing on the Avengers' latest foe.

"You mean to tell me that you still haven't said anything?" Natasha Romanoff was positively whining as she draped herself over a stoic and rather annoyed Steve Rogers. "I thought that big flower show was yours!"

"What? God, no! I heard that was all over the news, but c'mon, Romanoff, where would I get that kind of money? Besides, how could you go wrong with some chocolate and maybe a sketch or two."

"Gonna draw him like one of your French girls, Rogers?" Clint crooned.

"I hate you. I am actually going to take those arrows and snap them all over my knee like a bundle of sticks. I'll strangle you with your own bow for good measure!" Steve snapped.

"Ooooo, someone's touchy!" Natasha snickered. "If you would just tell him-!"

"Whatever it is, it better not involve flowers." Tony deadpanned as he stalked into the room.

"How do you even know what he's talking about?" Clint whined. "You're a genius, not omniscient!"

"I don't. Never said it was me you were talking about, just that I don't want to hear about flowers."

"Unfortunately, you're going to have to." Fury announced with his usual grim look and annoyed drawl. "It's safe to say that Stark Industries has been the victim of an elaborate scheme made by our next villain, but they're not the only ones taking a fall. And I'm pretty sure they got the nicer end of the spectrum."

The wall behind Fury's head parted to reveal a screen full of pictures. Several boxes of chocolates, hundreds of teddy bears, and about as many flowers that Tony could stand were shown in various places.

"Some people got by the chocolates, others had their roses grow far beyond their measure. This was done to a number of major American companies with no true connection to each other. Some employers got away scot-free, like SI and Van Dyne's fashion empire, but others weren't so lucky. This villain calls himself Cupid-."

"Cupid?!" Tony spluttered. "Like the little baby angel guy that shoots arrows at the people they think should fall in love?!"

"That's what this particular pest is calling himself. Only instead of arrows, he's been sending flowers and chocolates and teddy bears to those who prove their worth or earn his ire. SI seems to have proven their worth somehow."

"That doesn't explain everything." Tony noted. "There were notes attached to each bouquet. They had many of my personal favorites, things that few people would know about me. Some things about my employees and those I'd consider respectable colleagues. If any of them are in the line of fire, whatever arbitrary standards he's using to judge us might not apply to them."

"Which is why this unmasking this villain is so crucial. The only reason this isn't considered a form of biological warfare is because no one's died from it yet."

"Who else is in on this? And what can the Avengers' do?"

"As a team? Nothing. We'll need your various individual skillsets. As for who's on this, all the usual suspects, Stark. The CDC Shou be contacting you for a sample of the flowers at some point."

"Alright. And what's this Cupid guy's aim?"

"We're not sure yet. We're hoping you can weigh in on a few comparisons we have so far."

"Alright," Tony exhaled roughly. "Fucking Cupid. Like I need another reason to hate February."

"That's what we've got so far. You all will be contacted by the members of this task force who can best use your services."

Fury left the room without saying anything further, which didn't give the Avengers much incentive to stick around.

"Hey, Tony," Steve caught his partner's arm when the genius passed him heading for the front door.

"Hey, Steve," Tony parrotted. "Got any ideas for all this?"

"I've told what I can. But this isn't the weirdest villain we've come up against, I don't think."

"Just the most annoying. It's a good thing I'm not allergic to flowers, because this past week has already been hell." Tony scoffed, stalking out the door and down the hall.

"I can only imagine." Steve snorted, keeping up easily. "But, uh since flowers, chocolates, and all that stuff is probably way out of bounds for now, what do you say we just go out for dinner?"

"Dinner sounds like the best idea I've heard all day. You gonna cook or should I break out my best disguise?"

"Don't raid the costume department just yet, we could just order in." Steve drawled.

"Depends. Like I said, it's been a long week. I get to be picky."

"I'll make it up to you at some point. Technically there's a bouquet of golden tulips that have been sitting in the fridge since the 2nd, but if you're sick of flowers…"

"I figured you'd have something planned out. And I'll have you know that I love receiving flowers. When I know who they're from."

"Well, at least these weren't… tampered with."

"Yeah, at least the fucker deemed my company worthy." Tony grumbled darkly. "Say, what'd the spies get onto you about?"

"This is so dumb. I absolutely hate them and they ruin everything."

"Okay, now I've got to know. You're keeping something from me and clearly it's on purpose!" Tony crowed, eyes bright with the eagerness of solving at least one mystery.

"I was going to ask you later. I wanted to do this properly."

"C'mon, Steve, we can still do it properly. I'd just know what it is."

"Yeah," Steve grumbled. "And the surprise is gone."

"Well, lemme at it. I'm sure I'll like it no matter what."

Steve rolled his eyes and dug around in his pocket to reveal a small black square nestled in his palm.

Steve stopped when Tony did, and the shorter man gaped at the box that had been shuffled into his hands.

"Open it." Steve groused after a few moments.

Tony did so without question and when he saw what was inside, he buried his face in Steve's shoulder.

"You know what my answer is." He mumbled.

"Yep. Would have been nice to do it elsewhere. Quieter, perhaps. And in private." Steve drawled as the pair entered the mess hall full of employees.

"Them's the breaks." Tony snickered, giving his now-fiance the box. "I'm sorry your surprise got ruined, though I must say I'm looking forward to that dinner a lot more."

Steve slipped the black square back into his pocket and rubbed one of Tony's hands between his own.

"There's that." Steve grumbled. "And there will be more flowers after all this. Proper ones."

"Maybe hold off on those for, like, a year or two." Tony scoffed. "If I never see another petal it'll be too soon."

"This guy didn't ruin the golden ones." Steve offered. "You love golden flowers."

"The ones that mean well, sure. I guess we've still got that."

The ride to the Tower was about as long as it always was, but Steve might as well have given him all the golden tulips he could carry with how pleased Tony was. Steve's goal was to keep that look on his face from as long as they lived.

[al-damnvers-spam]

Hey you still accepting agentcorp prompts? (sorry if I'm mistaken... I'm new here at tumblr and I can't find my way out lol) Prompt: agentcorp gets drunk in a bar (circumstances leading up to that is up to you) and ends up having sex. Fast forward to game night and they're desperately trying not to act awkward around each other. Like SUPER awkward. Bonus if Kara and/or Maggie notices.

“I finally have time to answer the rest of these, woohoo! Prompts are also open again, so y’all can feel free to send me more! (Also, I deviated just slightly from the prompt just a little, but it still works!)

Alex knew she needed new ways to unwind after a long day at work. She’d gotten better about drinking when she was with Maggie. But once they split, well, old habits die hard. That’s how she ended up at the bar, gladly drinking a glass of whiskey. It was predictable. What wasn’t predictable, though, was Lena Luthor entering and sitting down next to her without a word. As Lena ordered a glass of scotch, Alex watched her with curious eyes. 

“Got something to say, Danvers?” Lena asked after a moment. 

“No, no. Just watching… I’m a little surprised to see you here.” Alex said, straightening her back to appear a little less drunk than she was. Even subconsciously, she wanted to impress Lena.

“Yes, well, I needed a chance to relax.”

“Mm. You’re not the only one…” Alex replied before downing the rest of her drink

“Are you drunk, Alex? How many drinks have you had?” 

Alex considered the question and counted on her fingers. “Um… Three.”

“Including that one?”

“Nope.” 

“Oh boy. Rough day, huh?” Lena asked. 

“Little bit. Those military people are still at the DEO all the time. I swear, I’m gonna murder every single one of them. I’m the director, they can’t just… I’m the director!” 

