#and the fic is just so fucking good.. mind on another level truly.. thank u for the trans guy characters i was losing it at that

[halothanic]

some little fanarts for @wispstalk since his work "idle in their thrones" has absolutely captured me. i'll be so sad when i finish reading, it's been a daily treat for me for the past week or so. i love tanis so much lol, but i just had to draw coradri too!

my bestie @ieillorien got me into TES by osmosis last year and i just haven't been able to get oblivion (OR MARTIN) off my mind, especially their interpretation of it, along with their oc. it's been a true treat swapping gay star-crossed high fantasy love stories (whew, what a mouthful) and i'm so glad they pointed me in the direction of this work. i'm convinced having summits on this stuff is one of the finer things in life and i never take it for granted

[junova]

↬ 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 | 𝐫. 𝐝𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐥𝐞

abstract — the one where ransom gets a taste of his own medicine, but you happen to be so much sweeter than he’s ever been. 

pairing — ooc!ransom drysdale x fem!reader 

wc — 4.1k+  im so sorry lmao 

warnings — cheating (if u squint its very vague), angst, fluff, slight self deprecation, ransom is kinda nice idk, i want a soft!ransom drysdale now pls, this is also very messy so read at ur own risk!

[m blabs] — howdy howdy! first time ransom fic. woot woot! still kinda finding my voice w writing so i hope you like it! <333 

His mouth set in a hard line as you continued to curl into his chest, the span of your confidence seemed to be wiped away with a nightmare from the past. Part of him was upset you hadn’t told him anything, the blind leading the blind, as you stepped foot into his family event. Seeing the last person you’d ever thought would be there. 

Surely by now, he thought you would trust him but it was more than evident you still didn’t. You persisted on hiding everything from him, anything you were sure might tick him off. 

Well, Ransom wasn’t necessarily known for biting his tongue.  Although, in your presence, he was learning what to say and where to say it. 

It really surprised him. Not one woman had been able to tame him, not since he’d be fucking everyone in sight. His desire was endless and not one single individual would be enough for his fill. 

Then, he found you drunk and sobbing on the concrete, right outside of the bar he was exiting. To this day, he still couldn’t tell you why he stopped for you. He never really paid attention to anyone if it wasn’t to his own benefit. Ultimately, meeting you was, even if he wouldn’t realize it then. 

You flinched from his touch when he patted your shoulder, gently asking if you were alright. If anyone asked him, Ransom would surely deny he felt you pull at the strings of his heart in an instant. 

He just knew. 

Maybe it’s why it took him so long to accept it, to believe in what he felt for you. Definitely not because you did nothing but be the most wonderful human he’d ever met. More had to do with him. 

Ransom dropped you off the first night you met in your small apartment downtown, definitely on the rougher side where he thought his Rolex sporting his wrist may get stolen. 

A cute little thing like you living in a neighborhood like this — didn’t make much sense to him. Then again, it certainly checked out with his privilege why he didn’t. 

Truly, Ransom didn’t realize how fortunate he truly was. Of course being a trust fund brat gave him the ignorance to live in an unmatched state of bliss. 

He still remembers the moment. 

Watching as you fumbled with your keys, finding it more than difficult to open your front door. It was cute, with your tongue poking out between your lips in concentration. Now, he wondered how he’d forgotten why he’d gone to get hammered at the bar in the first place. 

“Here, let me help.” New to Ransom, he offered a giving hand. Grabbing the key from your jittering fingertips before unlocking your door. He tried to hand you back your keys, but you pulled him so close, your chest touching his own. Dragging two rapid hearts through your apartment. 

“You smell like him.” A dopey smile on your face lighting every dark sight of Ransom, not that you’d know it did. “I smell like who?” 

“My ex-boyfriend.” Your hands cupping his cheek, but you were too drunk to realize how Ransom flinched from your touch. 

He didn’t push you away either. 

“But he definitely didn’t look this good.” Defying all laws of his own nature, Ransom let you stay in close proximity to him as you felt him up. Your hand resting on his chest, traveling lower stopping at his stomach. “Definitely didn’t feel this good.” 

He watched as you sighed, your puffy eyes were only slightly swollen and the mascara was still staining your skin with the rest of the makeup you wore. If anyone had asked him, you’d looked like a wreck but he still found you alluring. 

Ransom always liked his women looking more than fucked out, usually from gagging around his cock. Not crying over a broken heart. Nope. He definitely did not like dealing with a woman's sorrow. 

“He never let me touch him though. Guess that should have tipped me off.” You let your hands travel back up, wounding themselves around his neck before they applied more pressure — pulling him into you. 

Ransom found you pretty confident for not even knowing anything more than his first name and the car he drove you in. You were definitely craving attention and maybe he’d be more than happy to oblige but the little voice in his head Dr. Shoal told him to listen to was being a pestering, little bitch. 

What did Ransom want? 

Right now he wanted to drown himself in some sweet ass pussy. He knew you would give yourself easily to him, especially in your drunken state. Clinging onto him like he was a vine. 

The smaller part of him, the better part, knew you were drunk out of your mind. Absolutely plastered, but you had to stand there looking like a goddess. 

He didn’t really know why he was letting you touch him, maybe in hopes the deeper, darker side of him would win like it always did. Ransom knew better, even if he tried to hide it from everyone including himself. 

He liked you. From the very first moment, he knew he’d have to get you. Whether it cost your own sanity or his, Ransom didn’t care. 

It’s why he left you drunk and alone, safely tucked into the comfort of your sheets with his number left in your phone. Even taking the liberty of texting himself from it. 

He could never be too careful. Letting you slip through his fingers was simply not an option. 

Thanks to him, you didn’t forget about him. 

The next morning your memory only held vague images of a handsome stranger helping you home, thankfully he seemed to be nothing more than a doting gentlemen. The first for you to ever come across. 

Until later in the afternoon the following day, Ransom introduced himself and checked up on you, worming his presence into your life. 

Then he kept talking to you everyday, surprising even himself in the matter. Truly, he couldn’t help it. Part of him loved how gently you spoke to him on the phone. No one ever talked to him with such a level of care. 

He always warranted yelling, usually he was the one who stirred the pot. He enjoyed it, and thrived in a chaotic environment. It’s what he grew up in. Ransom was more than comfortable with his own family yelling and cursing him out until the sun came up. He did just the same. 

So, whenever you sweetly asked him how he was, it threw him off guard. 

Not a single soul even cared or bothered to ask him anything. Truth be told, Ransom was a sack of shit treating everyone like they were the gum beneath his shoe. It didn’t matter who talked to him — Ransom was simply more superior in every conceivable way. 

He would succumb to not a single soul. Paving his own way through life, with only the money from his trust fund of course. 

Then the two of you fell into each other and he could pinpoint the exact moment he did. 

The weeks and months blended together. He couldn’t really tell you why he was still lingering around, while he got nothing in return. You did get him off once or twice, but he wasn’t fucking you like he really wanted to. 

Maybe it was the innocence in your eyes pulling his soul into the very little good he still had left within him. Or maybe it was the way your thumb dragged over his cheek when you thought he was in slumber, blissfully unaware of your touch. 

More importantly his favorite thing, the way you let him hold you when the two of you cuddled. Your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, bouncy cheeks pressed into whatever knit sweater he decided to wear that day. 

It was all the little things, unknowingly making him fall in deep like he never had before. 

Unwelcoming to him, his mother came barreling in one Sunday afternoon, while you slept in his arms. Even as Linda screamed his name, you never jolted, out like a log. Safe in the peace he kept you in. 

Linda looked annoyed, irritated he even had company in the first place but not surprised. What truly shocked her was they both had clothes on.  Not truly believing Ransom was capable of such a sinless interaction. 

He knew what she wanted; he didn’t even have to move from his position to continue a private conversation. Not that it would get him off the couch, and out of your embrace in the first place. 

“I said no. Don’t know why you bothered coming here.” Linda angrily sighed. “You should at least show up.” 

Ransom didn’t notice, but subconsciously continued to run his fingertips up and down your spine. Linda did. She noticed that he didn’t even care she was judging him, but let you remain unbothered sleeping in her son’s embrace. 

“It’s for Walt. You need to be there.” She stepped closer, hoping the increase in her volume would wake you. “I expect you to grace us with your wonderful presence as does the rest of the family.” 

The sarcasm dripped, attempting to coax him out of the four walls he never seemed to leave. Not recently, anyhow. 

“I already told you, I can’t.” Now Ransom was irritated and he really wished she would calm the fuck down. It was one day, one event. There would always be another, that much wasn’t lost on him. “I have plans. Send him my best.” 

Assuming it was the rumbling of his chest when he spoke, you moved jolting yourself in his arms, before remaining still again. His heartbeat continues to soothe you. 

“You have plans? What else could be more important than your family?” The louder Linda’s voice grew the more you stirred, pissing him off. 

He really needed to change his locks. 

Even if he had no intention of going, he needed his mother to leave. Really for your own sake — trying to save you from Linda giving you a cold shoulder followed with a third degree burn. 

“Fine. I’ll go. Can you just leave?” She accepted Ransom’s submission, before looking at your figure. Sound asleep and clinging to her one and only, sinking your claws into him. 

She really didn’t like the way Ransom was looking at you. Linda was positive he would never be able to care about someone other than himself, but here he was, holding you close to his chest. 

Almost like his life depended on it. 

“Who is she to you?” With a raised eyebrow, eyes narrowing to you before meeting back with Ransom’s cerulean blues. 

“I don’t know yet.” Ransom paused looking down at you, so beautiful. Holding a light so pure, so radiant; he hoped no matter how cruel he could be, he’d never act like that towards you. “Maybe someone I don’t deserve, but want to be better for.” 

His rough, calloused fingers drawing mindless patterns on the exposed skin of your waist. He didn’t know what Linda said next or when she left. 

Time seemed to stand still, his confession hitting his chest fiercely. He let himself sit with it for a moment, before you woke up. Enjoying a moment where he didn’t have to deal with anything, he didn’t have to say a word. 

He could just enjoy the moment without eyes judging him or you questioning why his eyes seemed to shine just a bit brighter whenever you were around. 

It was the first of many. Moments where he felt small pieces of himself chipped away into your care. Planes of existences within him no one had ever scratched the surface of. 

Much like right now as you cried into his chest, begging for mercy. 

Because you were afraid. Terrified you had made the worst mistake, an unforgivable one. You lied about your past and to Ransom it felt like more than a betrayal. More accurately he felt a dagger in his heart placed strategically with your murderous hands. 

He’d never felt such empathy and pain at once. Maybe he’d never been empathetic a day in his life at all. 

Until now. 

To make matters worse, he knew his entire family was watching the whole scene from the window. It wasn’t from worry or concern for either one of you. Mainly all of them enjoying pain being inflicted on Ransom. 

Linda of course wallowing in her ego, he could practically see her bask in her own pride. Another thing she’d been right about checked off the list. 

The rest of the family watched the two of you fight with shiteating grins permanently stamped on their face. They’d never seen Ransom care about anyone but you. To watch the relationship he held so close to his heart blow up so publicly, only fueled the fire to Ransom’s rage. 

Except Harlan. 

Even through his hot, beating anger Ransom was trying his best to comfort you. To calm you down even if you had been the one to be caught red handed. Harlan couldn’t believe it, someone Ransom seemed to care about more than himself. 

More than any of his family. Not that Harlan was offended. Well, maybe a little, but more so he was thrilled his grandson finally found someone he had to grow up for. Someone he had to earn, not buy. 

No bribes. No schemes. No games. 

Just you. 

“Hugh, please talk to me.” How could he? It’s not like he had much to say. Maybe he did, he just wasn’t sure how to get the words out without hurting you or himself. 

“I know I lied and I fucked up, but please — we need to talk about it.” Soft hands reaching for his own, but he brushed them off, his hands snaked higher on your waist. “We should have talked about this the moment you met me.” 

Dead silence is all you were met with as he walked the fine line of pushing you away, leaving you behind and pulling you closer than he ever had. 

“You’re right. I should have told you the truth but can you blame me?” He met you with solemn eyes and his own heart beating rapidly. “Yes I can.” Ransom was trying to act cold and distant but the two windows to his soul told a different story. 

“That’s fair.” Even as he was holding you, Ransom still felt like he was a galaxy away. He was withholding himself from you like a turtle retracting into their own protection. A year ago, before he met you, he knew he would have never even recognized it. 

Now, you made it possible for him to be aware of just how much he had changed. He broke old habits of his own just to please you so when you disappointed him, this unreachable high standard he held you to, it shattered his sense of self. 

“Did you still love him?” Ransom questioned you. “I did. At the time, he’s all I ever really knew. I thought that’s what love felt like. The only image of love I had was the one he gave me. So, I ran with him and it crushed me.” 

Ransom had to pretend the words you were speaking didn’t split him into you two. The image of you falling in love with someone else was enough to make him wanna strangle your ex. 

His friend. 

“Then we just got into one really big blow out. Right in the bar in front of all of his friends I had met for the first time that night.” You reached for a chunk of his sweater, clenching the material in your hand, like you were trying to convince yourself to let the words fall from your mouth. 

“He told me how much I’d been irritating him and I couldn’t help but notice every girl he flirted with and touched right in front of me.” You tested the waters, placing both of your hands over his chest, the beat of his heart calming you down. 

“Then I just cracked. It was only one of the many fights we’d been having over the course of the past few months. Everyone single argument pushed me closer to the edge, until the last one actually did.” You sighed, watching as he frowned. 

“I ended things that night, before getting thoroughly plastered and soon enough crying on the cement. Wasted and lonely out of my mind, until I met you.” You moved your hand from his heart, cupping his clean shaven face. 

“You made me realize I never knew what love really meant or felt like.” This piqued Ransom’s interest. 

You said love. 

Could a tragedy bring out the words Ransom craved to hear more than anything in the world? 

Maybe you cared about him, more than anyone ever showed him. But loved him? How could someone be as hateful as him be worthy of someone like you? 

Even if you had broken his heart, he’d done far worse to more people than he could count. He wasn’t really in a place to judge but it didn’t change the fact it still hurt. A lot. 

“Hugh.” You heard him gulp rather loudly. “Yes?” His tone came out as more of a question than a response. 

The silence he gifted you was unsettling at the very least. “You've barely said a word.” He was surprised he didn’t scurry off in his beamer the second he saw the guilt reach your eyes. 

He was surprised he hadn’t let his anger take over and let the rage he felt inside body take it all out on you. 

He was surprised he somehow couldn’t inflict a single hateful word towards you, even as you sat with his heart in your hands. 

In pure bliss of just how much you owned him. 

“I hate it. This fucking corner you’ve back me into. Not to mention for the prying eyes of my entire family to watch the show.” The sharp tone he uses sensoring you. “You used me just to get back at him.” 

“Like I was some pawn in your game and I really even shouldn’t be mad.” He paused, trying to choose his words as carefully as he can. “I’ve done the same thing to so many different women. Used them and threw them out at my earliest inconvenience.” To your surprise, even Ransom’s, a single tear left his eye showing you how much you really meant to him. 

You hated yourself for letting it get to this point. 

“But you? I could never even think about hurting you. I could never live with myself if I treated you like everyone else because you’re so much more than that to me.” The tears continued to roll. The dame Ransom kept shut his entire life, opened because of you and he just wanted to make it stop. 

He would give anything — even you. 

He just wanted to not feel like a piece of shit for once in his life. For a moment, he thought he might have a chance to be something more than the picture he portrayed in everyone’s mind. You showed him maybe it was more complex than it seemed. 

“I just assumed I was that for you.” You sighed in frustration, softly wiping his tears away. “You are, though. You are more than that.” 

“Then how could you be so okay with lying to me?” The crease between his eyebrows only created more of an indention as he felt the anger trying to escape out of him. 

You let the tension get to you first. 

“Because I-I was scared if I told you the truth, you’d never tell me.” You puzzled him once again. You softly reach up between his furrowed eyebrows, the pad of your thumb smoothing it out. 

“Tell you what?” His mind was clouded with the possibilities of what he could have missed. 

“I can’t spell this one out for you.” You were tired of being the one to do everything first. Even if your intentions weren’t free from fault once you realized who he was, your feelings for him were anything but. 

“I don’t know what you want from me. You only let me fall for you because you knew how much it would hurt him.” He bit back, growing impatient and tired. “Any other time, I would have cared. Probably would have been more than happy to assist. But you made me-” 

Then Ransom cut himself off, jumping out of the swing and away from you. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I thought I could.” He literally sprinted to his beamer, but you chased him. 

You were hell bent and just as crazy as he was. Maybe it’s why it worked for as long as it did. 

“Hugh! Get back here.” You were running, thankful you’d gone for a more casual outfit today, the sneakers supporting your feet far better than the heels you’d usually wear. 

