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recurring-polynya · 3 years

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In tHiaM, Renji mentioned a fictional fateful encounter in which he and Rukia met in the circus. I can picture this deeply. The Rukon has circuses. It has gritty knife throwers, it has scrappy beast tamers, it has a lovely doe-eyed tightrope walker who does stunts so dangerous your hair'd turn white just watching her. It is for Renji's birthday so he should get Rukia being extremely badass and saving his life from a rampaging circus bear. Ideally, Kenpachi is there.

A lot of times, I’ll have some idea for a story, and I’ll do a bit of research and find out that the thing I wanted to do absolutely does not exist in Japanese culture, and I was completely sure that when I dug into it, Japanese circuses would not be a thing, or they would be extremely different from Western circuses, but as it turns out, circuses were absolutely a thing in the Edo era, and they had acrobats and strongmen and horseriding and more. I had so many tabs open about circuses, and almost none of it actually made it into this fanfic.

Anyway, THANK YOU ALOPEX, you know what I like to write, and what I like to write is Renji telling rambling stories of questionable veracity. I put in some lifting for good measure. This might be the most perfect Renji birthday story.

If it isn’t immediately evident, this takes place in the middle of the Advance Team Arc, or more specifically, in the middle of my Advance Team Arc story, See You on the Other Side, where Renji tells Chad a different RenRuki origin story that’s basically the desert bandit subplot from Crouching Tiger, and also a story about bees.

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🏋️‍♂️ 💪 🤡 🎪 🐻

Renji hefted the last bumper plate onto the end of the barbell and tightened the collar. Chad watched him with narrowed eyes.

“You sure you want to try this?” Renji asked. “One thousand pounds. It’s the weight limit for this bar. Once you beat this, we gotta go back to Urahara’s place and pick up big rocks.”

Apparently, Chad worked part time at his gym, which meant he had a key, which meant that he and Renji could go in at two a.m. so that Renji could teach him how to lift absurd amounts of weight with his reiatsu. It was pretty convenient, as long as you didn’t mind lifting weights at two a.m. Renji loved lifting weights at two a.m.

“You just don’t want to tell me another story,” Chad replied, flexing his shoulders in anticipation.

“Whatever, I got a million of them.” Renji took a few steps backward.

Chad flared his nostrils and stepped up to the barbell. He squatted down and curled his fingers around the grip. He took three deep breaths as he stared straight again. Leading with his hips, he straightened up in a smooth, textbook perfect movement, the sinews in his neck popping out, the air around him boiling with power.

Renji wished he could drag Chad over to Squad Six, so those spoiled weenies could see what hard work actually looked like.

Chad dropped the weight and a huge breath burst out of him, his eyes widening in relief. “I did it,” he gasped.

“You did it, buddy!” Renji shouted, pointing at the barbell. “You’re a machine! You didn’t even make it look hard!”

“It was hard,” Chad managed.

“I don’t believe it!” Renji continued. “One thousand pounds! You’re incredible, dude!”

“What do you mean, you don’t believe it? You told me to do it.”

“I mean, when I told you we were gonna work for the big one-kay, it was, you know, a stretch goal. I didn’t expect you to get there so fast!”

“You said you would tell me another story when I hit it! I assumed it was a reasonable goal.”

“I keep making unreasonable goals and you keep hitting them, so I’m just sort of winging it, now, t’be honest! I’m actually really bothered how much you are motivated by my dumb stories. If I had any human money, I would just offer to buy you tacos or something.”

“I can make my own tacos. I like the stories.”

Renji sighed. They didn’t have tacos in Soul Society and he was determined to eat as many tacos as he possibly could while he was stationed in the Living World. “Go get cleaned up, and I’ll put the weights away and try to decide which story to tell you this time. I did bring us some protein shakes. I can’t vouch for them, because they’re made out of stuff I found in the Shouten, but it’s important to get some calories in you after lifting. ”

“I’m sure they’re fine. I like your protein shakes. Oh, and I know which story I want to hear--how you met Rukia.”

Of course he did.

Renji was a man of many stories. He had so many good stories. He had Inuzuri stories that were full of mischief and dirtbaggery. He had Squad 11 stories that were full of headbutting and idiocy. He had interesting stories about his clever friends Izuru and Momo and funny stories about his goofy friend Shuuhei and horrible stories about his horrible friends Iba and Madarame. But Chad had asked him once how he met their mutual friend Kuchiki Rukia, a very reasonable and natural thing to ask, and Renji had responded with a ridiculous story that was very obviously not true. Now, all Chad wanted to hear was ostentatious lies about how he, Abarai Renji, had met the incomparable Kuchiki Rukia.

Renji racked his brain as he racked Chad’s weights. This would probably make the eighth or ninth Renji-Rukia origin story, he’d honestly lost count. He was running out of material. There was a bulletin board next to the weight storage rack, covered with flyers for a weightlifting tournament in Naruki City, the Karakura High kendo team, tumbling lessons. Renji stared at the picture of the girl in the sparkly leotard on the last one. He thought about how he and the gang used to make up stories of how they were gonna make it out of Inuzuri some day. He thought about Rukia’s absolute favorite, the one she told over and over, the way it got bigger and sparklier every time she told it.