“You are. And they are assholes that think they’re above everyone else. And you, Alex Danvers, are going to kick their asses. I know you will.” Lena said honestly. She hated seeing Alex in pain, physical or otherwise. “Now, how about instead of throwing a pity party, we drink a little more?”

“Well. I can do that.” Alex grinned and ordered another drink, along with a new one for Lena. The drinking, as it turned out, revealed a sexual tension that neither of them were prepared for. 

After two more drinks for Lena and one more for Alex, they were both sufficiently drunk. Conversation went from work to their personal lives in an instant. 

“Y’know, Lena… I know some people I could probably set you up with… if you’re into girls. I don’t know if you are. Are you? Nevermind, don’t answer that, it was rude.” Alex rambled while Lena just smiled, wondering how someone as tough and badass as Alex Danvers turned out to be so sweet and dorky when she let her guard down. It was endearing, truly.

“Well, Alex, let me just say that if I had to be set up with someone, I’d rather it be you.” 

Damn, Lena, that was smooth. But you’re so fucked if she doesn’t feel the same way. She thought, almost immediately chastising herself, until she saw the grin on Alex’s face. 

“Really? Well, geez, Lena… all you’ve gotta do is say the word and we can go back to my place.” Alex smirked. Lena’s eyes widened at the response.

“Well, what do you say we do just that?” Lena smiled and put down some money to pay for their drinks. Alex grinned and took her hand as they headed of the bar. They were at her apartment within ten minutes. Lena stayed the night, but they never spoke about it again after. The next two weeks were unbearably awkward, and it all came to a head at the next game night. 

They had both found themselves at Kara’s apartment, and neither of them knew how to approach each other. It was way to hide their awkwardness with the others around, Alex would just talk with Winn and James while Lena chatted with Sam and Kara. But soon, it was time to play Monopoly with their usual teams. Previously, Lena and Alex had always stuck together, their combined intellect helping them win almost every time. This time, though, they took their sweet time crossing the room to sit together. Even once they had gotten situated, their natural flow of conversation had become disjointed and uncomfortable. Everyone noticed, but each silently just chalked it up to neither of them being in the mood for socialization. Kara, though, wasn’t so sure.

The game began and Alex felt unfocused. A naturally competitive person, she never felt unfocused about Monopoly. Each move was usually calculated and careful, a mistake rarely made. But this particular night was different. She couldn’t stop thinking about Lena and what had happened that night. She couldn’t stop thinking about how they had never talked about it, and now her chance at a relationship with Lena was probably ruined forever.

“Alex? Alex, are you there?” Came Kara’s voice as she waved her hand in front of her sister’s blank face. Alex snapped back to reality, only to realize that she’d been staring at Lena. 

“Huh?” She stammered, her cheeks going red.

“Alex, it’s.. it’s your turn.” Kara said slowly, starting to get concerned for her sister.

“Oh. Right.” Alex nodded and saw that Lena had already rolled the dice for them. She quickly moved their piece, putting no thought into it whatsoever.

They ended up losing the game by a landslide. Kara and Winn had won, a first in the history of their game night Monopoly battles. As it turned out, Lena had been pretty damn distracted as well. 

As game night came to a close and everyone began cleaning up, Kara pulled Alex aside. 

“Did you and Lena sleep together?”

“What? Kara, no– of course not!”

“Then maybe consider it? I swear I could have cut that tension with a knife.”

Alex’s face turned bright red. Of course, as if Alex didn’t already want the earth to open up and swallow her whole, Lena chose that exact moment to walk in. 

“Oh, sorry, am I interrupting? I just… wanted to put the dishes in the sink…” Lena said quietly once she noticed the look on Alex’s face. 

“Kara wants to know if we slept together.” Alex replied, her voice about as soft and vulnerable as possible. 

“Oh. Well, that’s easy. No, we didn’t. Actually, all we did that night was literally sleep.” 

Kara’s eyebrows shot up at that. “So you stayed over one night?” 

Alex nodded. “After I got really drunk at the bar two weeks ago. We didn’t do anything more than make out before we both passed out.”

“That explains why you guys were so off your game tonight. I mean, you’ve both always been pining for each other, but you didn’t realize it until now and didn’t know what to do with yourselves.” 

“That’s… terrifyingly perceptive.” Lena noted. Kara just shrugged and left the room so they could talk. 

“So, we’ve been pining after each other, huh?” Alex chuckled dryly. 

“Apparently so. But, uh… I really do like you Alex. And, if you’d be willing, I’d like to try something a little better than drunk making out. I’d like to take you on a date.” 

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I didn’t think the feelings we let out that night came from nothing. And I’d really like to go on a date with you.” 

“I’d… I’d like that, too.” Alex smiled softly. 

When Alex told Kara later that night that she was going to go on a date with Lena, Kara just sighed with relief. She’d been convinced since the beginning that her sister and her best friend were meant for each other, no matter how painfully awkward and oblivious they were.

[catsafarithewriter]

"You trusted me when no one else would, so now I will always return the favor" or however the prompt is written. Feel free to edit to fit, but make it Super Villain AU. Or, Film Noir Detective Baron AU. Wuv u

A/N: One Super Villain AU coming up! I know I usually default to Haru & Baron, but I couldn’t get this line to work in the AU yet (they don’t know each other well enough yet for this line to have any pathos) so I detoured off with a Toto-centric ficlet. Enjoy! 

(And wuv u too, Shelbs)

For all the other lovely prompts I received, I shall be working on them over the next week, and you should see them appearing once they’re done. But, for now, enjoy this ficlet!

Toto Morrigan, doctor, birdwatcher, part-time baritone, liked to consider himself a fine, upstanding member of society, except that fine, upstanding members of society didn’t usually cavort with super villains. 

Super was perhaps a bit rich though, even if Baron did have super agility and strength and other super skills that Toto had never asked about. Toto had known Baron long enough to remember the cape phase, and it was difficult to take anyone seriously after spending several afternoons untangling them from their cape. 

Most fine, upstanding members of society probably didn’t keep a freeze-ray in their top right kitchen cupboard either, but there were certain precautions needed when one was the go-to doctor of the city’s most-wanted super villain. 

As the sound of fine china clinking echoed along Toto’s otherwise silent house, the doctor, birdwatcher, part-time baritone gently removed the freeze-ray from the cupboard. It looked a lot like a hairdryer - possibly because that’s what it had started life as - and might have gone entirely without comment if it hadn’t been hiding away in a kitchen cabinet. He switched the safety off and stalked through into the lounge. 

When he saw the identity of the uninvited guest, the freeze-ray lowered, but not by much. 

“Humbert,” he greeted. 

The man seated in Toto’s favourite armchair looked like the type of person who would run a bookshop, or perhaps an artisan cafe. Since Humbert did actually run a tea shop, Toto had never quite been convinced that Humbert didn’t dress deliberately with such a fashion in mind. It was a casual outfit, comfy and non-threatening, with a woollen cardigan and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. 

Humbert smiled, and Toto had to make an active effort to remember that the super villain had just broken into his house. 

“Toto. My dear friend.”

“It’s Thursday,” Toto said. 

“Indeed it is.”

“Thursdays are my day off.”

“Well then, it’s just as well I’m just dropping by then, isn’t it?”

Toto scowled, but he could already feel the irritation draining away. He sighed and lowered the ray. “What are you doing here, Humbert?”

“Can’t a super villain make sure his favourite minion is recovering well after a near-death experience without suspicion?”

“Not a minion,” Toto amended, although the objection was more out of habit than anything else. “And, no, you can’t. Not without warning, and certainly not by letting yourself in.”

Humbert motioned to the table before him. “I made you tea.”

