#also i can decorate the pages however i want and undo it later if i don't like it

[bluebird-ascended]

ive been trying out doing a digital sketchbook thing, i really like it

[fyodcrs]

Fyozai headcanons please 👀?

Oh my God, anon, I love you.

I’m sorry this took so long asdfgfghhjgh, but thank you so much for this! I finally had to make myself stop because this was already just - way too long. Lots of Sigma and Nikolai included, too ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭

These are all very soft. I’m incapable of thinking of these monsters as being anything but soft with each other. 🥺 

Fyodor ultimately gives up his plans for Sigma. Erasing abilities from the world means erasing the Book, and it means erasing Sigma, and Fyodor decides that it just isn't worth it to him to sacrifice Sigma's life to save the world. He was always planning on killing Fukuchi and taking the Page. Instead, he manipulates the situation so it's Sigma who takes the Page, and uses it to save the ADA and undo much of what the Decay of Angels has done. Fyodor slips away, and meets with Dazai later. Dazai offers him a choice: stay, and search for a different path to salvation - or they could die together, the two of them, as they always should have.

Fyodor decides to stay. But only until he is sure that Sigma will have a good life, a real life. Dazai has that long to either make him want to live, or convince him to choose death by a lover's suicide. Whichever Dazai chooses.

Both of them have always wanted to die. But now they've essentially made a pact to live, until they decide whether or not it's worth it, to live, now that they're together.

Fyodor moves in with Dazai, of course. He complains constantly about how tiny the ADA's dormitory rooms are, but they don't go out and find a better place, even though Fyodor is obscenely rich because he's stolen half of Fukuchi's assets, still has 40% of The Guild's assets, and keeps stealing small amounts of money from Fitzgerald's new business (mostly to get Nathaniel's attention; Fyodor wants to say he's sorry, but he somehow can't bring himself to actually face Nathaniel).

Fyodor does extensively redecorate, though - if it can be called "redecorating" when there wasn't much "decorating" to begin with. If he's going to be a domestic rat now, he's going to make this closet of a room look nice, at least. Dazai is perfectly amenable. "Whatever you want, babe," is all he'll ever say.

Fyodor is, like, an amazing cook. He makes crab pirozhki sometimes and it's the best thing Dazai's ever tasted in his life.

Dazai is not allowed to cook. Ever. Ever ever.

Fyodor doesn't really like crab but it's Dazai's favorite so he makes it as often as he can stand it.

Fyodor is also really good at baking. Both Sigma and Dazai would die for the cookies he makes. Nikolai says his baking is like a "spiritual experience." Fyodor usually throws a cookie sheet at him. Sometimes a knife.

Fyodor can play the violin as well as the cello, and because the dormitory room is kind of too small for a cello, he gets himself a violin instead. Dazai makes snarky remarks but he loves to just sit and listen to Fyodor play.

Fyodor composes his own music sometimes. He never names his pieces, so Dazai starts naming them.

Somehow, Dazai has converted his “lover’s suicide” song into a rhythm that fits with one of Fyodor’s slow, melancholy pieces. Fyodor pretends to be contemptuous and mortified but really he finds it hilarious. 

Both of them constantly use pet names with each other. Fyodor uses a lot of Russian pet names Dazai doesn't understand.

Fyodor absolutely refuses to say how old he is. Dazai keeps asking, trying to catch Fyodor off guard by asking at totally random times and sometimes waking him up in the middle of the night. Of course it never works. Fyodor just makes vague comments about being very old. Dazai’s pretty sure he’s full of it and he can’t be any older than, like, 25. 

“Babe. Honey. Sweetheart. Love of my life. There is no way, absolutely no way, you are in your forties.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe I don’t even know that.”

*sigh* “This is what I get for dating someone a third my age...”

“I SWEAR TO GOD, FEDYA.” 

Fyodor does, however, reveal when his birthday is. Sort of. He starts making vague hints about a specific date coming up being important for some reason. Dazai figures it out pretty quickly. Dazai, Nikolai, and Sigma throw a “surprise” party that isn’t really a surprise (Sigma made the cake; Nikolai isn’t allowed in the kitchen, either). 

Dazai does love to flirt, and Fyodor can be…a little possessive. Dazai is the one who really gets jealous, though. There’s a girl working at the library who speaks Russian, and Fyodor likes to talk with her. Dazai is (not so) secretly plotting her demise. Same with the girl working at the cat café that called Fyodor “sweetie” that one time. 

Fyodor keeps dragging Dazai to said cat café, and Dazai hates it. Plus, the fact that cats seem to adore Fyodor makes no sense. Cats and rats are supposed to be natural enemies! 

“Well, lyubimyy, if you’d let me have a pet of my own, I wouldn’t need to go to places like this, now would I?”

“Why do you want a pet? You have Nikolai!” 

Of course, they have a daily chess game, but they’re so evenly matched that usually it only ends when someone throws the game. Or Dazai just pounces on Fyodor (Fyo considers that a forfeit). 

Dazai is Fyodor’s first kiss. 

They can barely keep their hands off each other. Fyodor had never been interested in intimacy, had never even let himself think about it - there was never any point - but that’s all changed with Dazai. He finds he’s almost as insatiable as Dazai. 

Basically, they spend a lot of their time either playing chess or fucking. Usually the former leads into the latter.

Dazai’s almost always on top. He likes to be in control, and Fyodor finds he likes it that way, too.

Fyodor is actually kind of naïve when it comes to sex, because it’s nothing he’s ever thought would matter to him, so he’s never bothered to learn much. Dazai is very enthusiastic about teaching him.

Fyodor isn’t just touch-starved; he’s been deprived of any sort of human contact that wasn’t violent for practically his entire life. Dazai makes it a point to touch him all the time - a hand on his lower back, a bump of their shoulders, an arm around his waist, brushing his hair back. 

Fyodor hates the city, but he loves the ocean. Dazai takes him down to the water a lot. He knows all the secret places where they can find some solitude for a little while. 

Sometimes they go out to the country. It seems to do Fyodor good, and Dazai starts to think that maybe they should leave the city, permanently - someday.

While they’re still in prison, Dazai learns that Fyodor has nightmares; he’s woken up in the middle of the night several times by Fyodor making a sound that’s almost - but not quite - a scream. It’s the reason Fyodor gets so little sleep - or part of the reason, anyway; his single-minded fixation on accomplishing his goal has caused him to neglect his health in many ways, not least the lack of sleep. Dazai doesn’t ask him about it, the way Fyodor doesn’t ask him about the times he has woken up calling out the name of a dead man. The first night Fyodor wakes him up, he doesn’t say anything, just pretends to go back to sleep - although he spends the rest of the night wide awake, listening to Fyodor’s uneven breathing in the dark and thinking. The second night it happens, he starts quietly singing his “lover’s suicide” song. The guards tell him to shut up and go to sleep, so Dazai sings louder, until the guards threaten to sedate him if he doesn’t keep quiet. Dazai huffs and puffs, but Fyodor’s breathing is steadier, and there might have even been a little snort of laughter from the other cell.

The nightmares seem to trouble both of them less as time goes on.  

They never really talk about their pasts, but they’re them, so they learn things about each other just by being around one another. There are things they don’t need to talk about, because they just know, and that’s more than enough. 

