#and even though i adore new duncan. someone who always gets back up after being knocked down. pre-duncan had a very interesting setup

[anxiously-sidequesting]

one characteristic about Duncan that i really like and that im totally not reaching for is his unwavering persistence and hard work

in the original tutorial he was shown to be this lazy kid who wanted to reap the rewards without putting in the effort, he was totally content with letting the wizard do HIS homework. BUT (and his later appearance in the Arcanum aligns with this) in the updated tutorial he seems to WANT to do it only his part, but every single other part and would get frustrated if his skills wouldn't allow him to multitask.

even during his """"""villain arc"""""" (the child-turned-young man who was manipulated and indoctrinated into a cult will never be the bad guy to me sorry! that's my L opinion for the day!) duncan kept that original fire to be the best after working so hard to get it (DESPITE the Schism twisting these thoughts into something more akin to resentment and jealousy, and giving him the illusion of choice. the Schism broke Duncan, but not in a way that diminished his fighting spirit)

and then in the Selenopolis update, he seems to be doing actually pretty well in this transition!!! We only saw him for like less than 2 minutes and most of it was in a comedic light but it's very pleasant that duncan seems to be eager, participating, curious, with (what we see on the surface anyways) none of the trauma and emotional turmoil from his earlier appearances in the Schism

even his unserious little, "Can I be leader? 🥹" made me puff up in pride because NEVER let it be known that Duncan Grimwater never takes his shot and goes for it even when he looks dumb and silly and stupid. he has ALWAYS hit above and beyond and look at him now. he's chilling in the ARCANUM OF ALL PLACES, learning that he's now (relatively) safe. i am so glad that i got to see my favorite little loser in the newest update

[nightingaelic]

POODLES IN THE WASTELAND

i jest I jest

But 👀

What about pets? Either ones companions would have or a very uncommon one that someone wouldn’t think was a good pet, BUT IS. Deathclaws you can ride like a pony, mole rats that want belly rubs, cazadore’s as cattier pigeons! What are your thoughts?

Or like, Danse or Piper or Fawkes with something hilarious Idek ignore me

Oooookay, here’s my comprehensive list of companions - ALL companions, across Fallouts 3, 4, New Vegas and 76 - and their (headcanon) choices in wasteland pets. I’ll give a little explanation for each - particularly as many of these companions are transients and don’t have the luxury of owning a home to keep pets at. Also, I feel like most of the companions, while they might not necessarily like pets, would be somewhat fond or at least respectful of the pets of the Lone Wanderer/Courier/Sole Survivor/Vault Dweller, like Dogmeat and Rex. 

Bighorners

Lily Bowen: Everyone’s favorite super mutant grandma is already an experienced shepherdess in Jacobstown, and she’s more than willing to tear some night stalkers apart to keep her herd safe. If that’s not love beyond the norm for wasteland livestock, I don’t know what is. She’s probably given all of her bighorners names after the characters in the television reruns she used to watch on holotape in Vault 17, like Grace and Audrey and Lucille. 

Brahmin

Raul Tejada: Actually spent a decent part of his pre-war life living on a ranch, so he knows that most brahmin don’t deserve being labeled “irritable” just because people don’t know how to read their body language. I think he’d follow wild brahmin herds around a bit on a whim and keep them from coming to any harm, especially the little ones. He gives them names like the cattle he grew up with, Corazon and Gordo and Blanca. 

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Doesn’t truck with the wild herds, but she knows that part of the success of a caravan lies with how well they treat their pack animals. All of her caravan’s brahmin have names - Penny, Magic and Sprinkles - and she’s careful to pair them up with drivers who are patient and work well with their various personalities. 

Cats

Butch DeLoria: While Butch ultimately decided to leave Vault 101 behind, I don’t think he would ever truly lose his fear of radroaches after what they did to his mom. Having a little friend to warm his bunk in Rivet City and pounce on intruders would probably set his mind at ease, maybe a black tomcat with one ear named Pepper. He might even gift his mom a kitten when he next comes to visit. 

Star Paladin Cross: I don’t think Cross much sees the use of an animal that doesn’t contribute to the community it lives in, like most of the Brotherhood of Steel. Cats, however, are excellent at pest control, even if the rats are bigger nowadays. I think she’d give the resident cats at the Citadel some pets in passing, and she’d smile when she has to extract playful kittens from inside her power armor frame. She’s especially fond of the cat colony’s matriarch, a scarred old tabby named Gemma. 

Curie: Upon her transition into a synth body, Curie is overjoyed with most animals and their new willingness to approach her for attention. She especially loves cats because she can pick them up and better feel their fur and purring. Her favorite cat is an orange stray in Diamond City that she calls Claude. 

Piper Wright: A companion for Nat when she’s out adventuring, an unbiased friend to bounce the latest opinion piece off of before going to print, and a lap-warmer for when you’re typing up the latest article about the exploits of the Minutemen - what’s not to like? The Wright family cat is a slippery, elegant calico named Sugar Bomb. 

Preston Garvey: While the Minutemen forts and settlements definitely lean more toward keeping dogs around for security purposes, I think Preston likes his pets quieter and less likely to bowl you over in excitement. The one most likely to sleep with him in his bunk at Sanctuary is a grumpy gray gentleman named Anchovy. 

Deathclaws

Veronica Santangelo: If anyone is crazy enough to swipe a deathclaw egg from a nest and try to hatch, rear and train a personal killing machine named Izzy, it’s Veronica. This will probably just alienate her from her Brotherhood chapter even more, but I’m sure she would take special care to make sure that her usual Mojave Wasteland haunts take a peek through a scope to see if the approaching deathclaw has a human on its back before taking a shot. 

Dogs

Clover: I don’t think Clover gets out beyond Paradise Falls much, so the only animals she’s used to are the dogs the raiders bring around when passing through. She probably has favorites among the usual visitors and enjoys tossing them bits of meat when she’s allowed to get away from Eulogy and Crimson. If liberated, she’d probably get at least three of her own dogs to watch over her while she sleeps: One small dog to carry with her, a Pekingese or Pomeranian descendant named Coco, and two large dogs to follow through on intimidation and protection, a mastiff named Rock and a Doberman descendant named Roll. 

Jericho: Jericho doesn’t deserve a dog but he’d probably have one around anyway to sniff out caps caches and hidden loot after he’s shot everyone in the vicinity. Some slinky beagle mix named Dewey, probably. 

Fawkes: I don’t think Fawkes would be picky at all about what kind of dog he’d have. He strikes me as the type who would adopt any half-friendly mutt he ran across. I do think he would have a bit of a soft spot for friendlier mutant hounds, though, and maybe view their mutated circumstances as similar to his own. He’d also be absolutely amazing at playing fetch. Just imagine how far he could lob a stick or ball. All of his dogs would have literary names too, like Byron and Agatha and Edgar. 

Craig Boone: Though he’s a bit of a prodigy at sniping, Boone knows his limitations when it comes to spotting hidden enemies on the horizon. I can see him having a hound dog at his side to find the more elusive ones and help him get rid of them faster. Maybe a bloodhound mutt named Bravo. 

Cait: Doesn’t like people, but she adores dogs. Having had the life where she’s been abused, exploited and forced into slavery, she’s keenly aware that those like the ones who took advantage of her treat dogs much the same. She’s very protective of any dog she encounters and is very likely to punch you in the face if you so much as look at one wrong. She’d probably name any pup she adopted Lucky. 

Hancock: Honestly, he’s just a fan of any animal that is happy to hang out with you whether you’re drunk, high, fighting raiders or patrolling downtown Boston. The Goodneighbor strays know him as the guy who always has mirelurk jerky in his pockets. His favorite is a rough-and-tumble, black-and-white spotted cattle dog descendant that he cheekily calls King George. 

Robert MacCready: He’s not quick to trust dogs, but once he’s sure they’re not a threat, they’re one of the few critters around which he’ll relax completely. He’s still a little wary of them around Duncan, but any dog that’s a part of his family is more or less his son’s permanent babysitter. 

Nick Valentine: Dogmeat is also basically his dog. The two have a history of working cases together, with Dogmeat just turning up whenever a trail goes cold and leading Nick to the evidence he needs to reopen his investigation. Nick doesn’t know how or why Dogmeat does it, but he’s not about to ruin a good thing. 

Strong: I don’t think he would turn down a ferocious mutant hound as a friend. He’d probably feed it mole rats and call it something like Killer. 

Foxes

Beckett: This former raider has a love-hate relationship with a fox that keeps going through his trash. He affectionately calls him Lil’ Bastard. 

Sofia Daguerre: Having crashed back to an earth she doesn’t recognize, I think Sofia would be tickled that the foxes of Appalachia have basically stayed the same despite the bombs. I can see her leaving dinner scraps out on her porch for one that she sometimes spots in the foliage, and slowly coaxing the critter to come into the light. She names her Scarlett once she finally convinces her to eat out of her hand. 

Mega sloths

Settler forager: I would not be at all surprised if this man ran into a mega sloth in the Mire and decided to try befriending it. The creature, probably surprised at this old guy’s nerve, decided to accept the handful of leaves he offered and grew slowly more fond of the guy’s persistence. It doesn’t know its name is Fergus but it does know that if a human is wearing overalls, it’s probably not a threat. 

Mole rats

Deacon: Alright, hear me out. Deacon has a fondness for underdogs, and mole rats are about as underdog as they come. I think Deacon thinks these little guys are cute despite their wrinkles and buck teeth, and I think he sees the value in having a tunneling pet that likes to collect shiny things. One of his deep cover hideouts is in an old tunnel system in the northern Commonwealth, where he hangs out with a young mole rat named Henry. 

Owls

Raider punk: This radio operator got wind of an abandoned nest of owlets in Appalachia early on in his career and, being the nearest to the report, decided to rescue the little guys. Now he has three owls that occasionally drop in at his camp to hoot and accept handouts: Nona, Decima and Morta. While he’s still fond of them, he’s usually disappointed that they aren’t the Mothman coming to visit. 

Rad chickens

Yasmin Chowdhury: Ever the opportunistic cook, she picked up the practice of raising chickens from the settlers at Foundation and has four hens of her own: Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. The “ladies,” as she refers to them, give her a constant stream of eggs for omelets. 

Ravens

Settler wanderer: This gal has an affinity with birds, who are always on the move like her. She admires their ability to be untethered and let the wind take them far and wide. Nevertheless, she likes to scatter corn when they come close to her on the road, and formed a sort of friendship with a particularly handsome specimen that she calls Tornado. 

Wolves

Old Longfellow: This guy is the epitome of the meme about dads not wanting pets and then instantly falling in love with whatever animal enters their life. He probably found an injured wolf pup in his travels around the island and took pity on it, nursing it back to health in his cabin. It’s still got a bit of a twisted paw, but follows him around and listens like any other dog and answers to the name Lamoine. 

Yao guai

Porter Gage: I bet this guy adopted an orphaned bear cub and raised it by hand. Now it’s so big that even if Gage thinks he’s an easy target for other raiders due to his age, he’s much less likely to get singled out than he thinks because he has a yao guai following him around like a puppy. The bear’s name is Fuzzy Wuzzy. It has no hair. 

No pets, thanks

Charon: Too likely to accidentally wind up in the line of fire. 

Sergeant RL-3: Too easily corrupted by Communist influences. 

Arcade Gannon: Too much time spent getting in your way. 

Codsworth: Too likely to make messes. 

Paladin Danse: Too many wasted resources. 

X6-88: Too much of a liability. 

Ada: Too easy to lose when on the move. 

Solomon Hardy: Too unsanitary. 

[frankiekatt]

My Ghost (Part 1)

Characters: Denki Kaminari 

Notes: Ghost AUs fuel my soul so I had to write one myself. This will be a 3 part series!

Warnings: Mentions of death!

Words: 4K

Synopsis: Denki knew deep down any outcome would just lead to disaster and sorrow. After all, he was a dead man who never aged and who could never leave this house. And you - you were the complete opposite. You were a living, breathing girl with your whole life ahead of you.

Being alone in a brand new house with all its creaks and groans was definitely not your idea of a perfect summer. If you had gotten a choice in the matter, you would have gladly followed your two best friends to Costa Rica, or went vacationing with your father to Greece, or visited your grandmother in Hong Kong. Anything but being stuck home alone in a brand new house that didn’t even have all of your furniture in it yet. 

But sadly, your mother had finally decided to get married to her long-time boyfriend, and the two of them had made the exciting decision to honeymoon in America all summer. Which meant that you would be cat-sitting for your new step-father’s tabby, Charles, in the new family house. All summer. All by yourself. 

The house that your mother and new step-father had moved the three of you into was a two-story brick building with 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, and a small library on the second floor. The real estate agent that had sold your family the house had explained that no one had lived in this house for over 30 years, due to a death taking place in the upstairs attic, which creeped you out a bit, but your parents were quick to put down a down-payment on the house due to the unusually low price. 

Now, for the next three months, this house would be a constant for you. That, and the black and grey tabby you were now responsible for. 

Though, there was one more thing that would be in your presence for the remainder of the summer. You were not yet aware of the blonde boy’s presence in your house, but he was very aware of yours. 

The very first day you and your family had moved in, Denki was completely smitten with you. He hadn’t seen a girl in this house that wasn’t over the age of 45 and trying to sell this place in well over 30 years. And definitely not a girl this cute. 

He watched you explore the house, following behind you as you went from room to room, admiring the paintings his mother had hung on the walls years ago or inspecting the oak cabinets in the kitchen with a curious look in your pretty eyes. 

Denki adored you. He watched every night as you and your two parents unpacked boxes in every room. He watched every night as you decorated your room - which was once his - with posters and drawings and hung up your clothes in the small closet on the right side of your room. On the third day, while you were downstairs with your mother, Denki decided to look through all the clothes you had hung up the night before. Most of the articles of clothing were sweaters and hoodies with a couple dresses and skirts here and there. 

That’s how you dressed normally, Denki observed. Always in a hoodie or sweater with shorts or jeans. Denki thought it was odd at first, as it was the beginning of June and the sun was scorching. But the more Denki watched you, the more he found you absolutely adorable. 

Denki hadn’t felt the touch of another human being since the day he died in his attic, and seeing you walk around his house each day, bundled up in big hoodies and sweaters, made him want to touch you more than anything. You just looked so soft. On the fourth night, after you had already gone to bed, Denki decided he was going to touch you. Just a little, just on your cheek. Nothing too creepy or too serious to wake you up.

You looked so pretty when you were sleeping. Your eyes were closed, which meant they couldn’t hold that annoyed look you seemed to perpetually have whenever your parents would talk about leaving for the summer. Your brows were rested, no longer drawn together in irritation. You looked completely and utterly peaceful. 

Denki reached out towards your face, hand shaking like a leaf. He hadn’t touched another human in so long, and here you were, right in front of him, unconscious, vulnerable, smooth and soft. Denki had forgotten what human flesh felt like, so when he brushed the back of his fingers against your cold cheek, he almost jumped away. 

Almost.

You felt like spring to him; growth, new beginnings, blossoming, life. You felt like everything Denki had been longing for for over thirty years - hell, even before then. He had only touched you with two fingers, and he already felt like fate had pulled him into its eventful little game. It was frightening to him, how many emotions were drifting in and out of his chest all at once. 

He didn’t know you. The only thing he knew about you was your name and he only learned that four days ago. And yet, he here was, standing in his - your- bedroom, watching you sleep, falling in love with everything about you. 

You stirred slightly at his touch, which made Denki jerk away. He quickly made himself invisible to the human eye once more and stepped away from your bedside before your eyes opened slowly. 

Your room was unusually chilly. You got cold fairly easily, so you often kept the temperature of your room higher than normal, but now it felt like someone had left your window open during a frigid winter night. Sitting up, you pulled the large red hooding off the side of your headboard and slipped it over your t-shirt. Why is it so fucking cold?

Your bedside clock read 3:33am, which meant you only had a couple hours until your mother and step-father left for their 7am flight. Soon, you would be all alone in this house, in a new town, with no one to keep you company other than the fluffy grey cat that was currently sleeping at the foot of your bed. You were now wide awake and freezing cold, so you saw no point in trying to fall back asleep for a measly few hours, so you decided to explore the one room in this house you hadn’t quite gotten to see yet; the library.

The library was exactly as the real estate agent had said it was; completely untouched since the last family moved out. It was a small room, filled with one desk in the center, and two wide bookshelves attached to each wall. There were papers and notebooks littering the mahogany desk, as well as envelopes and wax stamps. The room smelt of dust and pine and was colder than your bedroom had been a couple minutes ago. Still, you ventured into the dark room, stopping by the large desk to turn on the small lamp that sat at its edge. 

Light filled the room, showing off the rows upon rows of books that decorated the large brown bookshelves. Some books were very old, such as ‘Epic of Gilgamesh’, and some were not so old, such as a couple of Louis Duncan novels. Some of the books, as you saw, you had read, and most of them you had not. You spotted one of your favorite novels on the south wall bookshelf, and shuffled towards it to look over the dusty cover. Before you could grab the spine of the book, however, something caught your eye. 

Something very human-like, and it was definitely not one of your parents. 

He was only visible for half a second before he seemed to just cease to exist before your eyes. In that half a second though, you were apple to make out spiky blond hair, and piercing yellow eyes that were staring directly at you. 

A scream rose in your throat, but you were able to choke it down before it could escape and wake everyone up. There was no one else in the room but you. You whipped your head around, scanning every corner of the room for the blonde boy who had just been right by your side moments ago, gazing at you. But there was nothing. No mysterious boy in the library, or out in the hall. Maybe the lack of a full night’s rest had you seeing things. Yes, that had to be it. 

But Denki knew the truth. He had gotten distracted by you for not even a second, and had managed to make himself visible to you. He knew the second your eyes had widened in fear, that you had spotted him. Denki’s heart leaped out of his chest as he quickly made himself invisible and backed away from you. You were now looking around frantically, terror written all over your face. In the midst of back away from you quietly, Denki accidentally bumped into the large wooden desk, sending papers flying to the floor. 

The sound of a thud and the fact that papers were now drifting downwards as if someone had picked up a stack and threw them on the floor had you second guessing if you were just imagining things. 

No fucking way, you thought. You weren’t exactly a non-believer of the supernatural, but you had never in your life imagined that you would encounter anything non-human. The thought of it almost made you laugh as you stood frozen in fear. This was just ridiculous. Okay, so maybe you had thought you had seen a boy standing next to you and the next second he was gone, and maybe something made a loud noise and a stack of papers coincidentally fell to the floor. That did not mean that there was a ghost or a demon or some kind of invisible man in your house. Did it?

Denki decided to let you know it did, in fact, mean that. Making himself invisible to the human eye for four days straight had drained him of almost all of his energy, and you had already seen him and heard him twice. So, fuck it. 

The scream that you had been keeping bay for the last 60 seconds had finally decided to rip free. There was the blonde boy again - standing right in front of you. A minute ago, he had been more translucent and blurry, but now you could see him clearly. This thing you were seeing was a tall blonde boy with yellow eyes, wearing all black. He was cute. But he was also someone who could disappear and reappear in a matter of seconds, and that was not what normal cute boys do. 

You were screaming and backing yourself up against the wall, trying desperately to make yourself as small as possible so this magical invisible blonde boy would leave you alone.

“No! Shh! Stop, it’s okay, everything is okay! Please stop screaming!” 

The fact that the blonde boy was now speaking to you, made you even more afraid. You inhaled deeply, preparing to let out another scream, hoping one of your parents would wake up and come save you, but the blonde boy lurched forward and clamped a hand down on your mouth before you could make another sound. 

“Please,” he pleaded. “Please don’t scream. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear.”

His golden eyes were boring into yours, begging you to stay quiet. The urge to scream slowly dissipated as you realized this boy’s body was pressed against yours - this incredibly cute boy was pressing himself against you. 

“I’m gonna take my hand away, okay?” The boy whispered. His eyes were just as wide as yours. 

You nodded slowly at him, which prompted the blonde boy to let his hand slip away from your lips, inch by inch. Once your mouth was completely free, Denki took a step back to allow you to catch your breath. 

“Alright, so, you probably have some questions.” He chuckled nervously. 

Without meeting his gaze, you pushed yourself off the wall and nodded. Uh, yeah I have questions. Why are you in my house? How are you in my house? What exactly are you?

“Well,” he started slowly, “My name’s Denki. I, um, I used to live here.”

“Live here? So, what, you're mad I’m in your house or something and you’ve come to magically take it back or something?”

He shook his head and focused his gaze on his feet. “No, that’s not it. I kind of still live here, just not by my choice.”

What the blonde boy - Denki - said, seemed to ignite a memory in the back of your mind. The real estate agent had told you and your family that there had been a death in the house over 30 years ago - a boy who got electrocuted in the attic. The fact that Denki could make himself visible and invisible at will, clicked everything into place. 

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Y-your d-dead.” Your hands were now trembling. 

Denki looked up at that moment. His eyes were sad and bleak, which almost made you feel bad for stating the obvious. 

“That’s right,” Denki lamented. “I’m dead.”

* * *

You spent the next three and a half hours cautiously speaking to Denki, processing the fact that you were conversing with a ghost in the creepy library of your new home. 

Denki explained to you that he had died on November 11th, 1989, in the attic of this house when he attempted to set up a couple extension cords for his tv he liked to play video games on during a storm, and ended up electrocuting himself. Denki didn’t seem too  upset describing the day he died to you, but he did start to shed tears when he choked out how he had to watch his parents fall apart in the halls of this house over his death. He cried as he remembered how they finalized the divorce a year after his death, and put the house up for sale. Denki weeped when he looked back on the day when his eternal loneliness began. When his parents left him in this big, cold house all alone. Dead and lonely. 

Once he was finished telling his story, he quickly wiped his tears away and smiled as brightly as he could at you, trying to hide his sorrow. “So,” he drawled. “What about you? What’s your story?”

You felt silly, sitting on the floor of the library, telling a dead boy the story of how your parents split when you were 12 due to an affair your mother was having with her now-husband, and how your dad decided to travel the world instead of wallowing in his heart break. You told Denki that living with your mother and her new boyfriend who had ruined your parents’ marriage was hard at first, but gradually became easier the more you realized what a nice guy your mother’s now-husband was. He was awkward around you, but always polite, and he seemed to be infatuated with your mother. Though you hated to admit it, you saw love between your mother and her boyfriend that you never saw between your mother and your father. 

Denki reached out to hold your hands in his when your voice began to waver when speaking of your mother and father. It was a hard topic to talk about for you, but Denki’s cool hands gave you comfort. 

You both shared stories of your childhoods, your favorite memories, what you both were like when you were younger. As 6 ‘o cock rolled around, you had forgotten that you were chatting and laughing with the ghost of an 18 year old boy. It was a strangely nice feeling. You had just discovered that ghosts were real, and now you were making friends with one. Denki was nice and funny and his infectious laugh had managed to pull a smile from you numerous times throughout the three hours you sat talking to him about anything and everything. 

While Denki was rattling on about his favorite foods and how much he missed eating them, a thought popped into your head. “Denki,” you started, “have you been watching us for the past four days?”

Denki blinked at you before grinning and nodding furiously. “Yep! The way you dance while folding laundry is super cute by the way!” His favorite thing to do at night was watching you blast music from your phone and dance around your room while folding fresh laundry. 

A slight blush coated your cheeks. “So, did you...see everything I did then?”

Oh. That.

Denki instantly knew what you were referring to. On the third night of staying in your new house, you had waited till both of your parents had gone to bed before locking your bedroom door and slipping into bed. Denki had been sitting in your computer chair at that time, leisurely watching you go about your room for the past half hour. The moment you had fallen into your bed though, made Denki shoot to his feet with a tomato red face. 

You had slipped your delicate hand into the waistband of your night shorts. It had been several weeks since you had had a chance to release any of your stress in any type of form, and tonight you were alone, horny, and frustrated. Your small fingers were now stuffed inside your cunt, moving in and out in an attempt to relieve yourself, and Denki was unable to look away. He knew he shouldn’t be watching this - watching you - but he couldn’t make himself leave, couldn’t make himself respect your privacy. 

You looked so helpless and so cute sprawled out on your bed, hand moving around in your shorts, your wet lips letting out soft little mewls. Denki felt utterly disgusting as he slipped his own hand into the waistband of his jeans to knead himself at the sight of you. He wanted more than anything to make himself known to you, to touch you, to tell you he had practically fallen in love with you the first time he saw you and you should let him pleasure you instead. 

Denki had to settle for fucking his fist to the sound of your moans, unfortunately. He could almost imagine how wet and tight and how good you would feel around him. He hoped someday soon, he would get to be the one forcing moans out of your mouth instead of your own fingers. He hoped soon, he would be able to kiss your neck as he fucked into you, reaching his high. He really, really hoped that he would be able to release inside you, stuffing you full of his cum, of his passion, of his love.

Denki’s face flushed at your revelation. He had just revealed himself to you, and had managed to get you to stay and talk to him for hours - he did not want to ruin it by admitting to violating your privacy in the worst way possible. 

“I know you watched me that night,” you said, barely above a whisper. “I-I think I heard you. H-heard you moaning.”

Denki didn’t think his face could reach a higher temperature. He wanted to say something - anything - but was completely stuck watching you stutter and blush, his own mouth glued shut. 

“I thought I was just imagining it, that I was fantasizing about something like that. But I wasn’t, was I? It was you in my room that night. Watching me.”

Your voice wasn’t the least bit defensive, nor was there any trace of accusation on your face. Shouldn’t you be angry at him? Shouldn’t you be yelling at him in embarrassment? Calling him a pervert?

But you weren’t. You looked flustered for sure, but not like you felt violated in any way. In fact, the thought of Denki watching you touching yourself - touching himself at the sight of you - made you feel good. Denki was extremely attractive to you, and it was thrilling to know that he thought the same of you.

“I-I’m sorry, Y/N.” This was humiliating. What if you never wanted to talk to him again because of this? What would he do then? “I never meant to do that sort of thing! I j-just, I don’t know, you looked so pretty and I had already come to like you so much that I just-”

Watching Denki fumble with his words in an effort to not upset you was almost laughable. You didn’t want nor need an apology from him. You liked that he had watched you. That he had touched himself to you.

That’s why you were now kissing him. He had begun to stutter and raise his voice so much that the only way you saw fit to quiet him was to press your lips against his. His lips were smooth and full and cold to the touch just like his hands were. Your sudden intrusion shocked Denki so much that he almost forgot to kiss you back. He hadn’t kissed anyone since he was 12 years old, and even then, the girl who kissed him was only acting on a dare and had laughed in his face before running away after taking his first kiss. Now, he had you pressed against him, your lips dancing upon his in the gentlest way possible. 

When he began to reciprocate the kiss, Denki could have sworn he saw ‘the light’ everyone talked about seeing when they died. It was beautiful and warm and exciting and it was all you. You slipped an arm around his neck to tug him closer and deepen the kiss, which incited a soft groan from Denki’s throat. Breathing had become a distant memory for the both of you; all that mattered in that moment was claiming each other’s lips. 