Maybe if it was someone with a normal childhood upbringing you would have just cut your losses but this was someone who chose to be called Ransom. 

This was someone who chose to run away from love and care because the only affectionate way he knew how to treat someone was to throw money at them. 

This was someone who had the communication of a ten year old because that’s when his own mother didn’t bother to mess with him anymore before sending him off to boarding school. 

This was someone who didn’t know how to love — and to be loved. 

By the time you caught up to him his was digging for his keys, but he couldn’t fucking find them. 

“Hugh Ransom Drysdale.” Your tone was sharp and he knew you meant business. “For once in your life, stop running away.” 

“Why not? What good has it ever done for me to stay?” His back was facing you, his broad shoulders stilled with the rest of his body. Almost like he was ashamed of what he was hiding. 

“I can’t speak for everyone else. I can’t speak for your mother or for Richard. For Harlan or for anyone else you thought might abandon you and really did.” You inched you way closer until you knew he felt how close you were to him.

“I can only speak for me.” Giving yourself, the final piece of you to a man who might run away from it. 

You were so close he felt your breath on his back, and it made him tremble. He was shaking, terrified of it all. You didn’t let him be for long. 

Intertwining your fingers with his, as he kept them at his sides, rubbing your thumb along the palm of his hand. 

“I’m sorry for the way I hurt you. Lied to you. You never deserved it. Never.” You thought it would be easier if he didn’t have to look at you while pouring your heart out to him. A theory proved to be right as he gave your hand a squeeze. 

“You’ve done nothing but treat me like a princess. You’ve done right by me, more than anyone else I’ve ever met in my life. It made me feel inadequate. My dark secret, always looming over us like a dark cloud of my own personal doing.” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t done the proper thing by us and made you feel like I used you. You had every right to feel it because I did.” You took a deep breath, mustering up the courage to face whatever the future held for the two of you. 

“I never expected to fall in love with a trust fund, playboy brat.” You felt him take a deep breath, like a breath he’d be holding all his life could finally be set free. 

“I love you, Hugh.” The next thing you knew he had you pushed up against the car, lips hungrily attacking your own. 

All forgiven because you love him. You actually were in love with him. 

He couldn’t fathom it really because you’d been the first. To accept him just as he was. The first to refuse to call him Ransom because you like the way Hugh rolled off your tongue better. 

You liked how he felt on your tongue, too. 

The first to tell him Fran and Marta should call him Hugh because you wanted to be the only one who got to. The first woman to cook for him, willingly and not attached to the Thrombey payroll. 

The first woman he had ever fallen in love with. 

The first one he’d stick around and not run away for. 

So, he kissed you. Hard. Softly whispering how much he loved you into the kiss, because maybe he wasn’t ready to say it outright. Loud and proud. 

Yet, he felt it with every bone of his body — no longer lost in the blues.

taglist: @tonystankschild @parkastoria @tinylumpiaa @brattycherubwrites

[arteacactus]

Can we get a sick fic Janus hiding in his room until someone else breaks down the door? Cause he thought no one would care

this is so out of nowhere bc i like never get fic requests here anymore it’s like always on my sideblog hissceit ,, but it’s 10000% welcome and appreciated JDFJFD thank u .. also i apologize for how needlessly wordy this is HAHA i strayed from the prompt like .. a lot

warnings for sickness , the coughs , vomiting, sore throat , etc , the whole shebang-- and some cursing 

-----

It’s not that Janus had never been sick before, it’s just that...

Well, he’d never been sick before.

He wasn’t positive why (which irked him; he hated being in the dark about things, especially things concerning himself), but he had some theories- the most plausible one thus far simply being that while Thomas had always viewed the Light Sides as human, to some extent, he saw Janus as a two-faced snake; a monster kept hidden away in the shadows under his bed. And monsters didn’t get touched by things like disease. So while the others got touched with sickness occasionally, Janus never did.

But if Janus was getting sick now..

That implied that after he told them his name, Thomas started seeing him as somewhat human, too, with vulnerabilities like the rest.

He wasn’t sure just how he felt about that, but he didn’t love it (he liked being untouchable, okay?).

Ah, well, Janus supposed the why didn’t matter much at the moment. He could ponder that after the fact.

Right now was the time to think about how to end it, because it was pure torture.

He was too hot and too cold all at once, his head throbbed and his body ached in places he never knew could ache, his eyes were sore and oozing and his nose wasn’t faring much better. His throat was raw as if he’d spent hours and hours screaming at nothing, and even after trudging his way into the Dark Side’s kitchen for a cup of tea (though it was more like a cup of honey and lemon with a hint of green tea), it felt absolutely no better; in fact, he just felt worse, because he had to leave bed, go downstairs, spend twenty minutes standing around to make the tea, and then go back up the stairs to his room again.

He’d been fidgeting with his blankets for the past three hours; having them on made him too hot, having them off made him too cold, and so he settled for having one leg covered and nothing else (oddly enough, this was actually a good compromise). The air in his room was hot and stuffy which certainly didn’t help- nor did it help his sinuses any, as it made his headache pound worse and his airways were thoroughly blocked off. He dreaded drinking or swallowing anything as it sent the most uncomfortably painful sensation down his throat and rendered him to a groaning, pained mess.

He clutched his pillow weakly, pressing his head into the hot surface. He hated this. Usually, he thrived in the heat, as his room was typically colder than a jail cell, but this time he wanted it gone. He wished it was winter, just so he could full-body launch himself into a mound of snow and sleep for eternity. 

He felt a slight tug, the distinct feeling of someone requesting his presence, and promptly shooed it away. Not only was he just wearing pants, but he was sick, and he’d rather die than show that level of weakness to anybody.

Three days before, when he’d first felt his symptoms come on, he’d briefly considered going to someone for help; perhaps Remus, because he was his best friend, or Logan, because surely he’d know how to handle diseases and how to cure them, or maybe even Patton, because he was a father figure and might have even made him soup- but he had quickly banished the thought. Sure, maybe they knew his name now, but they still really didn’t like him and had absolutely no reason to help him and not laugh at his predicament.

Well. Remus liked him well enough, but he would have just taken his morning star and bashed Janus across the head with it and called it good, so Janus had to pass on that.

Another tug came, a little more forcefully this time, and Janus dismissed it, just as forcefully. For a little precaution, he took a deep breath and waved his hand, locking up his room so no one could rise up/appear in it, nor could they come through his door. The strain it put on him to maintain that lock was almost enough to make him pass out, but he didn’t dare remove it; he couldn’t risk anybody seeing him in this state. 

He forced his body to roll over to the side, pressing his face into his pillow and sighing in relief as his nose unplugged just enough to take a deep breath in. He found himself actually wishing he’d sneeze, just for the temporary relief it brought. 

He pointedly ignored the next few tugs that hit him, though they weren’t as forceful and harsh as the past couple were. He could only assume the only reason they actually wanted him up there was to lecture him, because him being incapacitated like this surely was affecting Thomas in some way that they didn’t like.

Well, sucks to be them, Janus thought in mild frustration, I’m staying right here until this all goes away and I don’t want to die anymore.

Eventually, the incessant tugging slowed to a stop, and then they finally left him alone.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Janus curled his body into a tight ball, cringing at the sticky feeling of his sweaty skin against his silk sheets, and tried to fall asleep.

Thankfully, sleep claimed him easily, and he drifted off.

However easily it came, though, it certainly wasn’t very forgiving. 

He didn't wake up randomly, but he kept getting thrown so many vivid nightmares and odd, fever-induced dreams that he almost wished he was waking up every few minutes, if only to get away from whatever things his mind kept throwing at him.

He wasn’t awake, but he was aware of his own constant tossing and turning, his bed creaking in protest every time he thrashed and threw his body around the mattress, and when he finally did open his eyes (his throbbing head wasn’t very appreciative of it), he realized he’d somehow twisted himself so his head was at the foot of his bead and his blankets had been fully tossed onto the floor. His pillows weren’t faring much better; only two of his usual six remained in place, and they were mangled to death, the rest on the floor with his blankets.

Janus truly couldn’t bring himself to give a damn- instead, he weakly pushed his body upright, trying not to topple over as his head swam, and fell right back down in the proper position. Thankfully, though, his head not touching the pillows in a while meant they were delightfully chilled, and he moaned aloud at the lovely sensation it brought him. Absently he wondered if he should gather the strength to get himself an ice pack or run an ice bath, but thought better of it. After all, he was still part snake; he’d rather not throw himself into a self-induced comatose state from the cold. 

He blindly reached out and grabbed ahold of his bedside clock, a little antique thing he designed himself to fit his aesthetic despite being very poor at reading Roman numerals, and squinted as he tried to decipher how long he’d been asleep for.

He nearly dropped the thing upon realizing he’d slept for eleven straight hours.

He slid it back onto his nightstand and groaned loudly, though it quickly turned into a pained, chest-wracking cough. He couldn’t avoid it; he had to get up and eat something, or drink something, or get literally anything in his body, because whether he liked it or not, that was the only way he was going to get over this thing quicker. 

He managed to move just enough to get up and off the bed (nevermind the fact he nearly fell straight on the floor the second he stood), and took a couple shaky steps towards the door. The moment he reached out to turn the knob, though, the knocking started.

He froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights as he stared wide-eyed at the piece of wood in front of him, the only thing separating him from them.

There was a call of ‘Janus?’ that was so soft, Janus didn’t actually know who it came from; but that didn’t matter now, because the doorknob was turning and fuck, when did he let go of his lock?

Janus snapped his fingers, and managed to summon all but his hat when the door opened and revealed- much to his surprise- Virgil.

Janus and Virgil blinked at each other for a moment, dumbfounded, but thankfully, Virgil didn’t seem to see anything off about him, and just lowered his gaze and shrunk into his hoodie, refusing to meet Janus’ eyes.

“We- uh, they were trying to call you earlier today, you know.” Virgil’s voice was low and gruff, and Janus could honestly say this was the best possible Side to come see him. Remus was loud and shrill, Patton was too cheery and Roman was boisterous- Logan probably wouldn’t have been awful, but with his insistence to look everyone in the eye as he spoke to them, Janus was sure he’d have deciphered what was going on in a second.

“I’m aware,” Janus replied, internally cringing at his rough tone. He cleared his throat, which was screaming in protest at speaking. 

Virgil didn't seem to notice- or if he did, he didn’t care. “Well. You made them worry, and they sent me to come collect you.”

“Worr- Collect?” Janus echoed in confusion, taken off guard by everything Virgil said.

“Yeah, uh, you worried them so now they won’t take no for an answer. You’re gonna have to come with me.” Virgil, at least, seemed a little sheepish saying this, but he also has a particularly determined and frustrated look to him. Clearly, he wasn’t happy being the one picked to come ‘collect’ Janus, and he wasn’t going to take no from him as an answer, either.

“Wh-” Janus was cut off as Virgil gripped his arm, and any protests he could have made died on his tongue as they started moving. Dizziness attacked him with such ferocity that he was honestly astounded that he hadn’t immediately fallen over, and his stomach lurched at the speed they were moving. Of course, he didn’t bring this up, just took a deep breath and pushed through. After all, Virgil was the last person he wanted to know about his current state.

Once Virgil brought them across the line that separated the Dark Sides from the Light Sides, the immediate bright artificial light from the lamps and ceiling lights making his head pound in a way that was even worse than what the red light of the heat lamps in the snake terrariums in his room caused. 

The air here, though, was clear and fresh, and he basked in the coolness of it as it surrounded him. If it wasn’t for the lights, he’d almost be tempted ask to stay for a while.

Once they made it to the living room, Virgil released him from his grasp, and slunk over into his own corner in the stairwell- and Janus found himself standing right next to Logan.

Unfortunately, they were all staring at him.

Time to put your acting skills to work, Janus, he thought to himself as he heaved an internal sigh, and plastered a toothy grin on his face that bared his sharp canines just enough to make them flinch away.

“So. I was summoned?” His throat protested speech, but thankfully his voice came out smooth and silky, not one bit of it hinting towards his predicament.

“Yeah, and you never answered..?” Thomas seemed more concerned than anything, but Janus definitely saw some suspicion on Roman’s expression (he couldn’t blame him, after how his name reveal went), and Patton was more fidgety than usual. Logan, bless him, didn’t seem to be acting any different, and Virgil looked just as bored as he usually was.

Remus, however...

Well, Remus was looking at Janus with a suspicious gaze similar to Roman’s but far more scrutinizing. Janus briefly felt a flare of panic. If there was anyone here to notice he was off, it would be his best friend, who he lived with and saw every day.

“I was resting, Thomas, would you blame your personification of self-preservation for taking a day off for self-care?” Janus’ tone was exasperated. He wasn’t lying, not really; he was resting, and he was taking a day off for self-care.

Just.. more than one day.

“Respectfully, I have to.. what is the term, ‘call bullshit’?” Came Logan’s voice next to him, and he hoped to God that Logan didn’t notice Janus’ feverish tremors. “You’ve been MIA for the past few days, and it’s escalated to the point where Thomas is beginning to react to it. There is something else going on, and we’d like to know what’s going on.”

Ah, yes, for the good of Thomas, Janus couldn’t help but think a little bitterly, Really, I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not like they’d worry about my wellbeing. “I’m afraid I wasn’t bullshitting you, Logan,” Janus replied coolly, “It was the truth.”

“Then how come your room looked trashier than Remus’?” Virgil’s voice, where earlier it was comfortingly gruff, was now an offputting growl. Despite his words, though, Janus could tell he was trying to act like he didn’t actually care. He took note of that, because Virgil caring about him was odd.

“Rearranging,” Janus replied simply, and hoped they took that alone as an acceptable answer.

Of course, they didn’t.

“You never rearrange,” Virgil’s tone turned accusatory, and then Patton cut in. 

“Well, maybe then that’s why he’s doing it now? For something fresh?” He sounded hopeful, as if he couldn’t wait for this entire conversation to be over. Janus felt similarly.

“I’ve lived with him, Patton, I know him, and it’s not something that happens.” Virgil argued, but this seemed to set off Remus as he cut in with, “And you left, so who are you to claim you ‘know him’?”

This sparked an argument amongst themselves, as they fought over the sudden new topic that thankfully centered around Virgil more than anything, and with Logan, Roman, and Thomas trying to mediate, there was no attention put on him anymore.

Janus took this momentary distraction to let out a sigh of relief, the mix of loud voices and trying to act like nothing was up was doing absolutely no good for his headache and exhaustion. He mourned the loss of his hat, because he could have used that to hide his face away from the lights that were bearing down on him and making his skin feel uncomfortably hot.

Though perhaps that was from all the layers of his outfit.

Unfortunately, though, as the seconds passed, the voices seemed to get louder, the lights got brighter, the clothes got hotter and his stomach was churning, his hands were sweating, his head was pounding his legs were getting shaky oh god his ears were ringing oh fuck fuck stop the noise please turn off the lights please stop please stop-

Distantly, he felt his throat start hurting intensely and he realized he was speaking out loud, stammering out pleads that were growing muffled as everything swamped him. His hands raised to cover his ears, trying to drown out the noise around him, and his legs gave out beneath him. He collapsed, feeling something warm and wet trickle down his face- tears? Was he crying? No, surely he was just imagining the feeling- but before he hit the hard floor, he felt something grab a hold of him, long, spider-like fingers gripping the undersides of his arms like a lifeline. He felt sharp nails and soft ruffles and realized Remus had caught him, he must have run from his spot to catch him before he fell, and Janus felt the stinging gaze of everybody on him. He felt like a mouse that was dropped into a snake’s cage for feeding, cowering beneath the penetrating gaze of the predator before him. The roles were reversed, and he hated it.

He managed to pry open his own eyes- when had he shut them?- and the moment he saw the horrified gazes trained on him, he fled.

He forced himself from Remus’ arms and he vanished, retreating back to his room, where the lights were off and the curtains were shut and the only thing he had to deal with was the light of his snakes’ heat lamps.

The hot, stuffy air attacked him with a vengeance, though, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He stripped himself of his clothes again, his skin glistening, heat radiating off of his person. 

He hurriedly locked up his room again, and fell to his knees beside his bed, and retched.

Thankfully, he’d managed to grab his trashcan, but it didn’t make him feel any less humiliated.

He thought he was doing himself a favor, hiding his state from all of them, but from not going to just one of them when he could, he had ended up breaking down in front of all of them. 

Body trembling and chest heaving, Janus collapsed onto the hard floor beneath him, unable to pull himself onto his bed, and curled up into a tight ball.

He wanted this to end.