They’ve both always been terrible at taking care of themselves, but they’re pretty good taking care of each other, it turns out.

Fyodor doesn’t talk about his faith anymore, but he has an old Orthodox Cross that he still keeps with him all the time. One night, Dazai impulsively stops at a bookstore and buys a Bible, translated in English. He sets it on the dresser and leaves it without saying anything. Fyodor doesn’t even glance at it. For a few weeks, it just sits there. 

Then, one morning, Dazai wakes up to find Fyodor sitting by the window, the Bible in his lap. It’s been a while since either of them have been kept up all night, but the deepened shadows under Fyodor’s eyes says he hasn’t slept. They still don’t talk about it, but the Bible never ends up sitting untouched on the dresser again, and Fyodor starts wearing the cross around his neck. 

Dazai insists that they’re married, that they got married in prison and their honeymoon was outwitting Nikolai and escaping. Fyodor categorically denies this, offended at the very thought that he would get married in an underground prison, of all places. 

They are definitely married, though. Sigma, Atsushi, and Kyouka are their kids.

Nikolai suggests that they make it official and have Nathaniel be the priest. Fyodor trips over his own feet and falls face-first into some bushes (he immediately ceases to function whenever Nathaniel’s name is mentioned).

Fyodor and Dazai often randomly switch between speaking normally and speaking in their secret language, sometimes without thinking about it, sometimes just to annoy whoever they’re with (usually Sigma).

(Nikolai’s starting to understand it, though, and that’s kinda scary).

Dazai is very openly affectionate, and constantly tells Fyodor he’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Fyodor is usually very wry in response. He mostly shows his affection by flicking Dazai on the forehead to shut him up (it usually works, amazingly) and making crab pirozhki when he knows that Dazai’s going to come home grumpy.

Dazai suffers from a bit of separation anxiety. He’s very clingy, sometimes literally.

Dazai is absolutely enchanted with Fyodor’s hands, his delicate musician’s fingers, and his hair. He likes to call Fyodor “Snow White” to tease him. He loves to kiss Fyodor’s hands, and his hair. 

Fyodor likes to steal Dazai’s clothes. He’s taken to wearing a strip of bandages around his right forearm. Dazai thinks it’s adorable.

Dazai sometimes drapes his coat over Fyodor’s shoulders. It has a weird way of making Fyodor feel...safe.

Dazai is still not allowed to touch Fyodor’s ushanka. Fyodor threatens to set a sniper on him again if he so much as thinks about it. 

Fyodor is the only one who has ever seen Dazai without his bandages.

Fyodor is never going to let either Dazai or Ranpo live down the fact that he’s outsmarted the both of them, and that they only “won” because he surrendered.

They are the most terrifying duo. 

They also randomly throw shit at each other sometimes.

Dazai is the first to say “I love you.” It’s the only time he’s ever taken Fyodor by surprise. Not that they haven’t both always known, but neither of them had ever said it out loud. 

[chinatea]

Tattoo/Christian, Superhero AU.

The one where Tattoo is a Superhero and Christian is a reporter who always ends up being saved by him.

(Tat is your generic superman - super strength, super vision, super speed, all that jazz.)

(A fun fact - I actually started writing this as Tattoo/Baby G, but ended up writing Christian, behavior-wise, so I changed the pairing to Tat/Chris. Although there is still a few Baby G-ish traits to him I decided not to edit out, cuz it’s just more fun that way, isn’t it.)

It’s Friday night and Jimin could think of a million ways how to spend it in style.

Like, having a hot bath with candles and a glass of Bordeaux. Classic. One could never go wrong with classic on a Friday night. And that was his plan for the day. Hell, he’s been looking towards it all week, but the plan has changed and that’s why Jimin is not currently soaking in himalayan salts, but instead soaking his ass in some dank-ass basement, all tied and gagged up like someone’s messed up idea of a Christmas present.

(Sadly, that wouldn’t even be the first time - the criminals around here lack both brains and originality, like, big time.)

Times like these, Jimin truly hates this city. Times like these, he swears as soon as he’s outta here, he will pack his shit and catch the first bus out of this hellhole, because he’s had enough of this bullshit.

Why him? Just...why?

A rhetorical question, mind you. He bloody knows why.

It all started with Mr. Titanium Glutes, or Tattoo, who spawned out of nowhere one day, like most superheros do, in his spanking new spandex briefs and has been stealing the front pages across editorials all over city ever since.

Meanwhile, Jimin was just a modest reporter (with awesome hair and scintillating smile) who did his job. And sometimes that job had him doing some footwork, sending him places no-sane-person-would-ever, putting his life at risk and other occupational hazards.

Running away from enraged crime mobs was nothing new to him. Little did he know, however, how much of a pesky menace Tattoo would become once they get to know each other a little better. Despite all Jimin’s attempts to minimize their contact as much as possible.

There is only so much he could do, however. He’s not a miracle worker, after all. His job is dangerous and dangerous spells Tattoo in big sparkling letters. The man would just turn up, whenever a shitstorm rolled in, to save those in need with his superhuman strength.

And yes, Jimin might have been a hair away from the imminent death, but was he in need? Hell no.

He never asked to be saved. Never asked to be held like he was made of glass. And he definitely didn’t ask Tattoo to look at him like a lovesick fool. (Must be the hair, dammit.) Naturally, it was exactly the moment when a million of stringers around the area chose to snap their best winning shot of the day - and ever since that day Jimin has gotten unfortunate notoriety and a new nickname...

Lois Fucking Lane.

Inevitably siccing every single villain who has beef with Tattoo on Jimin’s ass. Which is, like, the entirety of the criminal underworld by now.

Gee, thanks.

“Stupid rope,” Jimin mutters under his breath, struggling to loosen the knot holding his wrists together just enough to hopefully slip a hand out and undo the binds.

Whomever kidnapped him was stupid enough to leave him and his tiny hands unsupervised and is so going to suffer for it, because Jimin also has a superpower - in times of need, his tiny hands have the capacity to become even tinier. He’s a badass like that, obviously.

A few little huffs and puffs later, Jimin lets out a happy little squeal, wiggling his hands free and tackling the foot binds next. Followed by a nasty gag that smells like something Jimin doesn’t want to linger on too much to avoid a lifelong trauma.

Although free and unbounded, it still leaves him locked up inside a dimly lit basement, containing nothing but a rusty tankard left forgotten on a shoddy wooden chair in the corner.

Jimin has a mind to kick it in frustration when he makes out faint footsteps approaching from behind the door. In panic, he grabs the chair, the rusty tankard flying off with much racket.

Jimin cringes, cussing out loud, as he hurries to take point next to the door, readying the chair above his head. If he is to die tonight, at least he’ll take one of those motherfuckers with him.

He holds his breath as seconds stretch into long moments of waiting. Then, the door knob turns and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, smashing the chair down on whomever glides right in.

The man doesn’t even flinch as the chair disintegrates into dust upon contact, raising a cloud of fine specks to float in the air. Jimin stumbles back by the sheer force of the impact, air caught in his lungs. He wheezes loudly, struggling to catch his breath. He feels a hundred years old, for some reason, utterly tuckered out. Who knew that holding that chair for two seconds could be so damn exhausting.