“With my best china set,” Toto noted, doing his best to sound disapproving. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the reluctant smile from rising to his lips though. He closed his eyes, partly to look pointedly frustrated, but mostly because it was easier to not be charmed if he wasn’t making direct eye contact, and sat down in his second-favourite seat. It sagged in the middle. “Humbert, you cannot just break into my house like this–”

“Do you see anything broken?” Humbert asked. 

“My trust.”

“You wound me.” 

“What if anyone had seen you?” Toto persisted. “How am I going to explain you picking the lock on my front door?”

“Do you really think I need to pick the lock anymore?”

“What other way would you–?” Toto sighed. “How long have you had a copy of my key?”

“Since you asked me to housesit your plants.” 

“That was–” Toto groaned. “Really? Have you been sneaking into my house for the past two years?”

There was a pause from Humbert. “I may owe you some tea and milk.” 

“You have your own house! With tea and milk! Why…?”

“Villain?” Humbert offered. He passed across a cup, which Toto reluctantly took. Admittedly, Humbert knew how to make a damn good cup of tea. 

“Don’t make me regret patching you up all these years,” Toto muttered, but it was mostly into the cup. He eyed the super villain. Humbert did indeed look unharmed, so he probably wasn’t here to request a new scar being sewn up or bandages applied. Toto lowered the tea. “So if you’re really not here on… business,” he eventually settled on, “then what are you doing here?”

“You were pretty seriously injured after the Scourge incident last month.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” Toto said. “There were a dozen other people in that tram carriage. It just happened to be someone you knew who got shot.” Toto gave Humbert a meaningful look. “You’re not doing your villain reputation much good by worrying over civilians.” 

“Maybe not, but I can still worry over a friend.” 

“Hmm.” Toto took another sip. “No, there’s something else,” he decided. “Something you’re not telling me.” 

Humbert gave a light chuckle. “You know me far too well, Toto.” 

“Far better than any law-abiding doctor should,” Toto agreed. “So, what is it? What dark and terrible secret have you come to burden on me now?”

“When have I ever burdened you with a dark and terrible secret?”

“I could certainly do without being an accessory to super villainy.” 

“Ah, but you would miss me.” 

Toto snorted and deliberately avoided making eye contact. He mumbled something that might have been confirmation into his tea. “Just tell me, Humbert,” he eventually managed. “What have you done?”

“Such little trust, to have assumed I have done anything,” Humbert teased, but even as Toto watched, Humbert’s eyes turned serious. 

Humbert had strange eyes. Glittering, almost feline eyes, green in some lights and golden in others. Toto had always wondered if that was some side effect of his super powers, but had never quite steered the conversation in a direction where he could ask. He also didn’t want to admit just yet that his own eyes were drawn to Humbert’s at an alarming rate. 

“I don’t suppose you remember that week you took off, back in September?” Humbert asked slowly. 

“Unsurprisingly, I do remember my holiday to Spain,” Toto confirmed. “Would have been a rather disappointing holiday otherwise. Why?” His eyes narrowed as suspicion set in. “You said you were going to keep a low profile while I was gone.”

Humbert wet his lips as he considered his next confession. “I may… have had a building fall on top of me.” 

“Goddammit, Humbert!”

“My mistake, admittedly, I should have been quicker–”

“One week, Humbert. One week! I go away for one week and you nearly get yourself killed!”

“–but,” the super villain continued, “as you can see, I was not. So, I think that counts in my favour, something that you should consider when I tell you how I did not die.”

“And how did you not die?” Toto asked flatly. 

“I had help.”

“From…?” Toto prompted. “Tell me it wasn’t Muta. That butterball has the medical prowess of my little finger - less. At least my little finger has seen surgery.”

“It wasn’t Muta.” 

“It better not have been Louise. Your sister will get into so much trouble if she’s found harbouring a super villain under her roof.” 

“It wasn’t Louise,” Humbert confirmed. 

“Not Persephone. Please do not tell me you got the mayor’s wife to stitch you up. She doesn’t even know who you are!” 

“No… but that’s not a bad idea–”

“Humbert!”

“Right. Yes, back to the subject at hand.” He inhaled. “I did not die because I was helped by the president of the Baron Fan Club.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Au contraire, my little minion--”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“--for, behold!” Humbert triumphantly held up something small and round and with tiny shiny lettering surrounding a sparkly top hat.

Toto squinted. “Did you make that yourself?”

“Of course not. That, my dear friend, is official merchandise from the Baron Fan Club, provided by none other than the president of this distinguished society.”

Toto watched as a little of the glitter shedded. “Distinguished, huh?” he echoed, fighting to keep his voice neutral. “And, pray tell,” he said, somewhat mimicking Humbert’s cadence, “how many members does this distinguished society have?”

“Ah, now that would be telling.” 

Toto bit his tongue to keep himself from calling Humbert out. “Oh, I bet it would,” still slipped out, regardless. He overlooked the apparent existence of the questionable fan club long enough to register where Humbert had been going with this. “Hang on, when you said you were helped by the president...” Toto’s eyes narrowed, “does that include your usual penchant for breaking and entering, or did you forgo that particular foible that time around?”

Humbert’s eyes darted guiltily to one side. “She helped, and that is the important part here.”

“Oh god, tell me you did not break into this woman’s house.”

“She took it rather well, all things considering.” And he was considering it now; Toto could see the cold realisation running across those ridiculously curious eyes. “In hindsight,” he eventually admitted, “not one of my better ideas, but I was running out of options.” 

“Would’ve served you right if she’d called the police on you,” Toto muttered. “So, that’s it? You crashed on some poor woman’s sofa for a night and demanded she stitch you back together? I hope you paid to have the blood cleaned off.”

“She refused,” Humbert said in a small voice. “Said something about not wanting to raise questions by hiring out a cleaner, and knowing how to remove blood stains anyway.”

Toto took a long, patient breath and rose to his feet, his cup empty. “Well, as enlightening as this was, this is still my evening off. So unless you have anything else to confess--”

“I saw her again.”

Toto sat. Rather heavier than planned. “What?”

“It was when you were poisoned by Scourge’s gun. She was the scientist in charge of identifying the toxin and developing an antidote.”

If Toto concentrated, he could just about remember the woman. Admittedly, he had been slightly out of it following the poison, and the memory was mostly comprised of white overalls and the smell of apricot. “That was her?”

Somehow, he’d imaged the President of the Baron Fan Club would look... different.

Humbert nodded. 

“And you’re telling me because...?” Toto trailed off, unease quickly replacing bafflement. “She doesn’t know your real identity, does she?”

Humbert waved the worry away. “No. At least, I don’t think so.” He frowned. “I hope not. I’ve never seen her at the tea shop anyway...”

Toto waited for Humbert to get to the point. He usually did, eventually. 

“But, I’ve been considering dropping by her place again... intentionally, some time... when the situation isn’t quite so dire. As one would drop by a friend - like I’m doing now.”

Toto decided against reminding Humbert that he had stolen into this particular house with an illegally copied key. 

“You want to get to know her,” Toto translated. 

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

“Yes?!”

“I suppose I’m flattered,” Humbert continued, “that she formed a fan club devoted to me, even if she did admit it wasn’t done in all seriousness--”

At least that meant the woman had some common sense, Toto couldn’t help but think. 

“--but what harm could come out of seeing her again, perhaps just drop some flowers off to thank her for her help...?”

Toto leant a hand on Humbert’s arm and tried to ignore the way his thoughts scrambled at the contact. “Humbert,” he said gently, “do you trust me?”

Humbert looked up at him with those eyes that glimmered like gems. “You trusted me when no one else would, so now I will always return the favour.”