Janus was so caught up in his misery that he didn’t even notice pounding on his door, all of his senses wrapped up in himself, in his throbbing head and hot skin and burning throat and sore stomach and the sound of his blood pumping in his ears, until there was a deafening ‘crash’ and splinters of wood came flying into his room.

He flinched at the noise and forced himself to sit up, but the sudden movement made him gag, and he found himself panting like a dog trying to cool himself off and calm down his raging nausea. 

There was a barrage of voices at first, but they were quickly hushed- from what, he didn’t know- and then a delightfully cold hand clutched his bicep, and he couldn’t hold back the relieved moan he let out in response.

“I’m gonna put you in bed, okay, Janus?” Came a soft voice- Remus- and Janus didn’t protest as he was gently lifted up by the Creative twin. Admittedly, he didn’t even know Remus could be that gentle, but he was grateful for it nonetheless.

There was some quiet shuffling and the sound of a dull ‘smack’ and then someone cursing softly, but soon enough Janus was set down on a set of smooth cotton sheets, clean and cool, and an absolute blessing.

“Jan-Jan, why didn’t you tell us you were sick?” Remus’ tone was scolding, like a parent to a young child (ironic, considering Janus was the one who raised Remus), and Janus opened his eyes just enough to see Remus’ face swathed in the shadows of his room. 

“Weak,” Janus croaked in reply, his voice wrecked, “Di’n.. wan’ see.”

“Your pride is going to be the death of you,” Remus sighed, and Janus heard some other voices pipe in.

“We would have helped you, Janus,” Thomas sounded sad, almost regretful. For what, Janus would never know.

“Indeed,” Logan’s voice was a comfort, Janus was willing to admit. “In fact, I will begin researching how to best care for this as soon as possible, so you are in utmost comfort while you recover.”

“I’ll make some soup,” Came Patton’s quiet promise, “And water, and tea.”

“I changed your bedsheets,” Roman seemed shy, “If you need me to, I can try and make a set that keeps you cooled down.”

Janus almost moaned aloud at the thought, and Roman must have seen it in his expression because he perked up right away. 

“Sorry for, uh, dragging you away so forcefully,” Virgil muttered, and Janus just managed to flap his hand dismissively. 

“You didn’ know.” He mumbled weakly, and he felt Remus’ cool touch brush away hair that clung to his sweaty forehead. 

“And now we do. So we’re going to take care of you, because we care about you.” He promised in a tone with no room for argument, with the others murmuring in agreement behind him.

And for once, Janus believed him, and let himself be taken care of.

[readbythestarlight]

c2e131

How we feeling everyone? Are we ready for the possibility of everything going absolutely and horribly wrong? I know I’m not!

Sam

Sam

SAM

NO

This man

SAAAAAM

OH MY GOD

"I have a mirror where is it?!" Sam

I hope he was planning on a haircut anyway

The things this man will do to horrify his friends

"That was despicable" he says of his friends (mostly) doing his best to keep him from destroying his hair

[[MORE]]

"Do we still do years!?" mood

Matt did you just call them Vox Machina

Yeeeeesssss Yasha time to prove yourself baby!!

Oh dang Matt that’s a cool way to make sure the rest of them get to be involved

I have a feeling that (if) she loses the lesson will be that her strength comes from her friends and that she doesn’t have to do things alone? Something along those lines

Damn Liam don’t hold back xD

They’re gonna kill her in the first round omg

I love how they’re still so proud whenever she remembers to rage

Thank Kord for that tho

Travis’s just literal YELLS of delight when she goes reckless lol

S: "what’s my backstory"

M: ":) here’s ur backstory u little shit"

Travis just SHOUTING is literally the best part of this

He’s having SO much fun and is so happy for Ashley it’s adorable

RIP storm Laura

I thought for sure she said 66 and I died

Sam is truly the most chaotic man I’ve ever seen

Oh my GODDD YES GIRL

Sam’s antics are so funny

Go Yasha go Yasha go Yasha come on girl

YES it’s about time

I’m having some emotions

Oh thank gods Wentsforth is okay at least

I’m still worried as fuck about Yussah though

Something tells me he’s not on Darktow?

JESTER

he asked you NOT to

I’m gonna be emo about Fjord and Vandrin now

"No spoilers please" oh I love him instantly

Hot springs before they gk to a nice frozen wasteland of doom, good call

Oh I hope he’s not upset

Okay good

I’m glad that went over well

Yeah y’all should definitely warn Essek? And you should definitely like? Call him? Now?

"Do you think you could work alongside your abuser?" THANK you Beau for straight up calling it like it is

I really really really don’t want them fighting alongside Trent

And also they should kinda consult Essek about this? He’s not gonna want to fight alongside them

Also yeah listen Beau’s right the concern isn’t about you killing him it’s about him preying on and distracting you through your trauma

"You may be under scrutiny. Ikythong could know about our involvement with you. He could be coming. Maybe we could help though. Where are you now?"

Oh boy poor Essek

"This is challenging tidings. Um. Then I cannot stay here long. I am at the outpost. If you still need my help we should leave soon. Soon."

Oh babe.

CALLIOPE ARE YOU UP

ARE YOU UP

CALLIOPE ARE YOU UP

god he’s the best little brother

Okay okay they made it to Eiselcross at least

Now just get to my boy

Oh NO that’s too far

I was hoping we’d get into a fight this episode just to save my stress levels but at this point it’s looking like that will be next week

Literally my only consolation rn is that Matt won’t send them into another huge battle with no spells if he can help it

Aw Fjord! He seems upset :(

HOT BOI

“Friends, please, enter.”

Y’all listen to Essek in this

Trent isn’t to be trusted here

Caleb apologizing for putting Essek in danger like Caleb babe </3

He was already in danger

Oh SHIT I’ve been waiting for Essek to find out about the eyes on Caleb (and Beau but obviously mostly Caleb)

I should write fic about that actually

Seriously though guys please listen to Essek on this one

E: “I am jealous... of the bravery and confidence you have in such things. I am still a coward.”

C: “Coward? You’ve dared much.” (Okayokayokayokayokay)

E: “I have done everything for myself, and when any of it came to bear I have done everything I can to hide and flee. I am more than happy to go and put my life on the line for this cause, but there is something about that man and what he could bring upon me and those he—he may very well be coming anyway, but if you want to work with him I may have to work independently, maybe follow. I feel I would make this messier than it needs to work. I’m not saying I’d leave you alone, but... you’d have to work separately.”

Thank god Fjord thanks for seeing reason

“Would you mind terribly taking off your shirt?”

Caduceus that’s Caleb’s line

For real tho guys plz listen to Essek and don’t ask Trent for help

“One person that we can trust—“ they trust Essek again and I’m CRYING about it

OmG I can’t breathe

Hot boiiiiio finally going on a trip with the gang! Sure hope nobody does horrifically!

“We are going to stick with you. We feel we can trust you more.”

Like a small hit to the heart and also making him feel warm and fuzzy on the inside y’all I’m crying

“I am thankful for the trust you put in me and I hope to... make this up to you. ...Anyway I’m bad at such discussions. Shall we?”

My BOY

Dagen makes nine

Prayer circle for next week guys I can’t lose a second purple fave in this campaign

[spiltscribbles]

Hey! I was bored today, and decided to load up Hamilton and thought about your fics. I read them all, they're so good. Any chance you'll bless the fandom with another Hamliza fic? You do such a good job modernizing their relationship. Please consider writing something new, I'll take a paragraph, hell a sentence! lol. Anyway, love your blog and it's always great to see a post from you!

~Notes: holy fuck baby!!! This is so fucking beautiful and kind and so sweet and I can’t even begin to deal😭😭 You are such a sugarplum fairy and I love u to bits!! And the idea that you like my version of them is so crazy!! Ur an angel! And I’m screaming! I just love Eliza so much😭😭 I hope that you like this even slightly!!!!💜💜😌

.-

A Reblog Is Worth A Galaxy!

.-

Occasionally— when Alexander is a bit tipsy and a bit lonely and feeling lightly poetic— he thinks of the cobble stoned pieces that patch together the mosaic of his life. He remembers his mother’s faint laughter, and he pictures Eliza’s iridescent grin on the day of their  wedding. He alternates reminiscing on the different nights at hospital after the birth of each of his children, how he’d count their tiny fingers and smaller toes while Eliza was slumped besides him— flushed and radiant and so, so miraculous. Though the latter half of that image wasn’t there eleven months ago, when she had given birth to baby Will three weeks after the editorial had been published— finally tipping the precarious state of his world to ruin with a brimstone sort of finality. Three weeks after the affair was made public and the light in her eyes that she had always glimmered with whenever gazing at Alexander, was scuffed away permanently, under the heel of his carelessness and his cruelty and his childish cravings to feel needed by someone— by absolutely anyone. 

And as he rocks in the ornate, elm carved chair that his in-laws had bought for Philip’s nursery over sixteen years ago now— with his youngest son in arms— Alexander thinks that it’s right— that it only makes sense that in the handful of memories that are the cornerstones of his existence, Eliza is in the vast majority of them. Eliza with her quiet but strong resilience. Eliza with her breathtaking, but unassuming beauty. Eliza in how she’s always been the beacon of light— a personified  essence of hope— in the center of the tempest that is his life.  A quiet haven that he’s always depended on like nothing else.

Eliza has always been, and will always be the most vital part of it all, the lifeline that pumps breath to his lungs and blood to his heart and makes Alexander feel like he’s finally standing on solid ground. But he doesn’t get to say that out loud anymore, shouldn’t even think it in the privacy of his own mind. Not after the shattered look in her eyes had been embedded permanently, not after the separation had been officialize, and especially not now, while he’s trying to recall that old, French lullaby that Eliza had always crooned to their children before bed while she’s graciously pretending he’s not here.

It had been a stipulation in the agreement that they scrounged up over half  a year ago now. Alexander has been relegated to the loft they keep in Murray Hill while Eliza and the children remain residing in the estate right outside the city limits— The Grange. But because she’s always been touched by an otherworldly kindness that Alexander has never witnessed in another soul, Eliza told him that mornings before school and dinners before bed are open for him to visit while she finishes the work she has for the non prophet she had helped build. “You don’t get to lose your kids just because it didn’t work out with us Alex— They’re your family and I won’t be the one to take them away from you, not ever.”

When she had said as much, quiet and precise and void of the warm inflections he would always lose himself inside of whenever she spoke— Alexander wanted to absolutely ball. He wanted to fall to his knees right then and beg her not to say that— not to toy with the idea that it was really and truly over between them. He wanted to tell her that he loves her, and he loves her and he’ll always love her no matter what.

But for perhaps the first time in his life, Alex had held his tongue and only thanked her for always being the best of the lot. He was afraid if he spoke his true thoughts out loud he’d make that torn, desperately pained look melt back into her features like those first few weeks after the Twitter trends and media frenzy and poisonous gossip spreading through the circle of blue bloods that Eliza had been the heiress of since birth, and where Alexander had fought tooth and nail to belong. But besides that, he thinks he was mostly terrified that she wouldn’t betray any emotion at all— That she’d stay still and frozen and detached— forever out of his reach all over again.

Alexander’s heart twists up in an ugly, painful sort of way at the memory of that tragic brunch between them, and he physically shakes his head— as if the pictures of that afternoon  could just fall out his ears and disappear into the powder blue curtains like dust.

Gingerly, Alexander kisses Will’s downy hair, and sets him into the crib with a final inhale to get him through the night before coming back tomorrow morning. And while he pads through the hall, he quietly peers into the bedroom of each of his kids. Listens to the hushed snoring from Jamie and Johnny’s room, before he looked into how Angie has swathed herself with pink blankets in her own, finally glancing into Philip and AJ’s at the end of the hall, bracing himself for how his eldest inevitably  tosses him a cursory glance from over his shoulder while he taps away on his new laptop. Philip’s stopped the sneers and the clipped replies after Eliza had scolded him for as much right after the pamphlet’s release, but the ice like overture between them hadn’t lessened, and no matter how much it breaks his heart that his pride and joy doesn’t ever look at him like Alexander is his hero— like he had when he was younger— he’s strangely proud. He’s proud that Philip is steadfast in his loyalty to his mother and has a moral code that Eliza had nurtured in each of them.

“You almost done with that civics paper?” He tries for broke, talking in a hush like he was afraid to spook him.

Philip’s jerky nod is all Alexander gets before he snaps his gaze back to the screen, and he takes it like a sacrament, gently shutting the door once again and shuffling downstairs to the main level of the house.

It feels like his heart lodges somewhere deep in his throat when he enters the living room only to be taunted with the sight of Eliza curled into the side of the sofa, nightgown loose on her shoulders, and dark hair piled into a messy topknot while she nibbles on the end of a pen that she’s most likely using to mark up the novel in her hands. It’s the same volume of Arthurian legends that she’s been paging through for the past few days, and he knows it’s something to do with a child at one of the group homes she visits on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, the one who is enthralled by the folklore of it all.

And it’s like an ache— a gnawing and crippling sort of yearning that he feels as he watches the image of her that he’s seen a hundred times before, wanting to thumb at the ink smattering her cheek and lips and chin. And if this was a year ago he would’ve done just that— Hell, he would’ve kissed them away with tender lips as he gathered her small form into his arms and he would’ve waxed poetic about her and her mind and her body all night long.

Or maybe not.

Maybe he would’ve simply teased her before dropping a kiss to her forehead and retreating to his study to finish the latest bill that the president wants on the house floor before the next congressional recess. Maybe Alexander never really deserved her and it took this— them split apart and tattered— for him to realize all the things he should’ve done. All the exaltations he should’ve whispered against her skin and all the caresses he should’ve massaged against her bones and all the ways he should’ve worshipped her all along. And when Eliza looks up— a strand of hair falling prettily over a large eye and the moonlight dancing atop her with a graceful sort of panache— he feels a sick sort of despair that maybe he’ll never get that chance again. Maybe she’ll leave it to Andre now.

The thought of John Andre makes Alexander’s insides pulse with a sort of anger he doesn’t think he’ has ever known, makes his fucking arteries clog with distain. But he hasn’t said anything about him to Eliza, even though he knows that ever since her ex-boyfriend has moved back into town, he’s been pursuing her non-stop, was regaled about the flowers and the letters and the diamond tennis bracelet by a peculiarly snide, but disappointed Angelica, and he knows that his sister-in-law, between her own children and her own job as the secretary of sate, has been silently rooting for Alexander to get his shit together, to prove himself worthy enough for a second chance with the sister she loves with all her heart. And he thinks that it’s almost funny that one of the most brilliant minds he’s ever known, isn’t perceptive enough to understand that Alexander had never been worthy enough for a chance with Eliza in the first place. So it’s fucking impossible now, with everything that has past and all the ghosts between them.

“Oh,” Eliza says once she finds him just standing their, gazing down at her like some sort of pathetic drifter trying to find respite from a prophet. “Will fell asleep then?”

“Erm, yeah. Yeah he was good.” Alexander replies, tries not to sputter. “Only one who’s up is Pip.”

“Not for long,” Eliza mutters mischievously, tapping a finger against her nose with an endearing sort of diffidence. “I switched the coffee out for decaf before dinner. I reckon he’s got another forty-five minutes in him.”

Alexander can’t help the choked out laughter that spills from his lips, and can’t help relishing in the helium like levity streaming through his extremities— the heady feeling that only Eliza’s ever been able to evoke. “You’re wicked.”

“I’m a concerned mother, and our son is a bit of a spaz if you hadn’t noticed?” She retorts mildly, single brow cocked as she returns to her novel. And no— God no, Alexander can’t refrain from delving back into the easy, life affirming bliss it has always felt when they talked with one another— whether it’s platitudes or past traumas or anything in-between. So like a man about to plunge into the churning ocean waves— ready for death or the best thrill of his life— Alexander eases besides her, three feet apart but close enough to smell Eliza’s  favorite jasmine shampoo wafting in the space between them.

“You enjoying the legends then?”

Eliza flickers her bright eyes back to him, uneasy and guarded. And it hurts like nothing else when he remembers how he was once able to read her open face like a favorite book that had been highlighted and underlined to hell. “Uh-huh, it’s an interesting set of stories. I think I understand why Dante enjoys them so much.”

“OH?”

“Mhmm. There’s this one myth, about one of Arthur’s knights, Sir Gawain, who was promised to this old crone and when he kisses her she becomes a fair maiden.”

Alexander isn’t sure what is going on here, knows that this is the most Eliza’s spoken to him outside the children’s schedules for months, but he’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he nods along eagerly, silently pleading for her to continue on with the summary.

“Yes, well. After she transforms, she gives him a ultimatum of sorts. Tells him that either she can stay beautiful in the daylight while they’re apart, or only at night while they’re together.” She meets his gaze head on— steadiness boring into his uncertainty. And even though he still hasn’t a clue what’s happening, he feels it in his bones that this is so very important, so he doesn’t falter, breathes in deep and doesn’t let his glance stray to her lips or her collarbone or where her hands are clutching tightly to the volume now.