“W-what the hell are you doing here?” he finally stutters out, shooting a glower at Tattoo who just stands there, arms crossed over his massive chest, thoroughly amused by Jimin’s fumbling around.

“Oh c’mon, toots, you just jumped me with a chair. I don’t exactly expect a written apology, but a kiss would be nice, don’t you think?” Tattoo intones as he flicks away a few splinters off his bicep. “Besides, one would think you’d get the memo by now. Your knight in shining spandex has arrived. Now gimme my kiss.”

“Shut up,” Jimin grouses. “Where are the scumbags who kidnapped me?”

“Probably running for their lives now,” Tattoo shrugs. “I’ll deal with them later, don’t worry.”

“If you can find them, that is,” Jimin scoffs.

“Oh I will,” Tattoo adds smugly. “Just like I always find you, toots.”

It occurs to Jimin then that Tattoo indeed is infallible when it comes to tracking him down just in time before the heat. If only he hadn’t been too preoccupied being exasperated with the man half the time, he would have questioned it much sooner.

“Super hearing,” Tattoo explains then, tapping next to his ear, looking like he’s about to burst from smugness. “I always listen in if my toots is in trouble.”

“First, I’m not yours, second, excuse me??” Jimin seethes. “You can’t do that. This is violation of my privacy. I know my rights, dumbass.”

The look Tattoo gives him is far from remorseful. His unapologetic grin shines like a beacon of self-righteousness.

“Then go ahead and sue me, toots. I’d rather have you mad at me than hurt,” Tattoo says before adding in a voice that belongs in a bedroom with moody lighting. “Besides, I usually tune out for a while then you...ah, you know. Even if those are the prettiest little sounds I’ve ever heard anyone make with their mouth.”

Heat creeps onto Jimin’s cheeks as he gawks at Tattoo, feeling disarmed and stripped naked, metaphorically, of course.

“You didn’t...” he whispers.

Tattoo’s big stupid grin tells otherwise.

What a fucking sleazy bastard.

Mind gone black, Jimin turns on his heels and wobbles out of the creaky door and up the steep staircase, so steep in fact, he has to almost crawl up the steps, hating himself for choosing skintight jeans to wear today. As much as he loves how they hug his thighs, he hates the very idea of treating that douchebag to the dreamy panorama of his ass. He doesn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know that Tattoo is watching him go like a creep.

Because Tattoo is a creep, regardless of how many grannies he saves per day. And Jimin just happened to catch his fancy. Oh woe is him.

He pushes the heavy door and finds himself in a quiet back alley, heaps of trash bags and not a soul in the vicinity.

“Eh, toots?” Tattoo calls after him, hot on his heels, as always.

“I’m not talking to you. Ever.”

“Sure, but I think you’d still like to know that there is a huge damp spot on your ass that looks like you peed yourself, just saying,” Tattoo supplies helpfully. “Did you really pee yourself?”

Tattoo looks genuinely concerned for him while Jimin cranks his neck this way and that to access the damage done. His ass does feel wet to the touch.

“You know it’s okay if you did,” Tattoo continues, nodding to himself. “I won’t judge. We’ve all been there. Well, not me, obviously, but I still find you hot, don’t worry about th-”

“Jesus fuck, will you shut up?” Jimin barks at him. “I didn’t pee myself, you asshole. I sat in a fucking puddle for an hour, okay? And it’s all your damn fault.”

“I know.”

Tattoo sounds somber, for a change, all usual mirth gone, which makes Jimin eye him suspiciously. Did the bastard suddenly grow a conscience?

Then, Tattoo holds his hands out, squeezing the fingers in a grabbing motion, shamelessly lewd.

“Hop on,” he pipes, eyebrows wiggling. “C’mon, toots, you know the drill.”

(Or maybe not.)

A million curses later, Jimin finds himself successfully loaded into Tattoo’s arms. What choice does he have? Brave the streets with damp asscheeks? Hell no.

Arms wrapped around the bastard’s neck, Jimin tries to think happy thoughts - like choking Tattoo to death with his tiny hands which gradually translates into choking Tattoo with his thighs which ends up with Jimin power-riding Tattoo’s face, choking him with his ass.

His thoughts are weird, so what.

He just hopes that Tattoo doesn’t have a telepathic ability or anything of that sort, because…

(He’s totally fucked, isn’t he?)

Only the bastard doesn’t take him home as Jimin belatedly discovers. While in the air, Jimin keeps his eyes squeezed tight because Jimin and heights don’t mix well, so when he opens them, deeming it safe, what welcomes him is not his balcony with petunias from his mum.

“What in the frack is this?” he says, wobbly on his feet, soaking in the sight of a lonely tent on the roof of some apartment building. The inside of the tent, decorated with fairy lights, are layered cozily with blankets and throw pillows. Jimin spies a food basket and a bottle of wine, which leaves little room for misunderstanding - he knows what in the frack this is.

A romantic roof picnic set for two.

He faces Tattoo then, hands akimbo, and taps his foot impatiently, waiting for explanations.

“Well,” Tattoo starts. “I hope you like chicken, toots. It’s organic, I promise.”

“Did I ask you to do this for me?” Jimin asks, unamused.

“No, you didn’t,” Tattoo replies, looking too somber for comfort for the second time this night. His chest sinks with a sigh as he rubs the back of his neck, a touch sheepish. “Listen, I wanted to apologize. Better late than never, right? I’m sorry for making you a target even if it was not my intention, I just...I’ll be back in a second.”

Jimin has barely any time to blink as Tattoo flashes in and out of his sight, only this time, the spandex suit is gone and, in a way, Tattoo is gone, too. What Jimin sees in front of him is a guy in a hoodie, sweats and a pair of round glasses. What the..?

“My name is Jungkook,” the guy says. “Apart from doing, you know, superhero stuff, I’m an average student who majors in culinary arts with a minor in photography. I love video games and working out even though I break pretty much every gear I touch, so I don’t. I have a doting mum and a little brother. They’re normal, by the way, in case you wanted to know. I don’t know why I’m the way I am. My favorite color is yellow and hey, I’m single.” 

The guy, Jungkook, wraps his speech up with a stupid wink and even a stupider grin and the only reason why Jimin doesn’t shove him off the roof is because of the major cognitive dissonance he’s experiencing right now.

So he lets it slide, just this once.

“You really are an idiot, aren’t you?” he says, quiet, hugging himself from the chill of the night. “Why would you expose yourself like that. That’s stupid.”

“Because I think it’s only fair after all I’ve put you through, besides I know that you won’t tell anybody,” Jungkook smiles cheekily. “And I don’t know how about you, but I’m starving, all this superpower can’t sustain itself on air, you know.”

Jimin stares at him as he shakes his head to himself.

“Fine, but only because I’m hungry too, okay? Don’t get any ideas now, brat. This is not a date!”

“Sure, toots. Here, I’ve brought some spare sweats for you.”

“The fuck I’m gonna do with them? Wear them as a dress?” Jimin gripes as he grabs the sweatpants offered, five times his size from the looks of it.