Dammit. How was Toto supposed to think when Humbert came out with unnecessarily heartfelt things like that?

“Good,” Toto eventually managed, when he felt he could speak without making a fool of himself. It still took him several more moments to follow it up. He patted Humbert’s arm and consciously leant back. “I mean, thank you.” Words. Form words, dammit. “Then please trust me when I say that is a bad idea. Look, if you were talking about a one-off thank you with this woman, that would be one thing. But you’re not, are you?”

Humbert met his gaze, and Toto saw he was hitting the mark. He continued. 

“Humbert, me, your sister, Muta... we’re all people who were already invested in you or involved with the underworld, but this woman... she isn’t. And she doesn’t have to be. She could still go on to have a relatively crime-free life, even with her rather strange hobbies. But if you keep muscling your way into her life, she’s going to lose that. Is that what you want?”

Humbert was silent for a good long moment, and then he finally nodded. He patted Toto’s arm in the same manner Toto had previously. “That’s why I came to yours. You always have such good advice.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Toto said dryly. 

“I probably should thank her for sewing me back together after the building incident, even so,” Humbert said. “An one-off, of course.” 

“Of course,” Toto echoed. 

“But what?”

“Well, there’s always the classics: chocolates, roses, promises you don’t intend to keep,” Toto rattled off. At Humbert’s disapproving look, he rolled his eyes. “I was kidding. Kidding. Just buy her flowers. She’ll love that.”

“You think?”

Toto stared for a long moment. “Seriously, why are you asking me for ladies’ advice? Go ask your sister, she’s the one with actual experience - and interest.”

“Good point. Thank you, Toto.”

Toto snorted. “Buy me flowers and then we’re even.” He watched as Humbert got to his feet - with feline grace, as always - and, with a defeated sigh, leant back to catch him as he went. “Hey, it might not be a great idea for this woman to get to know the Baron, the super villain, but... there’s no reason why she can’t get to know Humbert, your local tea shop owner.”

Humbert’s eyes lit up. God, he was obvious. “Duly noted. I owe you flowers for this.”

“And tea and milk!” Toto shouted as Humbert vanished out. “Pay me back for all the goddamn tea you’ve been stealing first, you skinflint cretin!” There was the slam of the front door, and Toto collapsed back into his seat. Only the cups left any sign that he hadn’t imagined the whole encounter. 

“He could at least have washed up.”

Toto Morrigan, doctor, birdwatcher, part-time baritone, liked to consider himself a fine, upstanding member of society, except that fine, upstanding members of society didn’t crush on their local super villain. 

Well, usually. 

[phantasticworks]

Special Delivery

I wrote this based on a prompt I found on @dailyau which I thought was really cute. I’m not sure I did the prompt justice as I’ve been in a bit of a writing slump but here it is! 

read on ao3

Words: 7.6k

Description: Dan Howell definitely did not order this package, but the man who did is definitely very interesting. And the object he’s ordered is also... interesting.

Warnings: Nothing really, there’s one masturbation scene and references to sex toys but nothing explicit!

If there was one thing Dan could complain about, it was the fact that his Amazon deliveries always came at an ungodly time of morning. It wasn’t like he slept that late, but on the days that he did, it always seemed like those were the very days a package was delivered. And he couldn’t just sleep through it; the way the apartment complex handled package delivery forced him to get out of bed when he heard the buzzing to let the delivery guy come upstairs. It was totally inconvenient of course, but for some reason Dan didn’t feel that he should just stop online shopping. Where else was he meant to get cool video game character collectibles and anime merch?

Despite his total aversion to waking early, it was unavoidable on this particular Thursday, because at some ungodly hour of the morning, the buzzer goes off. He groans into his pillow, cursing every god and goddess he can think of, then realizing that maybe he should be asking them to curse the delivery guy instead. Rather than wallow in his misery and let the incessant buzzing continue, he shoves himself out from under his duvet and goes to the front door where the intercom was located.

“Yeah?” He says, putting as much malice and hatred into the one syllable word. It was early, too early for kindness and things like manners.

“Er- I have a package?” The voice says, sounding timid. Dan figures it’s probably someone new, as he generally didn’t have people who were this afraid in the face of his anger.

“Alright,” Dan smashes the button to allow him inside before moving over to the kitchen. If he was already awake he might as well make some coffee and get his day started.

As he goes through the motions of turning the kettle on, he begins pondering which of his purchases was meant to arrive today. The more he thought of it, however, the more confused he was. He didn’t remember ordering anything that was meant to get here this soon. The last thing he had ordered was a cool jacket he found online, and he had only ordered that two days ago. It definitely hadn’t been long enough for it to arrive yet.

He sighs and just opts to wait and see what it is. Sometimes when he was lonely and drinking by himself he would order things and had real no recollection of them until they arrived, so it was like giving himself a little surprise every time. He hadn’t had one of his pity solo drinking parties recently, though, so again, he’s quite puzzled.

As he pours his coffee into the Hello Kitty mug (it held more liquid, okay?) there was a knock at the door, indicating the surprise package was finally there. He tries not to be too annoyed with the delivery guy, as he was just doing his job, but it was difficult not to be as it was because of him that Dan was up at such an ungodly hour. After checking the time, he notices that it’s actually already nine; so maybe it’s not like super early, but it was early for him.

“Sign here,” the delivery man says the second Dan opens the door. Dan quirks an eyebrow but shrugs and takes the clipboard, signing his name neatly on the line. “Thanks, here you go.” The man seems to shrink in on himself as he hands the box to Dan, and suddenly he feels a little guilty for being sort of hateful to him when he buzzed him in. Before he gets the chance to apologize, however, the man is gone, down the hall and out of sight.

“Okay…” Dan mutters to himself as he closes the door and carries the package to the kitchen. He really didn’t know what was in this, and it was much too small to be the jacket he had ordered, but he assumed it was probably yet another one of those dumb things he’d ordered on a whim without properly thinking it through.

Taking a knife from the drawer beside his sink, he slices across the top of the box, barely glancing at the label in his hurry to get it open. After successfully opening it without any damage to himself, he flips it over, shaking the contents out. It’s only after he flips it that he thinks of the possible repercussions of this, but luckily, what falls out sounds very plasticky.

Now, Dan was certain he’d ordered his fair share of useless things in his life, but he was pretty certain he would remember ordering a new dildo.

Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly what this is.

After a little closer inspection, Dan realizes that although it is definitely phallic-shaped, it’s also got a very distinctive pickle-shape to it. So, unless he was just projecting his desire to get laid on this object, it was decidedly not a sex toy. That in no way lessens his apprehension of the object, however. If anything, it just makes him warier.

Slowly, as if moving too quickly would bring him some sort of pain, he slowly picks up the object to inspect it. It was definitely nothing he’d ever seen in his life, that was for sure. After flipping it over a few times, he realizes there’s little holes on one side, indicating that it should make some sort of sound. This just makes him even more curious, so naturally when he finds a little battery compartment with a slip of plastic to pull out, he does it almost immediately.

Now, when he presses the button on the side, he’s definitely not expecting much. It’s a pickle, he’s decided, so really all he expects is maybe a Rick and Morty reference. The ungodly sound that leaves the phallic-shaped device is absolutely not that, however, so when it begins yodeling, he drops it immediately, almost flinging it to the floor in his haste to get away from it.

“What the absolute fuck,” he breathes, staring down at it with wide eyes. It’s nearly vibrating on the floor as it continues making the sound, and if he was less shocked, he’d probably have stomped on it to destroy it.

Now, fully deducing that he had not been the one to order this cursed object, he quickly grabs the box from the counter and flips it over, reading the name on the label.