“And what did he choose?”

Eliza purses her lips, like she’s not sure to tell him anymore, but something in his expression must’ve convinced her, because she shrugs a slight shoulder while standing and slapping the book shut. “He doesn’t. Tells her it’s her choice and her’s alone.”

And oh.

It’s like a punch in the gut when Alexander finally comprehends.

“Good,” he says, voice gone a bit haggard. “He should just wait until she makes up her mind.”

Remarkably, that seems to have been the right thing to have said, because the ends of Eliza’s plump lips actually quirk up into an etherial grin that’s not so threadbare like all the ones he’s seen for far too long.

“Good night, Alexander.”

“Good night, Eliza,” he replies,  feeling like sunlight is finally beginning to filter through the frost when her small hand dusts across his cheek for only a sparing moment. And while he watches her putter upstairs, Alexander knows with all his heart that he would wait for an eon just for Eliza to decide whether he’s worth letting back into her world.

.-

~My FIC Index~ 

Is where you can read my other Hamliza works!!!



[vaguely-concerned]

I’m back! Temeraire Let’s Read:Tongues of Serpents

- Tharkay literally shows up at the beginning of the second sentence; STRONG start, I highly approve, great improvement on every level

fsdafhsadkjlfh cooly tossing tables and throwing people’s drinks in their faces in the bar brawl fkjsdhfksdalfhasdj this ain’t his first rodeo huh

- these dumbasses having to clean up from the bar brawl before going home so their dragons don’t go out there and demand to have a word with the dudes who bullied their lil boys... oh my  g o d 

- “it was true, if one wished to be very particular about such things, that laurence was a convicted felon”  t e m e r a i r e... ~*technicality schmechnicality*~ it was barely treason at all really  

also temeraire being in super protective mother hen/older brother mode over the eggs is perfect  

- Jane Rolands bluff, jovial letter writing is Everything

- “Have Temeraire throw him overboard,” Tharkay had suggested laconically, when Laurence had escaped to his quarters for a little relief and some piquet . . . “He can fish him out again later,” he added, as an afterthought.

A VISIONARY. An unmitigated joy. “Have Temeraire throw him overboard”. He says what we’re all thinking. 

- AAAAAAAAH MUTUAL FIRST NAME BASIS!!!! THIS IS NOT A DRILL WTF HAVE THEY BEEN DOING ON THIS TRIP TELL ME IN DETAIL WHEN THE SWITCH HAPPENED PLEASE (also I really like that the first instance we see is “But Tenzing, I cannot trust myself” b/c that was literally the whole point of that scene in VoE. laurence... yes you can. tfw your crush is the goodiest of twoshoes and can barely move for it and doesn’t even knoooow)

- y’know if Laurence could get over this thought that asking a direct question to a friend is just ~*intolerably rude*~ he could get so much shit done 

(I guess tharkay, clearly a follower of the rosa diaz school of ‘no one is ever going to know shit about me’, is like fuck yeah I’ve struck gold with this one)

- “So spake the pot” oh I do love Actually Pretty Chill Dad William Laurence finally letting the snark out more frequently, it suits him very much (I guess his main claims to fame in a lot of circles is a) treason and b) spoiling his dragon rotten)

- rankin’s name is mentioned and everyone’s like HIIISSSSSSSS and RIGHTLY SO FUCK THAT GUY JUSTICE FOR LEVITAS

- temeraire is talking to the egg about consent and saying he’ll make sure it won’t have to do anything it doesn’t want to fjklsadhfkaslhfsd my heart

- lol lol lol weeeell in hindsight who could’ve guessed captain and second in command of the dragon pirates would have a materialistic superficial kid huh

- . . . Granby said, with a look half affection and half exasperation oh granby baby still carrying that torch huh

- lol lol lol just the implication of sara maden and laurence silently tops up his drink and he’s like ‘cheers’ and they’re both quiet for a moment flskdfs 

if you think about it that must’ve been such a wild day in his life tho -- like first  Laurence furiously fires him for being gone at a crucial moment and then immediately unfires him when it turns out he’s been chasing a lead and being the only goddamn person really working on solving all their problems (as is his wont), then he finds out his ex is getting married and steadfastly pretends it doesn’t even bother him, lol what are feelings I heard only losers have them (extremely relatable -- I guess he must have known it was in the cards though, because he specifically tells Laurence at the beginning he didn’t intend to go back to Istanbul, so it’s been over for a while?) then they go on a life and death chase through the sewers, and THEN, before he knows it, after half a book of being kind of a mistrustful dick to him, Laurence does a 180° and is there offering eternal friendship with big soulful eyes after seeing him get upset one time and y’know I guess I see why that got to him lol 

- aw man I know it’s never going to happen but I am getting sort of wistful and teary-eyed over this pirate (cough cough I mean legally sanctioned privateer of course) AU that’s going entirely to waste

here are some tags I left on this superb piece of fanart: #I just got to the part where tharkay makes the suggestion and like... I know it's not happening #but what a shimmering tender mother of pearl dream to carry in one's heart lol #just a lil pirate family out there wrecking shit #temeraire would get wind of what the east india company actually does and they'd inevitably turn against them and fuck 'em up... *sigh* #fix it fic: the boys kiss and the east india company is stopped from committing further atrocities! all is well

so that’s basically my position on that

- “I’m sure there’s nothing too dangerous out there, in the fucking untamed Australian wilderness,” Temeraire said, tempting fate to a frankly anxiety-inducing extent 

- hell yeah demane is the only one with presence of mind to actually find some food; you go buddy <3

- my boy tharkay slinking off in the middle of the night without telling anyone and solving everyone’s problems... *dabs at eyes* just like old times

- oh wow rankin really is just a piece of shit in every way huh

- fhasdklhfsadfsad temeraire being like ‘I know tharkay is a strong independent human who is perfectly capable of making his own decisions and don’t need no dragon... but also he’s clearly one of my humans tho why is he riding on another dragon :(’ THE CUTEST SHIT

- temeraire silently dissing his dad over refusing to believe in ghosts ~*except*~ for the holy spirit adslfhaskjdlhfs

- demane taking in the strange little hatchling... im crey... he truly hits me straight in the heart every time

also laurence steadfastly Doing The Right Thing and following his convictions is so deeply healing after all that bullshit he went through in the last book... makes me feel all safe and calm inside haha

- actually when you think about it it’s so fucked up that they apparently just straight up murder dragons with birth defects in england as a matter of course b/c like. dragons come out of the egg fully sentient and capable of understanding what’s being said around them. kulingile literally understood every word they were saying as they discussed whether or not they should be KILLING HIM.  j e s u s  thank god for demane and laurence’s stubborn insistence on being good

- temeraire going straight from mother hen to extremely impatient and jealous older brother the moment an egg hatches never gets old. all these dumb little babies just complaining and stealing his crew ugh (HOW FUCKING CUTE is him deciding kulingile could be a scholar or something tho #dragon rights)

- “I wish,” Temeraire said to Laurence, “I do wish that other dragons were not always thinking me peculiar . . . it makes one doubtful.” BABY BOY NOOOO he’s just so sweet and he’s so secretly scared that laurence might resent him a little after the whole treason business and OW right in the parental heart that fucks me up

- Temeraire’s indignant “Oh!”s always soothe my soul it’s so adorable

- little emily roland yelling “damn you all for cowards!” after a bunch of grown men fleeing while she reloads her gun and takes aim again is incredible poetic cinema (and also demane joining her... I love the bond they’ve got going on in the background here)

- aw poor sipho :( at least he still has temeraire to nerd out with and stuff but that’s some difficult shit to process for a kid

kulingile bobbing around tethered to temeraire like a small balloon at a fair is such an image, what a blessing, temeraire’s exasperated brand of babysitting is so funny

- laurence being a Dad to the kids in his crew... mana from heaven

- YESSS they crossed the endless miles of DEADLY AUSTRALIAN WILDERNESS so laurence could be MORTIFIED as the emperor’s adopted son at a party this is the content I am here for

- hell yeah let’s play a round of pimp my captain!!!!!!!!!!

“And,” Laurence said. “And you are certain that this should be appropriate for the occasion; not, perhaps, excessive?” I can’t  b r e a t h e  he can’t even say shit because his dragon boi is so happy fsaldfjsldhfasjlh and then granby making fond fun of him what a beautiful cherry on top of this sweet sweet laurence being embarrassed sundae 

- william ‘I’m here to kick ass and describe menswear in fastidious detail and I’ve already kicked my own ass twice today’ laurence strikes again

- this description of the dragons sitting around squabbling as they watch shiny sparkly things is the most endearing few pages in modern literature do not @ me

- it’s kind of fucked up that the emperor of china is giving laurence more of the sort of warmth and validation a father should than his actual dad ever did lol. u did good curing the dragon plague, weird european adopted son I am proud of you

- every time temeraire is really upset about something my soul suffers a small wound

thank god he doesn’t actually know what opium is really used for most of the time yet (also I am obligated to divulge that I am entirely charmed by tharkay’s sardonic yet clear eyed cynicism on the issue, I cannot be anything but what I am and he hasn’t had enough proper page time in this half of the book so I will take what I can get)  

- ...I kind of just realized that I imagine the sea serpents basically as long-ass gyaradoses... OH NO

I will say I respect the ‘give no fucks’ vibe they give off -- it’s a real ‘we’re here to eat fish & party and if you try to get in our way we’re gonna have you as a snack’ mood and I cannot fault them for it

- iskierka is such a fuckboi it’s glorious 

- nOOOOOO tharkay is leaving again fuck ;_______; is his life just an endless procession of semi-unwillingly having to go back to istanbul again these days 

Temeraire did not see why Tharkay should have to go so far, only to deliver news; and particularly when he did not seem as though he wished to go, very much. DDDDDDDD: THIS SUCKS you know that when a) he’s letting it show and b) temeraire notices it that he is dragging his heels big time over this lol

‘there can be very little to call you back to this part of the world any time soon’ LAURENCE YOU 24 KARAT IDIOT YOU ARE HERE HE CAME TO AUSTRALIA FOR YOU ALREADY WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

all that said whenever I see a ‘Tenzing’ on the page my heart does a happy little dance. ah well now let’s settle in and wait for what horrible catastrophe will happen now that tharkay is gone... come back soon buddy

- ooooooooooooh that is so good, using the last chapter + epilogue to show how the... idk moral wound I guess laurence received victory of eagles has finally healed, that’s so reassuring. he just wants to do good things for good causes and can’t be badgered, cajoled, threatened or convinced to do anything less anymore and it’s all so sweet and well earned. that’s some good development through this book too, from ‘tenzing I cannot trust myself’ to this. excellent stuff

- while I did quite enjoy this book for the character moments it is incredibly weirdly structured? like the beginning drags a bit with the quite uninteresting colony politics and stuff but then they’re finally travelling and then... nothing really happens plot wise before the sea serpents freak the fuck out at the end there lol. I’m mostly a character-oriented reader tho so I’m pretty fine with it.

ETA: actually now that I think about it I’d say that my biggest gripe with this book is that it doesn’t engage at all with the perspective of the native australian people? even though one of the dragons settles down with one group? god knows it’s not like there was no time to dive into it, considering all that time spent in the fucking wilderness lol

we’re going to the inca empire next tho apparently fuck YEAH!!! that’s such an underexplored and extremely interesting part of history, my body is Ready

[quirkydahlias]

Hi, I read the Kirishima fic you did and I love the more serious/adult setting for it! I was wondering if you’d be willing to write more about it? Like maybe a scenario where bakugou has an s/o who is devastated about not being able to save some civilians in a villain attack and how’d he go about helping them deal with that? Thanks!

bruh, my Long Road Ahead AU makes me so inspired to write you can’t comprehend the happiness I have when writing for my AU. Anyway. Sorry for the wait, I was busy doing old requests u w u! Hopefully, this makes up for it~.

Also: TW for Mature themes like Death, Wishing for Death, Survivor’s Guilt

Fallout (Katsuki Bakugou x Reader) (Long Road Ahead AU)

The story was plastered all over the news.

Every news channel.

Every paper.

Every major radio station.

All reporting the same thing.

“The pro heroes have failed us once again!”

“Shut down the hero programs in schools!”

“This is why we need more police!”

Bakugou shut off the TV irritably, knowing full well that if he left it running, he’d throw the controller and crack the screen… again. Not that he cared much for television anymore, with all the anti-hero propaganda that has been circulating as of late.

All Might was gone.

Dead 

And with his death, trust in pro heroes across the world died as well.

Emboldened by the loss of such an important figure in hero society, the League grew and crime spread like wildfire, crime becoming increasingly violent and common. So it was inevitable that the pro heroes slipped up eventually. However, such mistakes are not only costly but corrosive to the already crumbling reputation of heroes.

That was the main reason why (Y/N) lay on the couch, head, and arm bandaged, eyes glued to the black void of the television. “I was watching that.” 

Their voice sounded monotone and dead. From the glassy look in their eyes, Katsuki could figure that they weren’t truly paying attention to what was on the TV. Regardless, he wasn’t about to have that kind of talk float around their head.

“Sucks.” he shrugged, maintaining control of the TV from the kitchen counter as he continued to dice carrots.

(Y/N) lifted their head from the couch cushion, giving a pointed look at their boyfriend. Feeling their gaze, Bakugou looked up, the two sharing a rather passive-aggressive stare.

“I mean it, Katsuki,” (Y/N) reiterated, stressing each word to get their point across. “I need to see what’s on the news.” However, Bakugou wasn’t having it, the ash blond just shaking his head before turning his attention back to the cutting board and the potatoes and carrots he was adding to a pot on the stove.

“No, you fucking don’t. All you’re trying to do is punishing yourself by making yourself listen to the media rant about you.” Returning to his cutting board, he used every syllable he uttered to slam his knife down on the poor proteins, venting his irritation through cooking. “Besides, they’re making the situation seem worse than how it actually is.”

A deafening silence made itself at home between the couple, unspoken thoughts hanging in the stale air.

“Megumi.”

“What?” He replied, adding the proteins to the pot as well before giving the mixture a good stir.

“Megumi. Megumi Ito.”

“What are you talking about?” Although, being as sharp as he was, Katuski already had developed a small hunch as to what his partner was alluding to.

“Did you know that was the name was the girl that died in my arms?”

He figured that the name belonged to someone in the villain attack. Though the hours of news running clued him in on what was going on. Without the best response in mind, he opted to remain silent and let (Y/N) vent a little.

“There were so many others, but she was the one who died in front of me. Katsuki, do you know what she told me before she died?”

“What?” he asked, voice quiet, barely audible and for once, without the usual hint of attitude he usually accompanied with his words.

“ ‘I’m scared, please…’” (Y/N) looked distant, settling back down on their side, cheek pressed against their pillow, “She kept repeating the same thing over and over and over again, ‘please’. Again and again before she finally… went silent.”

Bakugou knew better than to open up his trap, instead, leaving the pot on a low flame before seating himself in the living room on the couch, (Y/N)’s legs now draped over his lap.

“So many people died because I didn’t do enough,” (Y/N) hissed, a tight, clench on the pillow they rested their head on. “I had to tell Megumi’s parents after the accident, about her death, I mean. Bakugou, I didn’t even know her name!”

(Y/N) suddenly stopped, unable to speak as Bakugou roughly grabbed their arm, yanking them into his tight embrace as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around them. Tears finally streamed down their cheeks, pressing their face against his broad chest.

“Just shut up for a sec,” Katsuki instructed, leaning in to rest his chin on their head, “You’re breathing like you just fucking ran a marathon.”

While even Bakugou would admit that the way he tried to calm (Y/N) down was harsh- to say the least, it’s beyond obvious that he’s was trying his best.

“I…I…,” So much wanted to come out. Whether it was the feelings of guilt, eating away at (Y/N) heart, the burning shame of failure charring their skin, or the increasing anger bubbling in them, all pointed at their failure to save innocents in their time of need.

“Look at me,” Katsuki whispered, his gaze softening a little as he released his tight grip on them, pulling away.

It took a while, (Y/N) not wanting to look so pathetic in front of their partner. Furiously using their sleeve to rub their eyes and sniffling, they blinked once. Then once again, trying to quickly wipe away any tears that threatened to form- in the same way, windshield wipers frantically swish back and forth to wash away the rain.

Once they collected themselves, (Y/N) managed to look up and lock eyes with Bakugou. They licked their chapped lips and with a rather pitiful look spoke up.

“I should have died instead.”

Okay.

Okay.