He quickly strips out of his skinnies and tugs those parachutes on as Jungkook crouches over the basket, unloading its contents. Jimin’s stomach grumbles at the mouth-watering smell of food and he mentally wills it to shut the fuck up - he’s been through a lot today and doesn’t need Jungkook being even more smug than he already is.

A total husband material he may be, but Jimin won’t give in.

Not on their first date, anyhow.

“Scooch, or something,” he gripes, settling down next to Jungkook who only scooches closer, unapologetic, and even if Jimin scrunches up his nose at that he doesn’t complain or move away - it’s warmer that way, okay?

(Yep, totally fucked, he is.)

[hiddlestoned4ever]

Protective Tom (3) - Tom Hiddleston

Note: This is a three-part imagine I wrote a while ago for Wattpad. Since I don’t have part 5 of Playdate finished, I hope you’ll enjoy this one in the meantime.

Part: 3/3 (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) 

Warnings: Nothing much - just a quick rough one 

Words: 3370

The sleep came quite fast to your surprise. But it didn't come peacefully. Soon, you aren't in Tom's guest room but back in Jack's place.

You're in his bedroom, pacing anxiously back and forth while fiddling with your hands. Suddenly, the door flies open and in comes Jack with fast and determined steps. He takes your wrists and pushes you down on the bed.

"You think you could escape from here?"  

Tears come streaming down your face right away. You don't try to fight against him. You've tried to so many times before but it's never worked. He pins you down into the sheets by trapping you with his own body.

"You're mine!" he hisses and uses now one hand to hold your arms over your head while his other undo the button on your jeans. You whimper under his touch which draws his attention. His hand moves from your hip to your neck where he takes a strong grip. "Shut up!"

Then, you get a chance to give him some pain. As he adjusts himself, your right leg gets free so you use it to shoot your knee in his crotch. He groans in ache and you manage to push him off you so you can get up from the bed.

Making a run for the door, you get out and rush for the stairs. Jack follows right behind and catches up right before you take your first step downwards. You scream and wriggle all you can, but he slaps you hard in the face and slams you against the wall.

With that, you abruptly awake and sit up, now finding yourself back in the safe bedroom. Your chest rises heavily as you run your hands over your face. It's stiff from the crying which you actually did - not just in the nightmare.

After you've calmed down a bit, you check the clock. It's around forty-five minutes since you last looked at it which means it must be an hour or so since you went to bed. You think about trying to sleep again, but your throat is dry like sandpaper so you rethink and decide to get some water first.

You open the door quietly and see the lights turned off in the hall so what catches your attention, is a light coming from the left - which you know is Tom's bedroom. His door is on ajar which catches your attention. For the first seconds, you wonder if you shall check or just leave him. However, being curious, you forget about the water and slowly peek your head in the opening. 

On the bed, Tom is sitting up, shirtless, with an open book in his hands. His eyes are focused on the pages so he doesn't notice you in the opening. Just seeing him so relaxed makes you a whole lot calmer so you find yourself leaning against the wall with a smile.

"Can't sleep?"

His sudden voice startles you a bit and you realize he's now looking questionable, but also worried, at you. Looking down, you shake your head while letting out a bumpy chuckle mixed with a "no."

Tom closes his book which he lays on his nightstand and pats on the empty space beside him. "Come here." He speaks softly and is patient as you walk around the bed to sit down next to him. When you do, he sees the upset look on your face, that you've been crying. "Hey, it's okay." He gently lays his arm around you as comfort and let you rest your head on his shoulder. "Let me guess... nightmare?" You sniff and whisper a weak "yeah".

"I know it's been tough, but no one is gonna lay a hand on you in such a way again. Not on my watch. I promise you that." His hand around you pulls you closer, making you feel he's serious and will be protective of you.

"No one's ever held me like this," you tell him after a short moment. It does take him a bit by surprise but he responds with kissing your temple and helps you adjust so your head glides down to his chest. His body warmth fills you and you close your eyes to listen to his heartbeats. He doesn't comment on it, and he doesn't need to. Just showing the affection he does is enough. "What are you reading?" you ask to talk about something else. 

"Shakespeare," he answers and picks up the book again with his free hand. "Hamlet. Read it before but wanted to get a refreshment."

"I love that play."

"Yeah? Want me to read some for you?"

"I'd love to," you reply rather tired because being with him and relaxing with him, makes you more tired for each minute.

And so he continues where he left off by reading the words out loud. He also reads the characters with different accent and voices which brings a life to the story. Closing your eyes again, you find yourself focusing more on his voice rather then what he's saying.

It doesn't go long after that you drift into sleep and he notices after a minute or two. Smiling, he puts the book away and turns off the lamp above his head before gently sliding down till his head is on the pillow. Somehow, he manages to do that without waking you up. When he's lying comfortably, he makes sure you're doing too - or at least till it looks like you are. The light from outside breaks through the dark curtains covering the window, creating a stunning light on the side of your face. Looking at you, he can't come to think how somehow would treat you so badly as Jack has. Again, he kisses your forehead before settling down into a sleep on his own.

One month later in Atlanta, USA 

It's a long day on set for the third Thor film. Most of the crew got up really early, especially the actors and actresses. Apparently, as far as you know, some of the plot takes place on a strange planet and that the people living there have to be covered in all kinds of makeup and hairstyles. The thing that takes longest with Tom is Loki's long, black raven hair. Therefore, he left the hotel room before you woke up just as the other days you've been here. Although you wish you could wake up with him beside you, you fully support him in his work.

This is now the fourth morning, and for the other three days, you got to the studio around their lunch break, but today you want to get there earlier to actually see them in action. For the day, you put on a blue summer dress and white high heels.

Since the team knows you're with Tom, you're allowed to enter.

The studio is huge, several rooms covered by people, cameras, green screens, and decorations. Never had you believed you'd be able to see something like this in your life. But neither did you believe you'd end up dating Tom Hiddleston.

"Ma'am," some of the crew greets you as you come in. In front of you, you see Chris in some form of a technical chair with Jeff Goldblum in front of him. It looks like he's about to attend a carnival with his orange clothing, blue stripe on his jaw and white hair. You stand beside one of the screens which shows the pictures the different cameras are recording. It seems like it's gonna be a funny scene.

You're so caught up in what's happening in front of you, that you don't notice what's going on behind.

"What's a beautiful Midgardian woman like you doing here?" a deep, low voice speaks, close enough to be a snarl, in your ear that sends shivers down your back. You know who it belongs to, so you turn and meet the blue eyes you've looked into so many times this month.

Before you stands no other than the God of Mischief. The outfit is a little different. Leather. Without the famous helmet. His hair is longer and more curly than you remember it from the previous movies.

"I came to see you, my king," you reply, not being able to hold back a smile. It's the first time you see him in the costume because the previous days, his scenes are done before lunch so he's all changed back to himself when you get here.

He smiles back in a way you can tell he's still in character.

God, he's good. And not to mention handsome.

He takes your hand, lifts it up to his mouth and kisses your knuckles. "I feel honoured." 

With all the other people surrounding you, it feels like you're part of the movie as well. Like you're shooting a scene right now. It seems like Tom is lost in the thought too, because he doesn't take his eyes off you, nor drops his smile. His hand holding onto yours, he now moves up to your cheek. "I'm glad you came earlier today," he says, now being himself.