“Y/N,” your mother called from downstairs. You both jumped away from each other at your mother’s voice, panting heavily, lips swollen. 

“What, mom?” Why did she have to be awake now? 

“We’re leaving in a few minutes, sweetie! Please come down here!”

For fucks sake. You knew you should go down there and bid her farewell. She would be gone for three months, after all. But Denki’s presence made everything else in your life seem so small. You had only just met him, only kissed him once, and now it felt like he was invading your mind and making a permanent home in your brain.  “Alright! I’m coming!”

You turned back towards Denki who had a goofy grin on his face. “So you do like me back?”

You scoffed, letting your hair fall in front of your face to hide the redness that was blossoming across it. “Shut up. You’re just kind of cute. That’s all” A complete lie. 

Denki leaned forward and took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look him in the eye. “Well,” he said, “I like you. And I want to do that again, if that’s okay?”

A slight smile found its way on your lips. You were about to take him up on his offer before your mother shouted back up at you to hurry down. Denki smiled at you and said, “Go, before she comes up here and catches you making out with a ghost.”

Tearing yourself away from him was surprisingly hard. You felt compelled to stay with Denki like that, centimeters apart, lingering in your own little bubble. But he was right. Your mother was starting to sound agitated. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Denki nodded at you encouragingly, and watched as you rushed out of the room and down the stairs. His smile quickly fell from his lips once you were gone. 

You had kissed him. And he had kissed you back. Denki wasn’t sure what this meant, but he was secretly hoping it would continue. 

Though, even with that hope, Denki knew deep down any outcome would just lead to disaster and sorrow. After all, he was a dead man who never aged and who could never leave this house. And you - you were the complete opposite. You were a living, breathing girl with your whole life ahead of you.

[marshunter06]

@elskamo because I adore you I will write a thing for it, but tbh this really should be a multichaptered fic. I’m just the worst at writing those, so here’s a shortened version. Also you should totally write that alternate world tour idea, it sounds super dope!

“If you think he’s cute, why don’t you just go talk to him?”

“Who are you even talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, I know you Duncan. Just because things didn’t work out with us doesn’t mean you’re not still my best friend. I can read you like a book.”

“You should stick with reading actual books Princess, don’t you have other people to bother. Like Trent?”

“Stop trying to change the subject, he’s literally looked over at you at least twice now. Go say hi.”

“Not interested, besides you know I only have eyes for you Court.”

“Not interested.”

“You break my heart Princess.”

“And you’re unbelievable. Oh look, there’s Heather and oh!”

“What?”

“Looks like she knows your guy.”

“No, Courtney! Don’t you dare!”

Too late, his ex girlfriend proves to still be a pain in his ass as she waves down Heather and motions for her and her handsome friend to join them in their booth. Courtney makes sure Heather sits next to her as they’re all introduced to Alejandro, a childhood friend from her daycare days who she managed to keep in contact with.

“Duncan, Court, this is Al.”

“Heather.”

“Kidding, his name is Alejandro. He just moved here, so he’ll need all the social interaction he can get.”

“I was doing fine on my own.”

“Sure, that’s why I found you napping on the couch with a documentary on whales playing in the background. You need to get out more.”

“I told you already I had it on for the ocean sounds.”

“Dude’s got a point, waves are pretty soothing… um… you know at least that’s what the homies… I mean Geoff tells me.”

Courtney shoots Duncan a pointed look as to say I told you so when he just had a brainfart and blanked out on the words, it had nothing to do with how distracting his new… friend is. None at all.

😏😏😏

Heather: You know if you wanna talk to him, you should’ve just done it. I’ve never seen you this nervous before, I really gotta meet this guy.

Alejandro: Haha, really funny Heather. The only reason why I’m even looking at him is because you’re running thirty minutes late.

Heather: Right… it’s why you’ve only been sending me messages about him when there must be at least twenty other people at the diner.

Alejandro: The guy has a green mohawk! It’s very in your face!

Heather: Oh yeah, not that you were paying extra attention to him or anything… I mean you must just have keen observation skills to see that his eyes are a unique shade of light blue you’ve never seen before and that he has a dimple only on his right cheek when he smiles… but you would notice that about anyone.

He was still struggling with a reply when he catches the guy he totally hasn’t been checking out, no matter what Heather thinks, looks over at him for the third time since he’s been in the corner spot. The sound of the door chiming along with a pair of heels on the tiles lets him know his lunch buddy has finally arrived. She doesn’t even apologize for being late, just glances at her phone and smiles at her while firing away a text message before putting the phone back in her purse.

“You’re not even going to say hello?”

“No time, we have some people to meet.”

Before he even has the chance to question her further, she’s already pulling him out of the booth towards, the guy with the green hair and his friend… that Heather clearly knew and didn’t tell him about. Great, he’s been set up. She shoots him a wink as she sits down next to the brunette he knows as Courtney, leaving him no choice but to slide in next to Duncan.

😏😏😏

“Wait, oh my gosh Duncan! This is big! Your first date together! Where are you guys going?”

“Slow your roll Princess, it’s not a date. We’re just going to watch that new scary movie since someone bailed on me.”

“Going to a movie is a date, I knew you liked him!”

“Yeah, no. Dude seems chill and he was free, that’s the only reason. We’re just two guys hanging out.”

“Sure, just like how Trent and I are just two friends who text each other everyday.”

“We don’t text everyday…”

“Ha! I knew you had his number!”

“... of course I do… we’re friends… don’t wait up.”

😏😏😏

“Wow, look at you getting all dressed up, hot date? Actually don’t answer that, where’s Duncan taking you?”

“I’m just wearing a button down and how’d you know I was hanging out with Duncan?”

“From the way you were smiling at your phone even though you two have been texting non stop all day, and is that what you’re calling it? Hanging out.”

“We’re just going to see a movie.”

“Netflix and chill.”

“No Heather, at a movie theater.”

“Oh, a bit voyeuristic for the first date, but I’m not judging.”

“We’re just friends. Nothing’s happening. I don’t like him like that.”

“Right, just remember to use protection.”

😏😏😏

Somehow they end up having a picnic in the park a couple weeks after their movie not date. Clearly neither of them are interested in being anything more than friends, though their roommates keep trying to push them together. Even though again, they were just friends. Just two bros eating homemade food they made for each other on a nice sunny afternoon in a secluded part of the park next to the lake. Totally normal and definitely not a second date. It’s easy to confuse it as one, especially when they start talking and get to know each other more, what their families are like, favorite foods, hobbies. Just questions to get to know each other better, as friends of course.

😏😏😏

“So when are you going to make things official with Alejandro?”

“Nice to see you too Heather. Courtney’s over at Trent’s.”

“Dodge the question again. I dare you.”

“Al and I are just friends.”

“Woah. This is serious.”

“What?”

“Alejandro doesn’t just let anyone call him Al. He hates being called that…”

“Yeah I know cause José’s a douche… stop looking at me like that.”

“And you’re still trying to convince me there’s nothing there?”

“He doesn’t like me like that and I don’t see him that way. We’re just friends.”

“You two are impossible I swear.”

😏😏😏

“Courtney? Heather’s not…”

“I’m not here for her, what are your intentions towards Duncan?”

“I don’t know what…”

“Don't finish that sentence. You guys have been dating for the past two months. Is this just a fling? I need to know how invested I need to be in this. Duncan’s been through a lot already…”

“I know, his parents, really his dad is an asshole.”

“He told you that…”

“Yeah, of course he did. I know about his time in juvie too, he had a crush on…”

“Dylan. Alright, I guess we’re done here.”

“You’re just gonna leave now?”

“Yep. Oh and by the way, his birthday is coming up…”

“This saturday.”

“Exactly… and I’ll be busy working overtime that day which means I’ll probably end up crashing at Trent’s since it’s so much closer to the office…”

“Didn’t you request his birthday off months in advance.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

😏😏😏

A whole year passes and somehow Duncan and Alejandro are still in denial. They act like a couple, invading each other’s space, giving each other gifts for birthdays and anniversaries, and holding hands in public. Courtney and Heather have both caught them on five separate occasions of them in promising positions with red lips and hickes they tried to hide. It’s exhausting getting them to admit they like each other and are together in a relationship. At this rate, the girls have given up, as long as they’re happy.

😏😏😏

“You’re going to smudge your mascara, I thought you used the waterproof one.”

“Guess I grabbed the wrong one. I’m surprised you’re not crying? How did I become the emotional one.”

“Probably because I’m still annoyed at them for denying they’re relationship when they’re literally getting married right now! Who does that?”

“Let it go Court, they just don’t want to admit we’re right.”

“Okay, but doing this for tax breaks is a lousy excuse. Just like when they were claiming they wanted to save more money by moving in together when our leases were nearing its end.”

“Boys, what are you going to do. Speaking of…”

“This is their day Heather. Look at those two. I swear they’ve only had eyes for each other since the day at the diner.”

“About that…”

“... no… you’re kidding!”

“Fate works in mysterious ways. Who would’ve known they met when they were kids and never forgot about each other.”

“Well that explains why they were so drawn to each other in the first place.”

Duncan and Alejandro both gave a special smile to their former roommates finally acknowledging that they were right to think there was something more to their friendship. Funny how they kept trying to convince themselves there was nothing there when it couldn’t be farther from the truth. They were always meant to meet and continue falling together.

[dandelion-person]

You know, I absolutely adore playing as a dwarf. I have a heartfelt connection to them. But aside from my personal preference, I find the character development to be wonderful. In Origins, when you play as a noble, my favorite part about the backstory in general is how warden develops. He/she starts as royalty, some wonderful person who very well may absolutely hate being rich. Hates the way they are looked at, but knows no other way. Someone who does their duty unquestioning and loyally. Who thinks of battle as something as simple as dusting the house. Perhaps they are even in a forbidden love with their second. These things: hiding relationships, knowing your death is tangible on any given day be it by darkspawn or relatives, never getting to be seen as a simply normal dwarf, are just a normal part of life. Until everything changes. And you’re thrown into this world that is ever so bright and scary. Something totally different. And you, young warden, are so practiced in the ways you have lived that people often mistake you for being callous. Monotone. Unfazed. They’re not wrong. At this point, it takes a lot to rattle you. But this is your life now. And you must learn.

I love thinking about the various situations Aeducan finds themselves in. Stumbling out of the deep roads barefoot into the wardens, who are visibly shocked, battering you with questions that should have been comforting, only to be so numb and hardened that the only thing you can muster is a very formal “it is good to see you again, Duncan.”

Then, meeting Alistair, watching the conversation with a mage and apparently something to do with these odd human religions and traditions with the most resting bitch face imaginable. As is your habit. You’ve grown accustomed to never showing emotion. Dwarves are accustomed to battle and honor and tradition, not emotion. And Alistair, thinking you’re offended or something and you simply replying with “You must be Alistair.” You didn’t mean to sound so scary, wow.

Then Duncan, briefing you on your joining tasks, and you, switching automatically into army general mode, asking the strategies and alternative solutions should problems arise. Duncan finds himself smiling internally. Your level head will surely balance Alistair’s emotional panic in the future.

On to Morrigan. These humans never cease to amaze you. She has nearly no clothing on. How can she survive a battle? None of this shows on your face of course. The never changing diplomatic hardened expression masks your internalized thoughts. It is at times a blessing, not allowing others to see your confusion and fear and curiousity as you learn this new world.

Battle at first is a bit distracting. You’re caught off guard by the fear and disgust the other recruits show. It’s as if they’ve never seen darkspawn...but wait. They haven’t. And you’re reminded again of your people (of whom will never speak of you again) who have faced these monsters for centuries. You find yourself wondering if these humans had experienced the hug of their mother. Harmless games with their fathers. Bonding with their siblings. You consider your own personal family life. You suppose in your own dwarven ways, your family had been very close. But you know if you were to ever try to explain that to these humans, that your version of bonding with your brothers had been training so harshly and brutally that you had sometimes had to spend days in the medicinal wing, they would think you a monster or a war machine. Perhaps...perhaps that’s what you are.

Then waking up in the hut. A pounding headache and intense body pain. You shift into automatic response. Is my duty completed? Are my men safe? What must be done to finish the assigned task. You walk outside to find Alistair. Who expresses some strange sort of gratitude, for what you don’t understand. You consider that humans take death very personally. Death is not something humans are ready and willing to face at any moment. How strange. You think your face must display some sort of confusion, because you swear you see Alistair give a small sad smile. Almost like he’s pitying you. The very look of it makes your stomach turn. Pity is for the weak.

Then there’s Leliana. The most odd creature you’ve found yourself encountering in this new strange land where the sky seems like it can swallow you. She speaks of some man in the sky. You presume a human. She has tried to explain it to you, but it makes no sense. Your body will one day return to the stone from which it came...but then you think further. Perhaps you won’t be returned to the stone. You’ve been exiled. There is no longer somewhere for you to go after you die. For the first time in your life, dying in battle doesn’t seem like a desirable choice.

Sten, oh Sten. Sten quickly becomes one of your most trusted companions. You and him understand each other. Sten is not blinded by emotion and vengeance. Sten exists. And you can appreciate that. Sten has a purpose. Long ago, you were a lot like Sten. Now, you have no idea of your purpose. This world confuses you. You take each day as it comes. Something you’re not used to and find quite annoying. You do not know what to expect. The one thing you can appreciate though, is duty. Duty you took upon yourself. You pride yourself in it really. For the first time, you are doing something that you chose to do. Something not assigned to you. Something you control. It is comforting, and when you look at the sky and grip your toes into the ground so it doesn’t swallow you, you think of this one piece of your culture that will always stay with you: your duty. Sten helps you realize this. And with Sten, you find yourself talking strategy. In some ways, Sten reminds you of Trian. In other ways, Gorim. You cherish Sten. He is a rock in this strange floating bright world.

Then comes Zevran. One of the first elves you’ve ever spoken to in depth actually. Among the first you’ve ever encountered. You find yourself considering him almost to be charming? The word sounds foul to you. He’s a piss poor rogue. Of this you know. At first you find him rather annoying? Almost angering? A piss poor rogue and an even poorer assassin, he turns his back on his duty immediately. You find his desire to avoid death deplorable. But for some reason, the idea of killing him (for the first time in your life mind you) strikes you as being morally wrong. Why? You weren’t sure. Perhaps it was your vacancy for tendencies of vengeance. You did not even seek to kill Bhelen after all. Bhelen had simply done what any dwarf would’ve, had they been smart enough. Bhelen’s act did not provoke hard feelings. You still loved him even. Your little brother had grown into an outstanding noble and you could not deny that. He had simply beaten you at a game. Once again, if you expressed this opinion to your human companions after they learned your story, they considered you to be insane. Apparently, vengeance is a common thing amongst humans. Humans, you feel, are incapable of accepting that which they do not enjoy. You find this odd. Relating back to Zevran, Zevran is not human. And though he acts nothing like the odd elves from the trees (the first trees you’d ever seen by the way), Zevran is refreshingly morally corrupt. The more you get to know him, the more he reminds you of your people. And this is comforting. He tells you of Antiva. Perhaps you even ask him if he will someday take you there. Maybe there would feel like home. It certainly sounds like the politics are the same. Zevran’s moral instability and cowardice are exactly what makes him so comforting. He makes you feel at home.

Sorry, I suppose those are just some ramblings/drabbles that go through my head when I play as a dwarf. Let me know if you’d like me to write any other background stories. I’ve played them all. The way my brain can spin their personalities and character development affects the way I build each character. I’d love to share more if anyone liked this!

PS: I have played all 3 games. The only backstory I haven’t played so far is the Qunari and it will have to wait because I just upgraded from 360 to One and now I have to buy another inquisition.

[x688plsloveme]

C-c... Can I get the companions+ Glory+ Edward Deegan... And what sort of dates they'd take Sole out on?

Me???? Doing an ask????? Also depending on what's used for their significant other is what they would call them gender neutrally.

CAIT: She would undoubtedly be the type to drag her partner to wrestling matches. Like think of a post apocalyptic WWE with more blood. The adrenaline and general excitement would have her and her chridhe positively giddy. Except greasy food and a super intense make out session afterwords. They'd think the screaming would take their breath away but this is whole different kind of breathlessness.

CURIE: Oh she would be just absolutely adorable on dates. She'd want to do them the pre-war way with fancy clothes and fancy food. She'd pick up her trésor and have a bouquet of hubflowers just for them. She'd try to courtesy and kiss their hand but probably ends up tripping and they catch her but they both fall so now the air of gracefulness is gone. That's not too bad though when they're faces are inches away from each other and the shine in their eyes are from love, not just mirth.

DEACON: Prank war!!!! But not at each other, it's towards others. They'd camp out on a roof and wait for someone to walk by then unleash the buckets of water at the ready! Or maybe do the classic shaving cream slap while someone's asleep. The more uptight they are the better so getting Danse or X is the ideal, it's no fun to mess with sweethearts like Curie or Preston. After a full day of laughter they'd go watch the stars on the same starting roof and just talk. About anything and everything. The most prominent memory in his lovey's head is the way he smiled when he kissed their hand surrounded by starlight.

DANSE: He would like to take his baby somewhere quiet where it's just them. No responsibilities or annoyances just them in their little bubble of love where they can just be. He'd make a homemade dinner that would probably be steak since he's the type of guy that can only cook meat correctly but it's the thought that counts. At the end he'd take his baby by the hand and lead them to their bedroom that is now filled with flower petals and they'd cuddle because they're both tired and full from their meal.

EDWARD: Being a ghoul that's been around for awhile let's him in on some beautiful spots in the Commonwealth, so his go to would be to take his angel hiking near dusk and reach the top of the mountain/glorified hill right at sunset. A little hike isn't going to tire out anyone who lives in the wasteland, but he'd still insist to carry their things and even occasionally his angel entirely to show off his strength just a bit to see them blush in embarrassment or out of being indignant. Either way he finds it cute. They'd marvel at the sunset together and cuddle until their limbs get numb.

GLORY: She'd love to try out different weapons with her heart just because they both like the competition. They make a game out of how many cans can they shoot in a row, or "who is brave enough to actually try Tinker Tom's new toy." That one's their favourite. The winner of each gets to dare the other to do something. It's usually just a kiss, but sometimes they have a little fun and dare the other to see how fast they can make Dez angry.

HANCOCK: There is no doubt in my mind that he'd take his sunshine on dates at the club. The deafening music, chems, and nasty dancing would be right up his alley. He'd get a few drinks in them both and maybe some chems then they'd hit the dance floor and have the best time. The energy there is like nowhere else. Something he really enjoys though is watching his sunshine as they dance alone. Seeing them get close to other people while their eyes are still fixed only on him does wonders for his confidence. Plus it gives him a reason to show off if someone gets to handsey while dancing.

MACCREADY: He would take gorge (short for gorgeous, he thinks it's funny) to the arcade. Just a day filled with friendly competition and tricking the other into losing with a kiss or two would be a great stress reliever for the world they live in. They'd dance poorly on the dance dance revolution machine and after awhile they complete to see who can do the worst. He'd try to kiss them seriously a few times but neither can go without laughing because of the popcorn in one's hair, or the fact that they're in the middle of a racing game dang it! Also when they're out on dates, the rest of the gang all helps to take care of duncan and shuan (if gorge is Sole). So the ending to their date nights are always a huge sigh when they see the mess everyone left behind. That's also why they keep a camera by the door, nothing like a little blackmail of someone wearing a bunny onesie to get a few favours.

PIPER: Of course she's the type to take her honeybun to an amusement park. They'd get high off of both adrenaline and sugar. Good thing the nuka world is back in business. Her favourite would be the roller coasters even though they scare her half to death, but that's part of the fun so how could she not. If her honeybun gets scared at anytime she'll immediately let them latch onto her even though she'll be laughing the whole time. She'll find the annoyed pout cute so there's really no winning. She'd make sure to hit the ferris wheel for a kiss at the top before they leave.

PRESTON: Whatever he does for his babe is lined with sweetness and dates are no exception. He'd treat them like the royalty they are in his eyes. They'd go to a petting zoo where they have baby molerats and brahmin as well as puppies and kittens. He finds the animals cute sure, but his babe is even cuter. And when they're surrounded by all the baby animals? Cuteness overload!!! He'd probably tell them little poems about how lovely they are while they walk around just to see them smile just a tad more.

VALENTINE: A gentleman through and through, he'd do what Curie does but classier. He has the experience she doesn't and the charm to carry it out. It's nothing but flattery as soon as he sees them. "Doll I knew you were perfect but dress you up a bit and I can't even look at your radiance or my sensors will melt." Just keeps them in a continuous puddle of goo with how kind he is. He'll kiss their hand, pull out the chair during dinner, order for them, etc. He takes the lead so you can relax. Seeing them enjoy themselves brings him joy so he wants to pull out all the stops for his doll.

X6-88: X isn't the best when it comes to dates but what he does know through all his quiet observation, is what his darling likes. He'd start with making them their favourite snack, then a cuddling session where he plays with their hair until they take a nap. When they wake up he'd have a massage prepared and that just proceeds to relax them more than sleep already has. After all the knots have been thoroughly worked out of them, they'd go on a walk while it gets dark out, hand in hand. When they get hungry, X will tell them to sit while he makes dinner but no one can stop his darling from turning into an octopus when they want attention so he doesn't get a moment away from them. He has no choice but to let them help out a bit but that's just a better way of saying "I'll personally feed you during the process while you sit on the counter looking comfy and cute because I can't say no to you no matter how hard I try."

@katell-clayton hope you like this! It has been years I'm pretty sure so I hope it was worth the wait at least a little bit. 😅

[angel-emmerson]

Ángel’s 33rd Birthday Letters 

Every year Ángel writes brief letters to the people in his life who have made a big impact on him in the past year. 

Tagging: @bradyemmerson / @quinn-hawthorne / @frankieblackwood / @alli-pellisier / @emily-duncan / @isaiahxcruz / @sanemreid / @julianeldridge / @graysoneldridge / @ryderirving

---

Mama Bears, J&D, The best women in the world,

I know how much you love my birthday letters but it’s not nearly as much as I love the two of you. 33 years and I still don’t have the words. I know you hate when I say that you saved me but I mean it. You saved my life the day you decided you wanted me to be yours. You changed the way I saw myself. You changed the way I saw love. I used to think love was made up. And then you two proved me wrong. Taught me the way you always have. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. You know that and I sure as hell know that. I wouldn’t change a thing about my life if it meant it wouldn’t lead me to you guys. Being an Emmerson was just my destiny, you know? Having two moms is the best fucking thing in the world. Sorry for cursing, J. 

You’re my two favorite people in the entire universe. You always say I’m your angel but you two are mine and I’ll never forget it. Thanks for giving my life a chance, for giving me a chance time and time again. 

Love you forever, mamas!

Your grateful af son,

Ángel 

---

To the best sister in the entire universe,

I know you think my bday letters are cheesy but you shouldn’t be surprised to get one every year. My life is always better with you around in it, B. You’re a freakin doofus and the biggest nerd I know and I love that about you. The day you walked up those steps and gave me the cold shoulder was the best day of my life. You taught me what it meant to really care about someone outside of myself, to take care of someone, to protect them and love them no matter what. I know we haven’t always been at our best but being your brother is the coolest fucking thing I’ll ever be. I’m so proud of what you’re doing. I’m so proud of how you’ve built up your business, all the ways your gonna continue to thrive and be your best. You deserve every bit of it. Every single bit. Don’t forget to celebrate, don’t forget to let yourself feel loved, don’t forget to take it all in before it’s too late. 

I know I’ve really put you through it recently and I’m really sorry for that. I promise you that I’m getting my shit together and I’m gonna start to take better care of myself. Really try to, at least. I’m always gonna be here for you. I’m never gonna leave you. That’s a promise I’ll always keep, B. 

Make sure to drink some fucking water!!

Love your big bro,

Ángel

--

My love, my light, my homie 4 life,

Another year with you and you know I wouldn’t have it any other way, Q. Well okay maybe there are some things I’d change for both of us but that’s all part of the journey, right? I’m happy as shit that I get to write you a letter every year, I’m happy as shit that we’ve been friends as long as we have. Though I gotta be honest man, the word friend feels like it doesn’t even begin to describe what you mean to me. You’ve known for a long time that you’re my fucking soulmate man. Recently, my therapist asked me to think about all of the relationships I’ve had and to think about which ones have taught me the most about love. Guess I realized I never loved someone the way I love you, bro. I know it’s harder for dudes to say it, I know we’re some tall ass, masc ass dudes and people are surprised when we show just how much we love each other. But I love that shit, I love us, I love us being loud as fuck, proud as fuck, angry, sad and mad as fuck. I love us in any form, I loved us in high school, I love us now. And I love you, always, unconditionally. 

I will always be there for you. Even when things change, even when new shit happens in our lives, I’m never going anywhere far from you. This bond is for life. Don’t ever doubt it. A lot of crazy shit has happened lately but that doesn’t erase all the good shit we did this year. All the work we did, all the shit we created. I know we’re just two clowns but we fucking inspire happiness man. We put a smile on people’s faces. And I never want that to change. We’re just gonna keep shining, keep thriving, keep surviving. 

I believe in you. And I believe in us. More than anything. 

Love you more than I love JLO. That’s big big love. 

Yours for life,

Ángel

--

Frankie, buttface, apple of my eye,

I know being home blows but I gotta say the Frankie shaped hole in my life was getting pretty big and I kind of hated that. I love having you around, I love having you as a friend, I especially love when you laugh at my jokes. But I love it even more when you clown my ass. Thanks for reminding me that sometimes shit ain’t that deep, that the bad comes with the good and it really just be like that sometimes. I get to be sappy because you’re reading this and don’t have to stare at my face but you are so damn special to me, FB. I want you to know that I love you and I would care so much if I lost you. You’re fucking amazing. Wicked smart, wicked talented and wicked fucking cool. The coolest chick I know. You make my life better, you sure as hell make me funnier and you always catch my angles. I’m really lucky to have you in my life. So don’t leave me, alright? Don’t forget that I’m always here for you, til a really cool death do us part, yanno? That’s how you say it right? That’s what Google says at least. 

When you finally read this call me and we’ll get burgers so you can call me a butthole and make me feel loved. Can’t wait to cause shit in the nursing homes with you one day. 

Love you long time baybee,

Ángel 

--

Allison, Alli P, Hermanita,

God really said I’m gonna add another thing to your list of blessings and then BOOM there you were. I hope you know I mean it when I say I got your back, that in me you got another big brother and in my siblings, in my moms, you got mad family who will always have your back. That’s how we roll and we’re forever loyal. So don’t you ever think you’re alone, alright? No matter the time of day, no matter how far away, you call on me, I’ll be there. You can just picture me somewhere singing lean on me. I know it’s not always easy to let people in or trust that people won’t leave you but you can trust in me. Quinn is my man, the light of my fucking life and I promise we’ll take good care of him, I promise I’ll take good care of you too. 