It was one thing to feel guilty about the attack and to be second-guessing oneself when looking back on the accident.

It was another to want to be hurt- to be killed, in order to “atone” for a simple slip up.

Whatever Katsuki felt something else boiling inside him, something different from the anger entirely.

Looking into (Y/N)’s eyes, the first image that came to mind was his old high school heroics teacher, All Might. The fucker’s ever-present grin, gone. Blood dripping down the side of his face- all for the sake of his kidnapped student.

The anguish, sadness, guilt. All in (Y/N)’s eyes were once his.

He knew exactly what they were going through, to want to turn things back. To wish for time to reverse, if only they could prevent tragedy. Being forced to live with the weight of failure for the rest of their lives. He’d been there.

The similarities between them giving Bakugou a boost of confidence, finally knowing how to handle the situation.

To comfort the way he could only wish he was comforted then.

Bakugou knew that the delivery had to be right, and different than the way he’d prefer it, for (Y/N)’s sake. This level of…survivor’s guilt, for lack of a better word, was fresher, more intense than the guilt he felt for taking down the number one hero…because at the very least, All Might made it out alive.

Using his thumb, Katsuki wiped away the tears beading in the corners of (Y/N)’s eyes. Then he cracked a small, lopsided smile.

And patted them on the head.

(Y/N) blinked, stopping all train of thought as they furrowed their brows at Katsuki’s uncharacteristic behavior. He wasn’t the type to be… physically affectionate. At least in this manner anyway, so why the sudden-

Another pat.

And then another.

As he patted their head, Katsuki used his other hand and snaked his hand around their waist and to the small of their back, pulling his partner into a small hug.

“Listen.” He started, thankful that this position prevented (Y/N) from seeing how red his ears and face were. “We’re going to make it through this.”

“Bakugou…”

“Shut it. You’re stronger than this. I know you fucking are, got it? You’re too fucking tough to let one mistake define you.” He stopped patting, awkwardly and slowly running his hand down (Y/N)’s spine, soothing their nerves. “I get it, you feel like shit for being the one to walk away from something like this, especially when someone else doesn’t.”

He stopped moving altogether, trying to figure out whether or not he should even bring up All Might as a way of saying, “Hey, I was there too!”. However, he ultimately decided against it, preferring to make this more about (Y/N) than himself. Besides, he dug deep enough into old wounds already at this point.

“But you’re gonna pick your ass up and keep pushing forward, if not for yourself or me…for Ito. For every damn person in that fucking accident, you save another 100. Understand?”

(Y/N) nodded- Katsuki’s fiery language and spurring little speech warming them from the inside out, their cheeks heating a bit when they felt his lips on the top of their head.

“The media’s been riding your ass for days now,” He pulled back, immediately adverting his eyes to save face in front of his partner, though it just made him look even more endearing, “What they say doesn’t and won’t fucking matter to you, me, or any self-respecting hero.”

“So let those extras curse you out and drag heroes through the mud all they fucking want, we’re still gonna do our jobs. Sound good?” He asked, raising his fist up at (Y/N)

(Y/N) cracked a small smile, happy tears beginning to form as they bumped their fist against their boyfriend.

“Sounds good.”

Bonus (Because that was way too sad for too long):

“Here,” Katsuki started, having dragged (Y/N)’s ass to get some food into them. “You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) peered down at the plate in front of them, a bed of rice with some curry was presented before them. And as nice as it looked, something just felt off about it. “This looks pretty good~.”

“’Course it fucking is. I made it, dumbass. Just try it.” He quickly turned his back to his partner, plating himself a big helping of curry as well, “It’s one of my favorite comfort foods.”

Together, the dug in, (Y/N) being convinced that the food was alright considering how Bakugou dug into his meal. Following suit, they popped the curry into their mouth right before…

Wanting to pop it right back out.

“Katsuki!” (Y/N) hissed, immediately sitting up from the counter and rushing around and into the kitchen to get water. Milk. Anything at this point. “Ish so fuckin’ hawt!”

At this point, their tongue was numb, thanks to the increased spice, (Y/N) fortunate enough that there was a bottle of water in the fridge to down while Bakugou raised an eyebrow to the scene before him.

“I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about,” Bakugou deadpanned, eating another spoonful of the spicy curry as if it was nothing, “I even lowered the spice level for you.”

He could feel the silent waves of anger radiating off of (Y/N), which only amused him, even more, to see how much they wanted to scold and yell at him and yet, were unable to as they emptied the bottle.

“Fuck,” They panted, taking in air through their mouth in a futile attempt to quench the metaphorical flames, “You.”

“You’re fucking lucky I added the spice separately. Give me your food and I’ll finish it for you. Then you can get some from the pot.” he instructed before he lowered his voice a bit, taking in another spoonful of curry goodness.

“Pussy.”

“I heard that!”

[dreammutual-remade]

mua!you and lucas

request: hi may you please do a bullet point scenario about lucas and his girlfriend who is a make up artist for nct. thank youu- anon

word count: 3.4k

a/n: anon !!! thank u for requesting I lowkey struggled with this concept bc I was like uhhh how r they gonna u know,,, do the affection but once I figured it out this was so fun to write !!! I love Lucas hehehehehe. also I realized when I was picKINg this gif that I forgot to include the filming of the yearbook shiygeidfhvf pretend it didn't happeN okay

ps I have 8 requests as of now and I promise I will get to all of them pls have patience w/ me ily all <33333

good evening, Thots

let us dive in, shall we

alright so you had been doing makeup since you were a wee lass !!

of course it was , pretty terrible but like practice makes perfect and now you’re an absolute LEGEND

one of your friends convinced you to start posting tutorials and have an instagram acc dedicated to your Iconic Looks and the rest was history !!!!

you started getting hella attention everyone loved you bitch !!!

so you started advertising you were like ayy if y’all need your makeup done , hmu i am Skilled

at first you started out doing other gals makeup for formal dances and whatnot

then you climbed your way up the celebrity ladder and now you’re a god damn nct makeup artist ?????

things you did: THAT

alright so you got hired just in time for cherry bomb promotions

you took a look at some of their past looks and ,,,,, you were horrified honestly who did that to them

SM CAN GET FUCKED

anyways you Turned Their Shit Around and had them lookin bout fine as hell

all the boys had been super awkward around you at first and it was soooo funny

because you were pretty used to being v close to people you don’t know well

from all the years of doing other people’s makeup now you just go right in

you got real close to mark and he squeaked and like pressed himself back into the chair

like ? shouldn’t he be used to this by now ???

johnny was the only one who was cool with you the first time even if he was an absolute SLEAZEBAG

“sorry if i get all up in your face i’m just trying to keep your eyebrows FLEEKY U KNO WHAT IM SAYIN”

“nah i don’t mind having a face like yours that close ;)))))”

“oops didn’t mean to bump into your knee like that”

“that’s okay my lap is always open for u :}”

he’s the worst god i love him

you’re on the younger side too so he’s all,

c̢̖̲̹̞̰̪ͅa̫͠l̶̜̞l̠̝͇͠ ̪̙͕̲̫̯m̙̪͖e̱͙̦̳̦̝͢ ͕̼̳̰̞o̹p҉͖̘͙͍̞̲p͍̙͙͙̹̖͞a҉̠͓̠̜͕

and you’re all

NO

taeyong asks how old you are and as soon as he finds out you’re younger than him he becomes your mom

you’ll be doing his makeup and he’s like okay but have u eaten today ??? you look too thin please eat

“one: stop moviNG IM TRYING TO CONTOUR YOU and two: please are u my damn grandmother i’m FINE i’ve eaten plenty :&&;&,$,”

you and haechan just roast each other the whole time

“yet another pimple i see, hyuckie, have you been keeping up with the skincare regimen i sent you home with?”

“first of all, fuck you, second of all, you sent me home with a piece of paper that said ‘you can wash your face to get rid of the acne but there’s nothing you can do about the ugly’ you evil WITCH”

but it’s all in good fun and you and hyuck are besties at heart and can tell when it’s not a good day for teasing

whenever you can tell he’s down you make sure to be extra playful when you’re putting on his makeup, tapping him on the nose or tickling his ear with your makeup brush til he giggles

i’m soft gOD

THIS ISNT A DONGHYUCK FIC I GOTTA CHILL

the rest are pretty cool with you too!! yuta is a worse flirt than johnny though it’s like unnecessary but it’s funny and you know he’s , mostly kidding, so you let it slide

anyways !!! cherry bomb is coming to a close and you did That the entire time you had them absolutely GLOWING

but then you get some emails from your boss talking about a new NCT U song/concept that will be filmed toward the end of the year

((i think that’s when it was filmed ?? i’m so sorry if there’s inaccuracies in here i’m very bad with dates :’-)))))))

they tell you you’re traveling to the UKRAINE

THATS FAR

and VERY COLD

they also tell you that they’re gonna be debuting two new members in this unit and you’re a little Nervous since you’ve only been doing 127’s and Dream’s makeup for the past like , half a year

(u were responsible for the we young era,,,,, god bless u)

but you’re also excited because they described the concept to you and you’ve already got ideas to make everyone look Hot and Badass

your boss sent some predebut pics and said the new ones were Yukhei and Jungwoo and, wOW THEYRE PRETTY

jungwoo looks absolutely soft and squishy so you’re a bit worried about making him look ,,,,, BOSS but yukhei.

is a whOLE MAN

he’s got big eyes and lips that give him softer features but , the look in his eyes and like his cheekbones and ????? wow you’re gonna turn him into Daddy Material

anywhom

the time has come and we are on our way to the ukraine !!! yeehaw it’s cold as balls out here

you arrive and get to stay in the hotel for a night before you gotta Get To Work

you arrive bright and early with all your beauty products

you , as the resident makeup artist, look cute as hell even if you are rather cold

your nose is tinted a bit red even tho you have foundation on rip

you set up your little station in the main tent because they’re gonna film all the outdoor parts first

jaehyun walks in first with winwin and they he looks scruffy af

“jaehyun you DOLT did you not shave ??? you know that tickles my hand when i’m trying to make you hot”

“i’m already hot”

“uh huh go shave your face i guarantee you don’t want me to try”

“ugh, yes ma’am”

“hey winwinie~”

“good morning !!!”

winwin is Precious and Easy To Work With as usual

mark comes in next and he’s flustered and cute AS USUAL

of course he’s comfy with you now but you enjoy making him flustered

“mark, baby, you’re GLOWING today!!! go off king”

“y/N PLEASE ENOUGH”

doyoung comes next and his Flawless Skin makes the process so much easier for you ugh

reLEASE THE SKINCARE ROUTINE

COWARDS

anywhom you get to meet jungwoo next !!!

FUCKIN UWU

his blue hair ,,,,,,,, amazing

he’s so sweet and releases little breathy giggles every once in a while when the brushes tickle him

you’re finishing up with jungwoo when, the Man Himself literally stumbles into the tent

“hyUNG are you almost done we’re bout to film man”

and he is absolutely Large and you are , very appreciative god damn

even barefaced this man baby looks GOOD that is not fair :-(

“lucas!~ you still have to get your makeup done but i think y/n was almost finished. are you?”

jungwoo turns to look up at you while he asked and you, have to exercise GREAT restraint not to talk to him in a baby voice

so you just nod and then give him a once over and tell him he can go ahead to wardrobe

you wave yukhei over and you’re like hey uh ,,, yukhei? or should i call u lucas ?!/!:&:&

he cackles and asks you to call him lucas and asks your name and how old you are and what your star sign is and your favorite color and your nct bias

(when you tell him you love them all equally he’s all like Not For Long 

>:-))) soon i shall PREVAIL)

basically he’s questioning you and you’re like oKAY PLEASE IM TRYING TO MAKE YOUR FACE BEAUTIFUL

“my face is already beautiful thank u very MUCH”

“you boys are all the same jaehyun  already pulled that shit today, LAME”

he pouts and you tap him on the lip with the handle of your makeup brush and then Get To Work

you truly have him lookin RIGHT wooo shit he looks good

and as you’re doing it your brain is like that clip from sponge bob where squidward is like oh NO he’s hot !!!! :(

you’re doing his eye makeup and you’re standing, in between his legs like they’re so long and in the way it’s the only way to get close enough to to do it well and you’re highkey, Blushing

he’s literally just staring up at you while you do his makeup and your hands are starting to shake what business does he have with such big brown puppy dog eyes :((((

“hey quit staRINg at me dude”

“ am i making u,,,, nervous ;)”

“, YES pls stop :((“

“aw i’m srry :((((“

pouts AGAIN and you shove his shoulder a little for making fun of you

when you finish you just kind of nod and he takes that as a go ahead and like SPRINGS up

and you’re standing very close so he almost knocks you the hell over

you tip backwards and he grabs you by the waist to steady you while you basically grab handfuls of his clothes to keep you upright

there’s a pause where you guys are just.. pressed together before you fly apart and lucas awkwardly rubs the back of his neck like nervous boys do in movies AW

“i really gotta stop knocking people over i almost took oUT jungwoo earlier srry abt that :’-))))))”

you’re like haha it’s fine :’-))))))))))))))

it’s really awkward so he yeets out of there just as taeyong strolls in looking entirely too smug

“so, you’ve taken a liking to our newest member hmmmm ??”

“aw no jungwoo is just so cute !!”

“quit playing dumb you knew what i meant”

“okaY but literally nothing happened please don’t make this a big deal”

“it’s a big deal bbg it’s tOO LATE NOW”

you sigh and then do his makeup pretty quickly since even barefaced he looks unreal

fckin anime character

okay everyone is now made up and dressed (jaehyun came last freshly shaven , looking like a bar of soap as usual) and you’re on standby outside to fix any little blemishes they may get while filming

everything is pretty good because most of the boys are used to wearing makeup but lucas is Dumb and just like ?? rubs at his eye and wipes half of it off ????

you sCREECH as he’s doing it and he jumps and is like ??? what is it what’s wrong with you

“what’s wrong with me ??? wHATS WRONG WITH YOU I WORKED HARD TO MAKE YOU LOOK THAT ETHEREAL DAMNIT”

you have to fix it on the spot so y’all can stay on schedule so he does that thing where he stands with his legs super far apart so his face is level with yours

his legs are so far apart in order for him to be short enough rip (.... literally. pray for his pants u guys)

you fix up his eye and warm him that you’ll give him a black eye with your fist instead of makeup if he messes up your Artwork again

the shoot goes really well and you get to know lucas and jungwoo better throughout the rest of the filming

things are…. tense between you and lucas but not in like a bad way more like a we are both sort of attracted to each other and unsure what to do from here way

lucas gets braver as time passes and has become wayyyyy more flirty

the tension just sort of transforms to hardcore flirting and little fleeting touches jskdkfk

you havent stopped blushing for like 4 days straight

as you do his makeup he’ll stare up at you with fckn awestruck eyes and one of his hands will drift up to circle around your wrist as you tilt his head this way and that

its a GIANT hand too I just wanna mention that they're very nice hands thank you for your time

as you do his makeup you’ll purposefully let your hand linger on his neck and use your thumb to caress turn his jaw

when you stand between his legs to do his makeup he’ll scoot to the edge of the chair to get as Close As Possible until your hips are almost touching the inside of his thighs ???:$&:&:@:@

SPICY

but eventually the shoot is over :(((( rip

buT no worries ;))))) black on black is being filmed in like a month and you’ll see his goofy ass soon heheh

highkey black on black makes u , Hot And Bothered like the part where lucas is on the floor and doing thaT THING

YALL KNOW WHAT IM TALKIN ABOUT

he highkey gets up and is like

did u like that babygirl ~~~ 😤😘💕🤪😩

and you just stick your tongue out at him and he sticks his tongue out at you and it’s Juvenile

“JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY!!!!”- johnny, from across the room

you: Red

lucas: wheezing

you guys pull all the same touchy flirty bullshit for this MV filming too and all the boys are like o.o

“hyung are u dating our makeup artist(¬‿¬) ” -chenle

“god i wish”

“what”

“i mean , no”

and now BOSS has been released and you’ve gotta do his makeup for all these stages and you two just , keep dancing around each other

when the boys get their first win for BOSS tho lucas is sO HYPE

because it’s his first time really performing live and they WON AND ???? THIS IS CRAZY

and he’s so happy he’s like shaking and he bursts into the dressing room after they all come off stage

he makes it there before everyone else because he RAN like a dork

you’re packing up all your stuff and hear the door open and you turn around to congratulate the boys but it’s just lucas and he runs in and pICKS YOU UP

he spins you around and sets you down and is like

JSDKSJDK Y/N WE WON ????

and you’re like

OMG YEAH I KNOW IM SO PROUD OF U ??!:&:@.

and then he just kisses you right on the lips in excitement

it’s just a press of lips and it was barely a kiss since he was still smiling so hard

his smile fades after and he looks , terrified

you also are terrified because ?

he’s Done It Now

the imaginary LINE has been CROSSED

but like, the barrier is broken now right ????

yolo

so you just shake your head and flick him on the nose

“damn you could have taken me to dinner first”

he laughs nervously because you haven’t made it clear whether or not you’re going to murder him and, That’s Scary

but you giggle and press up on your toes to kiss him more gently and tell him it’s okay and you like him and if he likes you back that would be GREAT

and he just smooshes you against him really hard and presses at least 26 kisses to your cheeks and it tickles and you’re like heY STOP THE LIPSTICK I PUT ON YOU WILL STAIN ME

“i like u too,, HEHEHHE”

“god you had to ruin it by cackling like the wicked witch of the west didn’t you???”