Chad returned, a tracksuit zipped overtop his workout clothes. “Need help?” he asked.

“This is the last one,” Renji replied, hefting it up onto the shelf. “You can put the bar away, though.”

Chad did.

It was kinda nice, Renji thought, being in a gym in the middle of the night with Chad. It reminded him of hunching over his dorm room desk across from Izuru, cramming for written exams. It reminded him of achy muscles in a dim Fifth Company dojo, trying to figure out the mechanics of Zabimaru’s shikai deep into the wee hours. It reminded him of long runs with Ikkaku as the sun was just peaking over the city walls. The hours between dusk and dawn were a pretty good time for doing things, in Renji’s opinion.

“So, did you remember? How you met her?”

“Of course I remember!” Renji protested. “You think I would forget something like that?”

“You do get hit on the head a lot,” Chad rumbled gently and it took Renji a moment to realize he just got dragged. Chad was actually a really funny guy, you just had to pay attention.

Renji plopped down on a pile of mats and started rummaging around in his backpack for the two bottles of questionable nutritional substance he had mixed up earlier. “Well, I certainly remember the time I ran away from home and joined the circus, I’ll tell you that.” It was a good opening line, and he paused a few seconds to get the full effect.

“The circus?” Chad echoed skeptically, sitting down next to Renji and accepting his smoothie.

“The circus,” Renji replied after taking a long swig. It was very, very strawberry flavored. “So. I think I mentioned once that when I died I got sent to the shit-end of Rukongai. District 78 of the Southern Quadrant, where your best hope is to die soon and catch an express trip back to the Living World. I was too dumb and stubborn for that, though, so I was always on the lookout for a way out. Now, it’s pretty hard to move between districts in Rukongai-- it’s illegal without a special permit, see, and special permits get harder to get the further out you go. But there are a few kinds of permits that allow you to travel all up and down Soul Society, and one of those is for entertainers.”

This was more-or-less true. It was true in theory, but travelling shows never made it out to the deep Rukon-- there was no profit in it. Rukia used to swear up and down that a circus had made it to Inuzuri once, basically just passing through on their way to capture wild animals from the magical wilderness past the end of District 80, but she had seen it. Rukia was older than the rest of them, and she used to talk about it in such nauseating detail that they had no choice but to believe her.

“When I saw the posters plastered up all over town, my first thought was that it was an opportunity to pick up some quick kan as temporary labor. My primary job skill at the time was picking up heavy objects, you see, perhaps moving them from place to place. Circuses always need help with set up and tear down. I mean, do I look like a theater kid?”

Chad stared at him pointedly.

“I don’t know why I asked that,” Renji quickly corrected, “but also, keep in mind that I am Like This because I was in the circus, not the other way around. Anyway, my instincts were correct, and I found myself gainfully employed, carting crates and also tying and untying knots, another of my many talents. But then two things, or rather two someones made me decide that I needed to hitch my star to this ridiculous pageant. The first, I will admit, was a complete castle in the sky, but what is being an adolescent boy about if not chasing after hopeless dreams?”

Chad frowned. “Well. There’s school.”

“There is no school in Inuzuri, actually, and perhaps that would have kept me out of trouble, but instead, I became absolutely entranced by the glittering star of the show-- a tightrope walker of exceptional agility, grace, and beauty. Her most defining characteristic, though, was her audacity. There was no trick too dangerous for her. She somersaulted through hoops of fire. She juggled daggers. She’d stop halfway across the tightrope, pull out a tokkari, and pour herself a saucer of sake and drink it, while the audience gasped.”

“It was Kuchiki,” Chad guessed, the corner of his mouth tipping up into his shy grin.

“It was Rukia,” Renji agreed, “but imagine Rukia in head-to-toe spangles, with bells in her hair and glitter painted around her eyes, 20 feet in the air. She was unreal. She was an apparition, a spirit. I was desperate to meet her.”

“Did you?” asked Chad.

“Chad,” said Renji.

“What?”

“Did you just… did you just ask me if I ever managed to meet Rukia? Your friend and mine, Kuchiki Rukia? In the middle of this story about how I met Rukia?”

Chad thought for a moment. “It’s two a.m. and I just deadlifted a thousand pounds.”

“That’s fair, and the answer is yes, eventually, I did meet Rukia and she saved me from being eaten by a bear, but we’ll get to that. Are you drinking that protein shake?”

“Oh, sorry! It’s really good, I just keep forgetting because this story is a good one.” Chad took a long sip. “Hey, Abarai?”

“Yeah?”

“Sorry to interrupt again, but I have a question about the bear.”

“The bear is later.”

“Yeah, I realize that, but does the bear die?”

“Huh?”

“I’m just asking up front, because I don’t like stories where animals die, and if the bear gets hurt or dies, maybe could you skip over that part?”