Phil Lester

Well, whoever Phil Lester was could probably be considered a creepy fucker in Dan’s book, just from this one object. After realizing that the pickle has finally gone silent, Dan debates what he should do. He glances down at the label on the box again, and suddenly the mix up makes sense. On the second line of the recipient address, at the end of the line, is the numbers 906. Dan’s apartment was 609. That explains the mix up, at least on the delivery man’s part.

Sighing loudly, Dan debates what he should do. Would it be acceptable to call the delivery service and just demand they come retrieve it and deliver it to the proper person themselves? Or would it be easier on everyone if he just sucked it up and went up a couple floors to deliver the package himself?

After several moments of heavy debate, he groans before stomping to his bedroom to put some proper clothes on. If he was going to be a good person and deliver the damn thing, he was going to have to put some actual clothes on first. It was only as he was tugging on a pair of sweatpants that he realizes he answered the door in just his boxers earlier. Maybe that explains some of the awkwardness of the delivery man, actually.

After tugging on a white long-sleeved tee, he grabs his phone and the box, sticking the pickle back in with as much distaste as he can. It really was such an offending object. He honestly didn’t know who this Phil Lester guy was, but he imagined he’d be meeting a shifty fifty-year-old pervert in about five minutes, if he were to guess.

The journey up to the ninth floor of his building is uneventful, as most people are probably at work right now, on a Thursday morning, so he didn’t run into any other residents of the apartment complex. He’s thankful for this, actually, because he doesn’t think he can handle anymore forced conversation then he absolutely has to, and this interaction of his special delivery was going to fill his socializing quota for the day.

He’s writing a whole script in his head of exactly what to say to the man he was about to meet, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for why he opened it without reading the name. Honestly, though, he’d been so traumatized by the whole pickle experience, he felt that he didn’t really owe anyone an explanation. If anything, this Phil guy would owe him payments for a therapist after this.

Having worked himself up into a proper state of irritation when he reaches the door with the number 906 on it, he knocks three times, sharply. He stands with his arms crossed, the small box clutched in his left hand and tucked under his arm. Impatiently, he taps his foot as he waits, fueling his annoyance for this whole situation as he waits for the door to open.

There’s the sound of footsteps and then the door is swinging open, and Dan has a glare on his face, ready to chew out this absolute freak for ordering such a cursed thing, but the words die in his throat as the occupant comes into view. The man standing there raises an eyebrow at Dan, clearly wondering who the hell he is and what he wants, although that’s not what catches Dan’s attention. He can’t be much older than Dan, maybe a few years, but he’s got to be one of the most attractive men he’d ever laid eyes on.

He’s got black hair that looks like it’s been dipped in ink, quiffed up away from his forehead, which is a little wide. Distracting from that, however, is his glasses, which sit slightly skewed on his nose, making him only that much more endearing, honestly. Dan’s eyes dart down to take in his clothes, and he nearly snorts at the NASA shirt and black jeans. He looked adorable and slightly dorky, and absolutely Dan’s type.

Dan nearly swears as he realizes that the man before him is very much not a pervert, but then he realizes he’s just standing there staring at him and not speaking. So, like the idiot he apparently is, he remembers the box in his hand and shoves it forward, nearly hitting the man in the process. “Here,” he mumbles out.

The man, Phil, he’s assuming, takes the box, glancing at it in confusion before his blue eyes dart back up to meet Dan’s. “Um…” He starts, looking a little lost for words.

“Sorry, uh-“ Dan shakes himself. Get it together. You can’t lose your shit just because he’s cute, you know. “The post came, and I online shop a lot, so I just assumed it was mine and didn’t read the name before opening it, so yeah, I’m here to return it.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants, chewing his lip thoughtfully before nodding to the box. “Uh, interesting buy there, though.” Then he blushes, realizing how weird it was for him to actually know what it was that this stranger had ordered.

The ebony haired man looks confused for a moment before he pulls one of the flaps on the box open, inspecting the contents of the box. “Oh,” he gasps out, reaching in and pulling it out, his face lighting up. He catches Dan’s uncomfortable gaze then, and something crosses his face before his cheeks flush. He must’ve realized how strange the object looked at first sight, and by the look on his face now, he was embarrassed that someone else had been unfortunate enough to open it. “I am so sorry, oh my god- I know this looks like a- well, um…” He presses his lips together and looks down at it before quickly dropping it into the box.

Dan, more comfortable with the situation now that Phil’s embarrassed too, shrugs. “Looks a bit like a dildo, mate.” He smirks when Phil’s eyebrows shoot up, their gazes meeting before Phil quickly looks away.

“Erm, yeah.” Phil sounds incredibly uncomfortable, and Dan almost feels guilty for saying it. Almost.

“I’m Dan, by the way,” he says after a moment of silence. He doesn’t hold his hand out for a handshake, being the awkward human he is, but Phil just nods.

“I’m Phil, but I guess you figured that out,” he laughs quietly, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his neck in what Dan thinks is probably a nervous habit.

Dan smirks at this before nodding. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, Phil.” Considering his job done, Dan takes one last appraising look at Phil before smirking once more, lifting a hand up to give a little salute. “See you around, mate. Have fun with your…well, you know.”

If it’s even possible, Phil’s cheeks flush even more, bringing Dan to stifle a giggle as he walks away. Just as he’s taking a few strides away from the door, he hears the other man’s voice call his name. Turning back around, he hums in question. Phil hesitates before holding up the box. “This is for a video. I don’t just buy yodeling pickles for myself.” He looks very concerned as he says this, as if he’s very concerned about what Dan leaves thinking about him.

Dan only smiles, shrugging. “Sure thing, Phil. Have a good day.”

He’s not positive, but he thinks that just before the door shuts, he hears a quiet, “I promise I’m not weird.”

Either way, he knows this man is weird, but he thinks he might just like that.

---

It’s nearly three weeks before another incident happens. This time, however, Dan feels that it’s almost the universe’s way of telling him that he should’ve done more than just stare at Phil last time, like maybe ask for his number, or something intelligent. Regardless, this time when Dan receives the package, he’s careful to read the name on it first. He almost calls the delivery guy back to tell him he’d brought it to the wrong door yet again, but he decides against it. After all, he can’t look at Phil if the delivery guy takes the package to him.

So instead, he pulls on his shoes and grabs his phone before making his way up three floors to room 906 yet again. He’s humming to himself as he goes, in a surprisingly good mood for once. The delivery hadn’t been at an ungodly hour for once, so he was actually quite pleased with the day’s events. Maybe this time he’ll be less sleep deprived and more able to hold an actual conversation with the cute stranger who orders questionable things.

He raps on the door three times, stepping back and rocking back and forth on his heels as he waits patiently for the door to open. This time, he promises himself, he’ll ask for Phil’s phone number, maybe flirt a little more. He didn’t honestly think he had a chance, but there was really nothing stopping him. He was in a reasonably good place for once, so it made perfect sense for him to shamelessly flirt with the cute guy on the ninth floor, and who knows, maybe it’ll go somewhere.

All of his optimism comes crashing down, however, when the door swings open, revealing a man who is very much not Phil. And as if his mind has blanked and he doesn’t know how to properly speak to a stranger, the only thing Dan can think of is-

“You aren’t Phil.”

The man, who’s shirtless, Dan notices with a blush, regards him with a blank expression before letting out a sharp laugh. “Well, no, I’m not.” He sounds friendly enough, but something about the fact that he’s in Phil’s flat, shirtless, really annoys Dan. His subconscious helpfully adds that he doesn’t look like that when he’s shirtless, and Dan struggles to shove that voice away.