“absolutely, sweetheart :)”

okay the rest of nct u is on the way so you quickly agree that this should be a Semi Secret relationship because he’s so new to the scene and he’s probably not even allowed to date rn lol

but he INSISTS that he can treat you well no matter what and who are you to stop him honestly

he’s so blatant with the touching while you do his makeup now though that although you haven’t explicitly told anyone ,,, all the members of NCT know

he just loops his arms around your hips and pulls you close and blatantly admires you while you’re concentrated on his makeup

squeezes your ass every once in a while which makes you squeak and slap his shoulder

that little SHIT

one time taeil caught you sneaking in some food for lucas during dance practice and was like

“honestly just come in we all know you’re in a relationship gOD it’s so obvious”

so now you come to dance practice all the time with food for him and extra for the other boys

he’s always jealous

literally all the time

you’ll be doing marks makeup and hyping him up as usual

(baby bOY DESERVES IT)

and lucas will be :(((((( y don’t u say that stuff to me

“i literally say that and more to you and about you”

“okay but why not only me :(((((“

“oh my god”

or when you bring food he’ll be like NO she brought this for me go away you commoners !!!!!

honestly you feel like you’re taking care of a toddler sometimes except he’s HUGE

you have to be like

“now lucas, sharing is caring and i brought enough for everyone stop being gREEDY”

any free time he has he comes to your apartment

mainly because you guys want to be mushy and coupley and not have to listen to all the members whining and fake gagging

he’ll knock on your door at midnight with a blanket in hand and fresh out of the shower and looking CUTE

“can i sleep over :(((( i cant sleep without you:((((((“

BITCH

your heart melts oh my shosjdjdjckf

and this boy basically can’t sleep without you now because he sleeps over so much im emo

at first he insists on being the big spoon every time but after awhile Sleepy Baby Boy Lucas reveals himself

when he’s super tired he’ll just let himself in and climb in your bed and plant his head on your chest and his arms around your waist and just sigh contentedly

if he can’t sleep he’ll steal your hand and place it on top of his head and nudge you til you start running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp

uwu this is so cute

loves to hold your hands whenever possible

you guys can’t really go on dates since the relationship is Super Secret and he wants so bad to show you off but he CANT :/

so he just pretends y’all are out on the town and holds your hand at home when you’re just chillin

has taken to putting things you need in very high places so he can come up behind you and reach over your head to hand it to you

okay but like once in a while you both do your best to have a Normal Date where you go out doors you just have to be

Incognito Mode

so summer dates dont really work out since it’s hard to hide your identity when you’re not covered head to toe because it’s HOT

they’re mainly winter dates like ice skating and hot chocolate and fall festival stuff !!!!

he insists that you go to any festival in town like INSISTS

festival for a random and obscure flower?? you best believe you’re attending and going home covered flowers

he tried to make you a flower crown but it kept falling apart so he just stuck flowers all up in your hair AWE

forced you to pose so he could take pictures of you

(he made it his lock screen !!!! uwu)

this boy just, loves you so much and the day he tells you is when you’re both sick and dying because he got a cold and then gave it to you so you’re both laying in bed feeling Terrible

you’re laying there and feeling lightheaded and too hot but you’re both Clingy so you still hold hands at least lmao

and lucas tugs on your hand and you flop on your side to look at him expectantly

“yes, lucas?”

“hey”

“hey”

“guess what”

“hmmmmm what”

“i love you”

“oh, me too”

“like you love me too or you love you too”

“U2 is alright i guess”

“no i mean do you love me or yourself”

“both”

“sweet, self love is important too”

and theN YOU TERRIBLE PEOPLE PASS OUT HEHSHS

WHO CONFESSES THEIR LOVE LIKE THAT ????

when you wake up you feel slightly better and look over and see Your Man sprawled out over the bed with one arm haphazardly thrown over you

he rlly can’t sleep without a hand on you that is so so cute fuckdjkdjd

you remember confessing your love to each other in a delirious and feverish haze and snicker because it was RIDICULOUS

you gently turn to face him so you don’t wake him up and trail your fingertips up his arms to trace his features

his eyes flutter open and he’s literally unreal like he looks like an angel

and he smiles all sleepy like and brings his hand up to capture your wrist and kiss your palm

“good morning i’m no longer fucked up on theraflu and i love you”

“good morning i’m also no longer fucked up and i love you MORE”

he scoffs dramatically

“not possible !!!!!”

“is too !!!”

“is nOT”

“IS TOO”

“IS NOT”

and so on :-)

[meyerlansky]

bite my lip and close my eyes

pairing: meyer/charlie rating: teen A/N: here it is, two months later, the last of the kinktober fics i was working on. kinktober 2017 day twenty six: shotgunning. modern au, obviously contains drug use. title’s a green day lyric. also on ao3. 

He’s halfway through rolling a joint when his phone bleeps from between the couch cushions. Usually he'd leave it and finish rolling but he's only got a few custom ringtones set on this phone, and he’d have to be dead before he ignored Meyer. So he digs the phone out and lets out a breath he didn't really know he was holding when all the message says is Hey. Can I come over for a bit?

Charlie grins to himself, texting back if u dont mind a foggy apartment sure before he drops the phone screen up on his coffee table, right next to the papers and baggie and his in-progress joint. Sure he's stuck with an overpriced shoebox of an apartment for now, but it's definitely an upside if it means he not only gets to smoke whenever he wants, but he gets Meyer all to himself for a bit too. Better to give him a warning off the bat though—it probably won’t keep him from coming over, since Meyer smokes enough cigarettes that Charlie worries sometimes, and Charlie can talk him into getting tipsy every once in a while, but as far as he knows Meyer's never smoked up. If he has it hasn't been with Charlie, anyway.

That thought makes a little tendril of jealousy unfurl in his chest, which is even less justifiable than usual, considering he’s stewing over a fucking hypothetical. So he shakes it off and goes back to rolling and waiting for a response. He drags his tongue along the paper and twists the joint closed just as his phone buzzes, messages cascading in at an impressive speed, if he had to admit it.

What?

Oh.

It's your place. Be there in fifteen.

And that just requires a truly obnoxious emoji face in response. Once that's off into the ether, Charlie throws himself back on the couch cushions and lights up. Joey’s obnoxious sometimes but fuck if he doesn't get Charlie the good shit, and Charlie leans his head back on the couch as the high creeps over him, muscles gradually going slack against the cushions.

Meyer said fifteen, and Meyer knows his shit, so Charlie assumes it is in fact fifteen minutes later when there's a knock at his apartment door. He shouts “S’open!” loud enough that Meyer can hear it through the flimsy sheet rock, and he snickers when Meyer’s head pokes through the doorway. “The fuck you knockin’ for? Better not’ve lost my key.”

Meyer purses his lips, clicking the door shut behind him and flipping the deadbolt before ambling over to the couch. His key ring dangles from his fingertips as he rattles the keys reproachfully in Charlie’s direction, before he says, “Like I really want to walk in on you half naked. Again.” And… alright, fine, but Charlie doesn't bother hiding the pout stealing across his face. He looks great half naked, thanks. Or any level of naked.

Meyer shakes him out of that train of thought by settling down on the other end of the couch, shouldering his backpack to the floor—wait, backpack? “...You come straight from school?” Charlie blurts out, sitting up a little straighter and furrowing his brows a bit.

And he's not so high yet that he doesn't notice the way Meyer’s jaw tightens a little bit before he speaks, pulling his phone from his pocket and turning to his bag to stash it. “Ma’s taking Rosie to the doctor’s again, so Jake’s keeping the girls busy,” he mumbles, more to his lap than to Charlie. He zips the front pocket closed with way more force than necessary, face still turned to his bag. “Dad’s still at work.”

That explains a lot.

Charlie winces a little bit, but scootches over enough to bump his shoulder into Meyer’s. Meyer doesn't look up, but he doesn't inch away either, just squeezes his eyes shut, and breathes hard out his nose. Charlie maybe stares a little bit, but it's more out of concern than anything else. Really. He doesn't lean in more than companionable distance dictates. He can be responsible, weed or not.

It's hard, though. Meyer’s still a line of tension perched on the edge of the couch, and—“it kinda hurts to look at you, y'know.” Not the smoothest line he’s ever used, but it gets Meyer’s head picked up, and he looks over with that little line between his eyebrows he gets when he's confused but doesn't want anyone to know, and fuck, Charlie just wants to grab his face and—

And nothing. Meyer’s his best friend. Meyer’s two years younger than him, and despite being cute as fuck Meyer is apparently not interested in anyone, which is a mystery for another day, but he is smart and careful and has a plan and college applications out and is definitely not interested in a stoner drop-out like Charlie. So. And nothing.

Anyway.

Charlie gets his train of thought back on track—which is a fucking monumental achievement at this point—and nods, lazily flapping a hand at Meyer’s face. It's not quite touching, so it's fine. “What kinda friend would I be if I didn't help you relax, huh?” And that gets an eyebrow raise, so Charlie tips his head at the joint faintly smoldering away in the ashtray on the table. “All yours, if you want. Got more where that came from.”

“Of course you do,” Meyer responds, but the look on his face isn't the look of immediate refusal that offer usually gets Charlie. Must’ve been a real bad afternoon, if he’s actually considering it, but Charlie’s not gonna point that out. Meyer reaches out, still hesitant, and picks up the joint. “...You know where it's from?”

Charlie snorts. “Yeah, Adonis grows it in his fuckin’ garden, it's clean,” he snipes back, and the little glance Meyer shoots him is exasperated but more than a little reassured. Joey’s aunt’s greenhouse in Westchester isn't exactly a picturesque window box in the Village, but a little hyperbole won't kill him. And it is good weed.

He doesn't say anything as Meyer brings the joint to his mouth and inhales, which he realizes is a mistake as soon as Meyer takes a long pull like it's one of his cigarettes—hard. His eyes go wide just as Charlie sits up straight, and the smoke pours out of his mouth as he coughs hard enough to hack up a lung.

Charlie really doesn't mean to, but he can't stop the giggle that sneaks out. “Sorry, fuck,” he sputters when Meyer gets his shit together enough to glare at him, “shoulda warned you, burns a bit.”

“Good to know,” Meyer says, sarcasm thick enough to cut with a knife. Charlie just grins at him, one lip caught between his teeth, and tips his chin at the joint again.

“Here, gimme,” and oh this is stupid this is a bad idea and yet his hand’s out and Meyer should be able to tell when Charlie’s got a stupid idea brewing but he passes the joint over and this is the worst idea it’s like he’s sitting a few feet away watching himself make the most embarrassing decision of his life, “open up real quick.”

Meyer’s eyebrows jump, and he blurts out, “Excuse me?”

Charlie hears himself say “it goes down easier like this, c’mere,” and then—instead of being sensible, which is basically his job—Meyer’s opening his mouth with a wary expression on his face and fuck now Charlie has to go through with it. So he takes a drag, holds the smoke in his mouth, and leans in, ignores the way Meyer’s eyes go wide, and breathes the smoke into Meyer’s mouth, from just far enough away that their lips definitely do not touch, but it's a real close thing.

“‘Kay, breathe in and hold it,” he says, mouth empty and lips tingling. Meyer’s mouth closes, but his eyes don't get any less wide. Charlie leans back like it's nothing, like he does this all the time and his pulse isn't pounding because god dammit Meyer’s eyes are even prettier from two inches away. He settles against the cushions and hopes he sounds more casual than he feels when he says, “...Smoother, yeah?”

Meyer blinks, and exhales slow, smoke streaming up above their heads. “...I mean I'm not coughing, so,” he says, finally, and Charlie lets himself relax a little bit. Meyer’s shoulders creep down maybe a quarter of an inch too, and Charlie will take that blue ribbon, so he holds the joint out and waits for Meyer to take it again before he stands up.

“Should be easier now you know it’s comin’. You hungry?” he asks, and doesn't bother waiting for an answer. If he's not yet he will be, probably, and Charlie's never not down for cheez-its, so he leaves smart little Meyer to do whatever he wants with the joint and bangs around his cabinets for a few minutes. He definitely doesn't take his time and stand in his kitchen and think about how close his face was to Meyer’s, how wide his eyes went and how good he looks when he's surprised. That'd be pushing it.

By the time he flops back on the couch with the dented cheez-its box, Meyer’s—well, his shoulders are still set, but he's leaned back against the cushions and his eyes are lidded and smoke’s bleeding from his parted lips and in six years that's probably the closest to “relaxed” Charlie’s ever seen him, so, yeah, he's gonna call this one a win. He drops the box on the table with a mumbled “go wild,” and grins when Meyer snorts, undignified. He shakes his head when Meyer holds the joint out and hunches forward over the papers still scattered on the coffee table. “Like I said, s’all yours,” he says, shaking more weed from the bag, focus split between Meyer and getting another spliff started.

“You sure?” Meyer asks, that little line popping up between his eyebrows again, and god Charlie hopes the way he shakes his head hides how hard he swallows.

“Wouldn't’ve offered otherwise.”

The line doesn't go away, but Meyer pulls his hand back, and his eyes flick to Charlie’s hands, shifting the weed on the paper into a clean line almost unconsciously. He edges a bit closer on the couch, expression clearing the way it does when he focuses on something. “Show me?”

Charlie’s eyebrows lift, and he stops fucking with the weed to stare at Meyer’s face, all big dark eyes and intent. “One joint enough to get you on the stoner train, Mey?” he teases, and grins when Meyer rolls his eyes at him.

“No, I'm not planning on it. I just—” and he shrugs, loose-limbed. “Call me curious.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuckin’ genius, gotta know everything,” he says, and he's gonna blame how fond it sounds on the high. Meyer focuses on him again, dark eyes searching his face, and—okay, joint. Rolling a joint. He does this constantly without an audience, it's not that fuckin’ hard. He clears his throat and gets back to work; he doesn't bother narrating, just lets his movements slow down a bit more than usual so they're easier for Meyer to track.

And this is another thing that’s going on the list of “shit he didn't think through,” because Meyer’s eyes follow everything he's doing. Up to and including licking along the paper’s edge before he twists the joint closed. Which means that laser focus is zeroed in on his mouth now and he's going to fucking explode. He drops his eyes, because if he keeps looking at Meyer looking at him he’s gonna make a mistake and ruin a ten year friendship, which he’s pretty sure neither of them want. “Boom,” he says, and holds the joint up with a lazy flourish, which is still a degree of fanfare it doesn’t really deserve.

The amused huff Meyer lets out is definitely louder than usual, and Charlie grins to himself as he snags the lighter to get his own smoke back on. “You’re good at it,” Meyer says, tilting his chin at the joint in Charlie’s hands before taking another cautious drag off his own, and Charlie cocks an eyebrow at him.

“Real marketable skill, huh?” he snorts, flicking the lighter’s wheel and lighting the spliff between his lips. He holds for a second, exhales, and glances over at Meyer, who’s just… looking at him. With his face. Which means anything Charlie was thinking just flies out of his head, and he leans back against the couch, shoulder pressed along Meyer’s. Because why not.

He takes a drag, even though Meyer’s still staring, and he cocks an eyebrow at him instead of saying anything. Meyer blinks, and takes a drag off his own joint, gaze dropping as he does. He breathes out, slow, and presses his shoulder against Charlie’s. It’s nice, just sitting with Meyer, no pressure to be anything, and if this is all he gets, he can live with that.

Eventually he can feel the heat of the cherry against his knuckles, and he glances over to Meyer, who’s fiddling with the lighter in one hand, finally looking like his brain’s not running a million miles a minute for once. Charlie clears his throat, leans into Meyer’s shoulder for a second. “So?” Meyer looks over at him, expression blank, so he tilts his chin at the first joint, burnt down to a stub in Meyer’s fingers. “How was it?”