Thanks for always having the best taste and for always reminding me to level up. 

Love you lil one,

Ángel 

--

E-Money!!!!!!

You may not know this but you’re one of my favorite people to spend time with. Your energy, your laugh, that bright af smile and your sarcasm are the fucking best. I know I talk about how grateful I am that my sister has you but I never tell you enough how grateful I am that I have you in my life. You’re always there for me, always ready to hear me out or convince me to be on your stream. You make me laugh deep belly laughs and you help keep me grounded. I fucking adore the shit out of you, Em. I hope you know how much I care and love about you, how much I have your back no matter what. You’re a real one, a beautiful one, a true one. Anyone who can’t see that can kiss my big puerto rican ass. 

Know that you always got love and family in me. We’re bonded for life which just means you’ll never get rid of me. Not such a bad thing, right? Thanks for sharing parts of your life with me. I’m a better man for it. 

Love you always, boo, 

Ángel 

--

Zay! My Man!! The mothafuckin champ!!!!!

In case no one’s told you lately, I’m fucking proud of you. I know it ain’t easy, you’re always trying to do the best thing, always trying to make people proud and make your mama proud. I see you man, I see how hard you work, I see how big you love and you should never lose that shit. You got some real power and not just in the ring. You inspire me to be better, homie, you push me to be stronger and not just cause you’re always challenging my ass to a race. But that too. you keep me on my toes! 

This world is rough but you shine bright, hermanito. Don’t ever let anyone dull your shine. We’re gonna get you that savings account and shit is gonna take off. I promise you. Remember your big homie, Ángel always got your back. Siempre, papito. 

Mad mad love,

Ángel 

-- 

Sanem!! My girl!! My favorite teacher!!!,

Girl you have been through it this year and it hasn’t always been the hottest or the greatest but I see you trying to be better. I see you trying to put yourself first in a way that benefits you and others and doesn’t do harm. It’s hard to forgive ourselves, hard to see the goodness when there’s been so much badness, you know? I know you know what I mean. But you’re trying and that matters. Thanks for helping me stay in shape, for helping me fucking slay the competition and for always keepin me on for all the new dance trends. 

You always got a friend in me!

Love,

Ángel

--

Julian, you beautiful, weird, amazing, pain in my ass of a man, 

I love you dude. I know you brush off half of my sappy shit and I know you still beat yourself up plenty but we’re past that. Only thing I’m worried about right now is you changing the world with your art and for you to keep asking me questions that blow my fucking mind. I know this shit ain’t easy. I know I can’t ever understand how you feel but I know that what I can do is be there for you no matter what. And I am, forever, dude. Like forever and ever and then whatever fucking weird afterlife, after rave comes, yanno? Either way, I hope you know I always got your back. I’m proud of you man, not just cause you’re sober but because you keep trying every day. And that’s a hell of a lot than most people do. I know, the bar is low but fuck if i’m not gonna celebrate the little things. 

I’m really fucking happy you’re alive, J. I’m never taking that for granted. 

*hulk hogan voice* Love you brother,

Ángel

--

G--G-G UNiT! My favorite fucking politician, Grayson

Man there’s never a year I’m not happy you exist. You’re the best, my dude. You inspire me, you’re smart as hell and you got a smile of gold. I know there’s a lot of shit that we’ve been through but I’m glad you’ve always had my back and I hope you know I always have yours. Keep doing the work that you do, keep making us proud and don’t let these crazy motherfuckers out here get you down, alright? You inspire me to fight the good fight, to make sure I’m not out here looking like a dumbass and I’m always proud to support you, brother. Always. 

Remember to kick back and relax once in a while, alright? You deserve it and then some. 

Love you always, 

Ángel 

--

Ry-Dawg! Crazy motherfucker, Sunshine,

Drink some fucking water, okay? Love you forever. 

I mean that, 

Ángel 

--

Levi,

Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you, homie. I know that eventually I’m supposed to like move on, accept it all but they never tell you how hard it is. Other day these flowers in my garden bloomed and I wanted to tell you about them so badly. I keep thinking about all the shit you won’t get to do, the life you won’t get to live. I keep telling myself I gotta live it extra hard and enjoyable just for you. But how do I do that when I’m still so sad? I guess it’s stupid for me to be writing you a letter when I won’t get an answer, but sometimes it helps to think that you can somehow hear me, that maybe you’re still by my side seeing all of this shit. I hope that’s okay. 

I just miss you man. I wish I could tell you I love you one more time,

Ángel

[lestered]

lost in your paradise

m, 9.3k

It’s been six years of surreal friendship, and an even surrealer crush. Six years of traveling all around the world, and wanting to kiss him in every place.

Six years of chickening out every time.

Dan has no reason to believe that Japan will be any different, but anything can happen when you get lost under the Tokyo lights.

read on ao3 or under the cut

written for @starboydjh for @phanfictionevents spring fic exchange! thank you Hadley for giving me such an amazing prompt to work with!

many thanks as well to my beta, irl bff @b-j-e who definitely isn’t reading this because he hasn’t used his tumblr in five years and has probably had enough of this fic by now, but still deserves an mvp award.

He wants to kiss him in Manchester.

60 meters up in the sky, gazing out over Phil’s favorite city in the world. The one he’d insisted that Dan come to visit so that he could really meet his new best friend.

Well... he'd phrased it that way at least, but Dan could’ve sworn that the words ‘best friend’ were laced with something else. Something in Phil’s eyes, in his tone of voice, in the way Dan could see his eyes moving over the screen, flickering from his lips to his bare chest and back into his eyes - that said they were best friends, no doubt, but maybe they could be more. That maybe Phil wants more. Wants what Dan had suspected himself of wanting since before they’d even spoken, and what had been confirmed on that train platform when he’d finally locked onto that ocean-blue gaze in person and been tugged so easily into a warm, tight embrace that had left him flushed and happy and still, hours later, charged with an overwhelming urge to pull Phil in close again, to put his hands on him and kiss that adorable, lopsided smile off his lips. To put it all on the line even though it’s a bit terrifying.

Not even a bit terrifying, actually. Just… regular terrifying. So he sits close and lets their thighs press together and their hands and elbows brush and meets each of Phil’s curious, unreadable glances with something just as unreadable, just hoping Phil picks up on his wanting and leans in and does what he doesn’t have the courage to do himself. But whether Phil’s just as nervous and unsure as Dan, or because he genuinely doesn’t want to, his wish goes unfulfilled.

He doesn’t kiss him on the Manchester eye. He also doesn’t kiss him that night in his bed, or all the other times in Rawtenstall, or in Phil’s crappy first apartment or the first that they share. He doesn’t kiss him all the times they find themselves leaning in too close, holding each other’s gaze for too long, letting little offhand but suggestive comments drift out and float almost antagonizingly in the space between them.

He wanted to kiss him in Manchester.

But he didn’t.

***

Their hotel room in Japan is unreal. From the plush beds to the high-tech toilet to the mirror-TV, it’s by far the nicest room they’ve ever stayed in. It’s cool - too cool for them, frankly, but no one really needs to know that. Dan’s definitely not one to complain.

Personally, he’s a particularly big fan of their jacuzzi tub. It’s big enough to fit his giant noodle body, for one - a luxury that most tubs don’t afford him. And for another thing, he’s found that there’s nothing quite like a nice hot soak after a full day of walking around, exploring, because they can’t miss a thing, because Tokyo’s been their dream destination for years and who knows if they’ll ever get to come back.

It’s a lot of activity.

And it’s definitely worth it; it’s just also a bit strenuous for someone who spends most of his time slumped in front of a computer screen. Some warm bubbles go a long way when it’s time to unwind from it.

He may have stayed in a bit too long tonight, judging by the pruny state of his fingers and toes, but he can’t bring himself to care as he dries off, taking some extra time to towel the wetness out of his hair. The sooner it dries, the sooner he can straighten it.

A puff of steam follows him when he steps out into the bedroom a moment later in just his t-shirt and boxers, causing an unintentionally dramatic scene.

He half-expects Phil to notice and tease him for it. However, Phil’s laid out on his bed, still in the exact position he’d fallen into upon arriving back to their room - flat on his back, fully starfished save for the phone that he’s now holding to his ear.

“No, come on, don’t apologize. Tell him we hope he feels better soon, yeah?”

Dan gives him a curious glance as he flops forward onto his own bed, stretching out on his stomach and sliding his arms around to hug the pillow that he’s smushed into his cheek.

“Right, good luck. And seriously, thanks for everything you guys’ve done for us here, alright? Yeah… talk to you later.”

Phil blows out a breath, sets his phone down and rolls over to face Dan in a position that mimics his own.

“That was Mimei.” He tells him, though Dan figured as much. “They can’t come out tonight, apparently Duncan’s a bit under the weather and she’d feel bad leaving him alone. I guess he doesn't handle being poorly too well.”

Dan feels the corners of his mouth turn down in a small, disappointed frown. “Oh." He shifts to adjust the positioning of the pillow under his head. "That sucks, I wanted to go out one more time. I guess we could get room service, though, and now I won’t have to straighten my hair…”

“What are talking about?” Phil interrupts him before he can finish his thought. “We can still go out.”

Oh, god. Six years later, his heart is still full to bursting with love for his best friend, but he can’t deny that Phil has a tendency to lack crucial self awareness in situations like these. Phil must sense the apprehension on his part, because he quickly follows it up:

"It's our last night, we can't not go out!"

“Phil.” He rolls his eyes. “We can’t go out alone at night. We don't know where we're going, we can’t read the signs... we can’t use data here, so Maps is out of the question if we get lost which, since you have the navigational proficiency of a blind goose with vertigo…”

Phil’s spare pillow lands against his face with a soft thud before Dan can finish whatever hyperbolic insult he was ready to make up on the fly.

He knows what comes next: the pillow falls away and he’s met with big, blue puppy dog eyes and a pout. Phil doesn’t even need to say anything, and he knows it. Pure evil, he is.

(Not really. Pure evil would be if he knew what those eyes really do to Dan, if he knew how desperately Dan wants to make them light up and kiss the pout off his lips. But he doesn’t know. As it stands, Phil just believes himself to be an exceptionally talented beggar.)

“Fuck off.” He groans, and turns his face fully into the pillow before he gets too caught up. “Fine, we’ll go out if you'll stop being an insufferable spoon.”

The giggle he gets in return lets Dan know that Phil’s very pleased with himself, but he doesn’t need to look up to see his smile. He’s got it memorized already.

***

He wants to kiss him in Wokingham.

It’s not the right time, though.

Wokingham isn’t what he wants or who he wants to be; It's everything he wants to leave behind. It's loneliness and confusion and self-doubt - really, it's everything that Phil’s not.

Phil is warmth and support and a genuine hope that maybe he won’t have to define himself by the first eighteen mediocre years of his life. Phil is someone who actually believes in him in a way that he hasn’t believed in himself for years.

Phil’s the future he wants. Their first kiss ought to be in some place that represents his hope for that future, not the place he’s so eager to ditch.

Right.

That’s what he tells himself. Really, it's a convoluted excuse to cover the fact that he’s just scared shitless. Again.  

Having Phil with him in Wokingham is strange. He’s been happy letting these two parts of his life exist completely separate from each other so far. Of course, Phil makes him feel safe, but he’d be lying if he said that having him in his hometown doesn’t make him feel… exposed. Vulnerable. As if Phil would arrive here and immediately sniff out all of Dan’s yet-unspoken baggage - that uneasy balance between stupid teen angst and real, confusing, lonely, amorphous sadness that hangs so heavy in the air of his teenage bedroom that it’s almost tangible to him.  

He thinks, at first, that Phil's not picked up on it. Phil’s just happy to see him, always so happy to see him. Inexplicably so, in Dan’s opinion, no matter how many times Phil tries to tell him otherwise.

He doesn’t realize until late that night, in bed, that Phil’s more perceptive than he’d given him credit for.

“Thanks for letting me come here, Dan.” His voice is laced with understanding when he whispers into the dark, tugging him into his chest and sending Dan's heart into overdrive. It’d be so easy to do it now, to tilt his head up, to lean in just a bit, to brush his lips against Phil’s.

But he's frozen in place because a kiss could lose him this embrace if Phil doesn’t kiss him back. And he realizes he’s not ready to take that risk.

Will he ever be?

“You’re welcome.” He whispers instead, letting his eyes fall shut and releasing the breath he’d been holding. “I’m glad you’re here, Phil.”

He wanted to kiss him in Wokingham.

But he didn’t.

***

“Remember you want the tuna roll to end up in your mouth, and not on the back of some poor unsuspecting lady’s neck across the room.”

Phil kicks his shin under the table, but his blush and bitten-back smile betray any malice he might’ve been attempting.

“I hate you.” He mumbles. “You can't just let me live that down?”

“Do you even know me?” Dan crumples his straw wrapper into a tiny ball and flicks it across the table. It lands in Phil's lap and his mind may or may not be playing tricks on him when he thinks he sees a hint of fondness in the eyeroll that follows. “Of course not.”

They’re sat at the sushi restaurant from a few nights ago. It was their safest bet - the majority of the waitstaff speak at least some English and they know enough rudimentary Japanese food-words to pick things off menu. The overlap is enough for them to order their rolls and an extra side of spicy mayo, which suits them just fine.

Last time they sat at the bar, this time they're tucked into a table-for-two in the back corner. It's clearly not meant for two men as tall as them. They keep accidentally stepping on each other's toes.

(Maybe not always accidentally on Dan's part. Lamely, he knows that it's probably the closest he'll ever get to a game of footsie.)

“Do I get to tell the internet about how you cried at the Ghibli museum, then?” Phil asks, and this time there's definitely a fond glimmer behind his teasing expression.

That earns Phil his own kick to the shin. “Go ahead. They won’t judge me for it, they’ll judge you for being the soulless robot who didn’t cry.”

The look of shocked indignation on Phil's face before he schools his features into a cooler, more neutral expression is incredibly precious.

“Whatever." He retorts. "I was emotional too, I just held it together so I could be there to support you.”

The joking lilt of Phil’s voice unfortunately doesn't tame the swooping sensation he feels by default in the pit of his stomach every time Phil says something that makes him wonder if there's any truth, any genuine feeling behind the bants.

He decides that he's feeling a little too sober for this.

***

He wants to kiss him in Blackpool.

It's a getaway, not quite the way they’d planned it, but it can still be… romantic. Maybe. If he manages to actually do something right.

It’s just the two of them and that’s gotta to mean something. Do strictly platonic friends go on holiday for no other reason than wanting to enjoy each other’s company in a more private setting?

Maybe, but do they? Dan can't shake off the feeling that this trip means something more. He’s sure he senses it in the way Phil’s fingers still for a moment on the trackpad on his laptop, the cursor on the screen hovering between the one- or two-bed options on the hotel website.

The brief silence is excruciating, but no more so than the mouse click when Phil ends up selecting the room with two beds.

He supposes that doesn't necessarily mean anything. It's just that neither of them spoke up.

Blackpool turns out to be a shithole, though, so is it the right place?

Probably not, but… it'd be far less shitty if Dan could muster up the courage one goddamn night to crawl into Phil’s bed with him, instead of his own.

He actually almost does, stumbling into their room giddy and wine-drunk after a too-expensive dinner on the last night, trusting Phil to support about half his weight with the arm slung around his waist, and his arm around Phil’s shoulders.

“Fucking hell, finally.” He doesn't bother untangling them before falling backwards onto the bed, landing Phil on top of him with a surprised 'oof.'

“Shit, sorry mate.” He manages with an indelicate snort as Phil lifts himself onto his forearms. Then suddenly, Dan isn’t sorry at all - not with Phil on top of him, face flushed from the alcohol, eyes half-lidded and searching.

He really, really isn’t sorry.

“S’ok.” Phil mumbles in reply. He stays hovering over him, unmoving, his voice barely above a whisper and Dan swears he sees those pretty eyes flicker down to his lips.

If there’s ever been a go-ahead to kiss him, kiss him right fucking now, this would have to be it.

He just needs to collect himself first. Just a few deep breaths.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale— oh.

Oh no.

“Uh, Phil. I need you to get off me now.”

All he registers is a glimpse of the confusion in Phil’s expression when he rolls off of him, only for Dan to bolt straight to the bathroom. He makes it to the toilet just in time to collapse onto his knees and empty the entire contents of his stomach.

Perhaps he’d overdone it on the liquid courage.

“...Dan?” He hears Phil’s voice drifting in from the bedroom. “You alright? Can I get you anything?”

He sounds concerned, and understandably not the least bit turned on.  Nice.

“Totally fine.” He rasps in reply, and groans internally over how his voice echoes pathetically out of the toilet bowl while he rests his forehead on the cool porcelain rim.

They go to sleep in separate beds that night.

He wanted to kiss him in Blackpool.

But he didn’t.

***

Phil, in an unprecedented display of chopstick dexterity, manages to actually finish his sushi without accidentally assaulting anyone. Dan is secretly a little bit disappointed. Dumbass moments like those become fond memories and inside jokes and another reinforcement to a bond so unique that nobody ever could manage to steal it away from him.

He'll make a memory anyway, a mental snapshot. Phil looks handsome and the lights are low and the music is soft and the food is good.

Oh, and the scorpion bowl in the middle of their table is very strong, and should definitely be shared by more than two people. But they're not letting that stop them.

In fact, Dan's been sipping a steady stream out of his straw for god knows how long.

“Christ, Dan, you're not eighteen anymore.” Phil nudges Dan’s foot with his own under the table. "Slow down if you don't wanna be hungover on the plane tomorrow. Plus you keep slurping."

“I’ll slurp your mum.” He replies without thinking, still holding the straw in between his teeth. He registers what he's actually said a second too late, just a moment after Phil looks at him with a horrified expression and he sputters before dropping his head down into his hands.

“No, no. I take it back. I didn’t say that, I did not say that.” He tries to insist, but he’s wheezing and his shoulders are shaking with laughter and he can’t take it back. Phil's joined in on the laughter and he's definitely not gonna let him take it back. “Fuck.” He sighs out when he catches his breath. “Don’t tell Kath.”

Phil’s cheeks are flushed a dark, rosy pink by the time he regains his composure and takes a long sip out of their shared drink again.

“As if I’d ever repeat one of your terrible jokes to her. She’d be scarred for life.”

Dan almost points out that Phil’s mum watches their videos, and he’s said worse on camera, but he stops himself.

Because one day of vlogging aside, this vacation has been a welcome escape, a break from the constant thought loop of youtube, youtube, fans, fans, radio, radio, youtube youtube youtube that refuses to leave them alone back in England.

His life could be a lot worse. But that doesn't change the fact that they're here right now in a whole new world where they've not been recognized, not even once, and he's breathing so easy, like a gigantic weight he hadn't even registered before has been lifted off his chest.

It’s amazing. He looks across the table at Phil. He can do that here, where they won't run into anyone, where it's unlikely that anyone's secretly watching - look at Phil for as long as he wants, not bothering to worry about schooling his features into something that definitively does not resemble heart-eyes. Phil catches his eye and stares back at him with an intent, albeit slightly unfocused gaze. He's not used to Phil looking at him this way, but his fuzzy brain can't bring itself to decipher what might be going on in Phil's head.

Whatever it might is, his best-friend-intuition tells him he likes it.

“Hey, Phil.” He says after a final decisive drink, still focused on those sparkling eyes. “Let’s go exploring.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Portugal.

It's what Blackpool was supposed to be after all, vacation-wise.

It can be what Blackpool was supposed to be kiss-wise, too, if he doesn’t majorly fuck up this time.

It’s much prettier here than Blackpool. Much prettier than anywhere they’ve been, really.

Phil especially looks pretty here, even with his pale skin slathered in SPF-one million. He’s pretty at the Zoomarine, where his eyes gleam with excitement and he makes friends with a large turtle. He’s pretty with his face flushed and his smile wide and uninhibited after a bit of sangria, when he tells him his skin looks nice under the blue sun.

He’s so very pretty on the coastline, with his sunglasses a bit crooked and his face turned up towards the sun and his hair tousled from the salty wind, sitting right next to him on the warm rocky ground.

His chest hurts when he looks at Phil like this. He’s scared sometimes of how badly he wants him.

Phil shifts closer to him, and their hands, outstretched behind them, overlap.

...Interesting. Is that more or less scary? He feels hot all of a sudden and he suspects it's from more than just the sun.

But they stay like that, and his heart races, and he has no idea what to do because Phil’s acting like they’re doing nothing unusual even though it’s been a while since they’ve touched like this.

His stupid inner romantic has never fully ruled out the possibility that maybe Phil wants him too.

So is this a move? Is he going to make another? If he does then that’s a lot of pressure off of Dan, for sure.

He waits.

He waits for a long time.

And he probably doesn’t have a right to feel disappointed when nothing happens, but he does anyway.

He wanted to kiss him in Portugal.

But he didn’t.  

***  

Stepping out into the fresh air sobers him up a little bit. Not a lot, but enough that he and Phil don’t need to lean on each other when they walk. That’s good, he doesn’t feel like looking sloppy even though Phil’s seen him at his sloppiest. And wherever they’re about to go, he wants to remember it.

They don’t talk about where they’re going, but head off at the exact same time in the exact same random direction. They walk in silence for a bit and Dan doesn’t mind. Silence is quite alright, especially if he’s sharing it with Phil. His mind is foggy and the Tokyo streets are loud enough and Phil’s right there, next to him like always. That’s enough for him.

He’s actually startled when Phil finally speaks up. “I kind of can’t believe we did this.”

Dan looks over at him and Phil’s gaze is a little distant, his voice a little dreamy, and his lips quirked into a bit of a smile. Dan’s heart swells.

“Came here, you mean?” His voice is barely above a soft murmur, but he knows Phil can hear him anyway. They find a break in traffic and cross the road towards some building he doesn’t recognize with some neon pink sign in the front that he can’t read. “I know. Kinda doesn’t feel real.”  

He thinks back over six years, how many times they talked about Japan. Too many to count, and never in concrete terms, always some vague, faraway goal.

He thinks of the times they’d sit a little too close on the couch and watch anime over breakfast, all the skype calls in the very beginning when they’d spend ages rambling to each other about Pokemon and My Neighbor Totoro. He thinks of standing at their breakfast bar in Manchester and mixing up Popin Cookin sweets, of losing their shit over Bishi Bashi special.

When he glances over to his side, he sees Phil looking right back at him. Dan can’t quite decipher his expression again, and he’s not sure it’s from the alcohol this time. The look on Phil's face quite resembles the one he'd had after spontaneously booking their tickets and following the initial excitement, something softer, but contemplative too. He likes that look. He likes having it aimed at him. He’s pretty sure his buzz intensifies for a second.

“It’s real.” Phil breathes, locking eyes with him and then looking away a little sooner than Dan wants him to. “Definitely real.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Jamaica.

He thought Portugal was pretty, but Jamaica is on a whole new level. And, as with anything else amazing that’s happened to him as of late, Phil is right there with him.

It feels kind of like a dream, if he’s being honest - that anyone would consider him important or influential enough to be on this trip.

The only reason he knows for sure that it’s not a dream is his hobbit hair. In a dream, he’d have it perfectly straightened and under control. But with the water activities and humidity here, any effort he puts in to taming his curls is entirely in vain.

Phil ruffles his hair and tells him his curls are cute. He cares a lot less after that.

What he does care about is filming and jumping off cliffs and tubing and sunset swims where Phil photographs him without his knowledge.

“What?” Phil comments when Dan whines to him about it. “It’s a cool photo. It’s artsy. You look nice.”

He scoffs at that. “It’s just my silhouette.”

“Well, it’s a good one.”

Everything around them is shades of pink and orange and gold. Warm and beautiful. Especially the golden light, bringing out the specks of yellow in Phil’s kaleidoscope eyes. Looking into them, he feels a distinct tugging somewhere in the pit of his stomach, and drifts over to Phil almost mindlessly. Phil smiles when he’s close enough.

“You have so many new freckles.” He murmurs, and taps him lightly on the tip of his nose.

“Ugh, don’t remind me. They make me look like a fucking eight-year-old.”

It’s the least sexy reply he could’ve given and he mentally scolds himself for it, but Phil doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Shut up, they suit you.” Is all he says in reply and Dan’s lucky that there’s not enough light for Phil to see the blush spreading across his cheeks.

He doesn’t even need to make an effort to get any closer to Phil; the current does all the work for them until their knees touch.

He’s close to leaning in. More than anything, he wants to close the fucking gap.

Just his luck, though, Phil glances up just then and sighs. “Crap, it’s getting dark. We should go back, don’t wanna be late for dinner.”

He can’t find it in himself to muster enough courage after that.

He wanted to kiss him in Jamaica.

But he didn’t.

***

The place with the neon pink sign that they can’t read is some kind of karaoke bar, they realize once they’ve crossed the street and lean up against the wall for a breather and immediately hear the distinct beginning of Get Low by Lil John and two, mildy-drunk sounding voices belting along into microphones.

“Oh my God.” Phil’s eyes are wide. “Do you think they know what this song means? Like, what they’re actually saying?”

Dan holds up a finger and they go quiet.

To the windowwwwww (to the windowwwww)

To the wall (to the wall)

Til the sweat drop down my balls

Til all these bitches crawl

“Definitely not.” Dan snorts, and Phil rests his head back against the wall to breathe out a disbelieving laugh as well.

“I mean… I guess it’s not hurting anyone.” Phil shrugs. “We sing anime theme songs all the time and we have no clue what they mean. For all we know they could be incredibly profane.”

“Yes, Phil. I’m sure the Attack on Titan theme tune is incredibly profane. Come on, you spork.” He pushes off the wall and walks off a few feet down the sidewalk, only to realize that Phil’s not following him.

“Uh, Phil?” He turns around, eyebrow raised when he sees Phil still standing against the wall. “Don’t you wanna go find something to do?”

Phil hesitates, seeming to ponder something for a moment before breaking out into a smile. He pushes off the wall and takes a few steps backwards towards the door to the bar, his eyes just the slightest bit challenging.

“I think we just did.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Italy.

Chris and PJ aren’t stupid. They nudge him, shoot him looks, strategically leave him and Phil alone multiple times a day with fully conspicuous parting winks.

And he won't do it. If he’s going to kiss Phil (which, admittedly, is feeling like more and more of a lost cause), it’s going to be on his terms. It’s going to be when he feels it’s right, not when their well-meaning but idiotic friends decide.

It actually does feel right at one point, when Phil’s chasing him in a tipsy, spontaneous game of tag while they’re alone. Phil catches him and he wants to spin around right then, crash their mouths together, let Phil know that he’s got him in more ways than one. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or adrenaline, or maybe he’s just damn fed up with not having Phil’s lips on his.

Probably a combination, to be honest. But mostly that last thing.

He spins and just like that, PJ and Chris come right up behind them.

Some God that he doesn’t believe in really wanted to fuck with him tonight.

They seem to realize that they’ve come upon something they shouldn’t have, but Phil catches sight of them too, and then the moment’s gone.