He realizes that the Adonis look alike is standing there looking at him, an impatient look on his face as he waits for Dan to speak. “Oh, er-“ he quickly hands over the package. “Phil’s package got sent to my flat again, I was just bringing it up to him.” He shrugs then, tucking his hands in his pockets.

Adonis looks down at the package, a look of understanding on his face. “Oh, thanks! What did you say your name was?” He asks, glancing up at Dan with an easy, polite smile.

“Er- I didn’t,” Dan mumbles awkwardly, mentally slapping himself as he takes a step back. “Anyway, have a nice day!”

As quickly as possible, and ignoring the confused, “Wait!” thrown his way, Dan hurries to the elevator, seriously wishing he could crawl under his blankets for the next month after that embarrassment.

How could he let himself seriously get his hopes up over some guy he didn’t even know? Like sure he’s cute and probably dorky if his NASA shirt and stupid mismatched socks and glasses were any indication, and maybe he did make interesting online purchases that made Dan want to know more, but he couldn’t honestly expect anything after only this much information. He forces himself to keep this in mind as he goes back to his own flat, reminding himself again that he needed to let it go. It wasn’t a big deal; hell, it wasn’t even a small one. He was just delivering packages that had been misdelivered in the first place, and if the cute recipient had a boyfriend that looked like a Greek god, then that was really none of his business, was it?

---

“Fuck,” Dan whimpers. He was currently in what some could consider a compromising position, but as he lived alone and was a twenty-seven-year old man, he felt that it was well within his rights to be laying in his bed at eleven on a Friday morning, working a hand over himself in the safety of his room. He was chewing on his bottom lip harshly, trying to quiet himself as much as possible. He knew he was alone, but sometimes whenever he had the occasional hookup he was reminded of how loud he was in the bedroom, a fact that made him incredibly self-conscious. So sometimes when he was alone, getting himself off, he would try and train himself to be quieter. Sometimes he thought he was making a lot of practice, but then other times it would dawn on him that he just got louder as he got closer to his release, and when his head was swimming with pleasure it was difficult to focus on much else.

On this particular morning, he had been working over himself for nearly ten minutes, slightly edging himself (he had nothing better to do) and he knew his body well enough to know he was getting close. He felt incredibly wound up and he knew just a few more strokes and he’d be gone.

Just as he feels he’s about to burst, however, he’s completely interrupted by a knock on his front door. His flat wasn’t very large, and it was kind of open plan aside from the door separating the bedroom to the rest of the flat, so when someone was knocking at his door, he could hear the sound very well through his bedroom door. A little too well, if he was being honest.

Embarrassingly, even as he jumps at the sound, the thought of someone being so close, yet so unaware of what he’s doing, is enough to send him over the edge. He has the common sense as the pleasure is washing over him to cover his mouth, thoroughly stifling the obnoxious whine that was breaking free as he came over his hand. He barely has any time to be disgusted with himself before the knocking has returned, and he scrambles to get up and clean himself up.

“Goddammit,” he mutters sourly as he grabs a dirty t-shirt from the floor, cleaning himself quickly before tucking himself back into his pants neatly. He cringes as he passes the mirror by his bedroom door, catching a good look of himself as he does. His hair was a right mess and his face was flushed with pleasure. There was little doubt what he’d just gotten up to, but there was literally no time to waste as he had to go answer the door.

He’s muttering to himself, cursing out whoever is on the other side of the door as he walks over, because whoever it is has to be the most inconsiderate, selfish- he swings the door open then, and his inner monologue hushes.

There, looking rather sheepish, is Phil Lester. He waves shyly, looking a little awkward as he does it. “Hi, there.”

Dan had honestly almost forgotten all about the incident with Phil, as it had been about a month and a half since he had taken the package up to his flat, only to be met with Adonis’ twin instead of Phil himself. During that time, he’d come to terms with how silly he had been to feel so attracted to the man, and after he realized that it hadn’t taken him long at all to forget about the whole thing entirely, or at least repress it enough for it to be manageable.

Granted, in this time of repressing Dan had plenty of time to remember stupid things, like how Phil’s glasses sat just so on his nose, and the fact that he had worn mismatched socks, one blue with pizzas all over it while the other had been green and covered in little neon flamingoes. So, really, he hadn’t completely forgotten about the stranger; but standing before him now, he realized that he had probably done him the injustice of misremembering him for how attractive he truly was.

Today, Phil stood wearing a pair of black skinny jeans like before, but unlike last time, he’s wearing a green hoodie that’s got a few well-placed holes in it, clearly a bold fashion choice, that Dan personally thinks looks fantastic. His glasses are gone this time, probably replaced with contacts, and it takes Dan a moment of just looking at him to realize he’s not empty handed. “Um… hi?” He stutters out, confused.

Phil shifts, his gaze dropping to the box. His cheeks appear a little flushed, and Dan wonders if he looks even more fucked out than he thought. He sends up a little prayer that he doesn’t have any… evidence… of his most recent activity anywhere visible on his clothes, but a discreet glance down proves that he doesn’t. “I feel this is a little backwards,” Phil laughs out awkwardly, holding the box out to Dan. “I got your package this time.”

Dan’s surprised, one, because this has happened yet again, even if it is in the opposite direction, and two, because he doesn’t really remember ordering… oh. Oh no.

As he takes the narrow package from Phil, his cheeks flush. It’s not until it’s in his hands that he realizes that there’s small strips of scotch tape holding it closed, meaning it had already been opened. This just causes him to feel even more embarrassed, because if his guess is correct, the item in this box is a little less… innocent than the one that Phil had received. One glance up at Phil, who is chewing his lips as he stares at the box, a rosy tint to his cheeks, proves that what he’s thinking is exactly what is in this box.

“Um… thank you,” Dan stammers out, his finger brushing along the tape that was carefully placed on the box.

Phil’s eyes follow this action, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them and bringing his gaze up to meet Dan’s. “I may have… well, I did accidentally open it, thinking it was mine. I was expecting a package I was really excited to get, and I just-“

Dan cuts him off then, a sudden flare of annoyance rising up, completely unwarranted since he’d done the exact same thing. But when he speaks his voice his bitter, and he almost immediately regrets it. “Oh, were you expecting a vibrator too?” He snaps.

He holds his breath after speaking, his eyes widening in surprise at himself. He honestly hadn’t expected that kind of reaction, even from himself. But there it was in the open, and now he just had to wait for Phil’s reaction. He waits with bated breath, pretty certain the man in front of him was about to blush and stammer out an awkward goodbye before putting as much distance between them as possible.

Since he was so certain that was the reaction he was about to get, he’s thoroughly shocked when Phil’s eyes widen before a smirk tugs at his lips and he rolls his shoulders back. “I was, actually,” he responds smoothly, crossing his arms and quirking an eyebrow, almost in challenge.

Then it’s Dan’s turn to blush, and he looks down at the box in his hands, a little more than uncomfortable with this turn of events. Sure, he can talk, but when he actually gets a response that rivals his own lewdness, he’s a little taken aback. “O-oh. Well, um… I hope you get yours soon.” He feels his face is literally about to burst into flames with how warm his cheeks are, and he almost wishes they would, just to save him from this embarrassment.

Phil leans against his doorframe then, causing Dan’s eyes to widen as he shifts a little further away as subtly as possible. His hand comes to rest on the door handle, ready to shut it but not wanting to be rude. “Mhm, me too,” Phil hums. He tilts his head then before nodding to the box in his hands. “Do you need any help with that?” He asks, his gaze heated as he waits for Dan’s response.