Meyer looks down, then leans forward to drop it in the ashtray, and Charlie’s almost too busy suppressing the shudder Meyer’s shoulder brushing against his causes to catch his answer. “It’s fine. I can see why you like it,” he mumbles, leaning back on the couch cushion. He licks his lips, gaze darting to meet Charlie’s, and he kinda shrugs his shoulders a little bit. “Definitely went down smoother the other way, like you said.”

The other—? Oh. “Oh,” he blurts out, and Meyer looks away, fast, and Charlie feels like his head might explode. He just shrugs, way more casual than he feels, takes a drag from the still-burning joint in his hand, and tries his best to look considering as he exhales. “At least one more hit in this one, if you want?”

Satisfaction simmers in his chest when that gets Meyer’s eyes back on him. Fuck, he’s easy, but Meyer just tilts his head at him, asks, “y’sure?” The word’s a bit more smushed together than Meyer’s usual sharp diction, and Charlie grins, despite the butterflies in his stomach—Meyer can pretend he’s a block of steel all he wants, but everyone’s gotta relax sometime.

“Like I said, more where that came from,” Charlie says, waggling the fingers of his free hand in the table’s direction. “Besides, sharin’s carin’ or whatever the fuck,” he tacks on, and Meyer’s eyes go wide and startled for a third time before he actually fucking giggles. And fuck, it’s cute, he’s so fucked. Charlie just grins, waiting this rare effusive moment out for the few seconds it takes Meyer to rein it in despite the high, then tucks one leg under himself to face Meyer a little more head on. “So, uh. Same thing?”

Meyer’s expression goes uncertain, but he nods, eyes intent on Charlie’s face again. He really wants to think Meyer’s eyes catch on his mouth a little longer than they would otherwise, but considering it is, in fact, the promised method of delivery for the hit, it’s probably just that. So he lifts the joint and inhales, jerking his chin at Meyer as he holds the smoke in.

Meyer’s lashes flicker against his cheek, just barely, as his lips drop open. Charlie leans in, and fuck if he doesn't know it's stupid, more bold or hopeful than he would be thanks to the high and Meyer being so fucking close, but he can't stop himself from leaning in more this time, and their lips brush as Charlie opens his mouth. Meyer doesn’t flinch back, doesn’t jerk away—his only reaction is the barest dip of his eyelids at the touch. He breathes the smoke in, lips closing, and neither of them move back while he holds it. The most he does is tilt his head a few degrees to the side as he breathes out, smoke streaming past the side of Charlie’s face. Not that Charlie notices, not when Meyer’s lips are pursed so prettily right in front of him, and he swallows hard, voice splintering in his throat. “Meyer…”

“Yeah,” Meyer says, and Charlie can't tell if his voice is husky from the smoke or from something he doesn't dare to hope for, but he's not pulling away. “...Do it again?”

The words take a second or two to register, but once they do… makes sense, Charlie said he’d share, so what if it’s not what he was hoping for, so he inches back, starts to raise the spliff—

“Charlie.” He freezes, the sound of his name from Meyer’s mouth when they’re so close enough to send shivers down his spine, but he meets Meyer’s eyes. He can see the way Meyer swallows before tilting his head, only a few degrees, at the ashtray on the table. “Put the joint down. And do it again.” He presses his lips together, as if that’ll hide the way his voice shakes a bit, but his eyes are so fuckin’ serious and—

Fuck. Okay.

Charlie does as he’s told, drops the joint in the ashtray and turns to face Meyer fully, leaning in before he wakes up or loses his nerve or Meyer comes to his senses and brushes his lips—closed, this time—against Meyer’s. It’s soft, barely any contact at all, but Meyer’s little inhale is enough to set off sparks of heat in Charlie’s chest. Meyer leans in and kisses Charlie back, and Charlie’s close enough to hear the little noise he makes in his throat when Charlie presses forward too, knees bumping into Meyer’s as he inches closer to him on the couch.

Turns out Meyer’s lips feel as soft as they look, and Charlie shudders at the slide of Meyer’s mouth against his. Everything feels more, and he doesn’t know if it’s the high or if it’s because it’s Meyer or if it’s both, but every press of Meyer’s lips against his makes him shiver. Nothing's ever felt so real or so much, and Charlie would gladly do this forever. Especially if he can get Meyer to make more sounds like that.

But Meyer breaks the kiss, and Charlie can’t quite keep the questioning noise in his chest from spilling out. Instead of answering, though, Meyer just leans forward enough to press his forehead to Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie can see enough of his face to see his eyes squeezed shut. “Wanted that for a while,” he says, the words muffled by the fabric of Charlie’s shirt.

That sets off something warm in Charlie’s chest, the feeling unfurling slow and sweet and burying the worry of having fucked up somehow. He tilts his head to press his lips to Meyer’s temple. “Yeah? How long’s a while?” he murmurs against the skin, and he can feel the way Meyer swallows before he answers.

“...A while.”

Something in Meyer’s voice catches Charlie's attention, and he inches back, brow furrowing. He’s used to reading little things in Meyer’s face, the way he locks everything down like it’ll kill him if anyone knows how he’s feeling. Even now Meyer’s still not an easy read, but he looks cornered, like he’s admitting to too much. And it might be the wrong move, but Charlie reaches up to slide a hand along his jaw, tilting Meyer’s face up to his. He presses his lips to Meyer’s cheek, and fuck he wishes he was better at words, but he says, “Me too, Mey. Just… didn’t think you’d want me back.” The words are more honest than he’d be if he wasn't high, but if Meyer’s going to be open about it—or what counts for open with him—Charlie can at least meet him halfway. S’only fair.

Meyer finally looks at him again, eyebrows knitting together incredulously and Charlie still wants to kiss the line between them away, but Meyer just shakes his head and leans in, a little hesitant, to press his lips to Charlie’s again. Which Charlie is fine with.

He catches Meyer’s lip between his and sucks, gentle, but it’s enough to get Meyer to make that little noise again, sharper this time, and that’s—fuck, it’s probably the hottest thing Charlie’s ever heard, and they’re not even doing much of anything. He can’t help but crowd closer—he’s definitely feeling the high, so this isn’t going below the belt any time soon even if he didn’t think that’d be pushing stuff too fast, but he just wants Meyer closer.

“Mey, can I—” he mumbles against Meyer’s lips, and while the distracted little noise Meyer makes in return is gratifying as fuck, he still huffs in frustration because he could be closer. It’s another herculean effort to pull back, but before Meyer can do much more than open his eyes and shoot a confused frown in Charlie’s direction, he presses his palms against Meyer’s shoulders to get him to scootch back on the couch. And the confused look on Meyer’s face is very promptly replaced with wide eyes when Charlie gets settled right in his lap.

A satisfied noise breaks out of Charlie’s throat, and he just kind of strokes his fingers along Meyer’s shoulders, the feeling of solid muscle under his fingertips really, really distracting, but he glances up to catch Meyer’s gaze. “Okay?”

Meyer nods, but he’s still got that startled look on his face, so Charlie stops touching and just… looks. And waits. “I don’t know what to do with my hands,” Meyer says after a few seconds, and Charlie really doesn’t mean to but he can’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. Meyer frowns up at him, curling the fingers of the hands in question against Charlie’s couch cushions. “What?” he says, more petulant than Charlie’s expecting, which only makes him grin more.

“Nothin’,” he says through the grin, and shrugs. “Just not used to hearin’ ‘I don’t know’ come outta your mouth about anything.” Meyer huffs at that, but amusement creeps across his face anyway, which is another win to put up on the board today. Charlie slides his hands up, cups Meyer’s jaw again, and leans back in. “Anythin’s free game, Mey. Whatever you want,” he says against Meyer’s lips. He can just barely feel the way Meyer shudders under him, and he grins again when Meyer’s palms settle, tentative, on his waist. “Good choice,” he mumbles, before pressing forward to catch Meyer’s lip between his teeth this time.

That gets him a quiet gasp and Meyer’s fingers clenching in the fabric of his t-shirt, and realistically at some point everything Meyer does is gonna have to stop being the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. It’s probably not gonna be any time soon. Charlie presses closer, knees against the back of the couch. The way Meyer’s hands shift to slide up his back has him making a noise of his own.

Everywhere Meyer touches him feels electric, even through clothes, and he can’t stop stroking his thumbs along Meyer’s face as they kiss. He never wants Meyer to stop touching him. And judging by the way Meyer’s hands can’t stop moving, from his back to his shoulders up into his hair, there’s no danger of him stopping any time soon. Charlie nips at Meyer’s lip again, and gasps when Meyer tugs at his curls in response. It’s him pulling back this time—he doesn’t want to push things too fast, and he’s sticking to his guns. Even if Meyer pulling his hair makes him want to do the exact opposite. Instead of sliding to his knees like he really really wants to, he tilts forward to press his forehead to Meyer’s.

Meyer blinks up at him, and Charlie’s not sure if the slightly dazed look on his face is from the high or the kissing, but he can basically claim credit for both, so it’s flattering either way. Charlie leans back, just a little bit, and drapes his arms over Meyer’s stupidly broad shoulders. “So the weed’s just ‘fine,’ huh?” he says through a smirk, reaching up to brush his fingertips along the nape of Meyer’s neck.

The grin that steals across Meyer’s face totally undercuts the way he rolls his eyes. “Fuck off,” he mumbles, and his fingers tighten in Charlie’s hair again. Charlie grins back, before leaning back in to kiss him some more.

[im-a-meteorite]

Fic Recommendations

I’m bored so i’m making this list of all the fics that I’ve read (and liked). I’ll be updating this every now and then. I’ll also probs put it in my bio. I’ll be categorizing them by main ship then I’ll have the links and their summaries. I’ll also add their ratings  

Namjin 

Charmed - kaythebest  (Teens and Up) 

"So you’re not going to eat me?" Seokjin asks, just to confirm.

"Why would I eat you?"

"Because you’re a dragon," Seokjin says slowly, because it should be obvious, despite Namjoon not looking very dragon-y at all.

Namjoon looks unimpressed. "I may be a dragon, but I’m not an animal."

before things come together - brightlight  (Explicit)

Namjoon didn't expect to run into the TA from his philosophy class at the gay bar Taehyung and Jimin drag him to, he really didn't expect him to look this nice outside of class, and he really, really didn't expect to have a crush on him.

It's going to be an interesting semester.

그 손을 내밀어줘 - sugavevo  (General Audiences) 

bangtan as kids ft. namjin as parents

Let’s Not Hurt Anymore - exfatamorgana  (Mature)

They don’t talk about it, and usually no one thinks to ask. But if you did, Namjoon and Seokjin would tell. They aren’t keeping secrets, and if you asked them, they’d answer. It just so happens that on a Sunday, not much different from any other Sunday, the other boys think to ask.

So how do two people who are always together end up… together?

you have 1 new message - bazooka  (Teens and Up) 

r u n c h r a n d a. fuck this is going to sound like the weirdest shit okay look i used ur selcas to catfish and this older dude is gonna buy me stuff but i have to send him a selca with a peace sign

~ * ~ pingkeu jin ~ * ~ hahahahahahaha wtf

Creating a Home - CheekyBrunette (General Audiences)

Seokjin is used to getting calls from social workers at all hours of the day, but never this late at night.

(In which Hoseok loses a mom and gains two dads and four brothers.)

Spanish Doll - saengie (Mature)

What Seokjin expected of his summer holiday in the wine country of Spain had been wine, sleep, and more wine. Being the muse for the recluse painter Namjoon and arguing the finer points of post modern art as pillow talk had never crossed his mind.

Yoonjin

(cause i) i’m a fool for you - onrainydays (General Audiences) 

yoongi wakes up in the middle of the night to feed seokjin's sugar gliders

of sweet kisses and raspberries - onrainydays (Teens and Up) 

seokjin loves soft things.

yoongi isn't a thing but he's soft. really really soft.

and seokjin loves him.

give me the warmth of your love - onrainydays (General Audiences)

just a drabble of tired seokjin craving cuddles

Namseok

The Jung-Kim Family - onrainydays (General Audiences)

The kid was dressed very Namjoon and smiled very Hoseok. He looked like a perfect combination of the two in every picture, melted his parents’ hearts and made their eyes shine with the purest love.

or, namseok's child was too cute not to make him a model

Yoonmin 

An Aperture in Fine Balance - blurrylines  (Teens and Up) 

Fake Marriage AU in which Yoongi is an up and coming rapper whose fame had blown up in Korea, traveled throughout Asia and has now landed him in the States. Meanwhile, Jimin is in America to study photography and find success in this land of freedom. Except for one problem. His school's policy for financial aid requires him to be either over the age of 24, have a child, or be married.

Considering the fact that he’s only 21 and can’t have a kid, Jimin is left with the last option.

That’s where Yoongi comes in the picture.

a+++ cutie - yururin  (General Audiences) 

“Are you sure your name’s Jimin and not Jinyoung?” Yoongi asked, feeling extremely dumb, but the laugh that Jimin answered him with was worth it. Sort of.

“I’m sure, hyung,” Jimin replied softly, leaning both arms on the table as he grinned at Yoongi, “finally figured it out?”

85 Days of Summer - yururin  (Explicit)

When his friends dragged him to some secluded, intimate beach resort for their summer break, all that Yoongi expected to get were cheap souvenirs, sand between his toes, and a lot of sunburns.

He didn’t expect that a beautiful boy with honey skin, soft copper hair, and a smile so bright and happy would steal his heart instead.

you are my sunshine, my only sunshine - yururin  (Mature) 

On their second anniversary, Yoongi proposed to Jimin. On their third anniversary, Yoongi woke up to the news of Jimin's untimely death. On Jimin's first death anniversary, Yoongi met Jimin again.

The Letter Thief - d4wndust  (Teens and Up) 

Min Yoongi receives a text from an unknown number and it seems to be a suicide note. Park Jimin says his goodbyes through a text, but to a wrong number.

Min Yoongi makes Park Jimin live a little longer and Park Jimin makes Min Yoongi start living.

Truth or Dare - fratboyyoongi  (Not Rated) 

Based on a prompt I got from otpprompts on tumblr that goes like: (Imagine that Person A and Person B (who are not going out yet, but have crushes on each other) are playing Truth or Dare with their friends, who can tell about their feelings toward one another. One of their friends dares B to kiss A. B leans over and kisses A on the cheek. Very tired of B’s BS, A tells them, “Come on B, you know that’s not what they meant” and grabs their head and kisses them on the mouth.)

we pass in front of a flower shop (and i catch the scent of roses) - groovystars  (General Audiences) 

Jimin's a florist who sings to the flowers and crushes hard on the mint-haired man who just came in to buy a cactus.

The Boy in the Music Box - MissterMaia  (Teens and Up) 

Yoongi doesn’t really expect anything special when he finds an old music box in his grandmother’s attic and she tells him to keep it. Oh sure, he expects the music box to be a pretty decoration to add to the stale interior of his small apartment. He expects it to play a tune and he might even dare to expect the barely-functioning little ballerina to dance along to the soft chimes, but that's it, really.

The last thing he expects is for the little ballerina to take human form at night and throw his life out of balance with radiant smiles, soft giggles, and a heart-wrenching story.

Sunshine on a Rainy Day - MissterMaia  (General Audiences) 

It’s a fact as well-known as water being wet that Min Yoongi hates mornings. He hates the lethargicness of waking up, the temporary lack of complete motor control, the slowness of his sleep-drunk mind as it attempts to power up again after the six-hour long reboot session. Truly, mornings are the devil’s work.

But maybe Yoongi hates them a little less thanks to the cute weatherman he watches over a cup of coffee every morning.

The Songbird and the Sea - MissterMaia  (Mature) 

In a world where dominance of the sea is an endless battle between pirates and mariners, Park Jimin is content living in his little village on a small, uninteresting island by the eastern mainland. He wants nothing to do with the bloodshed of good and evil, the heartless killing of both innocents and condemned, the constant establishment and disruption of order. What he wants is peace, to live his life in the same town he was born in, to spend his days in the beautiful forest, and to use the powers of his Blessed Rune to nurture the home he loves so dearly.

But when his island is attacked by pirates, Jimin will have no other choice than to do as they command and leave all thoughts of peace behind in favor of boarding the Agust, a pirate ship captained by the infamous Min Yoongi, Black Fox of the East.

Hey, Piano Man - MissterMaia  (Explicit) 

In which Yoongi, after having his evening completely ruined by a drunk asshole on his way home from a rough day at the studio, decides he himself needs to get drunk and wanders into an old-fashioned pub. He may or may not find his bad mood washed away by the cute bartender, and he may or may not end up completely and utterly smitten when said bartender gets on the small stage and starts singing in the most angelic, beautiful, seductive voice he's ever heard in all his life.

“You play the piano?”

“I... yeah, I do, actually. How'd you know?”