"Me too."

Not caring about the others, you quickly pull him down by his neck for a kiss. In return, he pulls you by your hip into his body while returning the kiss.

"Hey, Tom! More time for that later, now get over here!"

Hearing Chris shout for him, makes the two of you pull away and Tom sends his friend a grimace. Now, everyone is looking in your direction and you drop your face into Tom's chest.

"Can you believe it?" Chris continues. "My brother gets more action than me! The God of Thunder!"

The whole staff laughs at his joke and Tom raises his hands up to his side as he's saying "what can I say?" with a proud smile. Removing your head from his chest, you let him go over to the 'scene' to play his part while you watch patiently on the sideline.

* * * 

Right before their lunch break, you left the stage, and when you come back, you have a tray with coffee cups from a sandwich shop nearby.

"You know we have people for that," Chris says, pointing at the cups. He's still in costume, so is most of the others too.

"And I thought I'd be nice," you comment and moves your hand that holds the tray away from his grabbing hand.

"Don't be rude to my girlfriend," Tom jokes, coming up behind you once more and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"You know I'm just joking with you," Chris laughs, trying to tickle you, but Tom moves you out of his reach. He does it so quickly that you almost drop the tray.

"Whoa! Easy!" you laugh and make them both stop. It gives Chris the chance to grab one of the cups. In return, he kisses you quickly on the cheek.

"Thank you, Y/N! You're amazing," he says before getting out of your way. Still laughing, you turn around in your boyfriend's arms.

"I suppose you want one too. Or doesn't the God of Mischief drink coffee?" 

"Oo, it's the new thing on Asgard," he jokes and takes a cup before kissing your cheek as well. "Thank you, darling."

"Mm, you're welcome. Someone has to look after you," you tease him to which he responds with first playfully tickling you and then putting his arm around you followed by kissing the top of your head.

"Are you alright?" he suddenly asks seriously. Looking up at him, he's got his own, tender expression. "Going before you wake up, me dragging you around-"

"Hey, you don't drag me around," you giggle. "I chose to come with you, and I regret nothing. I'm alright. No, I'm actually better then I've ever been." You put down the tray on a table nearby, and he does the same with the cup.

Then, he kisses your mouth. He's so good that everytime he kisses you, it feels like your heart skips ten beats.

You put your palm on his chest as you pull away, but you keep your face close to his. "Do they allow you to keep the costumes for the day?" you ask with a low voice so no one else hears you while looking him up and down. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes with a questionable smile. Biting your lip, you raise your eyebrow at him and there's a change of understanding in his face. 

He chuckles and looks around. "Eh, not really." Then, he leans down to whisper in your ear. "But I'll see what I can do for my lady." His voice is Loki like which makes you kiss him back. He returns it, and you start to kiss him more deeply and press yourself against him. Making a pleasurable noise, he stops and takes your hand.

"You know what? Come on."

He leads you in a quick pace out of the big hall, through some of the crew. On the way, you can't help but giggle at his actions as you practically have to run to keep up with his long steps.

"Hey! Where are you going? We don't have a long break today!" Chris shouts after you as you pass him.

"Won't be long, something just came up!" Tom calls back.

Finding an empty room, not so big, he pulls you inside and locks the door. He presses you against the wall and smashes his lips on yours, and he doesn't keep anything back.

His body is pressing against yours so you find it hard to breathe at times and the kiss is the most intense you've ever experienced. He lifts your right leg up to his waist while moving down to your neck, being sure to leave marks. The intensity makes you moan and bury your fingers in his black, curly hair. 

"You sure you can handle me, love?" he growls in your ear as the Asgardian God. "I'm not like any Midgardians. My ways are rough." Your response is to bring him bring his face back up for a kiss.

"Give me your best," you say seductively once your lips separate. Giving you one of his devilish smirks, he kisses you back, pushing his tongue into your mouth while undoing the leather pants. It goes so fast, you hardly get time to react.

Once he's done with the pants, he sneaks his hands under your dress and rips off your panties so they get torn by his force. You gasp at the sound and he throws them away.

"Told you I'm rough," he says deeply and proud before putting his hands under your thighs and lifting you up. In the process, you wrap them around his waist and feel his manhood brush between your legs. You grab a tight hold on his shoulders as he pushes all the way in.

"God..." you gasp, but then feel him pull out.

However, he doesn't hold back. Thrusting back in, he starts his rough, fast pace, slamming you repeatedly against the wall. It goes so fast that your moans sometimes comes out as breathless, pleasurable sighs.

"Ah!" he groans loudly. "You Midgardians are so tight." As he sucks on your neck, he rocks into you harder. 

"Oh, Christ!" you scream when you feel yourself being close on the edge to which he lets out a chuckle sigh.

"Not quite, love," he responds. Gliding one hand down, he begins to rub your clit. Your nails dig into his neck and shoulders, probably leaving scratches, but he just continues. Your legs start to shake and it's getting harder to breathe as you both get pushed over.

His movements slow down before he pulls out and adjusts his pants back on. Meanwhile, you find yourself standing still, trying to catch your breath.

"Now..." he says, coming up close to you again. "...how was that for a change?"

Wrapping your arms around his neck, his go around your waist. "I'd say my boyfriend's got some competition," you tease him and he chuckles. He notices a mark that's forming on your neck and uses your hair to cover it.

"No one can compete with me. I'm a God after all."

After giving him a peek on the lips, you take his hand and unlock the door. Then, before opening it, you turn to him. "You know I have to go commando until we get back, right?"

"I'll buy you new ones," he winks at you. 

"Wait, are we just gonna leave it here?"

"Do you see any pockets in these clothes?" he gestures with his hand to his body. "I bet no one even comes in here anyway."

"Unless they're gonna have a rough one." Now, you wink at him and opens the door.

As you take a step, he slaps you playfully on your backside, making you squirm and giggle.

The day continues. After lunch, everyone gets back to work for a couple of more hours while you went back to the hotel to change into jeans and a grey top with short sleeves and lacing in the neck. On the set, Tom and Chris both do some running and fighting scenes over and over because something constantly goes wrong: it's either forgetting lines, starting to laugh, doing the act wrong or some of the equipment creates technical problems.

Long, but fun, four or five hours go by and in the end, and eventually you watch a scene that doesn't involve Chris or Tom. They left to get changed since they're done for the day so you're waiting here till they get back. 

However, it's when they're taking awfully long that you start to wonder what's happening. Grabbing your red leather jacket, you head out to the direction of the changing rooms. Firstly, you knock on the door, but when there's no answer, you slowly open it to find the cutest sight.

On a little couch against the wall, Tom is lying with his back against the backrest, legs stretched out, while Chris lays parallel to him. A pillow is between their heads and there's just enough room to fit a small person between the rest of their bodies. You cover your mouth with your hand to hold back a laugh, but you really find this adorable.

Taking out your phone, you sneak yourself to some pictures of the sleeping 'beauties', and when you're done, you don't actually know what to do next.

Wake them? No, how can I? They must be exhausted. I should just let them sleep.