“Oh! No, the bear is fine. Well, he’s probably reincarnated back into a living bear by now, he was pretty old even then. I exaggerated a little to make it sound dramatic, he probably wouldn’t have eaten me in any case.”

“Okay, you can go back to the story now, I just wanted to make sure. Thank you.”

“No, no, it’s cool. I’m glad you checked in.” Renji took a deep breath through his nose and mentally rearranged his story so that Rukia no longer defeated the beast in a dramatic knife fight. “Right. So, as I said, there was a second person at the circus who influenced me greatly and that was the most famous strongman in the entire Rukon, Zaraki Kenpachi--”

“Wait, Captain Zaraki? Big guy? With the bells in his hair?”

Oh, shit. “Uh, yeah. That’s a circus thing, you know. Hair bells. You, uh, know Captain Zaraki?”

“Yeah, Orihime made friends with him, and he broke us out of prison, but then we split up because there was someone he wanted to fight.”

“That sounds like him. Anyway, yeah, he’s in this story, too. I used to be in his squad, you know?”

“I gathered that from the way Madarame and Ayasegawa talk to you.”

“He helped me get in the Gotei, you see. Because of our time together in the circus. That’s a different story, though, we’re focusing on circus times, here. He wasn’t even the Kenpachi, yet, actually. One of the reasons he’s so strong is because before he was a fighter, he lifted things, heavy things. He did all the typical strongman stuff-- bending iron bars, biting through teacups, tearing packs of cards in half, but his most famous trick was balancing bamboo poles on his shoulders and then various acrobats and other performers would scramble up on them and do tricks from on top of him. He was wildly popular, pictured on all the posters. People would come to the circus just to see him. I did not have a lot going for me at this point of my life, but I was strong, and when I saw this guy, it occurred to me that if I could get him to take me on as some sort of apprentice, I might finally be able to use my strength to get out of that shitty town.”

“Seems like a good plan.”

“It did. It seemed like a good plan, except that Zaraki had a very busy schedule of getting drunk and napping when he wasn’t lifting things, and he was absolutely not interested in Inuzuri punks who had been hired to move crates around.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Well, speaking of Inuzuri punks, I may have been a fairly honest and hardworking fellow, but one day, a couple of my reprobate neighbors decided to sneak in and try to get a glimpse of some of the wild animals. The fellow who looked after the menagerie was a little guy by the name of Mameji. Very kind and loved the animals deeply, but not very good at standing up for himself. I barely knew him, but I don’t like bullies, and I owed most of those guys a punch in the nose anyway. Mameji was pretty grateful for the solid I did him and asked if there was any favor he could do me in return. Naturally, I asked if he knew Zaraki, but unfortunately, he was terrified of the guy, so I told him I was just happy to do a good deed and make a friend.”

“You should have asked him if he knew Rukia. Rukia likes animals.”

“You’re very smart, Sado, but remember that this story is about me, not you. It didn’t matter anyway, because the next day, he comes to find me and says there’s someone who wants to talk to me. I can’t imagine who he means, aside from holding out hope that maybe he did know Zaraki after all and was just slow-rolling me.”

“But it was Rukia.”

“It was. Mameji leads me over to the area where the animals are kept, and there, in a blue kimono embroidered with silver stars and crystals in her hair, was The Fearless Rukia.” Rukia’s circus stories were usually at least seventy-five percent descriptions of her outfits, and Renji felt obligated to keep up that detail. “‘You helped my friend out,’ she says to me. ‘I appreciate that.’ And I replied something very smooth and suave, like, ‘I like the way you do cartwheels’ or possibly just “Guuuuuuh.’ And then she says, ‘I hear you’re interested in Zaraki, what’s up with that?’ and as you know, I’m much better at talking about muscle stuff, so I explain about picking up heavy things and Inuzuri and my ambition to join the circus and she just listens carefully, nodding from time to time. She makes me pick up a few barrels and then Mameji, for good measure, and finally, she nods and says, ‘You’re pretty strong and I like your hair. Come back here tomorrow. I’m going to help you impress Zaraki.’”

Chad’s eyes sparkled with anticipation.

“So, the next day, I came back, like she said, and Mameji was there, too and they’ve got this big sack of yams. I’ve told you before about eatin’ in Soul Society, right?”

Chad nodded and belatedly took another gulp of his shake.

“My initial thought was that they were gonna try to bulk me up. Raw yams may not sound very exciting to you, but after years of living on near-moldy rice and the occasional sad vegetable or bony fish, I was watering at the mouth. ‘You’re gonna feed these yams to Sunny,’ says Rukia. ‘Who?’ says I. ‘His stage name is Brawler,’ says Rukia, ‘But he’s a good boy so Mameji and I call him Sunny. It’s a joke. Because he’s a moon bear.’ Brawler, you see, was the second scariest thing in the circus, right after Zaraki-- the biggest, ugliest moon bear you can possibly imagine, probably 200 kilograms. A lot of circus bears do tricks-- balance on balls or some shit, but Brawler’s only trick was looking mean as Hell. Sometimes they’d throw him a deer haunch and he’d eat it in a real gross way, I guess people like seeing stuff like that. I, like most people growing up on the southern border of the Rukon, had a healthy fear of large carnivores, but I had a much larger fear of looking like a weenie in front of Rukia, and I was determined I was gonna do whatever she told me to. The first time wasn’t so bad-- I just tossed the yams in and he snuffled over and gave me the hairy eyeball before snorfling them up. We did that the next day, too, but the day after that, Mameji took me into his enclosure to give him his yams. I was a little surprised, you see, because I would have expected a bear like that to eat meat or something like that, but he sure did like those yams.”