Apparently just this question, and the implications behind it, renders Dan a little speechless at first. He stutters out something that isn’t words before clearing his throat and shaking his head once. “I’m not- I don’t…” he shakes his head again, trying to clear his thoughts. Suddenly, a memory comes to him, one of an Adonis look-alike, shirtless, in Phil’s flat. He suddenly frowns, anger flaring up at the idea that this man is here flirting with him, when he has that to go home to. “No, I don’t need any help.” He puts as much force behind his words as he can manage, moving to close the door. He was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a homewrecker; he wasn’t about to continue allowing this interaction to happen when this man was clearly taken.

“Are you sure?” Phil’s smooth voice meets his ears, and Dan glares at him.

“Positive,” he hisses. “I’m sure your boyfriend would be delighted for you to help him with something like that when yours comes in, but I’m all set, thanks.” He takes the surprised look he receives as his opportunity to shut the door. “Have a nice day,” he mutters, slamming the door and sliding the lock into place, satisfied by the loud click it makes as it slides over.

Without even waiting for any sort of noise on the other side, Dan stomps to his room, tossing the package on his desk to be dealt with. Right now, he just needed a shower, and probably an Advil if his blossoming headache was anything to go by.

---

A couple uneventful days pass after the awkward interaction with Phil, giving Dan more than enough time to get over his embarrassment. Well, sort of. Maybe he lies awake at night, replaying the conversation and blushing every time he thinks about how blunt Phil had been, but honestly no one is there to prove it.

He's sat at his kitchen table on Friday, his laptop in front of him with a script for his radio show open in a word document. He was working on the show for next week, but the more he tried to focus, the more distracted he felt. His eyes would flit over to the balcony and he’d focus on the pigeons for a few minutes before his mind would wander to something else, like his rent coming due or his grandma’s birthday or-

A buzzing sound interrupts his distracted thoughts, and for a moment he’s relieved that at least now he has a good reason to be distracted. Then he’s annoyed, because he hadn’t been expecting anyone. And because of the last time he had an unexpected guest, he’s more than a little wary to go check the intercom. “Yeah?” He says carefully, pulling off the button to hear the answer.

“Er, I have a delivery to make,” the man says, and Dan groans. Maybe this was his HDMI cables he had ordered, which would be great, considering he’d waited long enough.

“Right, come on up.” Dan presses the button to unlock the door for him, shuffling over to his kitchen table to wait.

A few minutes later, there’s a sharp rap on his door. When he tentatively pulls the door open, he’s a little embarrassed to see the postman standing on the other side. It’s the same one it was over two months ago, the man who saw Dan in only his boxers that day he brought the strange pickle thing that Phil bought. Dan can’t help but frown at him, eyeing the box in his hand suspiciously as he signs for it. “Here you go, sir.” He hands the box over without fuss, and Dan nods, waving before shutting the door.

He swears loudly when he looks at the label then, seeing a name that is arguably not his own at the top of the label. Groaning, he swings the door open again, ducking his head out in search of the delivery man. “Sorry, sir? This isn’t mine.”

The uniformed man turns, a surprised look on his face. “Um…” He looks nervous, and Dan has to remind himself that this guy is new at this.

Dan holds up the box and waves it around for emphasis, hearing something within it rattle. “Yeah, this says Phil Lester, I’m not Phil Lester.”

Walking back over slowly, the man glances down at his delivery slip, then stares at the number on the door. “Sorry, this says 609. I delivered it to 609.” He shrugs then, as if there’s nothing more he can do. Dan stares down at the package and sees that he’s right; instead of 906, the address is clearly labeled with the number to his own flat. Phil likely just made a mistake typing it in, but that wasn’t Dan’s fault.

When the postman turns to walk back down the hall toward the elevator, Dan shakes his head, his eyebrows knitting together. “No, can’t you like take it up to him instead?”

The man barely looks at him, shrugging as if he feels sorry. “No, sorry, mate. I delivered it to the address specified on the package.” With that, he disappears around the corner, leaving Dan staring after him with a glare etched onto his face.

“Fucking… ugh,” Dan grumbles to himself as he walks back into his flat. Despite the fact that the postman is out of sight and cannot hear him, he slams the door, seething. How the hell was he meant to go up there and face Phil, yet again, especially after what happened just a few days ago? He couldn’t. He would die of embarrassment, he was absolutely sure of it.

Still, he couldn’t exactly keep it. He debated opening it to see what it was, almost wondering if it would even be something worth keeping. He wipes that thought away quickly, though, when he remembers what package Phil had said he was waiting on. A shudder involuntarily wracks Dan’s body, and he tries desperately to ignore the swell of arousal he feels at the thought. Nope, he was definitely not keeping it. Maybe he’d just knock on the door and leave it outside, like the coward he felt he was.

He quickly dismisses that thought as well. He knows himself well enough to know that he wouldn’t go as far as denying himself the pleasure of seeing Phil again, if only to admire his looks. He’s taken! The voice in his head reminds him. He sighs, but he knows it’s true. So, this will have to be a quick trip, strictly business.

Even with that thought, he is a bit excited as he slips his shoes on and tucks his phone in his back pocket. Just because he can’t touch doesn’t mean he can’t look. He can’t order from the menu, but he can certainly look at it.

He makes a quick trip up to the ninth floor, and when he gets to Phil’s door he knocks twice, rather loudly. Trying not to allow himself to back out now, he stuffs his empty hand in his pocket, tucking the package under his other arm as he rocks back and forth on his feet. He’s already envisioning how cute Phil will look, how perfectly hot and untouchable he’ll be, and the thought is enough to make his knees go a little weak.

However, when the door opens, he’s met with a completely different sight than the well put-together man he’d seen on the other occasions. Instead, Phil was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie from York University, and over his shoulders was a thick blanket, which he clutched with the hand he was currently not using to steady himself on the door. So, to put it bluntly, he looked like death.

Dan allows himself a moment to stare at him before he raises an eyebrow. “Not to be blunt, mate, but you look like shit,” he says eloquently, trying to hide a smile when Phil ducks his head.

“Sorry,” he croaks, his voice scratchy and hoarse. He was clearly ill, and Dan felt a strong pang of sympathy. His dulled blue eyes drop to the box Dan’s still holding, and a rosy tint appears on the apple of his cheeks.

Smiling slightly but feeling a little awkward about his earlier perverted thoughts due to Phil’s clear lack of wellbeing, Dan hands him the box. “If this keeps happening we might just have to become friends, just so this isn’t so awkward anymore,” he jokes, putting his hand in his pocket when Phil takes the box.

Phil smiles weakly, glancing down at the box. He sighs then, looking sort of resigned. “I’ll be honest, Dan, I may have put your number on the address on purpose.” He blushes as he confesses this, his gaze flicking down to the floor.

Dan, left a little speechless by this revelation, can’t really process it at first. “Sorry, you what?” He definitely didn’t understand why Phil would have done this. He didn’t seem like the type to just enjoy being an inconvenience for other people, and while Dan knew their last encounter had ended on strange note, he really didn’t think Phil would have actually done it to be flirtatious. He had a boyfriend, after all.

Nodding, Phil pushes his hair up a little, away from his forehead. “Yeah. I… I wanted an excuse to see you again.” He sounds only slightly embarrassed now but seems to grow more confident when he sees Dan’s confusion. “Obviously I’m ill and gross now, so like, that failed, but still.” He shrugs as if it isn’t a big deal, then shifts so he’s leaning more on the door.

Dan realizes he should probably leave now and let Phil rest, so he takes a step away from the door. “Oh, well… I should get going, actually. I have… yeah. I’ll let you get some rest.”