To be honest, you're actually a bit tired yourself from being here so many hours and from the event during lunch. Although it didn't last long, it sure was rough. Just watching them makes you want to crawl in there and sleep too. So that's what you're gonna try to do.

As careful as you manage, you go to the end of the couch and sit down before making your way further up. Since there's no space on the pillow because it's covered by their arms, you lay your head just beneath it, facing Tom. His sweater has glided up a bit so you trace your fingers along the line of skin showing by his waist. The response you get is his eye locks flinching and his body moving a little bit. You smile and close your eyes while breathing in his sent and still moving your fingers along his waistline. 

Only a few seconds later, you feel some movements above your head, followed by an arm wrapping around your own waist. Opening your eyes, you see Tom smiling at you as he draws you closer. Wrapping your own arm around him, your face lays against his chest.

"You know the hotel room, with a comfy bed, is just around the block right?" you whisper as to not wake up Chris. Tom only hums and closes his eyes.

He must be really tired.

Laughing silently, you close yours too for the second time. The warmth of his body and the steady beating of his heart is the last thing on your mind before drifting off to sleep.

[haunting-kind-of-high]

The One Who Corrupted Thomas Sanders (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8

Warnings: A few small swears, also lots of anger and people snapping at each other. Also minor aggressive thoughts

Tag list: @musicphanpie-b, @imin-loveanon, @ordinary-chaos, @sandersandthesides, @ajumbleofwords, @demonickittykat, @zadi-jyne, @serenefreakgeek, @fandons-mangoes, @leesacrakon, @gayfagg, @tree4life25, @loverofpizzaandallthingssweet, @ilovemygaydad, @kittyboof8, @alwaysmy-lilith, @cinquefoilelove, @kenziecole-green

Read on AO3 here

"What was that all about?" Patton asked as the two remaining sides sat back down on the couch. No one seemed to have noticed that there were three men in the room, where there should have been four.

"No idea," Virgil lied, not looking at the moral side, "he was talking about trying to find out what happened, I think."

As he finished his sentence, the anxious side looked at the prince next to him. It felt bad to keep this from Patton. It felt bad to lie to him, the moral side. It all felt bad. Roman noticed the troubled look on the younger trait's face and shot him a reassuring smile. He understood what the other felt; he was going through the exact same problems himself. Both of them knew it had to be done. Patton could not know what Logan was trying to do. Neither of them knew what was going on; it could prove to be a catastrophe if Patton found out Logan was trying to figure out the situation they were in. Both of them knew this, but it felt wrong. Especially because this was Patton.

But still, the two sides managed to come up with an explanation that Patton accepted and they were able to let the subject go, leaving them all in an awkward silence.

Hours passed as Logan leafed through his many books. He could often feel his mind clouding and his attention drifting off. It was as if he was losing control over his body. Sometimes, he would feel like he lost consciousness and when he regained it, he would be somewhere else, with no memory of how he got there or what he wanted to do. But the side knew he could not let anything distract him until he had found the solution to their situation. And so he pushed himself to go through with his search until he had found what he was looking for.

Thomas had already fallen asleep by the time Logan found a possible solution. He had opened one of the old, leather-bound books on his shelf. He rarely touched those books; they were merely there for decoration, to look pretty and to add some prestige to the room. Logan had never thought those old books would come in handy one day.

His eyes scanned the pages, reading the passages over and over again. Soon, he found something that caught his eye. In a book titled Threats of the Conscious Mind, he read:

A demon is a soulless being. It leads an eternal life, trying to find a body to possess. The demon can appear as a physical being, but the absence of a soul results in them being cold to the touch. The lack of a soul also means that demons do not have a physical appearance. They can change their appearance at will in order to gain their victim's trust or frighten them.

Demons cannot appear in the physical world. They only exist in the mind of a living being. They live in a spirit realm which they can only escape when a bridge has been formed with the physical world. Once this bridge has been established, a demon may cross the bridge to step into the physical world - this being the mind of their host. The demon's appearance will not start the corruption of one's mind yet. It isn't until the demon comes in contact with one's main functions that it can start to corrupt them.

Theoretically, a demon can live in one's mind without the host being faced with the consequences of a possession. However, this rarely occurs, as the demon is driven by the desire of possessing a soul of their own.

A demon will try to possess someone by taking over their mind, slowly corrupting them and gaining control over their main functions. Once someone has been fully corrupted by a demon, it will be difficult to undo this. And even if one manages to expel the demon for good, chances are the aftereffects will still linger. A part of their mind may always remain corrupted.

This was it. It had to be. Just like a demon, Seth's touch was unusually cold. Patton's odd behaviour could be explained by saying he was being corrupted by the demon's powers. Even Logan's strange feelings would be justified by this theory. It all made sense! He just had to find out if any of his books offered more information on demons. And he would have to do so before the corruption got the better of him.

On second thought, maybe it would be wise to tell the others about what he had found before he was completely corrupted by the demon's powers.

 A few hours later, Roman and Virgil were sat in Logan's room, both still half asleep. As soon as they had woken up, Logan had summoned the two sides to his room. The sooner they heard about this, the better. Most of the night had been a blur to him and he knew this was bad. He could almost feel his heart and mind were being corrupted. It felt like there was a battle for the control of his mind and his body. And he was losing. He didn't have a lot of time.

"Logan, why are we here?" Virgil asked, rubbing his eyes as he sat down on Logan's couch. Roman pushed a few notebooks aside to be able to sit next to Virgil.

"I have found something that might be a solution to our issue." Logan held the book close to him as he looked at the two sides in front of him.

"Is this about Seth again?" Roman asked, rolling his eyes. He was done with all Logan's talk about the man. "This is all you-"

"Could you just shut up and listen for a few moments?" Logan snapped, his fingers gripping the book in his hands tighter. "Would that be so hard for you? This is important, okay? You just need to listen for a few moments, that can't be that difficult, right?"

Roman raised his eyebrows and he was about to note how rude Logan was, but Virgil spoke up before he could.

"Let him be," he said softly, not taking his eyes off of Logan. The logical side looked terrible. His skin was ten times paler than usual. His tie was darker than it usually was and even his black shirt seemed to be blacker. "I think he's right. You've seen Patton, he looks horrible and... well, Logan doesn't look great either. I don't know what's going on, but I think we should hear him out."

"Thank you, Virgil." Logan put the book down and cleared his throat. "I- I must apologise for that... outburst. I don't seem to have full control of what I say or do."

"That's fine," Virgil said quickly. "But what did you want to tell us?"

"Right. Seth," Logan nodded. "I have reason to believe he’s a demon."

"What?" Roman asked with an incredulous smile. "You can't be serious."

"I am," Logan announced. He grabbed the book again and showed the two other sides the cover. "This book explains it all. He’s a demon. As Patton said, he’s cold to the touch. A reasonable explanation for this would be the lack of a soul-"

"So you’re saying he doesn’t have a soul?" Roman asked. Logan closed his eyes and took a few breaths. Something inside of him got really annoyed at the prince's comment. It couldn't be that hard to just listen to him for a few minutes, could it?

"Exactly." He managed to calm himself down and smiled at Roman. "The absence of a soul is what spurs demons to possess living beings. By touching us, he’ll be able to take possession of our minds, unti-"

"But I touched him in the dreamscape," Roman interrupted once again. "I shook his hand. Does that mean he’s going to possess me too?"