He wanted to kiss him in Italy.

But he didn’t.

***

Phil must be drunker than Dan previously thought, because the Phil Lester that he prides himself on knowing extremely well does not just get the spontaneous urge to saunter into a karaoke bar. Yet that’s exactly what he does, and Dan kind of has no choice except to follow him.

The air inside is thick and hot and noisy, with a couple fans whirring on either side of the bar and a floor setup of basic tables and chairs, some mismatched overstuffed armchairs against the far wall, and most importantly a small stage (more like a platform, really) all the way up at the front, complete with a karaoke setup of two mics and a screen that flashes song lyrics in bright, loud colors. Phil leads them to the only empty armchair at the edge of the room, conveniently wide enough for the two of them to squeeze into.

And Dan has to admit it’s pretty cool. The bar may be hot and crowded and loud but it’s entertaining. They hear some regular, innocent songs. They’re quite nice. But they also hear uncensored renditions of Pony by Ginuwine, The Real Slim Shady by Eminem, and a personal favorite of theirs, My Neck, My Back. They contain their laughter for the most part, meaning a lot of the time they’re red faced and shaking. The laughter gets harder to contain when they’re sent a free drink each from a couple older ladies at the bar.

They don’t really need to loosen up more than they already are, but they drink them anyway.

Of course, the best part of the whole thing is being pressed up so close to Phil. He’s warm and smells nice and Dan would very much like to kiss his rosy cheek, but he’s not quite uninhibited enough for that.

“Right, my ass is falling asleep, we can probably get walking around again.” Phil says when he stands up a while later with a stretch and a yawn. Dan follows, and just then the current song ends and the next karaoke slot opens up.

A seed of an idea plants itself in Dan’s mind, and he flashes Phil the same challenging look that Phil had aimed at him earlier. “Or, maybe not just yet.” He grins and pulls a shocked, protesting Phil up on stage. He’d be painfully too awkward to do this sober, but his head is swimming a bit, so he’s alright.

Phil is still looking incredibly alarmed as Dan sorts through the song selection, and it doesn’t take long for him to find the perfect one. He hits play and Phil pales when it starts up. Dan merely gives him a cheeky smirk and picks up his mic.

mmBaby can’t you see, I’m calling

A guy like you should wear a warning

It’s dangerous

I’m falling…

Your turn, he mouths to a Phil who now looks less terrified, more intrigued, and in a sudden show of bravery, grabs his own mic.

There’s no escape

I can’t wait

I need a hit

Baby, give me it

A loud cheer coming from somewhere around the bar puts what Dan could almost describe as a sultry smirk on Phil’s lips. Surely that’s not on purpose.

You’re dangerous

I’m loving it

It sends a rush of blood down in between his legs anyway. He breathes in deep, locks eyes with Phil and joins back in.

Too high, can’t come down

Losing my head, spinning round and round

...

...Do you feel me now?

***

He wants to kiss him in Orlando, Vegas, and LA.

He doesn’t even need an excuse as to why he won’t. More and more, they’ve been keeping some distance from each other. There’s pressure mounting. A rapidly growing fanbase, thousands and thousands of prying eyes.

Thousands and thousands of hopefuls wanting the things Phil said in that damn video to be true just as much as Dan does.

And just as much as he has to act like he doesn’t. The situation may not be that out of control, but he’s living in his own personal spiral of misery. Phil moves further and further out of his reach and it’s not supposed to bother him - hell, it’s partially his own fault.

He doesn’t know if it bothers Phil or not. They don’t talk about it. They still talk, all the time, about everything else. Just… not that. Never that.

He doesn’t hope at this point. Not the way he used to. He still wants, he still wants so bad that it hurts. All he can bring himself to hope for is that their on-camera life doesn’t bleed into their off-camera life more than it already has. He couldn’t handle it.

He wanted to kiss him in Orlando, Vegas and LA.

But he didn’t.

***

They’re giddy and nearly delirious when they stumble out of the bar later, courtesy of a couple more free drinks and the adrenaline from two encore performances after their smashing performance of Toxic.

“Fucking hell.” Dan laughs when they lean up against the outside wall again, right where they’d been leaning before. “That was…” He shakes his head and laughs again before gulping down as much fresh air as he can. “That was pretty fucking epic.”

“It was.” Phil agrees with the same type of laugh, wiping the sweat off of his brow. “We haven’t done karaoke in way too long.”

“We’ve never done karaoke, you dingus.” Dan snorts and bumps his shoulder weakly into Phil’s. “Rock Band doesn’t count as karaoke.”

Phil bumps his shoulder right back. “It does to me, you... you… rude person.”

Phil really isn’t good with the insults in his regular state. Drunk Phil’s insults, though, are simply laughable. “Ouch, Phil." He feigns hurt. "I might not ever recover from that absolute zinger.”

Without thinking, he grabs the shoulder of Phil’s jacket and starts to tug him along while Phil follows along with a weak retort of “your mum.”

He’s not sure how far they walk, arms and hands brushing and shoulders bumping and cheeks blushing, before they come upon a small, well-lit ice cream shop. Dan hadn’t even thought about ice cream, but now the light inside the shop may as well be a beacon of heaven.

They keep walking once they’ve got their cones, and Dan can’t hold back his satisfied groan when he takes his first lick and it instantly hits the spot. “God, why isn’t ice cream like, the most popular drunk food?” He asks around his next several licks. “It’s filling, it’s cold, it’s refreshing… it's literally perfect. We’ve been so blind.”

“It’s definitely better than those kebabs you used to slam with your uni mates after the club before stumbling back to my apartment.” Phil says with a shrug, occupied with his own cone.

Dan thinks that Phil’s teasing might be laced with a bit of fond nostalgia, but he could just be projecting. He has plenty of fond nostalgia over having an excuse to pass out in Phil’s bed, half on top of him a couple times a week. He also has some… slightly less fun memories of Phil nursing him back to health if he woke up particularly hungover.

“Hey, those were good times.” Dan defends, though he’s not referring to the kebabs or the clubbing or even his old uni mates. They walk further into the night, slurping their respective ice creams, and Dan lets himself wonder if Phil ever looks back on those times in the same way.

***

He wants to kiss him in London.

It’s not the first time they’ve been here. But it’s the most important.

It’s the start of something new. A huge step forward in their life, a big risk that they’re taking together, trusting each other to pull through.

There’s actual career advancement on the line. Actual grown-up shit. Actual jobs at the actual fucking BBC. They wouldn’t be here without each other, and he’s so happy. So grateful.

Now more than ever, he appreciates how much he's managed to change his life for the better since meeting Phil. How Phil's been there through everything, stuck by him at his absolute messiest. How he’s cared. So much. More than Dan’s ever imagined, more than he deserves.

They build a crappy wardrobe, and they're definitely a little too proud of themselves for it.

It’s right after that, lying side by side on the carpet next to the only piece of furniture that they currently own, that Dan feels that pull again. He feels it less these days, or maybe he just refuses to acknowledge it. It's hard for now, but he figures ignoring it will get easier at some point.

He’s just not there yet.

He wanted to kiss him in London.

But he didn’t.

***

“Stars are so pretty.” Phil sighs. “You know some of the stars we’re looking at right now are already dead? How crazy is that? They’re just… shiny little... beacons of death. So cute.”

“Oh my God, what are you even on about?” Dan mumbles as he rolls his head to the side. They’re both laying down on a bed of soft, slightly damp grass after happening on a quaint little park 15 or so minutes away from the ice cream shop. Conveniently so, as they were both just about dead on their feet.

They’ve been mostly silent, not talking, not touching. Dan gazes into the dark sky and listens to Phil’s deep, steady breathing. He feels like he’s floating, light and breezy in some space between his reality and a dream. It’s definitely not a bad way to be winding down. He checks the time on his phone. It’s nearly midnight.

“Hey Dan?” Phil’s voice pulls him back to the present after a pretty long while. “Have you got any idea where we are?”

Dan sighs softly in reply. “No clue,” he murmurs, resting a hand on his stomach and letting his eyes slide shut.

“Oh.”

Dan furrows his eyebrows when he hears a bit of an edge in Phil’s voice. It takes him a minute to catch on, but when he does, sits straight up so fast that his vision goes a little bit spinny.

“Oh.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Edinburgh, and New York too.

For no particular reason, except that he still wants to kiss him every-fucking-where they go. But he has plenty of reasons not to.

Firstly, they’re working.  They have a professional relationship now. It doesn’t outweigh their friendship by any means, but it’s there. It’s important. They’re coworkers.

And simply put, you don’t kiss your coworker. Doesn’t matter that you’ve been in love with him for three years.

They make a living off of being friends and nothing more than that. Any failed attempt at love now wouldn’t just put their friendship on the line, but their livelihood too.

Their life is good. He refuses to be the one to fuck it all up.

Secondly, kissing Phil has been off the table for a while, anyway.

Along with self expression, along with anything else that might hint at him being not-straight with a gay-as-hell crush on his best friend.

Not just off the table, even. More like fully out of the question. More like aggressively denied.

Some fans love him for it, lots of them hate him for it. He hates himself for it.

He doesn't really care. He only hopes that Phil doesn’t hate him for it.

He wanted to kiss him in Edinburgh, and New York too.

But he didn’t.

***

Trying to get their bearings and retrace their steps back to wherever the hell they’d come from is by far the least fun part of their night. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Phil worries his bottom lip between his teeth when they pace across the field in what might or might not be the direction they came from. Dan drags his hands over his sweaty scalp and tugs lightly at his hair that’s almost certainly started to curl around the edges.

“I’m sorry, Dan.” Phil sighs after a while, copying Dan and anxiously fixing his own hair. “I really shouldn’t have made us come out tonight, you were right about getting lost.”

Dan frowns when he notes that Phil seems, well… genuinely upset. This has kind of been the most fun he’s had in… a pretty long time. He doesn’t like the idea of Phil regretting it, much less feeling guilty.

“Hey, I went along with it.” He insists. “It’s my fault too. We just need to… fuck, I don’t know, but this is the direction we came from, right? I’m almost positive.”

Phil stops abruptly. “It’s not.” He says quietly after a moment’s pause. “But… oh my God, look.”

Dan follows his gaze and feels his eyes widen when he sees just what Phil’s looking at.

“Holy shit.” He whispers. “Are we gonna…?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

***

He wants to kiss him in Cyprus.

It’s hard for him not to think about it around Bryony and Wirrow, because with them around it feels like a full-on couples vacation.

Which would be the cringiest middle-class white people thing they’ve probably ever done, if that were actually the case. It’s not, though. It’s not a couples vacation; it’s a couple vacationing with their two lanky, emo, painfully single best mates.

Still, his heart flutters when he watches Phil sip down his colorful, sugary cocktail at dinner, the sunset casting angular shadows over his face. Feels nothing but adoration watching him flail in an unsuccessful attempt to swat away the gigantic, pesky Cypriot bugs.

And to no one’s surprise, especially his own, he does nothing to act on it. Doesn’t even entertain it as a real possibility anymore. It hurts. But it's just a pipe dream now.

He wanted to kiss him in Cyprus.

But he didn’t.

***

Cherry blossoms at night might be the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

Dan fancies himself a bit of a philosopher. Whether or not that notion actually holds any merit is a different story. Still, he’d like to think that all his hours spent facedown in his bed, at his desk, and mostly on the floor haven’t all been for nothing. He’d like to think that he’s formed some sort of coherent opinion on life - why he’s here, what he’s living for, what it all means in the grand scheme of things.

Really, he hasn’t. He waffles too much, he overthinks, and before he knows it he’s back to square one. But he’s learned a couple of things.

First and foremost, that sometimes it’s easier to think in metaphors, as long as they aren’t painfully contrived. Metaphors break things down into simpler terms, put things in perspective.

Cherry blossoms, he read somewhere at some point, are a metaphor. They bloom bright and beautiful when the time is right, and then two weeks later, all too soon, they fall to the ground. Much like existence, they are transient. Fragile. Gone possibly before you can find the time, the perspective, to marvel at them properly. But their fleeting nature doesn’t make them less beautiful when they’re in bloom. Far from it; they’re precious while they last.

Life, from the wholly optimistic perspective he rarely sees, can be the same.

But funnily enough, he’s not actually thinking of that right now.

He’s not actually thinking of much at all.

It’s hard to think, surrounded by so much light.

“I can’t believe we never knew about this.” Phil mumbles from beside him. He’s got his head turned up towards the tree that’s casting its soft pink glow down over and around them. “I totally would’ve forced you to get lost with me sooner.”

He’d almost forgotten not wanting to come out tonight in the first place. I’m glad you forced me out. He wants to say. I’m glad that I’m here with you. But when he turns to his side, Phil’s not standing next to him anymore.

Before he can even panic or call out to him, he spots Phil up ahead just a bit, ambling along among some of the trees that lead down to a nearby river. He’s looking up still, clearly caught up in the ethereal view - seeing the trees lit up, seemingly on their own in the dark, does look kind of like magic. They could be checkpoints in a fantasy rpg, Phil would probably say. Or something of the sort - Dan can always ask him later what’s going on in his mind. Something interesting and strange, he's sure, because Phil’s like that.

He shoves his hands into his pockets and walks up ahead himself, following Phil from a few feet behind. He has a tendency to lose Phil like this - on the street, in parks, in train stations, when he’s zoned out in his own private Phil world. It’s either endearing or incredibly frustrating, depending on the situation. Right now, it’s definitely endearing.

And it's always kind of funny to see how and when Phil comes back to reality, how he fumbles to regain his bearings and is always startled at himself for having spaced out so long.

Well, this time it’s actually not very long. Phil’s only been walking for about a minute before he trips, stumbling forward a few steps, then righting himself and turning his head to the side, confused. Dan knows it’s because Phil was assuming Dan to be next to him this entire time.

“Smooth.” He remarks with a snicker, coming up on Phil’s other side. “That’s what happens when you’re staring at the trees and not watching where you’re going.”

Phil turns with a startled jump before his face falls into a frown. “You were supposed to be next to me!” He complains. “You could’ve warned me I was about to trip on something.”

“You tripped over nothing.” Dan remarks when he looks down at the ground and sees nothing in the immediate vicinity that Phil could’ve tripped on. “Double smooth.”

“I hate you.” Phil grumbles. “And you’ve got petals in your hair.”

Dan’s cheeks heat up against his will when Phil reaches up and plucks them out. They heat up even more when he smooths his hair back into place for him. They’re on fire when Phil’s hand lingers for a second before he drops it back down to his side, resuming his walking with Dan actually next to him this time.

“The trees don’t even look real, right?” Phil asks, glancing up at them again, briefly and with much more caution this time. “I feel like some NPC from a fantasy game should be living inside.”

Dan has to bite back a grin. Okay, an NPC, not a checkpoint, but still. That psychic connection that their audience, friends and family accuse them of having really is uncanny at times.

“I could see that.”

They stop walking when they reach the edge of the river. There’s a bridge about 20 feet away from them that crosses over and leads to more cherry blossom trees on the other side, but they stay put, watching the lanterns that float along in the water.

When he looks at Phil, he sees the river reflected in his eyes and the warm pink light shining behind him and realizes that actually, the cherry blossoms are only the second prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He feels something click into place.

“Phil.” He sighs. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing now besides chasing whatever feeling, whatever tug, whatever heat, whatever rush of courage he’s got washing over him, cementing his resolve. Whether he likes it or not, he’s not backing out this time.

There’s a storm of emotion looming very close in the distance. It’ll remain unnamed and indiscernible until he reaches his outcome here. Right now it’s only adrenaline, his racing heart and sweaty palms tell him as much.

He swallows down the lump in his throat.

“Phil.” He repeats in a slightly steadier tone of voice. “I need to tell you something, I—”

He turns to Phil and immediately can’t finish his sentence. He’s cut off when Phil’s lips are suddenly pressed against his own.

He freezes, his mouth slack and his arms hanging dumbly at his sides while his brain races to catch up with what the fuck is actually happening. Phil’s kissing him. Phil’s right here, right in front of him, he’s cupping his face and kissing him.

The delayed realization hits him like a freight train. His eyes slip shut and suddenly he’s a live wire, hot and electric from his head down to the tips of his toes and his inner voice screams KISS HIM, KISS HIM, KISS HIM BACK YOU IDIOT.

Phil pulls away before he can and Dan can’t breathe. He can’t even bring himself to open his eyes until a few seconds later. He waits for his vision to refocus and then locks eyes with Phil.

Phil’s taken several steps back from him, eyes wide and his expression utterly terrified, color drained out of his cheeks and both hands clasped tightly over his mouth.

“Oh my god, Dan.” His voice is muffled by his hands but Dan can still hear how shaky it is. “I’m so sorry, I’m— I shouldn’t have— I don’t know what—”

Phil, he realizes, is apologizing. Apologizing for kissing him. He feels his heart plunge all the way down to his feet and back up because Phil’s apologizing for kissing him and that’s fully unacceptable. His body feels like it’s running on autopilot when he surges forward, tugging Phil’s hands away from his mouth and just barely registering the desperation in his eyes before he grabs his face and kisses him again.

He kisses him hard and Phil’s reaction speed is far better than Dan’s because he kisses him back immediately, heated and urgent and impassioned.

They break apart technically sooner than Dan would like, but as far as he’s concerned, they now have more pressing matters to attend to.

“Phil.” He rasps, knowing that his pupils are surely blown as big and dark as Phil’s when he looks into them. “We need to get back to the hotel. Right fucking now.”

*

In the end, it's a matter of swallowing their pride and stumbling through a half-coherent conversation with a very patient park-goer, who does eventually understand what the hell they're trying to say and points them in the right direction.

Actually getting back to the hotel is a blur.

What's not a blur is the fact that Phil's mouth is on his again before the door's even closed behind him. That’s when everything turns crystal clear. His whole body’s on fire when they fall in a mess of tangled limbs onto the bed, kicking off shoes and wrestling each other out of clothes.

He straddles Phil once they’re both down to just their pants, their bodies pressing tight together when he leans down and slots their mouths together again

It's not quite the tender, romantic confession that Dan had been planning on.

But it turns out that he’s just as fine with words and half-sentences spoken in haste when they’re panting hot and heavy against each other’s mouths.

Phil scratches his nails lightly down Dan’s back and Dan tells him he wants him, wants him so bad. Phil flips them over and presses him into the mattress and latches his mouth onto the warm, sensitive skin of Dan’s neck and murmurs between hot open mouthed kisses all over that he wants him too, so so much, that he’s wanted this forever, since before they even met.

Dan feels like he could cry.

But he settles instead for an obscene moan when Phil kisses him roughly and slots their legs together and grinds his hips down and Dan notices that he’s just as painfully hard as him.

“Phil, please.” He whispers into one more kiss before Phil latches onto his neck again. Phil really doesn’t hold back, nipping and sucking and biting and there’s no way that Dan’s coming out of this without any hickeys but that’s fine. He wants to be marked. He waits for Phil to pull back a bit before reaching down in between them, hastily pushing down both of their waistbands so that Phil’s hard length is rutting against his and his precum smears onto Dan’s belly.

He feels the blood thrumming hot and fast though his veins, up and down his entire body with every hammering heartbeat. All he registers is Phil’s hot breath against his neck and chest and the sound of skin on skin and the white hot sparks of pleasure that start in his groin and travel all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes.

“I’m… close.” He moans through gritted teeth when he feels his balls drawing up tight, wrapping one leg around Phil’s waist for leverage and meeting each thrust with his own. His squeeze shut and he sees stars and muffles his moan against Phil’s shoulder when he spills hot and fast in between their bodies. Phil’s hips stutter and he follows right after, and Dan kisses him and clings to him while he rides it out and then promptly collapses on top of him.

For a while there are no words. Just slow, deep breaths and tiny kisses pressed into any available bit of salty skin before Phil finally finds the strength to roll off to the side and halfheartedly clean them both up with the corner of the bedsheet.

They lay side by side, flat on their backs, chests flushed and bodies shimmering with a thin gleam of sweat and then at the same time, turn their heads to face each other and burst into disbelieving laughter.

“Oh my God. Jesus fucking Christ.” Dan manages, tucking his body up against Phil’s side and laying his head on his shoulder. “We actually just did that.”

“We did.” Phil sighs, and reaches over to grab Dan’s hand resting on his chest and lace their fingers together. “We should, uh. Probably talk.”

“In a minute.” Dan whispers.

When they do get to talking, the words exchanged are balm to a burn that’s been scarring Dan’s soul for so many years, for far too long. They talk late into the night, confessions and jokes and apologies and every way of saying I love you without actually speaking the three words, until they both can’t keep their eyes open any more.

They fall asleep tangled up in each other. For the first time in six years, Dan finally rests easy.

*

“Don’t wanna go home.” Dan mumbles, stretched out on his belly with his face mushed into his pillow the next morning. The sun streaming in from between the curtains is an unwelcome presence as far as he’s concerned. Phil runs his fingers lightly up and down Dan’s spine, pauses to rub between his shoulderblades, and taps on his cheek until Dan turns his head and lets himself be kissed.

“I know.” Phil sighs, burrowing closer and nudging his nose against Dan’s. “Me neither.”

It seems unfair, really, that they’re being pushed right back into their everyday grind when they’ve only just made such an amazing, dream-come-true level discovery. They need to go back to England, go back to work. And going back to work means… well, hiding in the closet. The idea of it leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Nothing has to change.” Phil tells him, as if he’s read Dan’s mind. “I want you back home just as much as I want you here. We’ll…” He sighs, because he surely knows they’re not in for an easy ride. “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. I’ll do whatever if you will too.”

“I’ll do whatever.” Dan answers without hesitation, melting into the warm kiss that Phil presses against his mouth. “Definitely.”

Hours later, he falls asleep next to Phil on the plane, letting his head rest against his shoulder with a final, half-conscious thought that sends a burst of warmth blooming throughout his chest.

He wanted to kiss him in Japan.

So he did.

this fic was prompted/inspired by lost in japan by shawn mendes.

also if you don't know what nighttime cherry blossom viewing looks like, look here because it's very very pretty and you can imagine how it might inspire one to finally kiss their crush of 6 years (inspo for the trees in this fic drawn mainly from #3 on the list)

thanks for reading!

[jocelynscloset]

Love + Fear | Our Deal

Part #1/6

Pairing ~ Duncan Shepherd x Reader

Summary ~ ♫ When you leave me, the bed is empty and I feel crazy cause I didn't say anything. I wish you would tell me how you really feel, but you'll never tell me, cause that's not our deal.♫

Word Count ~ 3,337

Warnings ~ mild angst

Early Access & Exclusives on Patreon | Support on Ko-Fi

—

Duncan wasn’t really the touchy-feely type.

You never took it personally, even though you had always been big on hugs and casual kisses on the cheeks, forehead, even lips when you were drunk enough. But alas, Duncan wasn’t like that, and that was something that you constantly had to remind yourself of, especially when you were out in public together, which in his eyes was the most important context in which to keep that in mind. He didn’t even like putting his arm around his dates to the events he was obligated to attend, simply because he wasn’t a fan of being affectionate in the public eye. Duncan always prioritized his image over letting go or having a good time, especially when it was affection from someone he didn’t care for, so mostly anyone.

You didn’t mind that Duncan was against physical contact, mainly because there wasn’t any legitimate reason why you would touch him in the first place. The two of you were only friends, and friendship was casual. Separate. There was distance in friendship, and that’s why Duncan was okay with it. No pressure, no intimacy, no commitment, no liability. At least, that’s how you thought he saw it.

Duncan was a sort of player, you knew that, and you were mostly detached from it. It rarely occupied your attention, as he was very discreet with the women he brought into his bed and it wasn’t often that they made a second appearance. You’d only caught him in the act once, and that was merely an accident. You’d stopped by his apartment to drop off a few folders he’d left at your place along with a free muffin you’d gotten from your favorite café when they new barista made your coffee wrong. You had never liked blueberry muffins, but you knew they were his favorite.

When you unlocked his door with the key he gave you for emergencies, you had just set his things on the kitchen counter and pulled out your phone to text him when a tall brunette sauntered out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a sheet with her hair looking lightly mussed. Your heart nearly stopped when the two of you made eye contact, but it dropped to the floor when you heard Duncan’s voice echo from down the hall.

“Sweetheart, I have to go soon. Can we do breakfast another time?” At first you felt a tinge of something green bloom in your belly at him calling her ‘sweetheart’, but that bled away when you remembered that this girl wouldn’t be getting that breakfast.

“Who are you?” The brunette asked, clutching the sheet tighter against her chest. You were about to respond when Duncan appeared at the end of the hallway behind his… lady friend.

“Y/N,” he didn’t seem as surprised that she was here as she would have imagined, “what are you doing here?” He asked, readjusting the waistband of the sweatpants that hung loosely on his hips. You glanced between the two of them, noticing her eyes travel down his happy trailed toward..

“I was just about to text you to let you know I dropped off some things you left at my apartment… along with a muffin.” You blushed, the awkwardness of the situation finally hitting you as you forced yourself to stop glaring at little-miss-leggy. Duncan didn’t seem phased.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He turned to his company and brushed a piece of hair behind her ear before reminding her that he had to be somewhere and promising they’d get together again soon. It took everything in you not to scoff. As if.

She smiled at him and laid a kiss on his lips before turning back to you with a slight smirk on her face. “Nice meeting you, Y/N.” You flashed her your most convincing smile and nodded before she returned to his bedroom, to put her clothes back on, you assumed.

“I should go.” You said, grabbing your keys and purse off of the counter and turning toward Duncan’s door. He moved forward, gently grasping your arm and turning you to face him.

“Sorry about that. I know you get… uncomfortable about that stuff.” You cocked an eyebrow at him in response. You knew he was referring to your appalling lack of sexual experience, and it pissed you off. You were uncomfortable because you just saw one of your best friend’s playmates, not because you hadn’t gotten any since you lost your virginity to your asshole ex-boyfriend. You bit your lip to keep from letting your frustration bubble up.

“Yeah, well, I guess I’ll call next time. I thought you’d be at work, not…” Duncan smirked as he saw the blood rush to your face as you fully processed what had happened just before you walked in.

“Aw, is someone embarrassed they walked in on-”

“Okay, no,” you cut him off, “it’s just gross, is all. I don’t want to imagine you doing.. things.. like that. You’re my friend. It’s weird.” He chuckled and tapped your nose.

“Cute little Y/N, all embarrassed, imagining her best friend naked.” She shuddered at the thought, but feigned a sour expression so he didn’t realize what the image did to her.

“Alright then, bye Duncan,” you said, but before you could turn and walk out the door, the brunette returned. She ignored the fact that you were still there and grasped Duncan’s face in her hands, pulling his lips to hers and covered his mouth with hers. You wanted to gag. She was so possessive, and yet she’d never hear from him again. You almost felt bad for the girl, but not quite.

“Bye baby, see you soon.” She chirped. Duncan smiled and nodded once in her direction.