“Moon bears are omnivores,” Chad supplied. “They like sweet things.”

“You’re right, and I later found out that Sunny did get meat and other stuff at other times of day, but yams were his absolute favorite thing. Again, Rukia did not tell me this, because Rukia often neglects to tell me important things. I found all of this to be absolutely terrifying, and I probably would have given up and stuck to my crate moving, except that Rukia and Mameji were just about the nicest and amazing people I had ever met. They let me hang out with them for a bit and they told me stories about traveling with the circus and I told them about Inuzuri. They introduced me to their other friends, Fujimaru, who could do all sorts of knife throwing tricks, and Kosaburou, who had the most beautiful singing voice you could possibly imagine. By the time Rukia asked me to give Sunny the yams right out of my hand, I was doin’ it, not because I was desperate to get out of Inuzuri, but because I was desperate to do anything to stay with my new friends.”

Renji paused and pretended to be interested in his protein shake. Usually, he tried to fill these stories with a lot of daring-do and badassery, but he’d gotten a little off-track when had to junk his big exciting Rukia versus Bear fight scene. All he could think of was lying around the squat on miserable rainy days, one-upping each other with stories about their ridiculous circus acts. He hadn’t thought about those days-- hadn’t let himself think about those days-- in years. What a sap he was turning into. Maybe it was because Rukia was back in his life. Maybe it was because there was a war coming, a war he might not make it through. Maybe it was because it was two a.m.

“I know how that feels,” Chad said very quietly, so quietly that Renji almost didn’t catch it, and it occurred to Renji that maybe sometimes it helped to hear a sappy story at 2 a.m.

Renji snorted softly. “So, the day before the circus was set to pack up, Rukia explains her big plan to me. Up until now, I’ve sort of been assuming that this is all an exercise in building courage or some gonzo shit like that, but it turns out it’s very straightforward. Zaraki’s dream the whole time he’s been in the circus is to pick up Sunny as part of his act, except that Sunny has zero interest in being picked up and ends up chewing on Zaraki’s head every time he tries. If Zaraki had ever bothered asking Mameji for help, maybe he could have tried the old yam trick himself, but then this wouldn’t be much of a story.

“I wait ‘til the big guy is done with his nap and is prepping for the night’s performance, inventorying his lead pipes and such, and I go up to him and I say, ‘Zaraki the Great, I am very strong, you should take me on as your apprentice!’ Now, Rukia had seen people do this to him before, and she knew that he always came back with ‘Oh, yeah? Do something to impress me, then.’ Of course, I was prepared, and I said, ‘I am going to pick up Brawler, would that do it?’ and Zaraki laughs in my face and says ‘If you can do that, I will definitely take you on, kid.’”

Chad’s face had split into a huge grin and he leaned forward in anticipation.

“We go over to Sunny’s pen, and of course, Mameji’s already given him his dinner and he’s feelin’ real fat and happy when he sees his old yam buddy Renji coming. I slip him a yam that I had tucked in my sleeve and I start rubbin’ his side, which is a thing we’d been practicin’. He leans into it, ‘cause he was a big, itchy boy, and I just… flipped him and picked him up like a baby.” Renji made a scooping motion to demonstrate. Chad’s face absolutely lit up. “He was incredibly heavy and also he did not really like that,” Renji continued, “but I put him down right away and gave him another yam and he forgave me. Zaraki was laughin’ his ass off, but he kept his word and got me signed on as a Strongman-in-Training. We went on to have many more adventures, both me an’ Zaraki and me an’ Rukia an’ Mameji an’ Kosaburou and Mameji.”

“And Sunny.”

“Sunny continued to be a hideous, angry bear for the crowds, but I kept giving him yams and never picked him up again and we were great friends for the time we spent together in the circus.”

Chad sat back, smiling his usual inscrutable smile. “Thank you, Abarai. That was a really good one.”

Renji cocked an eyebrow at him. “Was it?”

“Yes. It had friendships and a nice bear and I felt like Rukia would really appreciate the effort you put into describing all her outfits. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t true, but it was a good story.”

Renji heaved a big sigh, as though he’d honestly thought Chad was gonna buy it this time. He stretched his arms and legs out in front of him. “Let’s go home. I could go for a few hours of sleep before the Shouten Shouting starts. You’re taking a rest day tomorrow, but don’t forget to stretch.”