Before he can turn around, Phil steps closer. “Actually, Dan, um…” He hesitates then, before seemingly making up his mind. “Could I get your number? I know we don’t know each other, but I’d love to get coffee sometimes.” His voice is hopeful, and Dan is so inclined to say yes, but all he can think of is the shirtless man who opened the door that one day. Dan couldn’t comprehend that Phil was actually willing to ruin it with that man, and although Dan was sufficiently jealous of the boyfriend for getting Phil all for himself, he wasn’t going to knowingly be part of an affair.

Deciding to just be honest, Dan sighs. “Phil… I would, but I can’t… do that…” He trails off, but at Phil’s disappointed expression, he rushes to explain. “I mean, sure, if you were single! I absolutely would. But… I’ve been cheated on before, and I would never, ever, willingly help someone else do it, I just… can’t.”

At first, Phil’s face is disappointed, but the more Dan talks, the more confused he seems to get. By the time Dan’s done, Phil is staring at him, his head tilted and eyes squinting, as if that’ll give him a better look at Dan. Feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze, Dan shifts, waiting for the other man to speak.

“I’m not dating anyone, Dan,” he says finally, his voice sounding amused.

Dan’s mind blanks suddenly, and it takes him a moment to fully comprehend what he means by that. “Oh… you’re… you’re not?” When Phil shakes his head, Dan’s eyebrows knit together. “But I thought… there was that guy, here. He answered the door… shirtless...” The more he talks, the stupider he feels, so he just shakes his head. “I’m sorry, what?”

Phil smiles, covering his mouth to cough as he goes to answer. Dan steps forward, concerned, but Phil waves him off. “I’m not dating anyone. I haven’t in a long time, actually.” He shrugs, tugging his blanket closer to him. “I think you might’ve seen my friend PJ, actually. He stays over sometimes when he’s in the city.”

The explanation checks out, obviously, because Dan doesn’t have any evidence to prove otherwise, but he still feels a little dumb for just assuming in the first place. Rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, he can’t help but laughing at how ridiculous the situation was turning out to be. “Right… Well, that just makes me look like a massive twat,” he says awkwardly.

A sweet smile crosses Phil’s face as he tilts his head to rest against the door. “You look pretty good to me, actually,” he says smoothly, causing Dan’s already flushed cheeks to brighten even more.

“Come off it,” Dan laughs before bringing his hands back to his pockets. He stands there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before something occurs to him. Phil is single, apparently, and also interested in Dan. Which means…

“Do you mind coming inside for a minute? So, I can put this down and grab my phone? You still need to give me your number.” Phil steps away from the door and ushers Dan in, and he’s sort of helpless to deny it, as he’s literally being guided into the flat.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Dan steps in and closes the door behind him, suddenly hyper-aware of his surroundings. He’s actually in Phil’s flat, following him to the kitchen.

Phil drops the package onto the table before looking around, a confused look on his face. “Well, um, I thought my phone was in here…” His face suddenly lights up and he reaches a hand back, tugging it out of his back pocket, a triumphant smile on his face. “Here you go,” he says brightly, handing it over after unlocking it.

Dan tries to hide his small smile as he programs his name in, but it’s hard. He was relieved that Phil was single, even more so now that he knew that Phil was also interested in him. Even still, he doesn’t send himself a text to get Phil’s number, still a little too shy to do that. “Here,” he hands Phil his phone back, tucking his hands in his pockets as he watches Phil’s face as he looks down at the screen.

“Your last name is Howell?” He asks, smiling. Dan rolls his eyes, expecting the joke that he knows is coming. “If you decide to have kids, you should name one of them Wolf.” A smirk makes its way onto Phil’s face, and Dan pretends to be surprised.

“Oh my god, that’s brilliant, I’ve never had literally anyone make that same exact joke before!” he says sarcastically, his smile giving away that he wasn’t actually annoyed.

Phil laughs quietly, leaning back against the counter and tilting his head. “I know, Dan. I’m just really original, it might be a lot to handle at first.”

Dan raises an eyebrow before nodding seriously. “Oh, yeah, of course. I’ll have to learn a thing or two from you with all that originality,” he jokes, dragging a hand through his hair, half-nervous from their banter.

“Oh, I can definitely teach you a thing or two,” Phil smirks and winks, but he clearly doesn’t know exactly how to do the winking part and it just looks like he’s blinking to clear something out of his eye.

“Okay, ew, I’m gonna go now before you molest me,” Dan giggles, inching backwards towards the door.

Offended, Phil shakes his head. “Excuse me, I would never! I’m a gentleman!”

Dan smirks at this, shrugging. “Ah, that’s too bad. I like it rough.” He winks this time, and since he can actually complete the motion without looking like he’s in pain, it has a different effect on Phil, who visibly gulps.

“Oh, um…” Phil, clearly at a loss for something flirty to reply with, glances around the room before finally sighing, looking at Dan with an embarrassed smile. “You win. I can’t do the whole flirtatious banter thing,” he admits.

Shrugging, Dan says, “Neither can I, but I can fake it.”

Phil smiles at this, his head tilting to the side adorably as he studies Dan. “You’ll answer if I text you, right?” He asks tentatively, his voice full of hope.

Dan smiles a little, nodding. “Sure, Phil.” He tries his hardest to play it off in a cool way, although the truth is he feels giddy at the prospect of actually getting to know Phil or, heaven forbid, going on a date with him.

“Good, I’m sick of ordering things and having them sent to your apartment to try and get you to come see me.” Phil’s cheeks flush as he says this, and he looks down as if he hadn’t actually meant to say it aloud at all.

Dan, surprised by this revelation, takes only a second to process it before laughing loudly. “You didn’t- oh my god, Phil. That’s precious.” He can’t hold himself back, giggling at the very idea of this man ordering things and intentionally putting in the wrong number to get them sent to Dan’s flat. Maybe the first time it was a mistake, but he was implying that the times after that had been on purpose. The very idea of this sends Dan into another fit of giggles, and Phil pouts at him. “Sorry-“ he breathes, calming himself down. “That’s just… that’s fucking cute, mate.”

Phil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “I thought it was romantic, and clever,” he mumbles, and Dan grins, unable to help it as he takes a couple steps forward, brushing a strand of Phil’s hair back before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“It was definitely something,” he admits, smiling at the pink patches across Phil’s cheeks. “I’ll answer your text when you send it, though, so you don’t have to worry about going through that much trouble anymore.” He smiles again at the knowledge that Phil had honestly tried that hard to flirt with him, shaking his head as he steps back.

“You better,” Phil warns teasingly. Dan rolls his eyes before moving to leave, stopping when Phil calls his name. “Oh, um… you might get another one of my packages soon…” he says awkwardly, a blush covering his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Dan cackles, wondering what on earth it would be. “Seriously?”

Phil pouts. “Well, how was I supposed to know that it would work out this time and you would actually like me back? It just so happens that I ordered a couple things on the same day and, well…”

Dan rolls his eyes, but nods nonetheless. “Sure, Phil. I guess I’ll see you in a couple days with your package.”

Phil grins then, and Dan can tell by the cheeky smile that something awful is coming. “You can see me with my package whenever you’d like, Dan,” he giggles at the horrible innuendo, and Dan groans.

“Goodbye! I’m leaving now!” he calls obnoxiously as he steps out of the flat and into the hallway.

Phil responds in a similar way, and Dan makes his way down the hall to the elevator.

So, what if he smiles to himself the whole way back to his flat? And so what if, when he gets a funny text from Phil a few minutes after stepping into his lounge, he sits and giggles at it for a full minute and a half before responding? That’s his business.