“Likely.” You muttered under your breath, but she heard, turning to shoot daggers at you with her eyes before tilting her chin up and traipsing out of Duncan’s apartment.

“Well that was a little harsh,” he said, not sounding like he cared at all. You shrugged and grabbed your things once more before nodding toward the muffin on the counter.

“Enjoy the muffin, stud.”

When you recalled that memory, questions involuntarily flooded your mind. Did he kiss her first? Did he hold her after? Had they slept in the middle of the bed together or stayed on their respective sides? Did he whisper sweet nothings in her ear? Did he mean them?

Part of you found solace in the fact that you knew that the intimacy that that woman thought she’d coaxed from him was simply a façade. A masterful charade that got Duncan what he wanted and nothing else. It should have disgusted you, the knowledge that he used women like that. You were a feminist, after all, but beyond that, you were glad he was that way. It was easier for you to stomach the image of a woman crying over Duncan ignoring them than the idea of watching some uppity model-type wear his arm like a designer handbag.  

You knew why it bothered you so much to think of that side of Duncan’s life, you just never let yourself admit it. You’d had feelings for him since the two of you met, but in your eyes it was impossible that he could ever reciprocate the attraction. Duncan was handsome, successful, wealthy, educated, and although he was cutthroat when it came to his competitive side, he had a softness to him that you’d grown to adore; more than any of his other characteristics.

The softness that he reserved for a select few, including you.

You hadn’t pegged Duncan as a hard-on-the-outside-gooey-on-the-inside type, but you learned over the years you’d known him and spent more time with him that that phrase described him perfectly. It made you feel special that you were one of the only ones who got to see that piece of him. That he cared about you and trusted you enough to let you see it. That intimacy and trust was probably what had led your feelings for him to develop in the first place.

After all, it was the nights when he’d collapse on your bed with you after a long night at a gala and pull you toward him, nuzzling his face into your tummy before falling asleep, suit and all. You’d wake up the next morning with him sprawled across your sheets, half on top of you with his suit jacket and shoes removed sometime during the night, and you’d smile to yourself, feeling butterflies at the image of him so peaceful and comfortable. He put on a cold, serious show on for the rest of the world, but you got to see him for who he was, and you grew to need him as much as he appeared to need you.

So, you could deal with walking in on his sexual shenanigans and continue to remind yourself of the place you held above them all, but what you couldn’t handle were the nights when he felt insecure; the nights when he acted like he didn’t need you as much as you both knew he’d grown to. You hated the nights when he showed up at your door looking for the affection he denied himself, and then pretended to be above it when you offered.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Duncan had shown up around 10 PM on a Friday night, just as you were settling under your covers with a cup of tea and a calm playlist, ready to read until the sun came up. When you heard the knock on the door, you knew exactly who it was. Duncan always came to you after a night of putting on a charming smile and pretending to care about the lives of people he knew were working to bring his company down for the sake of their own. He didn’t really drink at the events, so you knew that when he appeared on your door step, it wasn’t just so you’d take care of him before he went out and did something stupid that would get him in trouble.

You slid out of your warm bed and padded to the door in your fuzzy socks that were reserved for cozy nights in before unlocking the door and swinging it open to find a depressed looking Duncan slouched against the frame.

“Hey there.” He grumbled, straightening up and stepping inside, his body nearly pressing against your own in his hurry to be out of the dim, dingy hallway and into your warm, familiar apartment. You turn to him, bumping the door shut with your hip and crossing your arms expectantly.

“You want to talk about it now, or have tea first.” He shrugs and you head to the kitchen to make him a cup and he’s close behind. Once the water is boiled and poured into his favorite mug, you slide it across the counter to him. He thanks you under his breath and takes a tentative sip, his eyes fluttering at the warmth and the sweetness. “So, how was the gala?” He glances at his watch before taking a deep breath.

“Well, its only 10:15. What do you think?” You roll your eyes before grabbing your own cup and spinning toward the hallway of your apartment.

“Okay then, grumpy. I’m going to continue my night if that’s how this is going to be.” Duncan smirks.

“Ooh, did I interrupt something steamy?” You blushed but hid it by taking a sip.  Shaking your head, you begin to walk toward your bedroom.

“You wish.”

He was always saying little things like that. Suggestive, flustering little quips that he knew got you blushing. You knew he only liked to get you riled up because he thought it was funny, but part of you wanted to believe that the idea of you spending a night… taking care of yourself would be as exciting to him as he teases. Though, that part of you never wins against the louder voice that reassures that he’s only joking. Playing. Entertaining himself with you.

You climbed back under the covers on your bed and luckily they still held a bit of the heat from when you were there before. You snuggled up with your book and began reading. You knew Duncan would come to you when he was ready to talk, but in the meantime, he sat silently in your kitchen sipping the tea you made.

Duncan ran his hand through his hair and rubbed his chin, slouching over the counter. He was exhausted. The past few weeks at the foundation had been beyond strenuous, and he had barely gotten any sleep or free time, so he was even more high-strung than usual. He reminded himself over and over again, muttering under his breath.

Don’t take it out on her. Don’t take it out on her. Don’t take it out on her.

She’s all you have.

Once he finished his beverage and calmed his mind from the events of the night, he peeled off his blazer and loosened his tie. Finally toeing off his shoes by the door, he made his way to your room, which illuminated the otherwise dark hallway with the warm yellow light from the lamps and candles you’d lit.

He climbed onto the bed and propped himself up against your extra pillow (that you never used but kept there for him), and pulled out his phone and beginning to scroll through twitter. You both sat in silence for a few minutes before you turned to see the scowl across his features.

You raised one of your hands and rubbed your thumb over the light wrinkles caused by the downturn of his lips, which he reacted to by moving his head away.

“What are you doing?” He asked monotonously.

“You scowl when you’re focused. Relax.” You told him softly. He only scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I’ll keep that in mind.” With that, he grasped your wrist and pushed it to your lap. You rolled your eyes.

I guess it’s going to be one of those nights, huh?

You and Duncan continued sitting silently next to each other, reading until he glanced at his watch and realizing it was midnight.

“I should go, it’s late.” He said, his voice gravelly from the long silence. You turned to him, cocking your eyebrow.

“Are you sure you’re not still upset? You know I’m here if you want to talk about it.” His shoulders tensed and his jaw ticked.

“I’m fine. I don’t need you to pretend you’re my therapist or my girlfriend.” There was a slicing moment where neither of you took a breath. You looked down at your book and readjusted against the pillows before clearing your throat.

“Fine. Have a good night,” you said softly, trying not to let your voice crack in front of him. You felt heat flood your throat as your chest tightened. You knew the tears were coming, but you couldn’t let him see them.

Duncan wanted to reach forward, say he was sorry for saying that, that he didn’t mean it. The words just didn’t come out. He swallowed the lump in his throat and silently left your room. 20 seconds later, your front door clicked shut and you felt your eyes burn. You didn’t set the book down. You continued to read, trying to distract yourself through the fire in your lungs and the blur of tears in your vision. You were still sniffling an hour later, trying your best to keep your breath even and your mind detached, but the thoughts and catastrophization still attempted to pound their way through. You decided to try and fall asleep, which wasn’t hard considering it was almost 2 AM. It only took you a few minutes for your racing thoughts to muffle and your eyes to feel heavy, and soon enough Duncan’s words faded away.

You slept so soundly that you didn’t hear your phone ding with Duncan’s text.

“I’m sorry. Sleep well, sweetheart.”

—

Sweetheart

That’s what he had called that woman. Your heart sank when you read that word on your screen. He doesn’t deserve to call me that, you thought. He made his feelings very clear. “I don’t need you to pretend you’re my girlfriend”.

You dropped your phone back on your nightstand and slunk back under your sheets, not wanting to face the day. You knew that his words would be on your mind every second of it. It was Saturday, so you all you had to do was run some errands and get some things done around your apartment. You decided to treat yourself to a coffee from your favorite café before getting swept into the day ahead.

You were just pulling on a sweater when you heard a knock on the door. You saw on the clock that it was only 8:30, so you didn’t know who would be on the other side when you opened it.

There Duncan stood with a muffin and a vanilla latte, along with a look of hope and apology on his face. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, neither one of you attempting to disrupt the silence hanging in the air. The look on his face and the coffee in his hand was enough to tell you why he was here.

The look on your face didn’t tell him anything, though.

“Hey there,” you said.

“Hi.” Another moment of silence loomed, until you rolled your eyes and took the coffee from his hand before grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

“You’re a dick, you know that?” Duncan shrugged and set the muffin on the kitchen counter.

“At least I knock.” He said nonchalantly, your jaw ticking in response. He raised both of his hands in surrender. “I’m kidding.” You only raised a brow at him. He stepped toward you and looked down at you, his bright blue eyes piercing your own. “I really am sorry.” His hand ran up your arm before resting on the side of your face. “You know I appreciate you, and everything you’ve done for me.” You allowed yourself to lean into his touch, just a little. “Where would I be without you?” He mumbled. You blushed slightly in response to his words, and he only smiled down at you.

When he pulled his hand away, it took everything in you not to grab it and put it back. You wanted to stay in that moment, savor that intimacy and rawness for just a second longer. But you knew better. Duncan only gave into his softness for one moment at a time, never more. You thanked the heavens that you were one of the ones who got to see it at all.

You collected yourself and crossed your arms, rubbing up and down your arms. “What kind of muffin did you get me?” Duncan’s lips turned up in a gentle smile.

He was forgiven, and he was so, so grateful for that.

—

You woke up Sunday morning around 9AM to a note propped against the lamp on your nightstand. You recognized Duncan’s handwriting and reached from under the covers to grab it.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. Had to go to work for an emergency meeting. There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen whenever you come out of hibernation. Have a good day. — Duncan”

You smiled and sat up, setting the note back down before the scent of freshly ground coffee hit your senses. Whenever he’d stay over, he’d always do something small to thank you, even if he wasn’t there when you woke up. Make you coffee, take out the rubbish, put away your dishes. It melted your heart every time.

You texted him about an hour after waking up. “Thanks for the coffee, Dunc.”

He responded about 5 minutes later.

“My name is Duncan.” You giggled at how easily you could mildly annoy him

“Noted, Dunk’n.”

He’d throw a temper tantrum about that one later.

—

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[orionlakehastodie]

The Lion And The Evenstar

She was here. 

Brienne the Beauty they called her. 

Why she had to come to his rock he knew very well. 

Mother knows of him and Cersei. 

And she thinks she can change her mind by giving him a girl. But there was no one like Cersei. No one more fair, no one more beautiful, no one more like him. 

He was touched by the Warrior and she of the Maiden, everyone knew. And he knew it too. They were always meant to be. 

He waited on the docks because he wanted to be sure, wanted to show his mother see, you cannot sway me, my heart belongs to Cersei. 

And soon enough it comes, with it’s sails of crescent moons and suns. Tarth. 

His maester says her island was called the Sapphire Isle, because the waters were as blue as that of Sapphires. 

His mother has a Sapphire necklace, and he’d always like the way the light plays with the deep blues of it. He supposes it would be nice. 

The seas in Casterly Rock were not blue, they were more of a pale green. He would like to ask her what it was like to have seas so blue, and if the light sparkles in them like the way it sparkles in his mother’s necklace. Just that. He just wanted to know, and he shall never speak to this new girl ever again. 

Soon enough they lower the sails, and lower the gang plank and one by one they alight, foot soldiers and ship men carrying the crest of Tarth, and then a huge lumbering man, taller than his father, armored in rose gold and the blue that his house was known for, and beside him holding tightly to his hand was a girl - though no one would accuse her of being little. 

He knew she was younger than he, a girl of six to his eleven, but she was almost his size. She bore no beauty in her face, not like Cersei, she had a huge nose, and too thick lips and freckles peppered her skin, and her blonde hair lay limp and lank around a too wide face. 

Her bones too big for someone so young. 

And maybe she could feel him watching her, and her eyes veered swiftly to him, and her eyes met his and even across this distance, even across this space, he saw the blue of sapphires in her eyes, and believed that there were no waters more magnificent than the Sapphire Isle. 

---

She expected no one to want to befriend her. Her septa has said it, she had a face only a mother could love and her mother was dead. 

That’s why Father left her hear, with a Lannister of the Rock instead of at Storm’s End because the Baratheon’s were all boys, and had no mother, and here was Lady Joanna and Lady Cersei, and her father was good friends with Lord Tywin. 

But she hated Lady Cersei, the way her pretty face turned ugly and foul when she created a very ugly embroidery, the way she would pinch at her and poke her with her needles. 

If this is what it meant to be a lady she did not like it one bit. 

She loved Lady Joanna, however. She loved that she let her play with the baby in her belly, and she smelled of lavender and she tucked her into sleep. 

But t’was not a lady she wanted to be. She wanted to be a knight, like Ser Duncan, who everyone says she had the look of and it was just her misfortune to have been born a woman instead of a man, otherwise she’d be better than Jaime Lannister in sword. 

So one day, she escaped the Septa, and went to the training grounds where he was, golden and gleaming. 

He never spoke to her, not during dinner, not during the shared lessons. The only time he ever looked at her was when she first arrived and he was on the docks. As pretty as the Warrior in her picture book. With his gleaming golden hair and his eyes that showed his every emotion, his eyes that were the color of the sea in the Rock. 

He moved well, and fluidly with a sword as if he and the blade were one and the same. He was better than Galladon was. And much faster. 

 And when he disarmed his opponent and no one stepped forward to challenge him, she marched toward the ground and picked up the sword that he had disarmed. 

“I challenge you.”

Her voice was loud and clear and it betrayed the fear she felt inside. She only tried sword fighting once, with a stable boy back in Tarth, after Galladon died and before her father shipped her off to be a lady. 

Jaime took one look at her grubby face, her dirty dress that she tore while climbing down the tower. 

“How did you get here you little wench?”

“I have a name, and my name is Brienne. I escaped my Septa and climbed down a tower.”

Jaime’s brows furrowed. The ladies’ study was at the highest point of the tower. 

“Are you mad, you could have hurt yourself.”

Despite himself his mother raised him as a lord and knight and honor compelled him to check his little guest for injuries. 

“I’m fine.” She pushed him away, though five years younger, she had strength in her arms. 

“I want to fight.”

He sneered at her and the lads around him snickered as well. His sword master was engaged in a talk with his father, and he looked around and made sure they were otherwise occupied. 

This would be a chance to tease the little chit. 

“Go on then, pick up the sword.”

She lifted it up and he eyed her stance, she had the basics of it right, clearly she had been watching. 

He circled around her but she kept her eyes on him, tracking his move. 

He expected to disarm her and push her with one move but he was pleasantly surprised when her arm raised up to parry his attack, the tourney swords clanging loudly. 

She had strength in her, but she looked the kind to have it. 

He stepped back and twisted his sword, securing a firmer grip on it. He lunged and she blocked and spun to attack. 

If he wasn’t bigger she would have slashed him down the belly. 

His eyes narrowed. She knows how to fight. 

Testing her he increased the speed on his attacks, and she blocked them all successfully. 

She wasn’t a good attacker, she wasn’t quite as fast as he was, but she had strength and stamina. 

He parried away her lunge and pointed his sword at her neck, only to feel the edge of hers against his gut.

“Yield.”

He said. And she merely grinned. Her cheeks were flush from battle, her wispy hair escaped from it’s braid and her eyes danced in the sunlight.

“You may take my head off, but you will have a more miserable death. T’is you who should yield.”

“I-”

“Jaime!”

His frantic mother’s voice came from the top of the rise where the meelee ground was concealed from, her skirts bundled in her hands as she rushed down to him.

“Jaime what have you done! Brienne, sweetheart, are your hurt?”

The smile vanished from her face and she looked down at her shoes. 

“Why did you climb down that tower Brienne?”

His mother checked her for wounds, lifting her skirts to look at her knees and he looks away, flushing, to the roots of his hair. In his engrossment in their fight, he did not notice that she hitched her dress up to free her legs for movement. 

“What is going on in here?”

Tywin came out with the sword master and took a look at Joanna frantically checking over every inch of Brienne, noted the sword in her hand, the disarray in her hair and turned steely eyes to his son. 

“Explain.”

“She’s good father.”

Brienne lifted her face from her feet and looked up at Jaime. 

“She’s really good. Better than half the men in this court.”

There where whispers and jeers but he ignored it. 

“She’s good. She’ll show you. Won’t you little we- Lady Brienne.”

He caught himself before his mother twisted his ears and saying nothing she nodded, and raised her sword again. 

“Tywin but this is absurd! She’s only six-”

“I can fight m’lady. My brother... my late brother taught me how.”

“Step aside Joanna.”

Tywin kept steel eyes as he watched his son duel the heir of Tarth, and satisfied at what he saw, halted the meelee. 

“My lady, your father has sent you here to learn the ways of court. Of how to be a lady. Your septa however tells me you will never be one.”

She frowns again, and tears pool in her eyes and Jaime steps in front of her, his hands tightening on his tourney sword. “Father-”

“Your Lord Father intends for you to inherit Tarth. If that is so, you will not need be a lady. You need to be a warrior. Master Bracken, fit the Lady of Tarth with her armors and leathers. She will begin her training tomorrow, as the sparring partner of the Heir of Casterly Rock.”

“Tywin! She’s only a girl. Just a girl.”

Joanna hugged Brienne close, and she felt warm and comforted.

“She is not just a girl. She will be Evenstar of Tarth, and that is no small duty. Jaime, lend Lady Brienne some of your clothes. She will find it easier to move in them. However, you will continue to learn the ways of court, and learn from Lady Joanna, and your Septa. It is what your father would have wanted.”

Tywin bows and walks away from them, and Joanna follows him in haste. 

He feels a hand enclose around his, and her hand was rough but warm. 

“Thank you.”

Her big blue eyes looked up at him in wonder and adoration and he finds himself smiling back and squeezing her hand. 

“Come along little wench, let’s get you in breeches.”

Her brow furrows and what do you know she can be quite adorable. 

“My name is Brienne.”

“Very well. Lady Brienne. Let’s get you some clothes.”

TBC

[nukagalreacts]

For the Anonymous who requested companions reacting to a Sole who loves to collect flowers!!

(Had a lot of fun typing this up, sorry it’s a little late! Hope you enjoy and yes I purposely left Gage out of this one) 

Hancock: Thinks it’s a cute and interesting quirk that Sole adores decorating the state house with flowers and wearing them in their hair all the time. Honestly it makes for a fun time to be high and look at all the bright colors swirling in and out around him. Sole even tells him stories about how they use to own a little flower shop that was once their pride and joy. He ask them about it all the time because he loves seeing them smile and enjoy the memories of happier times. His favorite part though was when they would both get really high and Sole would end up making tons of flower accessories from flower crowns, necklaces and even belts, which Hancock lost his mind at and gave Sole a big smooch.

Dogmeat: At first the sweet pooch doesn’t understand what Sole is doing when she starts picking flowers and he thinks the flowers are for him to eat. He playfully leaps around Sole barking and trying to bite the flowers while Sole just laughs holding the flowers out of reach gently telling Dogmeat these aren’t for him. Dogmeat whines a little and pouts while he spends the rest of the time watching his master collect the flowers. He gets excited again when a while later Sole walks towards him smiling and holding something in their hands, he wags his tail happily and sits up patiently waiting. Sole is saying something and then placing a flower crown around Dogmeats ears. Dogmeat has no idea what just happened but Sole is gushing over him and giving him lot’s of pets which makes him the happiest good boy ever!

Strong: Literally destroys all of the flowers and makes Sole pretty upset! Sole tries to calmly explain to Strong that this is a hobby of there’s and they would really appreciate it if Strong would stop smashing all of the flowers! The super mutant doesn’t understand why Sole enjoys something so weak that disintegrates so easily in his fist. Sole at one point attempts to put a flower crown on Strongs head but he refuses to wear it saying it makes him look puny and weak. Sole opts for keeping Strong as far away as possible from any of their flowers.

Codsworth: Was happy to assist his master in this hobby of theirs since he already helped them frequently all those years ago. The Mr.Handy even helped rebuild the greenhouse Sole had kept in the backyard so they could not only grow food but flowers as well. Codsworth would attend to the greenhouse regularly making sure all plants were properly watered and trimmed.The robot was always sure to bring in a fresh bouquet of flowers to add to the many vases Sole kept around the house. When Sole made him a flower crown he was over the moon and proudly wore his masters creation where ever he went!

Cait: Doesn’t do soft or delicate things and isn’t sure what to make of Sole’s obsession with collecting flowers at first, except be confused. They would both be walking somewhere and Sole would get all excited running over to a patch of colorful flowers talking about how good they would look inside their house back in Sanctuary. Cait would just roll her eyes and tell Sole they didn’t have time for that kind of crap, which she quickly realized hurt Sole’s feelings. Cait felt really shitty after saying that so she apologized and asked Sole if she could make something for her, which Sole happily obliged. Now Cait proudly sports a fiery red flower crown every time she travels the Commonwealth with Sole.

Piper: Is super into watching Sole work with flowers, especially when Sole presses and preserves the flowers in pages of a notebook, each one with its name and a description of it. She even had Sole teach her how to do this so she could add to Sole’s collection and use her fancy penmanship! Piper even suggest they should make a business out of selling the flowers because she thinks Diamond city people could use some more pops of color in there lives and homes. Sole is hesitant at first but with encouragement from Piper they decided to give it a shot, and Piper lets them work out of her office. After a few weeks business is surprisingly good with flower crowns being a popular item among the residents.

Nick: Dwells on the old Nick’s memories of how he would bring flowers home to his wife all the time, and how much she loved them always earning him a kiss. The memories are bittersweet and make him a little sad, but with Sole’s love for flowers it makes for happier new memories. He doesn’t mind either when Sole insist on bringing some life into his office and Sole starts putting flowers on every available surface. One day while Sole is putting some flowers into a vase on Ellie’s desk they recall how much they loved it when their old spouse would surprise them with a bouquet of flowers after a day of work. The next evening Sole is surprised with a large bouquet with her name on it waiting on her desk in the detective agency. It earned Nick quit a kiss that he stored as a memory to revisit again and again whenever Sole was away.

Curie(Synth): Really only looks at plants from a medical usefulness perspective, because flowers where not something that was common in the vault. So she is curious and soaks up everything Sole teaches and shows her about flowers, constantly asking questions and wondering how flowers were before the fallout. Her and Sole even make a trip to Greentop Nursery to get tips and tricks on caring for different plants, it’s pretty adorable to see Curie actually take physical notes in a little notebook she carries around. Curie eventually learns that giving someone flowers can be used as a romantic gesture and goes out of her way to bring Sole flowers all the time, making Sole giddy as a school girl.

MacCready: He very much remembers the sentiment of giving flowers to a loved one, when he got the chance he would bring some home to lucy. He loved seeing little similarities between Sole and Lucy and was more than happy to play along with Soles interest in flowers. The only time it got a bit annoying was when he would find flowers wrapped around his sniper rifle before going out on a mission with Sole, later he would find it funny though. Sole even tucked a little flower on to his hat, and Mac would never admit it but he really loved having it and thinks it brings him good luck. What really made his day though was when you suggested sending flowers along with the cure for his son Duncan’s disease, it made him cry to be honest just how sweet Sole was.

Danse: Spent his whole life with the brotherhood it was all power armor, guns, blood, and sweat there was no time for things like flowers! The fact that Sole loved flowers so much but was this rough person who fit right in with the other soldiers baffled him to no end. They would both be in power armor stomping around the Commonwealth and Sole would suddenly bounce off in another direction yelling about needing the flowers they just spotted. Danse would have to remind them they were on a mission and didn’t have time for such nonsense, Sole would give him big puppy dog eyes saying it would only take a second. Danse couldn’t resist and would agree secretly enjoying how happy Sole would get. He even keeps a flower Sole gifted him secretly tucked away in his power armor as a way of always feeling close to Sole.

Deacon: Is with Sole 100% on loving flowers and thinks it’s super cute how Sole always tries to make people happy by giving them flowers all the time. He even helps them completely re-decorate the Railroad HQ with an overwhelming amount of flower prints and live plants and bright colors. It annoys the shit out of most of the other agents but Deacon defends both your actions by telling everyone the benefits of plants in the work environment. It delights Sole to no end that Deacon plays along with this and is even more happier when he agrees to wear matching flower crowns with them! At one point as a prank Deacon dresses up as a green shrub and manges to make half the agents piss themselves as he scares the daylights out of them when they return to HQ.

Preston: Finds your interest in flowers cute and refreshing from the usual stress and violence he has to face everyday along with Sole. He is also happy to see Sole having something that relaxes them from the constant burden of being General of the Minutemen. Whenever Sole isn’t helping the people of the Commonwealth achieve some impossible task they are in the private garden they set up behind the house them and Preston share. Preston even loves helping Sole out with the garden as a nice change of pace from having his laser musket in his hands all the time. His favorite part though is watching Sole give away the flowers they worked so hard to grow to the people who now call Sanctuary home without expecting anything in return except a warm smile.

X6-88: Accepts Sole’s love for flowers because he understands that having hobbies and interest is healthy for humans, and it's his job to make sure Sole is healthy and happy. He would never admit it but he likes following Sole down to the institutes greenhouse area and watching them work among the synths. Sole goes out of their way no matter how busy they are to pop into the greenhouse every day and constantly ask questions about the different plants that they have growing. Sometimes X6 has to come remind Sole that they need to sleep and eat because certain days Sole spends countless hours researching and working not even aware how much time goes by. X6 hates when Sole begs to go out into the Commonwealth to pick flowers themselves, and he reminds them that the Institute has whatever they need. Sole just argues that it’s not the same and keeps asking until he finally gives in and accompanies them on the ridiculous endeavor.

[fallout4reactsblog]

How do you think the companions celebrated Christmas before meeting sole? (Not sure if I already sent this or not, but if I did go ahead and ignore this one.)

Ada: Ada was not much for Christmas before meeting sole. Jackson and the rest of the caravan crew would sometimes have a small celebration, where they would drink and relive the memories of past years, but seeing as she was unable to drink, she mostly stuck around for the reminiscing. She always did enjoy it, though, seeing her friends laugh late into the night, and those are memories she has always treasured.

They would often pass out around the fire, and she would make sure they were taken care of, tucking them into their sleeping bags and covering them with coats and blankets and stoking the fire. She’d be a little smug at their hungover condition the next morning, but always have breakfast made and plenty of water ready to help the headache.

Every Christmas afterward, she always takes some time to reminisce about those times, as a gesture of respect for them.

Cait: Cait probably never celebrated Christmas. Her parents definitely wouldn’t have shown her or had a tradition of gift-giving. The slavers most certainly wouldn’t have shown her any kindness around this time of year. Cait probably grew up with a deep-seated resentment for the holidays, since they were supposed to be a time for family and happiness, neither of which she had in abundance.

With the raiders, she only saw Christmas as a time where she could rake in a few extra caps, because people were a little more drunk and a little more liberal with their betting. Safe to say that before she met sole, Cait had no celebration of Christmas, and had no interest in one, either.