The bartender's smile is shy and confident all at once, and Yoongi's heart lurches in confusion. “Just a feeling,” Jimin says softly, busying himself with drying a glass. “Your hands are beautiful. They look like they were made to play an instrument.”

Soul Bond - springrain21 (Teens and Up) 

Everyone is born with a Soulmate, but not everyone gets to meet their other half in their lifetime. Twenty one year old Park Jimin suspects he will never meet his Soulmate. When he accidentally makes skin-to-skin contact with the cold, distant Min Yoongi, he discovers that the two of them are Soulmates. But what happens when Yoongi doesn't even believe in Soulmates? Will Jimin develop the deadly condition known as Soul Sickness? And will Yoongi make it in time to save him?

Love is fulfilment of the law - Yoongi_trash (Teen and Up)

"They were a strange couple, Jimin knew it. He knew that it was wrong on so many levels. On every level. He'd read the books, knew the laws; homosexuality was a sin and it always would be. But Jimin couldn't help it, couldn't deny his feelings for Yoongi."

AKA the church AU in which Jimin is a probably an angel sent from heaven and Yoongi's nickname is the Antichrist

time follows you (and fades) - thebestofme (Teen and Up)

hp!au - how half-veela!jimin and yoongi fall in love in the Slytherin common room.

(or, two sides of one story: Jimin worries about the effects of his Allure and hides his veela nature; Yoongi loves Jiminie but is too confused by mixed signals to act on it).

you and me (are the difference between real love and the love on tv) - inkingbrushes (Teen and Up)

Yoongi is pretty sure his friends are conspiring against him.

Or: that stupid college au where they're all drunk and playing the "of course" game.

smile like silver - jflawless (Teen and Up)

Anonymous said: could you do a yoonmin fic where yoongi gets a tongue piercing ? and jimin just really likes it

when you’re in love all the lines get blurred - jflawless (Teen and Up)

Jimin isn't sure what possessed him to lie to his mother and tell her that he had a boyfriend, but now that he's opened the position, he has no choice but to fill it. Yoongi is, apparently, his only option.

It’s your Birthday but you’re my Gift - smoljean (General Audiences) 

Yoongi celebrates 5 birthdays with Jimin over the course of 20 years. (aka Yoongi growing up with Jimin only to realise he's falling for his childhood friend).

you wish i was yours (and i hope that you’re mine) -  awsuga (Mature)

Jimin is getting ready to sleep his summer away now that all his friends have left for college except for him. That is, though, until he meets Yoongi. A boy two years older than him from the city, who has been kicked out by his parents and is now living with his aunt.

Because of Yoongi Jimin learns more about himself in one summer than he has his entire life.

give me a sign - iwillalwaysbelieve (Teen and Up) 

Yoongi thinks the universe is a dick for a lot of reasons. Reason #1: It gave a deaf person a soul-mark that revolves around speech. Reason #2: Once he decided to hate his soulmate no matter what they were like, the universe gave him a really attractive soulmate. Reason #3: Said soulmate is overly kind, no matter how much of a dick Yoongi is. Reason #4: Yoongi is definitely fucked.

Midnight Dreamers - ghuns (Teens and Up)

Soulmates. They're something vague and the only clues to them lie within your dreams.

Speak to Me - noonatha  (General Audience)

Yoongi might not be able to hear what he's missing out on, but he can see it.

 give me thirty days (to fall in love with you) - kstorms  (Teens and Up)

"Hi! I’m Park Jimin!” when he gets no reaction, Jimin pushes on, a little hesitantly. “As in, your soulmate?”

or

Jimin meets his soulmate, and it doesn't go the way he's planned (nothing ever does, really).

Once Upon A Dream - yururin (Teens and Up)

“Somebody once promised they’d find you, and that they’ll love you more than they already do,” Yoongi murmurs, a smile on his lips when recognition sparks in Jimin’s eyes, “somebody once promised they’d ask you to be theirs when they can finally do so again.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything—just leans into Yoongi’s touch, that same shy smile Yoongi has grown to love still on his face.

“Be mine, Park Jimin?”

(or alternatively: "that yoonmin soulmates AU where you can see a glimpse of your past life on the eve of your 18th birthday and Jimin dreams of a forbidden Joseon era love story with an upperclassman Min Yoongi, popular basketball player in uni, 18384/10 out of his reach".)

Time Lapse - NomNams  (Explicit)

Min Yoongi is a time jumper, and Jimin is tethered to his timeline. Or he's tethered to Jimin's. Who knows. All Yoongi knows, is that no matter where he jumps to, Park Jimin will be waiting. __________

"Give me a reason not to think you're some spy working for the government who plans to..."

"You have a cow lick above your right ear. There's a scar on your right knee cap that you got when you were four falling off a pony in Daegu. You have a birthmark patch low on your left butt cheek, and another on your inner..."

"Fine. Fine. Just... please stop there." Yoongi begged, blushing five shades of red.

Bullet Boy - sugamins  (Explicit)

If you want to make it big, you’ve got to start off small. This is something that Jimin acknowledges, for he just carries on singing features for underground rappers in the hopes of breaking into the mainstream scene even when the lyrics mean nothing to him.

If you want to make it in the scene, you’ve got to fake it in the scene. This is something that Yoongi understands intimately. But he’s never been one to be a poser, and there’s only far stuntin’ can get you before you burn out like the end of a cigarette.

Yoongi finally wants to move on from his bad past and take the gamble so that he can drop his first mixtape as ‘D-boy’, and he can’t think of anyone more perfect to feature on it than rising talent: Park Jimin.

Jimin really wants to break free from nights spent singing at hip hop clubs for a pittance and finally have his name on an official track in the music charts, but he’s going to need some help navigating the brutal world of music contracts and the paparazzi; and being involved in a scandal the likes of which the industry has never seen before.

Multi-Ship (is that even a thing?)

Namjin, Yoonmin and Taekook: 

Nyctophile - yururin  (Mature) 

"Like I said, monsters aren't real, Taehyung."

Jimin quickly pulled the closet doors open.

At the bottom of the closet, sitting on the floor and leaning heavily against the walls, was a man with dark pink hair clad in dark clothes, bleeding and injured and looking positively close to death.

Jimin didn't know what to do.

Craigslist Date - springrain21 (Mature)

Main Ship: Yoonmin

Min Yoongi's family are judgmental and unsupportive of his lifestyle and his mother won't stop nagging him about how he's still single. When he finds Park Jimin on Craigslist offering to pose as someone's fake date to mess with their family, Yoongi can't help himself. What starts as a prank on Yoongi's family turns into something more when the two of them quickly develop feelings for each other. Will Yoongi, who doesn't know how to handle feelings, let his chance at love slip away, or will he go after the silver-haired boy and hold onto him forever?

Inspired by that tumblr post about the guy on Craigslist who you can hire to be your date for Thanksgiving to screw with your family because that post makes me cry laughing every time I see it.

Soulmate? No, Thanks - Bookworming (Teen and Up)

Main Ship: Yoonmin

Min Yoongi has been waiting to have his first colour dream since he was 17 because a dream in colour is the dream of your soulmate, whoever they are. In a world where all humans have only black and white dreams the only colour dreams one gets are those of their soulmate, if they have one. Soulmates get each other's dreams in colour and can speak to them through those dreams, a privilege Yoongi has coveted for a long time. Yoongi has also coveted his best friend Kim Seokjin for a long time but unfortunately for Yoongi, Seokjin's soulmate loves sleeping and occupies his mind in a way Yoongi never does. Park Jimin made the worst mistake of his life by getting drunk and driving himself home one day before his 17th birthday. When he wakes up, things have changed drastically, the biggest change being the sexy voice that interrupted his first pleasant dream in a LONG time.

Yoonminkook, Namjin and Vhope: 

Let Me Know - TheOrgasmicSeke  (Mature) 

Main Ship: Yoonminkook

Talking about it, of course, became harder as the days passed by. Yoongi could never find the right time to bring it up. He was still wondering if he was just imaging things. If he was just thinking he was feeling the things he was feeling. But that was quickly disproved every single time Jimin curled up around him and Jungkook kissed him. He was a fucking idiot in love with two bigger idiots and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Except probably ruin it by talking about it. Hell, maybe it was better to just never mention it and pretend it wasn't happening.

Namjin, Yoonmin and Vhope:

Can I Get Your Dewey Decimal Number? - melecs  (Teens and Up) (a series)

Seokjin loved working at the library, but some patrons got on his nerves. Take, for example, the grown man who sat in the corner every day and leeched off of the Wi-Fi. And Seokjin worked in the children’s department.

Namjin and Yoonmin:

When life gives you elephants… - tired angry egg (Mirabelle)

(Its a series so each part has a different summary and rating) 

[cas-tellation]

Not What You Thought (I’m Sorry, I Didn’t Know) part 8

Last chapter - Masterlist - Read on ao3

A/N; Firstly; I just wanted to say that I have this fic pretty much mapped out, BUT there's a big empty space between now and the ending -- just because i need some filler stuff that i can use to add some ~development~ that being said, if you want anything specific to happen in this fic, please, please leave a comment telling me as this is the perfect time for me to maybe fit some of that stuff in. Nothing too big, just lil things. (do you want phil to get a pet? do you want more flashbacks from dan? flashbacks from phil? more about their family & all of that?? literally anything little like that that i can write a little bit about)Secondly; here a playlist of all the music i listen to whilst writing (i mean theres other music i constantly forget to add songs whoops) so if you wanna really ~get in the zone~ whilst readin you can go listen to that if you want i guess here it is And finally; lots of people who read this fic are ftm trans and thats great!! all the feedback that i've gotten back from them is so nice, and im very, very happy that this fic is at least somewhat realistic. I, myself, am not trans, however i am agender (demiboy? idk lol im figuring things out still) so i do have ~some~ experience with dysphoria and all that stuff, but at the same time its also amazing to hear what people say(a huge thanks to everyone's who's left comments on this fic so far... they really are greatly appreciated.)

Dan’s tired. He doesn’t want to get out of bed. Doesn’t want to do much of anything, really. The dysphoria is there; strong as ever. Maybe that’s the thing that he hates the most about himself: The dysphoria. Some people say that they understand that; understand the self hatred that comes with being stuck in the wrong body. But really, how could they, if they were cis?

When his mum claims that everything will be okay and that she understands, and that what he’s going through is something that every teen goes through-- isn’t she lying, because he’s not every teen. He’s Dan, not Yazi. He’s trans, not cis. He doesn’t know anybody who is trans - save for a couple of youtubers that he watches, more for the education aspect of being trans than anything else.

He feels alone. He can’t go to someone. Say, Phil. He couldn’t go to Phil and have the other boy comfort him, and tell him that everything’s going to be okay. Because how would Phil know, if he’s cis? How could Phil possibly know? How could anybody? Sure, they could have little glimpses, but nothing tangible. They wouldn’t feel dysphoria.

They wouldn’t feel this tired.

There’s a certain level of self hatred, but a lot of it was just the dysphoria. It makes him want to physically claw off his own skin.

-

School is stressful. He feels like he’s falling apart under the pressure of it. He’s doing too much and yet he still feels like he’s not doing enough. He stops doing his homework completely because whenever he hands it in and gets anything less than a perfect score; he feels like he’s failed somehow.

Of course, he hasn’t failed just because he has gotten a lower score, but still.

His mind is constantly messing with him and he’s so tired.

-

Phil’s embrace is more than welcoming after a long day. Dan melts into his arms, taking a long, shuddering breath and burying his face into Phil’s chest.

Take another deep breath. Now, close your eyes. Feel, where are you?

In, and out, darkness. Phil’s arms, Phil’s body, Phil’s heart, beating slowly and steadily beneath Dan’s cheek, further calming him. Phil’s saying something, maybe asking if Dan’s okay. Or alternatively, what’s wrong.

God, it feels like everything is wrong.

Everything, and it’s all piling up.

It’s too much. It’s all just - too much. He doesn’t know if he can deal with it anymore. He misses the sharp kiss of the blade against his pale skin.

But he’s here in Phil’s arms, safe from physical harm.

l

Only for the time being. Phil would leave and then - and then.

God.

Since when does the world spin like this? Since when does the world hurt like this?

Phil’s arms are drawing tighter around Dan’s thin body, one hand coming up to comb gently through Dan’s ever-so-slightly curly hair.

“It’ll be okay, Danny,” Phil’s saying.

But the thing is, it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be okay. Because everything hurts but at the same time everything’s so empty and heavy and full and painful. In Dan’s eyes, it’s not going to be okay. Not by a long shot. He feels so broken, and used up, and thoroughly useless.

He’s none of those things.

But his mind refuses to think of himself as anything but that.

Phil’s arms are around him, holding him together. When all Dan is doing is breaking apart.

-

Phil’s gone. He hadn’t wanted to leave. He’d been worried about Dan. They’re all worried, all the time. Phil, the teachers at school, Dan’s parents.

But Phil had to leave.

And Dan is now alone. Feeling the worst that he has in a long time. And he doesn’t know what to do.

-

Everything’s hazy. It’s like he’s looking at his life through a keyhole. Not really there. It’s almost as if he can’t feel anything. Is he dreaming? He can’t remember going to sleep but he still doesn’t feel like he’s properly awake. Through a keyhole. Hazy. Dream-like. Sitting on the edge of a bathtub, rolling up his sleeves.

Numb.

A razor, in his hand.

And god is he really going to do this?

-

Sleep is laced through with unease.

-

The feeling’s not gone the next day. He had hoped that after a good night’s sleep that the hurt would go away.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the day.

The binder fits too tight. His hair is growing out a little and it only adds to the dysphoria. Everything feels too feminine. Too much. Way too much. Make it stop, please.

-

He walks to school, the overcast sky reflecting his emotional state perfectly.

He pauses, in front of the school door, weighing his options.

Then, he turns around and walks in the opposite direction. Fuck school.

-

He doesn’t go home. God, he doesn’t want to go ‘home’ ever again. He goes to the park instead, where he and Phil had been. Except that now Phil’s not there. Instead, there are countless children and their parents. He almost regrets coming but sits down on the edge of a bench anyway, pulling a book out of his bag and trying to lose himself in the story. At least for a little while.

It’s weird, how invisible he is.

Nobody seems to notice him.

Nobody bothers him.

He almost wishes that he could do this everyday. Until he remembers how much school he’s missing and feels his throat choke up. Too much, this is all too much, and yet not enough.

-

Phil texts him just after noon, when Dan would usually meet him.

Dan doesn’t reply.

-

Everything is falling apart at a steady pace and there’s nothing that Dan can do to stop it.

-

That night, Dan lays in bed, his hands resting on his stomach, tears racing down his cheeks. He thinks, ‘I need Phil’, and then, ‘I need Nicole’, and after that he hates himself a little bit more.

-

The amount of notifications that Dan wakes up to is absolutely horrifying, in his opinion. Dozens from Phil. Even one from Nicole. He breath catches in his throat as he sees it;

Nic: where have you been ive missed u

He doesn’t know if he can reply to it. He does anyway.

Dan: i miss you too.

And he does. Fuck, he does.

He locks his phone again before he replies to Phil. A sick feeling settles in his belly.

-

At lunch the next day, Dan’s almost disappointed to see that Phil isn’t yet sitting on the dusty patch of ground behind the building. He pulls out the same book that he had started yesterday, and begins reading. He’s hoping that Phil will show up.

But scared, too, because he’s so unresponsive. He’s scared that Phil will think that Dan doesn’t like him and he’s scared that Phil won’t see how lost Dan is.

But fear isn’t helping him so he pushes it down and tries so hard to focus on the words in front of him. He doesn’t know if it’s working.

Phil does show up. He’s not mad that Dan hadn’t been there the day before, instead, he was worried about how Dan was feeling.

Phil says, “Hey Danny.”

And Dan says, “I told you to stop calling me that.”

And then Phil hugs him again and all Dan can think is: Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. Because what did he do to deserve someone like this? Since when did he get to be with the Good Guy? Since when did someone who actually cared about things pay any sort of attention to him?

Usually it was someone looking for a good fuck.

Or Nicole, who simply didn’t have her life together enough to care.

Dan lets Phil hold him and is scared that Phil will leave once he realizes how well and truly fucked up Dan feels.

-

Feeling good is something that takes a long time. Dan feels a spark of it that night when Phil texts him saying:

Phil: Goodnight dannyyyyyyy <3333

The spark being Dan’s stomach flopping around happily. Happily. Happiness. It’s something that he has a hard time feeling.

But with Phil, it seems to come easier.

-

Dan wakes up feeling a bit more awake than usual. He tells himself that this means he’s getting over the depression, though he can still feel it lurking there, right under his skin, waiting for the worst time to make it’s re-appearance.

It’s horrible, living like this, but at the point that Dan is now at, it’s impossible to avoid.