“The last time I had a rest day, you came over and you taught me some stuff about reiryouku.”

“Did I?” Renji frowned.

“Can we do that again? You said you would try to explain how flash step works.”

Shit, he did remember promising that. He’d just gotten overenthusiastic because it was nice to be the guy who knew things for a change. On the other hand, he also remembered the enthusiasm of going to school for the first time and wanting to know everything, and could hardly fault Chad for the same. “Sure,” he agreed. “After noon.”

“Let’s make it noon,” Chad amended. “I’ll make you tacos.”

“That,” replied Renji, “is a deal.”

#renji's birthday 2k21 #my writing #chad-renji brotp #i honestly hope that over in soul society rukia shot awake #she gets a +2 to badassery every time renji tells a story about her

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jacaranda-bloom · 3 years

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FIC WRITER QUESTIONS

Thank you to the lovely @allwaswell16 @runaway-train-works @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @uhoh-but-yeah-alright and @evilovesyou for tagging me to answer some questions about my writing.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

901,445 (Hoping to hit the Magic Million by the end of the year!)

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

1 (One Direction)

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

When Tomorrow Comes 1155

The Baby Whisperer 950

Love, Ever After 898

Harry Poppins 856

Play Me A Memory 760

More under the cut…

5) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Oh gosh. Uhm. I don’t really write angsty endings? All my fics have Happy Endings and most have epilogues to round them out and tie them up in a bow. Perhaps I’d say If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow) purely because (spoiler ahead) the epilogue is written 100 years into the future so they’ve both passed.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Interestingly, I would actually say the answer is the same as above, If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow). The epilogue is so uplifting and I cry happy tears every time I re-read it. It’s written from the POV of their granddaughter and you get to see the world they had a hand in changing for the better through her eyes, so you get a sense of how impactful their lives were on the rest of society. Oof, tearing up right now just thinking about it.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Yeah, I have actually. I really enjoy doing new takes on an existing universes, although they aren’t always the easiest thing to pull off tbh. I’m not sure which I would say is the craziest, but the hardest to write was definitely The Peter Pan/Hook AU.

Harry Poppins - Loosely based on the book/movie Mary Poppins, but without any magical aspects.

Playing To Win - Set in the Big Brother house.

The Pirate and The Piper - A Peter Pan/Hook AU which I took a lot of liberties with.

In The Still Of The Night - My Dirty Dancing AU.

A Hungry Heart - This is a Great British Bake Off AU that is due out in September for the Cliche Fic Fest!

8) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Whoa Nelly. Yeah, I do. All the time. Every fic actually. There’s only one, Exposed, the only fic I’ve published that’s not rated Explicit and doesn’t have smut. But, to be fair, the challenge was to write exactly 666 words and I still managed to get the implication in there. Plus, Louis was naked and Harry was applying body paint for the majority of the story, so like, I think I can get a free pass on that one - I tried!

In terms of what type of smut, I guess it varies depending on the story. I tend not to push the boat out too far, but I do dabble in BDSM in quite a few of my fics. A recurring theme in the comments I receive is that my smut scenes are well constructed and detailed, without being too tedious or drawn out, which is lovely feedback to get because they can be challenging to write.

9) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Absolutely. Every single one.

10) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not often, people are usually so kind, but there have been a couple.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of!

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yeah, quite a lot, particularly on Wattpad, all with my full consent. That said, I’m thinking of stopping this because it’s getting a bit out of hand and I’ve been feeling uncomfortable about it recently for various reasons that I won’t bore you with here.

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope! I don’t think it’s really my thing tbh. I get very in my head about writing and struggle even to brainstorm or share too much until I’m well into a story.

14) What’s your all time favorite ship?

Of the 47 fics I’ve written, there are 45 Larry, 1 Narry, and 1 Louis/Dermot O’Leary (I think mine is still the only fic with this ship hahahaa), so that’s probably a good indication of my fave writing ship.

15) What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I have one lonely WIP sitting on AO3 from 2018. I keep promising myself I’ll finish it and it’s on my schedule every year, then I get distracted by other fics/fests and it gets pushed back. Plus, it needs a complete rewrite because my style has developed so much since I started it, so it’ll be a big job. Based on that, I think that the fic, in its current form, won’t ever be finished as the rewrite will completely wipe out what it was, although the underlying plot will still be there.

16) What are your writing strengths?

World building (or so I’m often told). I write very visually and people often say they can imagine the scene exactly, or that it’s like a movie, or that they think it’s actually a real place I’m describing, when most of the time it absolutely isn’t, it’s just something I’ve created in my weird brain.

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue (although my lovely beta disagrees) and telling rather than showing. They’re both things I’m actively working on.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’ve never really considered it. It’s not something I’d shy away from necessarily, but it’s just never come up.

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

One Direction. First and only.

20) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Wow. This is really tough because it changes over time. I find that once I’ve finished a fic I don’t want to revisit it for a few months because I’m kind of over it. But I find comfort in them after a while, like I get to go back to that happy place and immerse myself in that world and the characters again, similar to catching up with an old friend. It’s familiar. I think I also like different stories for different reasons and I’m drawn to various ones depending on my mood. My top 3 (although, ask me next week and the list will probably be completely different!) would probably be:

1. If You’re Out There (I’ll Find You Somehow). Written for the hybrid fic fest (a fest I created just for this fic lol). It’s not everyone’s cup of tea due to the hybrid aspect, but it’s one of the stories I feel is the most rounded from a character development perspective and the world building was pretty epic, if I can be so bold as to throw that out there myself!

2. No Going Back. One of my Big Bangs from 2020. I adore the way their relationship develops in this fic and the setting (as remote lighthouse keepers) was such a lot of fun to write. Plus I got to collaborate with an amazing artist who created an entire website as an accompanying travel blog which was truly wonderful.

3. From The Heart. This is a series I wrote for wordplay back in 2019. I had no idea that what I was doing was so unusual and so meta by having Louis essentially write for the equivalent of wordplay in the fic. It was such an fun way to share my writing process and challenges I encounter (exactly how many synonyms tabs do I have open at any one time?!) and I thoroughly enjoyed the outcome (although getting there was definitely a struggle).

This was really fun and thanks to anyone who made it this far! Writing brings me so much joy and is a wonderful outlet for all the imaginings in my head, so I appreciate everyone who supports me and joins me on that journey.

I’m pretty late with this and I’m not sure who has already done it but I’ll tag @fallinglikethis @homosociallyyours @lululawrence @reminiscingintherain and @beau-soleil-louis if they’d like to do this and haven’t already.

#August 13 2021 #fic writer questions #tag games #this was really fun!

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wayward-dreamer · 4 years

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If It Was To Work

Title: If It Was To Work

Pairing: Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,949

Warnings: Slight angst, Fluff, Smut, Fingering, p in v, Happy Ending, SPOILERS FOR 15.08 OUR FATHER WHO AREN’T IN HEAVEN

Summary: Dean gave Sam some great advice. Sam just wishes he’d take his own advice sometimes.They had a lot on their plate with their Chuck situation, but that doesn’t mean they can’t take on an old-fashion, black and white case. That also doesn’t mean they can’t go out and celebrate a job well done afterwards.Walking into that bar and seeing you was the last thing Dean thought was going to happen.Maybe Sam’s right. Maybe he should listen to his own advice.**SLIGHT SPOILERS FOR 15.08 OUR FATHER WHO AREN'T IN HEAVEN**

A/N: My first one-shot on Tumblr! Find it on AO3 too! I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! :)

Some would probably say that going off to kill some vampires in Iowa while they still have their God problem would be a bad idea.

To Dean, it was the best idea Sam had that week.

He had been itching to get back to a regular, normal, non-Chuck related hunt for weeks and he was very glad to be hacking heads off vamps just outside of Des Moines.

Taking out a cloth from his back pocket, Dean walked towards the Impala as he wiped the cloth down the length of the machete to get the blood off. He dropped the machete into the weapons box, just as Sam came up behind him and did the same. Dean shut the trunk and walked over to the driver’s side, getting in and starting the engine.

“I don’t know about you, but I could go for a cool one” Dean smirked, as the radio started.

Sam nodded. “You know what, let’s do it.”

Dean frowned. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I mean we haven’t done a victory beer at a bar in a while, so why not?” Sam shrugged.

“Okay.” Dean said, looking between Sam and the road. “Better take this opportunity now before you change your mind.”

Sam rolled his eyes, as he scrolled through his phone. Dean continued to drive for about 15 minutes before they spotted a roadside bar. He pulled the Impala up into an empty spot, before shutting the engine off. He got out of the car, as Sam followed behind him.

“You grab a spot, I’ll get the beers” Sam said, as he took in the large gathering within the bar.

Dean looked around the bar, taking in his surroundings. They hadn’t done this in a long time, and he was glad that they didn’t have to get back to the Bunker straight away. No one had any leads on Chuck, so they could take a day if they wanted to. At this point they needed to. As his eyes roamed over the patrons, they stopped on one person in particular.

She leaned over the pool table, lining up the shot, giving him a great view of her ass in the dark blue jeans that she wore. Round, perky and irresistible. Perfect. As she stood from taking the shot, Dean caught a glimpse of the tattoo she had on her right arm; a sleeve of vines and flowers. She laughed, as the two burly men they were playing with forked over a roll of cash each. The girl had confidence. Dean smirked, already taking out some cash to buy her a drink. Something about her felt familiar, though, as he continued to admire her.

When she turned away from her friend and faced the rest of the bar, it hit him like a fucking Mack Truck. A flood of memories flashed through his mind, all at once, knocking the wind out of him.

Y/N. Y/N was here. In the same bar as him. After all these years of never having run into each other, not even on a hunt, and here she was.

Damn it. This had to be Chuck’s doing, right?

He suddenly heard a snapping sound and saw something waving in front of his face. He shook his head and looked away, facing Sam. His brother was wide-eyed and confused, his forehead creased as he looked at him.