Codsworth: With sole’s family before the war, Codsworth loved Christmas. He loved the company and the cooking and the holiday spirit that surrounded everyone. It was always a joy to trim the tree and hang a few sprigs of mistletoe with sole’s spouse to surprise them. He especially appreciated that they would always get him something like a nice buff or a new tool to help with the cleaning.

After the bombs drop, he still has the Christmas protocols, but it’s just not the same. No tree, no family, no holiday spirit in the air. He ends up just hanging a stocking on Christmas so the protocol is technically fulfilled and then taking it down the very next day so that he doesn’t have to think about the better days.

Curie: Curie would celebrate Christmas with the scientists before the war, except they always celebrated on Christmas Eve so that the scientists could spend the 25th with their families. They would all get together and do a little Secret Santa game and drink eggnog out of sanitized beakers.

After they died, Curie didn’t really celebrate Christmas. It was just another day for her, though it did feel a bit more melancholy. She missed having her human companions around for the season, missed their excited chattering about what they were getting friends or spouses or children. It was one of the more painfully lonely parts of the year for her.

Danse: Growing up, he had a small celebration where he and his friends would try to scrounge up gifts for each other. However, being poor, there wasn’t much to go around, so it was always a rather useless gift, the idea being that it was the thought that counted more than anything. Someone was thinking of you, that was what mattered.

After joining the Brotherhood, that changed entirely. Suddenly, there were things he could actually afford, and the Brotherhood would always do a gigantic game of Secret Santa or White Elephant to put the adults in the holiday spirit. Each of the older knights or paladins would also be assigned a young scribe to be “Santa” for. On Christmas Eve, the kids would hand a stocking off the edge of their bed frame, and their assigned adult would fill it with whatever they thought the kid might enjoy. Danse loved Christmas in DC. It changed when they got to the Commonwealth, and became a more serious, less celebratory time, which he always slightly resented.

Deacon: With Barbara, Deacon absolutely loved Christmastime. They’d decorate one of the trees in their backyard with tinsel and berries and call it their Christmas tree, they’d hang stockings over the fire, they’d even scrounge up something that vaguely resembled mistletoe to put over the door. He loved to get her gifts, and was always excited for Christmas morning to watch her open them. His gifts were always perfect and much appreciated.

After her death, Deacon wasn’t excited about Christmas. Anything he tried to do to get in the spirit just made him feel empty and miss her more. He stopped celebrating the holiday for a while, to avoid missing her so much. When he joined up with the Railroad, he started getting back into the spirit of things, but never to the same degree as before.

Gage: His family on the farm would always make a big meal to celebrate Christmas, but it’s been so long since then that he hardly remembers it. The park, unfortunately, had an automated Christmas protocol where all the lights would go red and green and Christmas carols played from the speakers instead of the Nuka-Cola jingle all the time. The variety was always appreciated for the first few days, but by the time Christmas actually rolled around he’d be counting the days until the jingle would come back.

As far as celebration, the raider gangs always had a shockingly good time. They’d have a huge party and get blackout drunk, then wake up the next morning and try to figure out what on Earth they had gotten up to last night.

Hancock: Goodneighbor is the pinnacle of fanatic Christmas spirit. Hancock makes sure to get the whole place decked out with wreaths, trees, and lights everywhere. He wears a ridiculous pre-war Santa hat that’s a little singed on the edges, and coaxes Fahrenheit into wearing one, too, despite her protests. They have a huge countdown clock in the square, and when it’s finally Christmas day the whole town erupts into the biggest party ever. Hancock is wearing a fake beard and handing out bottles of booze and chems with bows as presents, and everyone gets drunk off their asses and has the time of their lives. Magnolia sings Christmas carols in the Third Rail everyone drunkenly sings along, and overall it’s a great time had by all except the unfortunate soul who has to clean up the mess in the morning.

MacCready: Little Lamplight really liked Christmas. It was a time for sweets and games and as much sugar as you could possibly cram into your body at once. It was a good time, if not very healthy.

He and Lucy always had a small celebration with a few gifts and a nice meal, but never any decorations or anything. It was nice and quiet, as long as it was just the two of them. When Duncan came into the picture, things changed. They went all out with decorations and the spirit of the holidays, and that kiddo absolutely loved every second of it.

After Lucy died and Duncan got sick, Christmas became downright miserable for MacCready. All it did was remind him of happier times, so he pulled down his hat and pretended not to see the decorations or hear the carols or acknowledge anything about the holiday. He cried a lot around that time of year, and smoked a lot more than usual, and denied he’d ever been emotional by the New Year.

Nick: Diamond City always decks the halls around Christmas, and the holiday finds Nick, without fail, holed up in the agency. He’s really not big on Christmas, because the old Nick was so excited about it. He and Jenny would always have a party with all their friends and relatives, and the holiday season just pulls all that old pain back to the surface.

The only celebration he has is a gift exchange with Ellie. She always gets him a pre-war tie that she’s managed to find in good condition, and he finds a piece of jewelry to exchange with her. Despite his protests, she always stays in with him during the general Diamond City revelry. She says she’d rather be in with him than out in the noise and chaos anyway.

Old Longfellow: The last twenty Christmases Old Longfellow has spent drunk out of his mind, and not in any good way. It’s an ugly, face-down sobbing on the floor kind of drunk as he realizes how lonely he truly is. He thinks of his lost wife and child, how this holiday should have been spent with them, how he’s probably going to be alone for the rest of his life now. Everyone knows better than to try to venture out to his cabin on the 25th, and most will avoid it all season long, just to be on the safe side.

Piper: Piper absolutely adores Christmas. She publishes a regular countdown in the paper, helps set up the city decorations, you name it. It’s honestly her favorite time of year. She and Nat always exchange gifts, and she tries to get her sister as many presents as possible. They make a fake tree out of newspaper that they’ve glued grass onto and prop it up in the corner of their house.

The day of, Piper curls up with a mug of tea and sits with her sister and opens gifts. There’s never much, but the time spent with Nat is, of course, the best gift of all. She’s always a little melancholy, because unlike Nat she can remember the years they spent Christmas with their parents, but she tries not to let it affect her. After all, it’s Christmas, and that’s a time for happiness and joy.

Preston: Christmas with the Minutemen was always fun when Preston was younger. They’d decorate the Castle and sing Christmas carols, and always have a Secret Santa game that they took a little too seriously. Most everybody ended up with fusion cells, anyway, but it was fun to try to dig information out of your partner’s friends to see what they really wanted. It brought the Minutemen together, made the whole group feel like family, and Preston always liked that.

With the Quincy survivors, however, Christmas kind of fell out of Preston’s focus. The Longs always spent it alone, and Mama Murphy did the same, though she’d never say why. It was usually just him and Sturges. They’d sit around and talk about this and that. Sturges would ask about the upcoming Kwanzaa, he’d ask about Hannukah, depending on if it was over or ongoing or what. It wasn’t quite the same, and he missed that feeling of having a big family gathering.

Strong: Super mutants never celebrated Christmas, though Strong will insist he knows what it is and has celebrated it before. No matter what, he’s unusually quiet around the holiday season. Just don’t mention it, because he’s strangely defensive about the subject.

X6: Christmas is not something that’s officially observed by the coursers, and technically they’re not supposed to celebrate it at all. However, some of the early models saw the scientists having their party, and decided that they wanted one, too. So, on the 25th, all the coursers that are in the Institute sneak in boxes of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes and have the equivalent of a Christmas feast. It’s a time of year X6 strangely treasures. It’s the closest thing to family he’s ever had.

When Christmas rolls around and he’s out on a mission, he’ll still try to track down a box of snack cakes and have a mini celebration, sort of as a moment of solidarity with all his brothers and sisters he has to be away from. It’s a strange, private moment that they shouldn’t be allowed to have, but they’re coursers. They know how to be sneaky.

[boarix]

Wraith in the Ruins: A Fallout 4 Story Part XII

Children of the Wasteland

Trigger warnings: canon violence/language/gun, alcohol and drug use. Suggestive/mature content

Game Spoilers!

Please enjoy!

 “You may kiss the bride!”

Spring had finally returned to the Commonwealth and with it the wedding of Valentine and Ellie. Wraith and Hancock stood tall and proud next to their friends as they pledged themselves to each other. Going all out with her sewing skills, Wraith had managed to make a wedding dress that the demure Ellie not only felt comfortable in but looked incredible in too. Valentine was dashing in a tux and formal hat and the pair presented an image that was somehow both striking and modest.

As soon as she had finished the dress Wraith had turned her attention to Hancock’s coat. He had been reluctant to have her mend it; suggesting that the threadbare look was necessary, “Rugged yet classy. Flashy but grounded. It’s a carefully cultivated affect, sunshine.”

“I think that even the King of the Zombies could occasionally go to a tailor… I’ll be gentle I promise.” She had kissed him to make him feel better, “We’ll go find some trouble sometime after the wedding and it’ll be right back to where it was.”

“Mmm, you me and trouble sounds good.”

Wraith hadn’t been getting into as much trouble as she might have liked. After returning to Sanctuary from the behemoth incident, Curie had grounded her. Apparently, tearing the entire Gunner Plaza apart with bare hands so recently after having a shoulder rebuilt was a mistake.

“Madame, you have been entirely too rough with your new arm! You heal quickly yes but you are not invincible. It requires additional surgery now and I would have you rest until it has mended. No more ripping and smashing until I say so! You understand, oui?”

Wraith had initially protested and told her that it would have to wait until spring but Hancock had finally gotten through to her after watching her try to shovel snow. “Far be it for me to tell ya what to do with one of your own limbs but sunshine, you should see the faces you’re making. If it hurts it hurts! Danse an’ me will take care of the snow, ya feel me?”

Working one-handed had been frustrating but Wraith couldn’t deny the necessity. Cautioned even after she stopped wearing the sling, she had to convince Curie that sewing and working on new tack with Strong and Bear wasn’t going to undo all her hard work.

“It’s perfect rehab, Baby Bird. I’m all caught up with desk work and I’m about to lose my mind. It’s this or I go out and find dragons to fight.”

“I simply cannot understand your attraction to violent excursion.”

“ALPHA GOOD AT SMASHING!”

There was no denying the sense of peace she had felt, while sitting with Panther sprawled across her lap, creating something with her hands. Now, standing next to Hancock in her Minutemen uniform, the past frustrations of the winter melted as the snow.

Valentine and Ellie were married and there was a small reception at Home Plate. Piper, Preston, Codsworth and Wraith had been cooking for days. Incredibly proud of the cake he had made, Preston stationed himself next to its table, eyeballing MacCready and the children if they got too close.

“Do you think he’ll let us cut it?” Ellie’s voice was just loud enough for him to hear but rather than be embarrassed Preston gave her the two finger I’ve-got-my-eyes-on-you gesture while sporting a huge smile.

The partygoers ate and visited, paused to watch the cake cutting (Ellie had rather daintily touched Valentine’s substantial nose with frosting and then proceeded to kiss it just as daintily away which cause a great deal of assorted “awww” noises) and ate and visited some more. Wraith drifted around pretending to mingle but really she was looking for Deacon. She hadn’t seen him since the Plaza fiasco and she was worried about him.

“Hey sunshine, come dance with me.” Hancock was the very definition of dashing in his mended coat. As other pairs moved to the floor, the ghoul led them toward the less crowded edge. When the song ended he pulled her tightly to him with a cunning look in his eye. “He’s not here, love.”

“Who?”

He smiled then kissed her. It was a long, intense kiss that left Wraith breathless and brought a flush to her cheeks. Seeming satisfied by her passionate response, he cocked his head to one side and gave her a self-mocking smile, “There’s only one person, apart from MacCready, that steals your attention from me.”

Now the color on Wraith’s cheeks belonged to embarrassment and she took a step away from him, “Who says I’m not looking for Shaun?”

“You just out-smarted yourself, sunshine.”

Frowning now, she play-punched his shoulder, “Be nice to me!” She folded her arms and glared at him.

His smile vanishing, Hancock snaked an arm around her middle and pulled her back to him. Leaning in close, his eyes shown with a look of open lust that made Wraith’s heart skip, “I’ll be very nice to you. Right now, if you want me.”

For a long second Wraith forgot that she was in a room full of people. Her breath hitching in her chest, she leaned against him.

Two can play at this game.

Her mouth at his ear, Wraith’s voice was wanton and husky, “I want you.” Thinking that she had called his bluff she was genuinely surprised when he pushed her to the wall while kissing her hard and unfastening her uniform.

…tactical error…

He let her push him away, knowing that he had won, “Don’t worry sunshine; I’m not that much of a barbarian.”

“Hmm, I don’t know… You’re not someone I’d play chicken with.”

 Wraith shooed Valentine and Ellie away when they started to help with the clean-up, “Oh no; you guys leave this me! I’ll have some plenty helps so you guys go do newlywed and stuff.” A little tipsy, she made a couple of obscene gestures that made Ellie giggle.

To everyone’s surprise, Valentine swept his wife up into his arms, “I’ll get right on that!” Ellie laughed, delighted as he carried her out the door.

Hancock snickered, “He’s not even drunk! Hasn’t had a drop since MacCready’s birthday!”

Taking a break, Wraith settled in a chair and waved goodbye (perhaps over-enthusiastically) as Piper and the kids left.

“Quite a swinging, goodtime you all had.” Deacon handed Wraith a container of water, “Any cake left?”

“Ah, there’s the shadow master.” Wraith took a couple of sips while she stared at his full, red beard. “Where’ve you been?” Close to sober, she looked at the floor, “I’ve been worried about you.”

MacCready had swaggered up and stood next to Wraith’s chair not unlike Preston guarding the cake, “How’s it going, sunglasses? Nice chin-warmer. It real, or did you shave a dog for it? Haven’t seen you for a while; thought you might have gone to that big ol’ dumpster in the sky.”

Deacon was surprised: MacCready’s body posture and tone were conversational and friendly, despite the fact he initially seemed territorial. “Well, gosh MacSweety! I had no idea you cared so much.”

“Right!? Well, a hero always cares for the little people.”  

“Hey hero, come back o’er here and help me with this fucking table!” Hancock winked at Wraith on their way out the door.

Even with just the two of them, Deacon felt the air was stifling close, “Can we talk on the roof, boss? I want to see the sky.”

It was still early spring and the night was chilly. Wraith sat cross-legged next to Deacon and watched their breath float away like mist, “You seem to be moving around okay…”

“I’m fit as a fiddle… where on earth did that expression come from?”

“Can you tell me what you’ve been up to? You seem... thicker. I like your beard by the way; it’s nicely shaped. You do that yourself? What’s it hiding?”

“Keeps my face warm. I’m a Minutemen caravan guard. Later this spring when you head to the Capital Ruins to pick up MacCready’s son, you’ll be joined by six fresh-faced new recruits. Well… in my case, a beard-faced recruit. My name’s Harley.” He offered her his hand, “It’s an honor to finally meet you, General. I believe I will be of great use to you.”

After a firm handshake he reached into the Minutemen uniform he was wearing and handed her an envelope. “This is correspondence meant for you from the Nyx Morningstar. She has agreed to meet your party and aide in the safe travel of Duncan MacCready.”

“De… Harley…”

Deacon removed his sunglasses and smiled his eyes at her, “Thicker, huh? Guess all those extra pushups did the trick.”

“You’re almost beastly.” She used her shoulder to shove his playfully. “Harley, are we sure these five ‘recruits’ aren’t going to suddenly become coursers midway south?”

Regret flashed across his face, “We are sure, yes.”

“I trust you.” She meant it as a joke but could tell his chuckle was forced. “I sent a letter to Morningstar last fall… how… no, that’s stupid; you know every fucking thing about me! But, do you know how unfair that is?”

“I’m the same age as Hancock. We are both going to be forty-five this year.”

“I adore you. You know that too though, don’t you?”

He let her lean on him, “Yeah.”

 Shaun was furious. Dirty and bruised, the fact that he had been fighting also showed in the mud in his curly hair. He stood before Wraith with his chin held defiantly high and his fists clenched at his sides.

“Why did you push Nat, Shaun?” Wraith tried to maintain a calm, level voice and keep emotion from her face.

“She threw mud at me.” His voice trembled with barely suppressed anger.

“Why did Nat throw mud at you?”

“I told her to stop being a bully!”

“Elaborate, Shaun. Tell me the whole story.”

“This isn’t fair! SHE STARTED IT! WHY AREN’T YOU YELLING AT HER?!”

Wraith let an edge creep into her voice and hardened her eyes, “The only person yelling is you. As for Nat, don’t worry about it. Piper will speak to her. When you cause a scene and are publicly violent, it is my responsibility.”

“Since when? I thought you gave me up to the Wrights.”

“It’s unfortunate you feel that way.”

Ouch, kid!

Wraith sat motionless waiting for him to speak. A game of patience and nerve she didn’t plan on losing. It took some time but he broke the silence first.

“Nat, Pete, Erin and me were playing the ground-is-radioactive-waste with a ball… that’s when you can’t let the ball touch the ground, cause…” Surprised that she hadn’t interrupted he was momentarily flustered, “Anyway, Shang was just… Idunno, watching us and I felt bad. I asked him if he wanted to play with us but Nat said ‘no’.”  Shaun’s face had started to relax as he spoke but now tightened with renewed anger as he relived the memory, “I told her she wasn’t the boss and she got really mad and threw the ball up on the roof of someplace! I said she was a bully and we all weren’t going to play with her ever again! Then she threw mud at me so I pushed her down.” He waved his hands in exasperation, “SHE TACKLED ME WHEN I TURNED AROUND! SHE TACKLED ME!”

“MacCready said he had to pull her off of you, yes.” The fact that MacCready had been laughing the entire time he had told Wraith, wasn’t something she was going to tell the prideful child.

“HOW IS THIS MY FAULT?!”

“I never said it was your fault. Not sure what that has to do with anything… or why you are still yelling. I’m right here and I’m listening to you.” Resisting the urge to cross her legs or arms she took a deep breath, knowing that he’d most likely mirror her. “If you had a chance to go back and change how you handled yourself what would you have done?”

After a deep breath he folded his arms and looked away, “I’d stop Nat from throwing our ball away.”

“I said ‘you’, Shaun, not Nat. What different thing would you have done?”

“I dunno what you want me to say, so just tell me.”

“Nope.”

Anger renewed, he clenched everything and glared at her, “You want me to say that ‘violence is the last resort’, right? Why don’t you practice what you preach, Wraith the Barbarian?! It must be nice sitting up there on your high tower!”

Wraith had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. “I think you just combined ‘high horse’ with ‘lofty tower’.”

Cheap shot but still, ouch kid. Ouch. I can’t get over how much you look like Nate… lighter skin and my eyes but still… You’re breaking my heart…

“We aren’t talking about me. We are talking about you. Judging by what you just said you know full well where mistakes were made.” Wraith stood up and folded her arms behind her back, “Do you know how to play chess?”

“Wha...”

“Did you know Bear came with me? He wanted to see if there was a market here for some of his brahmin tack… anyway, he and Hancock like to play chess together and I think they were going to meet up for an after-lunch game. I want you to go and watch them. You don’t have to tell them about what happened this morning but you do need to be polite. Understand?”

Confusion crawled across the synth child’s face, “That’s it? I just… have to watch Mr. Hancock and Mr. Bear play… But why…”

“Yes or no, please.”

“Yes, grandma.”    

 “Got tackled by a girl, huh? Good for you!” Bear gave the child a hearty pat on the back that made him lurch forward, “Start calling you Lady-killer! Har har!”

Hancock’s face was inscrutable, “How old are ya, twelve? I guess that’s not so early to have a girlfriend.”

“She is NOT my girlfriend!”

A table had been set up in Home Plate for the two ghouls to battle each other. MacCready was sitting nearby, helping to sort guns that had just come in and he snickered at their gentle ribbing.

“I thought Wraith was teaching you judo. How’d Nat get the better of ya?” Hancock hooked a nearby chair with a boot and gestured for Shaun to take a seat, “Relax kid, you’re lookin’ like yer about to pop!”

Slumping, defeated in the chair, Shaun muttered at the floor, “She’s teaching Nat and Ms. Wright too.” He absentmindedly picked at a clot of mud on his jeans. “It’s not like I’m special or anything. To her, I mean.”

MacCready made a noise in his throat and half-stood, ready to come to Wraith’s defense. Hancock waved him back to his seat with a subtle flick of his hand.

“It seems odd for her to waste her time in teachin’ somebody judo, if she doesn’t care ‘bout ‘em, you feel me? Hey, Bear?”

Taking a long drag from his cigar, the enormous ghoul made a show of considering Hancock’s words, “Hmmm, you’re right.” Blowing a few smoke rings, Bear folded his arms and leaned toward Shaun, “You know, I lost my mom when I was a kid. My poor pop was a broken man for a time. Wolf’s family took me in and she an’ I grew up together just like you and your girl, there. We used to get in the worst kinda screaming, punch fights! Phew!”

Shaun’s locked his green eyes on Bear, “Really?”

“Sure enough. Mrs. Wolf would make us hug after; the worse the fight the longer we would have to. Drove us crazy but it did the trick. Teach us to throw hands at each other!” Looking back at the chessboard, Bear knit his brow and frowned, “Wait. Wait… what did I just do?”

“You lose your spot, brother?”

“No! Nope I got this… So young Shaun, you want to learn chess from a master?”

“I know a little bit… Just how the pieces can move and what they’re called.”

“Master, huh?” Hancock moved his queen, “Checkmate.”

“N… no… you… ” Sucking air over his teeth, Bear was ready to let loose with a powerful stream of curses. Hearing MacCready loudly clear his throat, he instead exercised extreme restraint, “Youuuuu… oxygen thief!”

Shaun shared in MacCready and Hancock’s laughter, “Grandma says that too. What’s it mean?”

“It means a ‘useless person’. I demand a rematch! I was distracted.”

“First lesson, Shaun: when you lose, resign your king with grace. What Grandmaster Bear just demonstrated was not a graceful resignation.”

“Hardy har har.”

“Back on your girl trouble...” Hancock smiled at Shaun’s frustrated sigh, “I imagine that Nat cares about you and yer opinion of her. Probably hurt her to hear ya say you’ll never play with her again. Dealing in absolutes is dangerous. Plus, hormones aside, yer getting a little old to be goaded so easily into a throw-down like that.” Raising his brow he leaned forward confidentially, “Don’t get me wrong, rolling around in the mud with a gal is fun and all but like I said, you’re twelve. Maybe just stick to holdin’ hands, you feel me?”

“She made me so mad!” Hugging himself, Shaun confessed to the floor, “I didn’t mean it though.” When he lifted his head, there were tears in his eyes and his voice was thick with emotion, “Was grandma broken? Is… is that why… Oh, I should’ve said that!”

MacCready practically leapt across the room, “Hey man, don’t cry! What did you say?”

Shaun shook his head and wiped his face with a sleeve, “I’m just… I was mean.”

Hancock set a gentle hand on his shoulder, “Listen kid, we all have bad days, right? You know yer grandma will understand. So, chin up and eyes open. Watch me kick Bear’s… MacCready, what am I allowed to say again?”

 “Well, I’m glad you were able to get through to him; he called me a barbarian! Although, truthfully I can’t protest too much…”

“You’re not… that bad.”

“Thanks, Mac.”

“You should have heard ‘em. Everything a proper father should say.” MacCready shoved Hancock playfully, “Maybe, we should start calling you ‘daddy Hancock’.”

Wraith maintained a private suit at the Dugout Inn and after finalizing plans for a morning departure, MacCready, Hancock and she retired for the evening.

Wraith had been brushing her teeth as MacCready sang the ghoul’s praises but stuck her head in the bedroom to make a disgusted face, “Ugh, no! That is, surprisingly enough, one kink I do not have.”

Hancock pulled MacCready to him, “You can call me whatever you want, Robert.” He set his scarred lips against the younger man’s in a dipping kiss that ended with Hancock gently nipping MacCready’s lower lip. All while maintaining eye contact with Wraith.

“Sh… shit.”

“Awww, now with the cursing? Well I guess daddy’s gonna have to teach you a lesson…”

“Please. Please, let’s not have this be a ‘thing’, okay? …guys?” Wraith protested even as the two men quickly shed their clothes.

“Wraith, c’mere and help hold ‘im down!”

MacCready feigned a timid whine, “Who says she’s on your side, huh?”

Giving in to desire, Wraith pulled her shirt off over her head, “Okay, but I’m gonna make you two hug after.”

 Stopping briefly at Sanctuary, Wraith had dropped MacCready off for his first semester of the year. With another winter in the Commonwealth conquered, she set about finalizing plans for an extended leave-of-absence. This included a three-week tour of all Minutemen settlements within the Commonwealth proper, with Hancock and Dogmeat in tow.  Apart from a minor skirmish with a grumpy, just-woke-up yao guai, that involved Wraith running in circles while calling out to a very frustrated Hancock “please don’t shoot the bear!” the inspection went as well as one could hope and she returned home exhausted but hopeful.

“Curie wants to see you at the clinic, when you aren’t too busy, dear.” Sofie rolled her eyes, “Whenever that is.”  

Hancock had nearly fallen asleep on Wraith’s office couch, but gestured vaguely at her on her way out the door, “Make sure you eat somethin’ first!”

Laughing at her when she walked into Curie’s lab with a whole loaf of razorgrain bread hanging out of her mouth, Danse pointed to his lip, “Afternoon, General. You’ve got a crumb… just there.”

Curie giggled at them, “It is good to see that you eating, Madame.” She walked over and began manipulating Wraith’s left arm. “I wanted to check on your shoulder before your journey.” Danse got up to leave the room but Curie waved him back to his chair, “Her clothing will remain on, mon ours.”

“So what’s the plan, General?” Danse’s face turned red and he cleared his throat.

Not to be detoured from his pet name reveal, Wraith’s smile was enormous around her meal and she razzed him unmercifully, “’Bear’, huh?” She chomped and smacked as she ate; making as much obnoxious eating noises as possible, “You know, we already have a Bear. What’s French for moose?”    

“General…”

“Hmm, there is élan, but this is an elk. It isn’t quite fitting, no? Although some anatomy may be…”

“Curie…”

“Oh, ho? You don’t say? Oh my, do tell!”

Danse’s face was nearing purple, “Are you ladies quite through?!”

“Oh mon amour, don’t be such a prune.” She stepped lightly to him and kissed the corner of his mouth.

The large man gave an equally large sigh and smiled at her, “Dearest, I believe you mean ‘prude’.”

“Oh? Very well.”

“You two are too adorable…”

“How is your pain level, madame?”

“Honestly it’s fine. My arm can be a little tight if I move it straight up and down laterally but unless someone plans on using me as a water pump, it’ll be oaky.”

Danse had been brewing tea and offered Wraith a cup, “The plan? You haven’t actually told anyone where you’re going…”

Sitting on the edge of a counter, Wraith took a sip before answering, “It’s kind of a surprise. I actually want to talk to you about some related matters though; so if you can keep a lid on things, I’ll fill you in.”