He was going to murder that stupid prince. He had asked him so clearly to just shut up and listen for a few moments. How hard could it be for that self-centred bastard to fucking shut his mouth for less than five minutes? Could he really not st-

No. No. He had to stay calm. He had to explain the situation to the other sides and make sure they knew enough to figure out a way to stop Seth. He couldn't let the demon win now.

"I don’t think so," Logan said softly, fighting the urge to lash out at the creative side. "I believe that you were the bridge to the mindscape and he needed you to get here in the first place. Only then could he start corrupting Thomas’ mind. I think you’re good. But, as I was saying, I think the headache that follows touching him is a result of his spirit attacking and corrupting ours. Right now, he’s too weak to corrupt without touching you, so you need to watch out for him. Don't let him touch you."

"You said it’s his spirit attacking you, but didn’t you say he doesn’t have a spirit?"

And Roman was back with yet another stupid question. He was on a roll, even for his standards. Logan was pretty sure he hadn't heard a single useful word coming from the prince.

"I said he doesn’t have a soul," Logan explained with forced calmness. "He does have a spirit."

"What’s the difference?" This whole conversation confused Roman. There was so much out there he didn't know and it was overwhelming to hear all of this new information at once. He was trying to follow Logan's explanation, but it was difficult.

"A spirit is the core of a living being," Logan said quickly, "a soul is merely the immaterial essence of a human or an animal. Every living being has a spirit, even plants. You can’t live without a spirit, but you can live without a soul."

"Do you know how we can defeat him? How can we stop him from corrupting Thomas any more?"

"Not yet," the logical side said quickly, before his thoughts could intervene. "But I fear I won’t be able to do much more. You know he’s corrupting me too and in a day or two, I won’t be of any use to you. It has been difficult to find this little bit of information. You will need to figure this out yourself."

"One last question," Roman said with a sheepish smile. He knew fully well that his many questions annoyed Logan. He could see that Logan had to calm himself down every time he was interrupted. But he had to know all of this. When Logan's corruption was complete, he and Virgil would be on their own. They would have to trust on their own knowledge; they could not turn to Logan for help. The corrupted side wouldn't help them anymore. That's why Roman asked all the questions he asked. He wanted to learn as many things as possible, before Logan would be taken from them. "Can you or Patton corrupt us when you’re fully corrupted?"

"No. We do not have the power that it takes to perform such an action. It’s only Seth who can do that."

"That's good," the prince nodded. "that's a relief. Is there anything else we need to know?"

"Not yet. This-" Logan paused for a few moments as he felt another wave of pain rippling through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut and focussed on blocking out the pain. In the distance, he heard two voices calling his name. He felt two pairs of hands holding on to him, holding him back, it seemed. When the pain faded away and he opened his eyes again, Logan noticed he was stood in the kitchen.

That was odd, he could have sworn he was in his room just moments before that.

"Logan, what happened?" Virgil asked worriedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I... I think so," Logan responded absently, "I have no idea what happened. I fear it's the corruption taking over."

"Okay, shit," the anxious side muttered. "You... you were saying something before- before... that happened. What were you going to say? Do you remember that?"

Logan had to pause for a moment to think back to what happened before he blacked out. His memory was blurry, but eventually he managed to recall what the three had discussed.

"Right, I was going to say that I haven't been able to find any more information yet," Logan remembered, "but you can use any book in my room to find out more. I would definitely suggest you read this book-" He looked down at his hands, expecting to see Threats of the Conscious Mind, but he realised he left it on the table. "That book," he corrected himself, gesturing to the living room. "It has been very useful for me. And I think it will be just as helpful to you."

Virgil and Roman nodded as they both looked at the book Logan had referred to. As they did so, the other side started speaking again:

"Keep an eye on Patton, to make sure he doesn't do anything... anything. You should also keep an eye on me once the corruption has been completed. And watch out for Seth."

With those final words, he sank out, leaving the other two sides behind in confusion.

[cherryaire]

I heard about the prompts for Dan's birthday, so how about either of these choices? 1. All of the Grumps give him a special present each from their own heart 2. Some great Egobang (because why not?)

I pretty much did both! Gotta drop Egobang in there because I’m 100% certified egobang trash!

Brian -

Dan looks at the rectangle package Brian has handed him. It’s wrapped in plain blue paper, and scribbled in the top left corner are the words “Happy birthday, dick.” He knows immediately that it’s a book, and if it’s a professionally bound copy of The Beej, Dan might actually go to jail for second degree murder.

“Of course you got me a book,” Dan says dryly.

“Open it, you idiot,” Brian tells him, and Dan sighs dramatically, if only to annoy Brian a little bit more.

His sass evaporates immediately upon tearing off the wrapping paper, however. Tears immediately well up in his eyes and he has to set the book down next to him on the couch because of how bad his hands are shaking.

It’s a signed, first edition copy of “The Last Unicorn.”  

Brian grunts from the impact of Dan practically tackling him and hugging him tight. “Happy birthday, Danny,” Brian says, petting Dan’s hair.

“Thank you.”

-

Later on in the day, when he sees Audrey, she excitedly gives him a stegosaurus plushie and wetly kisses his cheek before running away, cackling.

Barry/Vernon/Brent -

There’s a large box waiting for him on Barry’s kitchen table. He hasn’t been over too much since he moved, considering how busy they are, so he and Barry have planned to get some take out and watch shitty movies, just like old times. “What’s this?” Dan asks while he hangs his jacket over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. It’s a plain cardboard box, and the only indication that it’s something special is the bow that’s taped to the top.

“Open it,” Barry urges, not looking up from where he’s unpacking their Chinese food. “It’s from me, Brent, and Vernon.”

Dan grabs a paring knife from the block and slices through the tape. He opens it to find several items, and he’s not quite sure what everything is until he begins pulling out shirts. There are six old band tour shirts, plus a Kurt Cobain memorial shirt. There are three Rush ones, a Yes one that he could probably wear as a dress, one from The Cure, and one from Pink Floyd. Dan peeks into the box again to make sure he didn’t miss anything, and sure enough there’s a bubble wrapped parcel in the bottom, which he tears into once he gets his hands on it. Out spills more vintage band merch, this time a Rush patch, three Rush pins, four Def Leppard pins, and an Asia pin. Dan is smiling so hard his face fucking hurts.

“Dude!” he shouts, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “This is so fucking rad!” He waits until he’s sure that Barry’s hands are empty to sweep the shorter man into a tight hug. Barry laughs warmly and pats Dan’s back. “Thank you!”

“Brent and Vern helped me find quite a few of them,” Barry reminds him. Dan whips out his phone and snaps a picture of the pile of merch before sending it and a very enthusiastic thank you text to Brent and Vernon. Barry helps Dan refold the shirts and put everything back in the box so that they can clear off the table to eat. When they’re settled, Barry pipes up with “and now you can wear more than the three t-shirts you cycle through constantly” and Dan chucks a piece of sweet and sour chicken at him.

Suzy -

“Jesus, Scuze,” Dan grunts, taking the large, heavy package from Suzy and resting it on his coffee table. It’s at least two foot long and two foot wide, if not more. He’s glad that he’s got some open space on his walls left, otherwise he’d have to do a fair bit of rearranging.