“Dean, where the hell were you?” he asked.

Dean shook his head again, lifting the beer to his lips and taking a large gulp from it. “N-nothing. I mean, nowhere. Nothing. Shut up.”

Sam raised an eyebrow, bewildered by Dean’s sudden odd behaviour. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just-” Dean started to answer Sam but when he looked up, he saw that Y/N was walking towards the bar.

She was wearing a tight black Led Zeppelin t-shirt, and her Y/C/H flowing behind her as she walked. However, much like him, she took in her surroundings and stopped in her tracks when she saw him. Sam saw Dean go completely still and wondered what was happening. He turned around and knew straight away what was going on. No wonder he was acting strangely. Dean slowly got up from the stool at their high top, leaving his drink behind. As he hesitantly walked closer to Y/N, her eyes widened in shock. He was just a few inches away from her when he took in her features. She hadn’t changed; she was still as beautiful as ever.

Y/N took him in. How was it possible that the man became more attractive with age? She looked past him at Sam, who gave her a small smile. She couldn’t believe that in all the years since she and Dean parted ways, she would be seeing them again now and in the most random of bars.

“H-hi” she squeaked out, as she moved closer to Dean.

Dean nodded. “Hey.”

She brushed her knuckles together, as she looked around the room. She was trying to avoid looking at him too long, for fear that she might burst into tears.

“How are you?” she asked, only glancing at him before looking away again.

A sad smile crossed Dean’s face when he realised what she was doing. She was forgetting how well he knew her.

“Have I really changed that much that you can’t look at me?” he said, in the most light-hearted manner he could muster up, but it still held a sadness behind it.

She finally looked up at him. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You’d be surprised” Dean grimaced, wishing he had brought his drink over with him.

Everything else in that bar faded into the background as Dean and Y/N continued to look at each other. A range of thoughts and emotions flooded Dean’s mind as he thought back on how they had left things the last time they were together. There was so much about that night that he regretted, the most painful of which he knew was something neither of them had gotten over. It was the greatest regret of his life; letting her go. Pushing her away. What he didn’t know was that she completely understood why he did what did. She always understood.

Y/N looked back at her friend who was still preoccupied by the men they were playing pool with. She turned back to Dean and knew she had a couple of options here. She either walked away and went back to her friend, forgetting about him completely. Or… she asked him to have a drink with her, for old times’ sake. She took a deep breath, ready to ask him and possibly open herself up to being heartbroken again.

“Hey, you wanna grab a drink with me and Sammy?” Dean asked, beating her to it. The same thoughts had been running through his head; about whether or not to ask her.

She smiled properly this time, a full wattage smile that reached her shining eyes. “I’d love that.”

Y/N walked over with Dean to their table and smiled at Sam. Sam immediately got up from his seat and hugged her, causing her to laugh.

“I swear you got bigger somehow” she laughed.

“How are you?” he asked, smiling.

“I’m good” she said, simply. “Honestly can’t complain. I know you two have it worse.”

“What? You been keeping tabs on us?” Dean asked, intrigued as to whether she was or not.

“Not really, but… Garth talks. A lot” she replied, laughing again.

Dean scoffed as he smirked. “Figures.”

They all proceeded to catch up on everything from the past years. Y/N told them how she now had a place in town, somewhere to come back to after a hunt. Sam told her about the Bunker and she was suddenly giddy.

“Oh man, I gotta see it” she smiled.

“Yeah, first time we got there… couldn’t really believe that it was real” Sam said, smiling too.

Dean smirked as he watched Y/N. “You should, you know? See it, I mean. You should uh… You should come over some time.”

Y/N looked at him and smiled softly. “I will.”

Sam looked between Dean and Y/N. He remembered Dean telling him about what happened between them and knew there was a lot of things that were left unfinished between them.

“You know, I’m not feeling too great” Sam said, getting up from his seat. “I’m going to get a cab, head back to our motel. Leave you two to catch up.”

Dean glared at Sam while Y/N wasn’t looking. He knew what he was doing.

“Oh okay, well it was good to see you” she smiled, as she hugged him again.

“You too” Sam said.

As he moved behind her, Sam turned around and gestured to her. Getting Dean’s attention, he mouthed “talk” before he gave Dean a knowing smile and walked away. Dean shook his head but quickly turned back to Y/N before she noticed the silent conversation between him and his brother.

“Another round?” he asked.

“Sure” she replied.

Y/N and Dean sat across from each other, each of them had two empty beer bottles in front of them. They had both moved onto whiskey. Dean brought his glass to his lips, taking a large sip. Y/N turned the glass around in her hands, watching the amber liquid move around.

“Never in a million years did I think I’d see you again” she laughed, the sound of it somewhere between sincere and bitter. “I thought you and Sam were so good at hiding… I’d never run into you.”

Dean huffed. “Small world, I guess.”

She nodded and smiled sadly but didn’t say anything else.