“Shall I step out of the room, madame?”

Wraith waved the suggestion away, “Nope, it’s not a huge deal just, like I said, keep it hush-hush.”  

The couple pulled up chairs and both leaned forward unconsciously. Their eager faces reminded Wraith of children excited for story time and made Wraith felt particularly maternal.

I feel like I’ve been more of a mother to these two…

“I’m going to take a couple of days to rest here but the plan is to head south. Hancock, MacCready and I are taking a small contingent of Minutemen and going to Underworld, to get Duncan.”

Curie clapped her hands, “Oh, how wonderful! To reunite father and son! Oh, oh I’m going to cry!”

Danse had gone very still, “You’re going to the Columbia Commonwealth.”

“Yes, I am and I wanted to ask if you would like to come along.”

Standing abruptly, he turned his back to her and spoke to the wall, “Do you think that I should? Why?”

“Danse…”

Whipping around, his face was a kaleidoscope of emotion, “I’m not sure if anything that I remember was real! No, I can’t. I shouldn’t.”

“Mon amour, surely you have chapters of your life that need closing? What if Haylen…”

“NO!” Instantly sorry for shouting, Danse visibly pulled himself together and offered the two women a wan smile, “This is real.” He took Curie’s hand and pulled her into a hug, “You are real.” He kissed her, “Right?”

“Oui, mon ours, I am real.”

Wraith stood to leave, “I understand. Oh, Curie, will you have the prosthetic for Henrietta finished soon? Since we’re going to be going that way I’d like to give it to her in person.”

“Oui, Monsieur Sturges and I finished yesterday.”

“Excellent! Oh, like I said, I’m keeping it a surprise until I know for certain that Mac will be ready. He might still need convincing, so mum’s the word.”

Grabbing her hand before she made it through the doorway, Danse pulled Wraith in for a hug, “Thank you. I know I’ve said it before but if it wasn’t for you… I might have never known what ‘real’ is.”    

Wraith patted his back, “I’m glad I could help you bear-man.”

 “Why am I so nervous? Are you nervous? I’m sweating… ugh! Are you sweating, because I am definitely sweating?”

It was early morning and Hancock and Wraith sat at the table in her small kitchen. MacCready had yet to join them and Wraith was letting her anxiety spin out of control.

“I’m not even sure why I’m nervous! I mean, maybe it’s because I’ve spent a lot of time planning this without actually getting his permission. And the fact that I’ve asked him before… even volunteered to go with him but he said ‘no’ like he meant never.”

“It’ll be fine, sunshine.” Hancock took her hand in his to keep her from drumming the tabletop apart, “You should have seen him when he saw that picture… when he heard his boy’s voice…” His own voice deepened with emotion and his eyes where misty with the memory, “He wasn’t ready before but he’s sure as hell ready now!”

“What am I ready for?” MacCready joined them while rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child. Folding his arms on the table, he laid his head on them and mumbled into the crook of his elbow, “What are you two crazy people going to get me caught up in now?”

“Did you sleep upside-down? Your hair is completely vertical!” Perhaps slightly jealous, Hancock’s tone carried a small amount of disgust, “It’s goddamn ridiculous!”

The young man, with dramatic slowness, unfolded an arm and flipped him off. Smoothly and without hesitation, Hancock plucked a mutfruit from the bowl on the table and slid it down over the offending digit.

“Oh mY GOD! WHAT IS THAT?!” Shuddering slightly, MacCready shouted into his elbow: too afraid to look.

Laughing helplessly Wraith shook her head, “You two are the absolute best!”

“It’s a mutfruit, MacCready.” The ghoul’s tone was shrewd and taunting, “I’d think you’d know…”

Lifting it to his lips, MacCready waggled his eyebrows at him while slowly taking a bite, “Not used to one being applied in that particular location.” He winked at Wraith.

“Boy, that got off track before we even left the station...” Wraith cleared her throat and tried to school her features into a poker face Fahrenheit would be proud of. “Okay… here we go. Mac, I wrote a letter to Nyx Morningstar last fall. She and I have made arrangements to meet at a relatively safe location and she’s going to grant us additional protection as we pick up Duncan.” Mistaking his shocked expression for a rejection, Wraith’s face pinched with nerves and she spoke faster and faster while gesticulating, “I know you’ve told me ‘no’ but I think we have come a long way in making the roads safer since then. After all, that was just after we gave the cure to Daisy! There will be ten Minutemen with us, Morningstar’s people once we get close enough, plus Hancock and me. Not to mention you! The behemoth thing was just a fluke and although I’ve no way of being able to guarantee, without any fraction of doubt, that we won’t come across a similar situation, statistically…”

“Wraith! Wraith, stop!” Able to capture one of her waving hands, MacCready stood and pulled her with him. Reaching for Hancock as well, he hugged them both while laughing and crying, “I love you guys. Of course, of course I want…” Giving over to crying, he was unable to finish.

Thank you so much for reading! Like what you read? Looking for more? Please see my Wraith in the Ruins master-link under my bio. Tumblr’s dislike for link-posts is why you’ll see two versions of my chapters. I do my best to keep the master updated and change the date when I do. As always, feel free to throw me an ask if you have any questions/comments/concerns. Anon too! =^..^=

[lobsters-on-their-heads]

OB Rewatch: To Right the Wrongs of Many

I’m not crying, you’re crying

You can read my first watch review, which hits a number of points I left out,  here: https://lobsters-on-their-heads.tumblr.com/post/164138983111/to-right-the-wrongs-of-many

I loved

Sarah’s flashback scenes flow with the storyline, and inform Sarah’s current character. We learn more about her, and get answers to a question that hadn’t occurred to me to ask - why did she decide to keep Kira? 

Siobhan! Being the loving nurturing mother we’ve seen her be for five seasons. Quite different than the woman we meet in episode 2, who was DONE with Sarah’s bullshit.

Sarah rummaging around the basement boiler room, fussing over Helena to get her the things she can, keeping her head cool and her voice reassuring.

Art: “Are you alright?”

Helena: “Most excellent.”

And the back and forth between Sarah and Helena bearing their children, with Sarah repeating the lines Siobhan gave her... I... *sniffles* ....

The shot of the twins

Art and Sarah delivering Helena’s babies. They were, after all, the first two members of Clone Club that she interacted with. Sarah was absolutely the best person to do it.

Helena’s stick figure mobiles

Cosima and Scott helping Sarah practice for her GED. Hell, Sarah practicing for her GED! Which she will eventually take, I know she will.

Siobhan’s portrait. It’s her, a cup of tea, and her shotgun. Perfect.

Donnie is adorable with the babies. It’s a damn shame we didn’t see more of him being a father during the show (probably due to the availability or desire of the child actors). 

The parallel with Season 3′s opener

I loved the entire fucking baby shower. My favorite thing ever is whole Clone Club events like this. I also really hope that those judgey “friends” of Alison’s from Season 1 (you know, the living ones) saw all these random people streaming into her house, including a gay couple, a lesbian couple, awkward nerdy guys, a black guy with his daughter and a disabled girl, and a perma-drunk from the vague South. To say nothing of how those neighbors must feel about Helena.

Cosima taking Purple from Felix and immediately handing him to Delphine.

Love, love, LOVE Cosima’s dress. Which was surprisingly difficult to get a good screenshot of while she’s standing.

Finishing the show with the Sestras together. Okay, so the very final scenes didn’t have them together, but you know what I mean. This scene was wonderful. Yes, they are going off and living happily ever after, but pain remains. Pain that is perhaps related to their fights, but not always. No matter what, though, they always have each other. 

*cries again* 

Helena’s story about letting the babies eat sand! “Where does this sand come from? I don’t know, so I let them eat it.” We all know it comes from the bodies buried under her apartment.

I liked 

The camera circling around Sarah while Westboreland taunted her.

Sarah: “Ah, shut up!” and then she smashes his head with a oxygen tank.

Kira being supportive and understanding of her mom. I like it because Kira’s sweet, but I don’t love it - Kira’s a kid, and she shouldn’t have to worry about her mom.

Helena offering Kira a jam burger and Kira backing up quickly. I hope that was improvised. 

The contrast between the sunny family time of the baby shower and Sarah’s darker solitude as she approaches and enters the house.

The parade of people asking Sarah “How was the test?” I like it for the comedic aspect, but also because every single person there supports and roots for Sarah exactly where she is. None of them show any judgment that she’s taking her GED test instead of, say, her GRE.

I’m as lesbian as they come, but I do melt when I see tough guys holding babies like this.

Sarah’s face as Helena starts sharing her book.

I didn’t like

The placement of Delphine’s condolences to Sarah about Siobhan. It’s been months, and Delphine has almost certainly seen Sarah before now. It’s a nice moment, but it’s out of place. It’s also one of the few times we’ve ever seen Delphine and Sarah alone together, and I believe the only time it’s happened since the first episode of Season 3. Delphine’s sentiments regarding Siobhan are spot on, but it’s odd to hear her emoting like this to Sarah. Even in the rewatch, I was just as uncomfortable as Sarah was.

That Rachel couldn’t come in. Obviously she wanted to, despite her claims to the contrary, and she needs the redemption that the sestras give each other. 

Other notes

I see now that it wasn’t the tray table Helena smashed Coady’s face into, but the stirrup / footrest at the end of the bed.

Westboreland drones on about “I made you” yadda yadda, but he did pretty much jack shit in the creation of the clones except maybe finance and protect. The Duncans did the work.

Pretty sure that’s Sarah’s first kill.

Somewhere in the second half of my first watch of Season 5, I had this fic idea of Donnie and Helena going to the island to rescue Cosima and Charlotte (and Delphine). In that fic, Delphine delivers Helena babies, which is kind of what everyone on Tumblr wanted. Anyway, having Sarah do it here was actually a much better idea.

There was definitely infodump with Alison talking to Donnie about his new job, but I’ll kind of allow it since it involved pouring concrete floors, and... well. That is something he knows about, isn’t it?

As cool as this board is for the show, I’m not sure why it’s set up this way for them. They could store the info in a spreadsheet (Delphine already has it in the computer). The pictures are fun, but don’t serve much purpose for their research. Like, they already know they’re all played by Tatiana Maslany, so they’re not trying to figure that mystery out. But maybe Cosima just likes to look at them?

The birthday card Sarah finds is tucked into the same book that Cosima read to Kira at the end of Season 2. Was the card in there then, or was it tucked in later by Siobhan or someone else?

And I’m totally with with Felix on being upset about the boxes and the for-sale sign. Even if he’s not living there, a lot of the stuff was probably his once, just as much as hers. He deserves to have a piece of his mother to hang on to without Sarah throwing it away (which she totally would).

Évelyne’s probably doing an awful lot of this these days

According to IMDB, Lauren Hammersley is 5′9″. See, this is why Tat always looks so short. She’s surrounded by really tall people.

Sarah had nothing to be sorry about when she snapped at Alison, who was pushing way too hard at completely the wrong moment. 

Most of the Lyft and Uber drivers I’ve had would not have sat silently in the front seat like Yusef did. Rachel probably scared him into submission.

With a number like 274, I think it’s safe to assume that there were originally 300 Ledas, and 26 were either killed by Helena, by clone disease, or by something else. 

Of course Évelyne speaks Spanish. Two dialects of French, English, and German weren’t enough. 

Interesting that the babies are Arthur and Donnie, rather than Arthur and Donald or Art and Donnie. I wonder if a certain US president influenced that decision.

I have questions

Why does Coady follow this asshole, again? Why does she do things that she, herself hates, like killing Mark? What does she get out of it that she couldn’t achieve on her own or with a different crackpot? What is left for her here? What’s in it for that other doctor, too? 

(really disturbing note - had the abortion gone through, would Kira’s magical healing abilities have, uh... ? you know what, let’s not explore that too much)

Why does Sarah struggle so much with school? She’s obviously intelligent and able to focus on and achieve goals when she wants to, but academics seem to elude her. It seems logical to me that her attitude problems and academic struggles would be related. Then there’s her anxiety (called fear, but really) and terrible self-esteem, and everything spirals, but it didn’t always.

A few episodes ago, Scott or Cosima said they had 144 doses of the inoculate ready to go. In this episode, Scott’s worried about expanding the cell line any further. Does that mean they’ve used 144 doses? I doubt it. Does it mean they’re just making shit tons of it? I don’t know how any of this works.

Where is Felix living now, by the way?

Is this realistic for a glass eye?

I would’ve liked to have seen

What happened to Enger, and Art seeing it happen. More than that, though...

I think this ep could have been a solid two hours if they’d committed to it. The extra hour could include

Sarah, Helena, Art, and the twins getting out of Dyad, accounting for the dead bodies scattered around in there, and wrapping up what’s left of Neolution 

Delphine’s return from “France” and finally starting a real relationship with Cosima. I want to see them getting ice cream together.

Also Delphine taking rocks away from the babies

Helena moving into the garage

What’s the plan for Charlotte?

How Felix and Colin became a couple

and still leave us wanting more. Plus, that Delphine / Sarah scene could have found a better spot.

[artificialqueens]

Black Leather Chapter 3 {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

Cluck Cluck Motherfuck. For the person who asked if there can be some smut in this fic…c’mon you know daddy will always supply my loves. Seriously though there originally was smut in the first chapter but idk it didn’t make it in the final draft. To make it up to you here’s some fluff, some smut and some Nirvana. Also unlike my other fics this shit is actually fairly planned out so…there will probably only be 2 more chapters…now is your chance to tell me what you’d like more of in this fic. K bye.

“Oh you bitch.” Roy laughed when Darienne, who he was walking in with their arms linked, pushed him into the pink wall.

He was in pretty much the same outfit as the previous episode but this time in a white polo shirt and brown blazer completely hiding his birth mark on his chest.

Shane and Dela entering with giggles behind them and slowly and silently Danny with a black bandana covering his mouth entered way in the back.

Underneath a black shirt with some dancing skeletons on and a pale red flannel he hid his birth mark too. It wasn’t part of their new arrangement with the producers but they felt more comfortable hiding it for the time being.

The two strange men that Duncan was with the previous day of filming were from the studio. Before letting them return to the hotel after the last episode they had called the couple aside into a strangely eery executive room.

There they, RuPaul included, made the new couple sign a disclosure with all the terms they’d previously discussed as well as a few new compromises.

They would allow the men to continue the last week of filming as if nothing had happened, the only extra benefit they added were allowing them to spend the weekend in the same hotel room.

They just weren’t allowed to discuss the competition of course, not that anyone really thought a new linked couple would have the free time.

The other new compromises were that the queens could be affectionate in the workroom if they pleased, within limits, as long as they allowed whatever was caught on camera be shown at the finale.

They would then dedicate a segment to their relationship and announce their linking at any given moment during it’s filming. Part of that meant Adore and Bianca would have to wear matching outfits.

Roy and Danny however wouldn’t be informed on when the segment would take place. This was to leave the element of surprise in making their reactions more genuine and organic.

They would also have to come back to the studios two weeks prior to it’s taping to film a quick interview of their life after linking and what it was like to experience something that intimate during the show.

Like agreed upon earlier however once filming had ended at the end of each day or when they were dedragging these rules no longer applied. They were then free to go about as they pleased until they got back to the hotel and were quarantined again.

The final part of their terms were that regardless of them being soulmates if one of them got eliminated she would still have to leave. The remaining queen would however get to keep a few of their belongings just for safety reasons.

Danny however had some concerns about the segment, he was afraid they’d manipulate too many things about their relationship for the ratings. He attributed this distrust in producers to his time on American Idol but Roy sat him down and presented him with some pros and cons.

Con, yes they’d use whatever footage they had of them being together for the finale. Pro, they could be together.

Honestly that seemed to be the only pro Roy had to explain because after that Danny happily signed whatever they presented them.

While they were being mic’d for this week’s episode however Danny had explained how determined he was to give them as little ammunition as possible. He was standing his ground. Hence the silently sitting across from Roy at the table playing with his nails.

Roy decided to test his resolve with this whole standing his ground thing and tapped the table to get his attention before anyone could speak. “That’s it fight the man over there fidgety.”

Roy got a couple of confused looks but he saw Danny’s eyes light up which made it worth it. He even pulled down his bandana to reveal a small smile. “Fuck all the way off.”

Roy kept an eye on Danny’s hands examining the skin around his chewed up fingernails that he had been picking at. He really was just a lankly ball of nerves sometimes.

“You are such a liar.” Roy rolled his eyes in response to Shane’s bullshit story about writing down his prediction of them being the top 5.

“I swear to god.”

“You are so full of shit.” He smiled, Danny now smiling too. When one soulmate was happy it was great, but when both were and they could both enjoy each others joy it was down right amazing.

“Well it was the best of a bad bunch really wasnt it.” Shane shrugged making Danny burst into his adorable soft giggle.

“You are starting some shit.” Danny finally spoke.

“Saved by the bell.” Roy gasped when the loud siren went off again.

When they got up to walk away he waited a minute for Danny to catch up, Danny grabbed Roy’s hand giving it a tug when he passed him.

“Love you.” Roy smiled at him walking away.

“Love you too. Kill it today.” Danny peered over his shoulder smiling at him, already in a better mood.

-

“Now, in the heat of competition a lot of unexpressed feelings can get bottled up…”

Roy’s stomach dropped and his smile fell. Shit

He knew the fact that he and Danny finally had a chance to get to stand together wasn’t just some crazy fluke. His luck was too fucked up for that.

Ru definitely had a hand in this, Mama Ru had brought something up during there little consultation about knowing too well what the torture of being separated from your soulmate was like.

Mama Ru has a soulmate though? This was new information that honestly was still shocking him.

Lucky for them maybe Roy’s luck wasn’t actually that bad - it was finally the much anticipated puppet challenge.

“Because everybody loves puppets.”

Rumor has it every time a drag queen says the now iconic quote Tammy Faye Messner not just rolls over in her grave, she sometimes even does a death drop.

Danny next to him was mischievously rubbing his hands together as if he was warming them up to avoid giving whatever puppet buddy he got a very cold, unpleasant fist.

He was definitely in MUCH better spirits by the way he made his way over to the big hole in the fake pink wall hopping over first looking like some crippled obnoxiously tall rabbit.

Peering into the hole first before he stuck his arm in he got Dela.

“Dela!” Ru announced.

“Yay.” He cheered shaking poor baby Dela’s head.

Roy strutted over next looking at Danny as he stuck his entire arm in hoping the further he dig the better chance of nabbing a good one.

“I have…Adore.” He growled her name deeply. On one hand this was absolutely fucking perfect but on the other hand he didn’t want to read his soulmate too harshly.

“Oh shit.” Danny nervously laughed.

The other queens went up next one by one making their way to the fake wall. Darienne got courtney, Dela got none other than Bianca, who’s mouth he clamped shut earning a laugh. Courtney obviously got Darienne since she was only one who was left, making a shady comment about the hole being big enough first.

The giggles muffled behind a pair of hands that Roy could hear coming from the giddy giraffe next to him made his heart flutter.

When Ru gave the girls the go ahead Roy and Danny playfully pushed each other’s side, Danny just being plain mean pushed him back to give himself a head start.

“So, Bianca, you giving it a nice hog body?” Shane quipped.

“Oh you think” Roy had a hint of a slight evil chuckle in his voice.

“You are so evil.” Danny looked over to him.

“Darienne you have Courtney’s costume together?” He quickly changed the subject. Not before he and Danny stuck their tongues out at each other though.

“I was hoping I could get someone else to make it for me.”

Roy let out a very loud animated gasp at the shade fest already beginning. He loved Darienne’s shady side he couldn’t deny it.

“Ooh…” Dela and Danny joined in.

“It’s interesting that Bianca, who could’ve taken any of us down, got the absolutely easiest to pick.” Dela decided to chime into the shadiness.

“I did get a easy one.”

“Um, shut up. What is that supposed to mean?” Danny whined in a higher than normal tone.

“It’s nothing bad you’re just basically already a puppet.”

“Ah!” Danny instinctively looked over to Roy clearly hoping he’d defend him but Roy stood his ground smiling brightly.

“That is so rude!”

“No you’re just really easy to imitate where as Biancas hard to imitate because I don’t listen to her.”

Danny gasped again looking back at Roy. ‘This bitch…’

“Oh my god.” Roy laughed more at Danny’s thought in his mind rather than the other queen’s comment. “Pipe down.” He snapped at Danny quickly blushing when he realized it was his annoyingly loud thinking and not something he actually said out loud. Woops.

Danny’s puppet of Dela was unbelievably precious making Roy crack up the moment he opened his mouth.

Playing it safe to avoid hurting his soulmate Roy followed Dela’s advice and turned his puppet of the already very puppet like Danny into basically a glorified caricature of him spitting out catchphrases in the most Adore like voice he could muster.

To nobody’s surprise Dela with her impeccable, big acrylic nail teethed portrayal of Bianca won. Even Bianca thought she was fucking hysterical, but she did make an mental note to maybe accidentally slash her dress before the runway.

The universe yet again smiled down upon the cuban queen proving Roy’s theory of his inhumanly fucked up luck wrong. They’re main challenge this week had Roy Haylock’s name written all over it. They had to make three runway looks.

Bangie girl bling, Platinum Card Excutive Realness & Dripping in Jewels Eleganza.

Roy was already at work and in his element sewing. The one place he felt most at home, in front of the whirring machine where he could create.

“C’mon diamonds.” The voice of Laganja took over Danny as he dropped his mannequin trying to stack him.

After Roy asked Dela if he was okay he walked over to the mirror to test his boat neck puffy frill over his shoulders.

“I like this…To start with.” Roy turned examining his reflection.

Roy turned to Danny asking silently for his opinion as he examined his work from a different side.

“That’s pretty.”

Roy turned back to him. “Yeah.”

“Fuck off.” Roy tried to hide his smile at Danny’s comment as he started hand stitching one of his accessories for his look.

When Roy started inquiring as to how Dela chose who to get what gem and why exactly she got sapphire, which he wasn’t mad about, just curious, Dela explained she didn’t really think about any of them. Except for Danny, she gave him the easiest.

Made sense. Danny was talented in many things but sewing definitely was not one of them, not by a long shot.

“Why not just give her cement shoes and throw her in the water or give her something really rough?” Darienne and her fucked up shady ways came through making everyone look up in utter disbelief.

“Cause shes not a evil cunt.” Danny intervened.

‘That’s my boy.’ Roy thought.

“I mean this is a competition.”

“So? Bitch! I wouldn’t throw you under the damn ocean?” Danny looked up. He made a good point it was just maybe a little…confused, but good

Roy’s protective instinct kicked in ready to defend his love’s honor and glared at Darienne ready to jump in but Danny looked over to him shaking his head. His way of silently saying ‘Down boy.’

“Am I being hateful by saying that?” Darienne spoke up again.

“No you’re being real.” Danny smiled, clearly having been raised right by his mother. Although from what Roy saw in the video she sent Adore and what he’s heard from Danny she probably would’ve been on his side ready to gut the shady elephant.

“And that’s what I am…I real.” Darienne channeled her best inner banjie girl swaying her head.

“And you’re real self…is hateful.” Dela added from under her table where she was working on her…gown? Bedazzled cardboard?

“Meowr.” Roy growled undeniably enjoying the drama.

-

During Ru’s visit Roy noted a heavy feeling in his chest, so unbearably heavy he was certain his heart would fall out any moment.

He instinctively looked up to Danny’s station and spotted him crying with his hand in front of his mouth, chewing on his nails to hide it.

‘Baby…’ He ceased whatever he was busy with, the idea of work completely leaving his mind being replaced by only the thought of comforting Danny in whichever way possible.

He could physically feel the discouragement radiating from his soulmate, his sorrow digging into his very being.

After Ru had lined them all up and explained the fact that the glitter ball had to be an actual ball with choreography and singing they were all fairly over it. Except when Ru dropped the bomb that Dela had to be in charge of choreographing it.

That little magical bit of information was a god sent that made everything about this ball worth it ten fold. Regardless that gnawing in his chest coming from his love’s depressed state didn’t ease up.

The girls were lined up set to be escorted to the empty main stage for rehearsals when Danny came up to him, grabbing onto of his wrist when he went to fall into the neat little row of queens.

“Hey there leaky.” He swung Danny’s arm in an attempt to lighten the mood, the younger just halfheartedly smiling the same way he did with Ru.

Danny slid his hand down to Roy’s interlocking their fingers. “I going home next, aren’t I?”

“Not over my fucking cold dead body, you’ll turn this out don’t worry. Come here, my angel.” Roy tugged on his hand easily drawing him in for a hug, Danny nearly lost his balance in the process but standing on one leg and with Roy’s help he remained upright. He gave his cheek a few speedy small kisses, smiling when he felt the corners of his mouth forming into a smile as wel. “There’s my favorite fucker.”

The gnawing in his chest easing and turning into gentle butterflies. Everything was still muffled but he’d began developing a system, kind of. Somewhere in the darkness he had found a flashlight if you will, using it to navigate Danny’s emotions flooding through him constantly.

Whenever he got happy it was like a soft tingling, for lack of a better metaphor, butterflies.

“Sorry for being so leaky.” Danny looked up at him pouting.

“Go be leaky under Courtney so the bitch falls on stage. Showgirls that hoe.” This made Danny genuinely laugh and hide his face in Roy’s shoulder.

-

“How you doin’ over there, Adore?” Roy asked after rehearsals cutting some fabric.

“So far I think so good.” Danny nodded. “I wanted to just drench this in diamonds.”

“Well you have a lot of rinestones?” Roy spotted the glass bowl of sparkling clear gems taking a break from his snipping.

“Kinda?”

“What about that pretty stuff unda’ your table?” He pointed with his giant pair of scissors to the bundles of sparkly fabric.

“That?” Danny followed his pointing.

“Yeah.”

“I was gonna use that to make a tutu but…I don’t know how.”

“Why don’t you gather that up?”

Danny looked up from where he was sitting with the fabric very confusingly smiling ever so slightly at him. “Gather it up?”

“Oh wait I’ll show you.” Everyone looked up knowingly at each other knowing exactly why Roy was really going over to him to help him but fuck them. “What you really could do is cut it evenly.”

“Mh-hm.”

“To a length…and gather it on top.” He held the fabric up against his dress where it had to go.

“Uh-huh.” Danny agreed in a nasally tone brightly smiling at him. Clearly not following as if everything was going directly over his pretty little head.

“Listen.” He scolded flicking his forehead.

“Thank you B.”

“You’re welcome.” He bent down to where he was grabbing the sides of his face. “Mwah.” He gave him a loud kiss and walked back to finish his own dress keeping an eye on his progress every now and then.

“You’re supposed to cut it in strips and just glue it like that right?” Danny asked motioning in the air with some oddly snipped up pieces of the fabric from earlier.

“Oh no…Not like that.” Roy cried out defeatedly from behind his sewing machine hiding his laughter.