Suzy is sitting on the couch next to him, curled like a cat. Arin is in his kitchen unpacking their dinner. “Has he opened it yet?” he calls.

“Not yet!” Suzy calls back. She turns to Dan with a childlike excitement on her beautiful face. “Open it!”

“Did Arin want me to wait for him or—”

“Open the fucking present, Dan,” Arin says from where he’s leaned into the living room. As soon as he’s appeared, he’s gone again, and the sound of clinking plates begins as he divvies out the food.

“Demandy Sandy,” Dan mumbles, but obliges. He carefully tears the black wrapping paper (why had he expected anything else from Suzy?) to reveal a gorgeous map of Middle Earth, set deep into a nice black frame. “Whoa.” He leans in close to examine it, finding that it’s incredibly detailed. 

“Do you like it?” Suzy asks, hopeful.

Dan wraps his arm around her and pulls her tight to his side before kissing her temple. She giggles and wraps her own arms around his waist and snuggles into his side. She smells like peonies and freesia. “Thank you, Scuzy. It’s beautiful.”

Ross and Holly -

While they wait for everyone to arrive at the office for Dan’s impromptu birthday party, Holly comes bounding up to him. Dan can’t help but smile at her. She’s so radiant and the happiness on her face is contagious. She’s carrying a box that’s wrapped in brown paper and decorated with birds. “Happy birthday!”

He takes the package from her and eyes the wrapping. “It’s almost so pretty I don’t want to open it,” he muses. He knows that she drew the birds on it, and it feels wrong to tear through someone’s artwork. 

“I taped it pretty simplistically so you shouldn’t have to tear it if you don’t want to,” she says, pointing to the sparse amounts of scotch tape on the flaps. Dan grins and slowly undoes the tape, taking care to not rip the paper. He’s gonna hang it up somewhere in his music room.

“Oh my God, Holls, this is awesome!” In his lap sits a Legend of Zelda chess set. He’s been meaning to get a chess set for a long time so that he and Arin can also play when they’re at his house, but he had never gotten around to it. He carefully rolls the wrapping paper and secures it with some of the tape he had peeled off before hugging Holly tight, causing her to squeal when he lifts her slightly off the floor. 

“You’re welcome, Dan,” she says breathlessly when he sets her down. “The only thing I ask though is that you let me play a game with you.”

“Deal.”

-

After everyone has had cupcakes and people have begun to clear out, needing to return to their duties or head out to prior engagements, Ross shuffles up to Dan and places two small boxes on the table in front of him. “Hap birth,” he says dryly.

Dan fixes him with an incredulous look before chuckling and shaking his head. He opens the smallest one first, and he’s greeted with a little blue ceramic stegosaurus. He’s a little goofy lookin’ and Dan is immediately in love. “Aww, he’s so cute!”

“It glows in the dark, too,” Ross says, and Dan gasps.

“It’s like the 80s up in this bitch,” he says, reaching for the second package.

“Yeah, if we’re talking about your age,” Ross quips, and Dan uses his long legs to his advantage, lightly kicking his socked foot into Ross’ shin. 

The second present looks so fragile that Dan’s almost afraid to touch it. It’s a replica of a stegosaurus skeleton crafted out of paper. It’s contained in a glass dome. “Dude,” Dan says, astonished. It’s like having a museum display in his hand! He makes sure to carefully wrap it up before putting it back in the box. He really, really doesn’t want to break it. Before Ross can escape, Dan has captured him in a hug, and even though Ross is grumbling, Dan knows he loves it since he’s hugging him back. “Thanks, man.”

“I mean, I needed to get the dinosaur some dinosaurs, right?”

What an ass.

Arin -

It’s weird that it’s two days past his birthday and Arin hasn’t given him anything. It’s not that he thinks he deserves something, but it’s very out of character for Arin to not give someone a gift of some kind for a holiday. He loves any excuse he can get to give someone something that will make them smile.

Dan has settled himself on the Grump couch while he waits for Arin to finish doing whatever he’s doing out in the main office. He scrolls through the subreddit with a smile on his face upon seeing all of the ‘happy birthday!’ messages. He’s hasn’t been super excited about his birthday since he turned twenty one, since after that there aren’t really any milestones to look forward to until you reach retirement age. Getting so much love from his friends and the fans, however, has made him enjoy his birthday a bit more since it reminds him just how awesome people can be.

Dan puts his phone to sleep when he hears the sound of the door opening behind him, and sure enough, Arin comes around the couch and sits down next to him a moment later. He’s holding one hand behind his back however, and he looks nervous.

“What’s up, Ar?” Dan asks. 

“I uh, I have your present, but before I give it to you I wanted to say sorry for it being late. There was a delay on it getting done for some fuckin’ reason.” Dan furrows his brow, confused.

“Okay.” He nods his head. “It’s not a problem, big cat. I’m just appreciative that you got me something, man.”

Arin smiles, and it lights up the entire room. His cheeks are flushed pink when he removes his hand from behind his back and hands Dan a hardcover children’s book. Dan is confused for a few seconds before he fully reads the cover. It’s the book he wrote a few years ago that Arin was going to illustrate. Dan’s mouth drops open slightly with a gasp, and he cracks the book open so that he can flip through the pages.

It’s professionally printed and bound, and it looks like something he could find in Barnes and Noble. The illustrations are fucking gorgeous. They’re not done in Arin’s usual style. Dan brushes a finger over the page, completely enamored. He doesn’t know jack shit about art, but he’s pretty sure that it’s hard pastels and watercolors. The colors are so vibrant and it’s exactly like he had always imagined. 

He only realizes he’s crying when he tastes salt on his lips.

Carefully, he shuts the book and sets it on the table in front of them before he turns to face Arin, who is watching him with bated breath. Dan doesn’t fully know what possesses him to do it—maybe it’s just because it feels right—but he cradles Arin’s face in his hands and kisses him softly on the mouth. Arin’s sharp intake of breath is loud, but after a second he relaxes and releases the breath. The sensation of facial hair against his upper lip and chin is strange—it’s very different, but it’s not a bad kind of different.

When Dan pulls away, he opens his eyes to see that Arin still has his closed. His cheeks are a lovely rosy pink, and his lips are parted and shiny. Dan can’t help but press a second chaste kiss to them.

Dan leans into Arin’s warmth and presses his face against his neck, winding his arms around the younger man’s waist and holding him tight. “Thank you, baby girl,” he says, and Arin shivers at the feeling of Dan’s breath on his sensitive skin. Arin runs his fingers slowly through Dan’s hair, making sure to not catch his fingers on any possible knots. Dan leans into the touch, a complete opposite of the reaction he would have had four years ago. The thought makes Arin smile.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry it took me like, three years to get it to you.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dan tells him. “It’s perfect.” 

There’s a long swath of silence before either of them speak again. Dan feels the rumble in Arin’s chest before he hears what he says. “Could I kiss you again?”

He pulls back so that he can look at Arin. A smile breaks out across his face.

“Absolutely.”

all of dan’s gifts

[brandenkuv906-blog]

Meaningful Companionship Bracelets

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