“It looks ugly.” Danny whined holding the mannequin with the dress on up high in the air.

“It does.” He broke face at Danny’s bubbly laughing.

In the couple of weeks of filming the sweet sound had become his favorite thing in the entire world. Nothing made him happier than hearing that breathtakingly stupid sound.

“I don’t know how to make a fucking tutu!” Danny laughed turning in a circle with the leftover white fabric he previously destroyed covering his face.

“Oh…you mean like wrap it then…” He motioned with his fingers how Roy gathered it earlier.

Roy pulled a face he knew wouldn’t exactly be helpful in this situation but it was too ridiculous not to cringe at. Poor baby was absolutely useless.

“I don’t fucking make clothes.” Danny pulled the same face at him shaking his head and returned to putting endless sparkles on his dress’s coset.

-

“Alright ladies! 20 minutes, wrap up what you need to!” A crew member circled the queens reminding them of their time remaining till filming wrapped for the week.

Because they didn’t film on weekends, today being Friday, the queens had to wait two excruciatingly long days to present their ‘Dripping in Jewels Eleganza’.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Roy liked the part of the dress that he had gotten completed so far, the most important part was basically finished all it needed was some sparkles.

Danny had offered to assist him with it when they returned on Monday but he was concerned for his partner’s tutu and thus declined his help.

His diamond inspired dress didn’t look bad, on the contrary it was actually coming along great and he knew Danny would be looking absolutely enchanting in it. However he knew the judges were unpredictable and could tear anyone, particularly Adore, to shreds in a heartbeat like the vultures they were.

He took a step back to examine his day’s work hanging on the grey mannequin with his hands in his jean pockets, rubbing the small handkerchief of Danny’s that he kept there at all times between his fingertips.

So far it was a strapless smooth, satin like gown with not much detailing but impeccable workmanship. Earlier in the day he had already made what looked like the sapphire version of Danny’s tutu to place around his shoulders with a matching big puffy bracelet.

All he still needed to do was bring in the waist and attach a darker shade of blue belt…and then bedazzle the living Jesus out of everything but that could come later. As long as he had a garment, he was happy.

It was still more than Darienne had.

He shook his head in disgust at the hideous brown, bejeweled body bag Darienne was making and went back to his sewing machine to try and make aforementioned blue belt.

“Duncan!” Danny popped out of his station from underneath his white diamond dress like a tall meerkat. “Since it’s only like 20 left can we play some music?”

“Yes please?” Shane joined in plopping theatrically down on the couch next to his station by the wall of multicolored fabrics.

Even Darienne agreed that it’s been an exceptionally exhausting day and that he wouldn’t mind the small distraction.

“Sure…just this once because it’s almost the weekend, alright.” Duncan reluctantly nodded holding his hands up but they could all see the smile he was hiding when they excitedly cheered for him.

“I call dibs! Me first!” Danny nearly knocked poor Dela to the ground when he rushed to where his iPod was tucked away in his bag.

To no one’s surprise Danny picked a Nirvana song - Lithium. Roy was too lost in the zone to look up from his sewing machine and acknowledge what was happening. If he did he’d have noticed the younger queen holding up his index finger in front of his mouth to silently gesture to the others not to make a peep.

I’m so happy ‘cause today I’ve found my friends. They’re in my head

As the late Kurt Cobain’s smooth vocals filled the room Danny made his way to Roy’s station twirling slightly on the ball of his feet with every step in time with the song

Roy was startled out of his concentration when a pair of scrawny arms with a tattoo of a skull and purple roses were suddenly thrown over his shoulders and a gentle kiss was placed on his cheek. Danny’s lips remained against his dimples cheek as he sang the, slightly insulting I might add, words to him.

I’m so ugly, but that’s okay, ‘cause so are you. We broke our mirrors

“That’s fucked up.” Roy grumbled still focused on the deep blue fabric he was pushing through the machine’s fast working needle. “Can I finish this please? I don’t know how much time we left?”

The other queens looked up from their dresses with strange grins on their faces.

“What I miss?” He worryingly looked around, clearly everyone was in on a joke that he missed.

“Old age is making you deaf, Del Rio.” Dela joked going back to gluing her pink rhinestones and gems onto something that looked like a swirly pizza slice.

“20 minutes, babe.” Danny informed him before continuing singing along with Kurt. His arms now hooked under Roy’s biceps meeting in the middle around his chest. His chin rested on his shoulder next to his face.

I’m so horny but that’s okay my will is good

“Too much information, oh no! My ears!” Shane dramatically cried throwing his hands over his ears.

“Shut up.” Roy hissed in his direction before pulling the blue fabric out under the machine and continuing the rest of the seem with some hand stitching. Danny’s arms still clinging onto him swaying with the music as he worked.

This felt so natural, so at home. Regardless of the cameras and the practically still strangers they were surrounded by, sitting here doing what he loved with the person he loved against him just felt so right.

He had gone from admiring this young man, crushing on him from a distance to now being head over heels in love. Unable to ever see a future without him.

It wasn’t just the fact that they were soulmates it was Danny himself. Even if they weren’t soulmates he’d want to end up with him. His naive, carefree and down right fearless approach to life was something he had lacked.

He was a bitter old man, not old but 37 sure wasn’t a spring chicken, he never thought anyone would want to be with him. But Danny did. He made him feel appreciated and loved, almost needed at times.

I like it, I’m not gonna crack I miss you, I’m not gonna crack I love you, I’m not gonna crack I killed you, I’m not gonna crack

The song finally came to an end and so did the embrace Danny held him in. His eyes followed longingly after the man bunny hopping away, unable to resist staring at the ass as it bounced along.

“Bae!” Danny eagerly shouted looking through something on his iPod. “You done with that?”

“With this part yes, why?” Roy snipped the leftover thread off and walked over to where Danny was gesturing for him closer with a curl of his finger.

Despite the time warning it seemed nobody was in the mood to work. Roy was pretty much the only one still adjusting stuff on his dress but throughout the workroom it was just deserted gowns on mannequins with their makers resting on stools chattering amongst themselves.

“What’s up?” He went up to the table to check what Danny was fiddling with. Probably a song because when Roy reached him soft strumming came through over the speakers.

Danny smiled brightly and went to hug him without warning. With their hands held clasped to the side, Roy’s hand on the small of his back, his in the back of Roy’s jean and their foreheads rested against one another Danny started swaying them to the tranquil music.

Underneath the bridge The tarp has sprung a leak And the animals I’ve trapped Have all become my pets And I’m living off of grass And the drippings from the ceiling But it’s okay to eat fish ‘Cause they don’t have any feelings Something in the way

“You know this is that ammunition you didn’t want to give them right?” Roy tilted his head when he saw Danny reaching to kiss him softly. Longer than their previous rushed pecks. Their lips lingering a second to enjoy the contact.

“I know…I don’t care.” Danny whispered into his mouth.

“I love you.” Roy closed the space between their lips for another kiss.

He meant it. He loved Danny. With every molecule that made up his existence he loved this guy that only seemed to know the words party and fuck.

He nuzzled his head into Danny’s neck to get as humanly close to him as possible. To take in everything he was.

“I love you too…” Danny’s hand reached up to caress the shortly shaved back of his head.

Despite the fabric of their shirts between them Roy could tell their birthmarks were against each other by the stinging radiating from his calling to be closer to its matching one.

They continued disregarding everyone around them and finished the song. Die, Die My Darling by Misfits came on the shuffle next and Roy quickly ducked out claiming it hit too close to home.

-

It was finally time for their first weekend together, whoever in was that convinced the producers to let them get this chance was a god sent, although Roy had a sneaking suspicion it was Ru…

“You think they know I snuck in here the first time?” Danny asked trailing a finger around Roy’s birth mark.

“Nobody said anything and they wouldn’t have given us this if they knew. Think we’re good.”

After their dinner and showering Roy was laying down on his back with his head resting in his hands against the pillows. Danny sitting on his stomach like during their chase that lead to them linking.

Danny didn’t really seem like he had a plan or a purpose, his hands were just absentmindedly exploring Roy’s body. Running up his shoulders, over his pecs and back down his abdomen.

“You actually have a really fucking rad body.” Danny tilted his head.

“For an old bitch.” Roy snorted.

“Nh-yeah.” He giggled at Roy’s unamused face.

“Hey!” Roy slapped his chest. “I’ll fuck you up, Delano.”

“Pinky promise?” Danny licked the corner of his mouth that was forming into a smile. “You still owe me for the last time you said that.”

He raised his brows mischievously and with his hands on each side of Roy’s face he bent down for a deep kiss.

Their mouths meeting each other slowly at first, the tenderness in which Danny’s soft, full lips brushed over his setting his entire body ablaze. Every hair on his body raising as his skin flared up in goosebumps.

His tongue grazed against Roy’s top lip before he tilted lower and gingerly sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, sucking it into in his mouth.

They resumed their unrushed kissing taking their time in studying each other’s body without the looming fear of sneaking around.

With their lips still tightly locked the hands around Roy’s cheeks moved lower towards his chest. His mouth soon following behind peppering kisses down his neck to his sternum.

“A really. Really. Rad. Fucking. Body.” He emphasized each word with a kiss along his skin. Tracing his crescent birth mark with his tongue.

When his tongue made it’s way to Roy’s nipples the older’s breathing hitched. Danny looked up with a shit eating grin, “A-ha! Found your weakness.”

“Shut up fa…” His voice trailed off when Danny scooted down so he could roll his hips along the length of Roy’s growing erection while taking the other caramel nipple in his mouth.

His tongue twirling around the apparently very sensitive bud taking it between his teeth and pulling on it as he let go. Licking his lips as he scooted down further to straddle his thigh, his hand snaking down further as well onto his stomach.

“I love your little belly.” He smiled taking a second for his fingers to run over the slight fuzz around his navel.

“You’re one to talk, hogbody.” Roy joked, watching Danny roll his eyes sliding down his pants. Right, not the appropriate time or place. Got it.

The tip of Danny’s tongue licking along the small wet stain of pre cum through the charcoal grey briefs he wore made Roy’s eyes fill with lust. His entire body reacting to his touch moving his hips up to meet his tongue.

“And I love your dick, it’s perfect.” Danny admired trailing his index finger down the extreme tightness in the cotton fabric caused by his growing erection.

Even in the horrible dark lighting of the shitty hotel room the big hazel doe eyes staring up at Roy was glittering, pure magic. His hand came up to caress his round cheek, admiring the delicate features of the young man in front if him.

His hips rolling his own growing semi against the thigh he was sitting on following the same smooth rhythm of his hand stroking Roy fully hard.

“Fuck.” Roy let out a deep guttural moan when Danny pulled his foreskin down and wrapped his lips around the overly sensitive head of his cock.

Roy wasn’t joking when he said he really need to get laid. The competition had taken a severe toll especially with no release except for his own hand. I mean 5 weeks of filming and he’s only gotten action once in that time? That has to count as some kind of abuse.

Finally getting to feel Danny’s mouth was well worth the wait though. Roy scooted up so he could sit back against the wall, resting the hand that was caressing Danny’s jaw up to run his fingers through his short dark brunette hair.

With their new position Danny had to abandon his dry humping efforts, now on all fours with one hand resting on Roy’s abdomen he continued his bopping with his ass lifted in the air.

Roy sat up a little more so he could stretch his free arm out to slide along Danny’s back towards his ass. Sinking his hand into the tight grey sweatpants he wore to knead his soft ass while the other hand continued brushing through his hair.

“Wait.” Roy snorted as an attempt to hide his amused shock when he felt skin instead of the cotton he was expecting. “Wait, bitch…” His laughter came through a little more this time.

He got on his knees and made his way over to Danny’s backside pushing him down into the bed to lay on his stomach in the process. With one hard pull he yanked Danny’s pants off so violently it pulled him back up to his knees.

“Cute, not faggy at all.” He smiled pulling the strap of the black and grey jockstrap he felt earlier as far back as it could go. He let the waistband go and with a loud slap it hit Danny’s backside making him yelp.

“I like ‘em! Leave me alone.” He whined rubbing the red skin from the sudden snap.

“I do too.” Roy laughed kneading, admiring his bare cheeks. “Well I do now.”

“You do?” Danny leaned down to rest his face against the sheets. Looking back at Roy he bit his lip playfully shaking his ass in Roy’s face.

The older answered him by running his nails up and down from his ass to his thighs, biting at the baby soft flesh first before eagerly diving between his cheeks.

“Oh fuck yeah.” Danny growled sinking further into the white linen sheets when Roy’s tongue flattened out against his entrance.

-

“Do we have…” Roy’s thought trailed off as he dug through the bag Danny supposedly had snuck the condoms into. He had no idea how or where Danny got them but hey he wasn’t questioning it.

After nearly 30 minutes of foreplay he wasn’t questioning anything except how quickly he can find a fucking condom.

“Where the fuck?” He shouted throwing the contents of the stupid white drawstring bag Danny took on set out onto the grey carpet.

“We could just use spit again?” Danny shrugged.

Wait, was that really how they lubed him up the first time? Roy honestly had no idea anymore, everything of their first night linking was a surreal haze.

“Dirty boy.” Roy teased giving Danny’s ass a very loud slap. “You alright there?”

“Yep.” Danny continued lazily pumping the 2 fingers inside himself as Roy had instructed while he slipped the condom on, discarding the now empty square packet by throwing it over his shoulder.

Despite the effort Roy put into the extra precautions to get Danny ready, seeing as he wasn’t a bottom and Roy sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one doing it, he was worried of rushing him.

Not that it seemed like he needed to be. Holding Danny’s wrist of the aforementioned fingers against his back and with his other hand’s nails dragging up and down along his spine he let Danny push himself back onto his cock.

The younger hissing slightly when his ass reached Roy’s v-line, now fully enveloping him.

“There you go.” Roy leaned forward to lay down on top of him so he could get use to being filled while he kissed the back of his neck.

A few minutes later when Danny had fully adjusted to the tense stretching sensation of being penetrated Roy lifted himself leaving Danny face down with his legs closed so he could pick up his pace.

Roy’s hand was resting to one side of the flustered body beneath him while the other on his hip kept him pinned down. Every time his own hips thrusted back into the gorgeous ass he relished the feel of Danny’s tight unexperienced asshole clenching around him.

Definitely well worth the wait.

“Like that baby?” Roy pulled on his hip and readjusted Danny’s legs so they could be in a new position.

With Danny slightly sideways resting on one elbow they could keep a steady well paced rhythm while he reaching back held onto the side of Roy’s face. Their lips interlocked and their tongues dancing over each other exploring every part of their soulmate.

Growing more ravenous for the other person by the minute.

“You feel so fucking good.” Danny moaned into his mouth giving him the go to increase his speed.

Not pulling all the way out but enough that he could slide in fully again with quite a force he heard Danny’s soft moans soon turn into louder cries making their kissing difficult. He expected the naturally loud younger man to be vocal but not this much, not that he was complaining.

He noticed Danny’s hazel eyes looking slightly glossed over watering up and stopped to lean over him and pull his gaze up to his.

Wiping the single tear from the corner of his eye with the back of the hand he used to lift his jaw he placed a gentler kiss on his puffier than usual lips from the earlier sloppy blowjob. “You still good?”

Danny looked between his deep brown eyes and nodded with a subtle smile. In return Roy resumed his thrusting leaning forward to trail kisses down his temple to his jaw, biting the stubble free skin.

An attempt to help ease the new bottom, which worked better than planned.

“Fuck…baby, more.” The younger dropped his head increasing the volume of his praises that were perfectly in time with his soulmate’s increased movements that were now made easier after relaxing.

His teeth moving to his shoulders and along his neck to graze against the damp porcelain skin, careful not to bite too hard and leave any marks or bruises behind. If he could he’d permanently mark him as his own but not while they still had to walk to dreaded runway.

“On your back.” Danny reached around and tapped Roy’s sweaty thigh.

“What?”

“Your back thank you.” He repeated with a sterner ‘matter of fact’ voice.

Roy sunk his teeth into the soft muscle of Danny’s neck but Danny disregarding him sat up the best he could and pushed Roy down onto his back with his free arm. “Alright, alright. Bossy.”

His fingertips now on Roy’s jaw he bent down and brushed their lips over each other. “I love you.” His voice faint and sincere.

“Love you too.” Roy smiled going in for a kiss, a proper drawn out one, moving his hands to Danny’s thighs.

Now in control Danny rested his palms on Roy’s ribs digging his nails into the skin when he lowered himself back onto Roy.

“I got you.” Roy reassured caressing his smooth sweaty thighs, peering down between them to watch himself enter Danny again. The circular muscles stretching around him as the tip went in till it clenched tightly again when Danny tensed up and his legs trembled slightly. “Give yourself some time it’s all good.”

Reaching between then he steadily started stroking Danny slick pink cock. The younger releasing a low moan when he slid all the way back down thanks to Roy’s expert hand offering a very, very pleasant and welcomed distraction for him.

He wasted no time and slowly but surely started bouncing taking in as much of Roy’s thick cock as possible.

He wasn’t exceptionally long, surely longer than average, but he was thick. Stretching Danny’s tight asshole more every second.

Once he was well readjusted again he matched the pace Roy had prior to their switch moving his hands up to grab hold of Roy’s pecs.

His energetic bouncing making the bed loudly shake. The creaks from the old worn out springs of the hotel bed from years of abuse filling the room.

The sound mixing in with the loud slapping of their naked bodies meeting. Roy’s hand on the naked ass tinted red from his rough slaps earlier when he ate him out to help control his momentum while enjoying the view of his young lover brought to such a gorgeous disheveled mess.

His pale cheeks deeply flushed, his puffy lips swollen, his sweat drenched skin glowing from the cheap bedside table and his gorgeous cock bouncing between them.

The way the young queen licked his top lip as he leaned back resting his shakey hands on Roy’s thighs reminded Roy of the adorable way he licked it in the same manner when he offered him a waist chincher after snatch game.

Soon their unison heavy pants turned into louder moans coming from the younger when he increased his riding’s pace.

Roy’s hands ran down his sides feeling at every soft curve of his exquisite body and the little extra pudge around his waist.

Hogbody. Bullshit.

“You’re perfect.” He thought out loud. Danny leaned down to kiss him when Roy surprised him wrapping his arms around his back to press their birthmarks together.

Easily catching Danny off guard by flipping them so he’d be on top again. “Gotcha’”

“I love you but that’s mean. I was getting so close.” Danny whined dropping his head like a child while declaring his love.

“I love you too. So fucking much, but I did promise to fuck you up.” He bit Danny’s jaw.

Nothing felt as right as this, as absolutely earth shatteringly amazing as this. Linking with someone and getting to feel their emotions in itself was pretty mind blowing.

This was even better though. He could feel Danny’s orgasm building as vividly as he could feel his own. Not just that but on a more almost ethereal level he could feel the love Danny had for him only heightening his pleasure.

Sitting up on his knees Roy returned to smooth, slow idle thrusting to give them both a breather. Danny lovingly guiding his movements with his hands on his hipbones.

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.” Roy laughed at Danny’s disastrous appearance.

Danny threw his hands over his already red face turning brighter, so much Roy could swear he saw steam practically coming off his cheeks as he giggled.

Another reason he loved Danny. Reason number 70 million probably. Even during this intimate heated moment he was being the same little goofy idiot.

“Fuck all the way off.” Danny laughed.

“Oh yeah?” Roy cocked a brow, a devilishly wicked grin between those gorgeous dimples forming as he pulled all the way out.

Danny nodded eagerly with the corners of his eyes creasing revealing the smile he was hiding under his hands.

With an aggressive forceful thrust he slammed all the way back into his tight asshole, the hands hiding his blushing moving down to his mouth to muffle the loud cry erupting from his throat.

He repeated this with every thrust causing his grunting to grow louder, Danny’s tightly shut eyes and widely open mouth expression not helping in testing his restraint.

As soon as an almost painful whimper escaped his lips a surge of lighting shot through Roy’s spine straight to his cock.

This could only mean one thing.

“…Roy…” Danny’s voice cracked. “…I’m gonna cum…”

“How close?”

“Really close.”

He sat up hovering over him hooking Danny’s long legs over his elbows to lift his ass so they could kiss as he hammered into him deeper with the new angle making his hard swift thrusts easier.

Feeling the tension building inside both of them pushing him closer to their climax Roy’s own caveman grunts started mixing with Danny’s low cries.

“Ah fuck.” Roy disturbed their kissing nuzzling his head next to Danny’s biting his ear and trying to kiss his neck, which was made difficult by his strained breathing.

Everything turned into a blur. An astronomically amazing blur.

His hips pounding into Danny’s now even redder ass. The room filling with loud grunts, heavy panting, moans, naked bodies aggressively slapping together, the bed’s springs squeaking…All lost to Roy.

All he could focus on was the tightness building in his balls and the nails leaving indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders.

“So…so good.” Those were probably the last understandable words uttered before Danny became seemingly lost except for the whimper escaping with every quick thrust.

His eyes were squeezed tightly shut with his arms nearly choking Roy from the tight hold around his neck.

‘…Gonna cum…’. Roy heard his loud thinking hastily warn.

Roy felt Danny’s asshole tighten as the body pinned under him tensed up with a final barely audible moan right before hot cum shot between them.

The sticky liquid shooting out onto their abdomens between the bodies held clinging together from the sweat.

“Oh…fuck…Danny.” Roy could feel the minute Danny’s orgasm hit him. The ecstasy crashing onto him like a ton of bricks causing him to crumble as well reducing him to nothing as he followed only a second or two after Danny.

Their movements died down gradually after their orgasms and slowly Roy rose so he could look at the cum between them and admire Danny’s heaving young body.

“You’re such a messy slut sometimes.” Roy teased scowling at the cum, slapping his thigh. “High maintenance bitch.”

“Ouch-uh!” Danny faked an adorably hurt look by sticking out his quivering bottom lip.

Roy in turn kissed his way up Danny’s body till he reached the lip in question and gave it a bite. “Be right back. You want some water?”

“No.” Danny whined wrapping his legs around his waist to keep him from getting up. “Stay.”

“I have to get up.” Roy sprinkled kissed along his neck, resisting the urge to bite onto a chunk of it.

“Why?”

“Because.” He finally steadily pulled out of him and got off the bed. “Otherwise we might fuck the sheets up again.”

Danny went pale and rolled over hiding his hysterical laughing in a pillow that he pulled against his face.

“It’s okay, it happens.” Roy tried his hardest but failed to say it with a straight face. He bent back down placing a kiss on his right cheek. “I adore you my messy slut.”

[a-gay-bloodmage]

Orest for the 50 questions ask meme: multiples of 10

God I love screaming about this boy

((From this and this post!))

10)   What do they want to be when they grow up/what do they want to do with their lives?

Ever since he was little, Orest struggled with the idea of you’re Dalish. Your job is to make lots of little Dalish babies and be the best elf you can be, and wasn’t really sure if he wanted that. Of course, like any Dalish, he always wanted to be the best hunter in the Clan and to make his Ashalle-mom proud, though after the whole mess went down with Tamlen and that goddamn mirror, he couldn’t really wish for anything like that anymore. After the Blight ended, he wasn’t sure what he was going to make of himself. He struggles when there isn’t an immediate goal in front of him, and just find a cure for a thing and be a good Warden weren’t real, solid goals. But as soon as Kieran was born? He knew. Fuck it, I’m gonna be the best dad ever.

20)   Do they wish they lived in a different family/household?

Never! His Clan was the best thing ever, and he wouldn’t trade it for any other childhood. His Ashalle-mom, his weird little sorta-kinda-cousin Merrill, a million amazing elves, and Tamlen all made for the best place to ever grow up. When he left his Clan, he was happy to make new families in the Wardens and with Morrigan and Kieran. They’re all different types of family. The Clan was home, elven-blood type of family, the Wardens were best-friends-and-lovers-forever type of weird family, and Morrigan and Kieran were the-woman-and-baby-I-will-treasure-forever type of family. He loves them all and would never wish to leave any of them.

30)   What would this person do without their friends in their lives?

Honestly? He’d have no idea what to do with himself. He thrives in the company of his friends, and without them he’d be lost. Without people there to remind him that he’s important and loved, he wouldn’t be nearly as cheerful or happy. Taking friends away from Orest is like expecting a sunflower to live without the sun. don’t even attempt to take them away, because he’d surely wither up and die.

40)   How far do they plan to go with school? If they dropped out, do they want to go back?

School? What is this school? He’s satisfied with what he knows in life. He can shoot a bow with amazing accuracy and force, he can read thanks to Morrigan, he’s a great lover, and he can keep up a conversation with ease in almost any situation. He’s all set. Helping Morrigan with her arcane elven research isn’t really work for him, and he’s mainly just there to give her terrible, southern-elven pronunciations and random facts he remembers from lessons when he was younger.

50)   Does this OC have any part of you in them? (I.e, personality traits, similar background, etc)

Of course he does! A massive desire for attention, approval, and affection, an annoyingly high sex drive, a love of adorable babies despite not being the most responsible person, and a love for women, men, and fluffy hair! It’s kind of sad how much I project in my original characters… whoops.

60) Have they ever harmed themselves?

Thankfully, no, not to any large extent. He’s unfortunately prone to denying himself things like food and water when he’s especially upset, and Duncan had to suffer with a recruit who not only had delayed Blight sickness but would often refuse to sleep or eat or drink for hours at a time while they were making their way to Ostagar.

70) Fav scent? Why?

As gross as it is, he loves the scent of sex. Just, sweat and all sorts of… fluids. It’s something that’s been his salvation since he was sixteen, a way to relax and blow off steam and just have fun with people he liked. And, besides, there’s a whole bunch of happy memories tied to it! He’s most certainly guilty of stealing a pair of Morrigan’s linens to take with him when they’re apart, and if she’s noticed, she hasn’t mentioned it.

80) Do the people of this world have a religion or belief in a higher being? Does your OC personally believe in any?

He’s totally a believer in the old elven faith. He’s more neutral on the idea of the Maker, not really caring if He’s real or not, but certainly not liking whatever His followers are doing. He was the one who really propelled Morrigan to not only study the ancient elves, but to actually believe in the gods. If the magic was real, surely the gods were, too. He makes sure Kieran knows every bit about his father’s people’s religion, and couldn’t contain his fatherly pride when Kieran asked when he’d get his vallaslin.

90) Any unusual/unique skills? (I.e, special powers compared to others)

When he was young, he found himself become quite good at making things from woven grass, something Ashalle taught him to keep his hands busy, since he was (and still is) an incredibly hyperactive child. Just cute little bowls to use for a while, or sunhats. As soon as he was able to wield a bow, he used that more to keep himself busy, but he’s always down for making a grass bowl. Always.

100) Why did you make this OC and maybe even the world they live in? Just cause? Or for some other reason?

To be completely honest? I made him because I didn’t have someone to pair with Morrigan! And you know what? Thank god she had a hetero romance route, despite being bisexual as hell! you know I’m right and Bioware’s full of cowards