“Listen, Y/N-” Dean started but she placed her hand on top of his to stop him. He looked at her and wondered what was wrong but was confused when she smiled at him.

“Dean, I know you’re about to apologise and you shouldn’t. You didn’t do anything wrong” she said.

“Didn’t do anything wrong? Are you kidding me? I left without even saying goodbye. All I gave you was a fucking note saying I had to go, and I was sorry” he said, his voice angry but lowered so no one heard them.

“Don’t you think I knew why? Dean, I knew you had to go back with your dad. I knew you would do anything for him, how important your family is to you. I get it, Dean. I always have. I don’t hold any of it against you, I don’t blame you for what you did. I never have” she explained, tightening her hold on his hand.

Dean looked up at her, his expression sad and yet bewildered by what she just said. She got it, why he had to leave. She understood.

He suddenly remembered the advice he gave Sam recently about Eileen.

She gets it, you know? She gets us, she gets the life.

It was with the same with Y/N.

If it was to work…

Could it work again? For them? Could they go back to what they were with everything that was going on with Chuck?

You don’t ever think about something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?

Sam had said that to him once. When he would find himself thinking about Y/N over the years, he always thought about what Sam had said.

Y/N gripped his hand tighter, smiling as she looked down at their hands intertwined. She stroked her thumb over his knuckles, thinking back on all the times she had done it all those years ago.

“I missed you” she said, looking up at him.

Dean looked into her eyes. He could see what she was feeling in that moment because he felt the same. He had a decision to make. Let go of her hand, get in the Impala and drive away, leaving her behind. Or take her hand, go back to her place and pick up where they left off. Option 2 was tempting but he was scared. Scared of what might happen to her if he did. Then the words he said to Sam repeated themselves in his mind. He had to try.

Dean picked up his drink and gulped down the whiskey in one hit. Y/N did the same, knowing what was thinking and being on the same page as him, instantly. He took out a few bills from his wallet and put them under his glass, before taking her hand in his. He led her out of the bar and over to the Impala. Opening the door for her, she sat inside before he walked over to the driver’s side. Getting in behind the wheel, he started up the engine.

“So, where to?” he asked.

She smiled as he turned the radio on. Zeppelin. Just like old times. “Take a left at the exit.”

Dean pulled out of the parking lot and followed Y/N’s directions all the way to her house. When they arrived, he parked outside. It was a small, quaint one-storey, enough for her and maybe even someone else to live in. They got out of the car and he followed behind her as she guided him inside. It was spacious and decorated simply, yet it wasn’t empty by any means. The lounge flowed into the kitchen which had a door to the backyard and outdoor furnishings.

“Nice place” Dean said, looking around.

“It was my parents. When dad died after the ghoul hunt, he gave it to me, but I started hunting instead. When I realised I needed a safe place to come back to, I came back here” she explained.

Y/N walked closer to Dean. “You want another drink?”

He shook his head as she stood in front of him, close enough to smell her perfume.

“No” he replied, simply.

Dean pulled her closer, before he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. She kissed him back, instantly. She wrapped her arms around his neck as his came around her waist. He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their lips still connected. He felt the same, like nothing had changed, and yet it somehow felt new.

She pulled away from the kiss but still kept her lips against his. “Down the hall, on the right.”

She leaned down to press her lips to neck, as he carried her to the bedroom. He was slightly distracted by her lips as he stumbled down the hallway but made it to the room without crashing into things.

She lowered herself from him, her feet firmly on the floor. They didn’t waste any time, as they kissed heatedly and began to remove their clothes. Dean pulled away to take her in as she stripped down to red bra and panties. She was as beautiful as the first time he saw her.

“Fuck” he groaned, as he leaned in and began kissing her neck.

She took his shirt in her hands and pushed it off, only pulling away from him to lift his black shirt over his head.

“Dean” she moaned as her hands roamed his chest.

Dean gently placed his hand behind her head, until she laid down on her back. He sat up to pull her bra off, and leaned in to place kisses along her breasts. His hand wandered down her body, his fingers feeling how wet she already was through her panties. He wanted her so badly, even after all this time apart. He missed her.

His hands trailed her body, feeling her smooth skin against his calloused hands. She whimpered, feeling his rough yet light, soothing touch. She closed her eyes as she thought about how they were in the past, and how much she still wanted him. So much time had passed since they were last together like this, but he still remembered the right pressure and movements that drove her crazy. He pulled her panties down her legs and slowly ran his fingers along her pussy.

“Dean” she sighed, in a needy whisper. She pushed herself up on her elbows and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Can we… can we do that later? I just…”

Dean smirked and leaned forward, nudging his nose against hers. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

She bit her lip as she looked into his eyes, just as lust blown as hers. “I want you inside me.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, passionately, before he shifted back. He wasn’t about to waste any more time with her.

He quickly pushed his boxers down before he moved closer to her. Y/N pulled him as close as she could to her, wrapping her arms around his neck as he settled himself between her legs. He pressed his lips against hers, as his hands moved her legs to wrap around his waist, trying to get even closer to her if that was possible. She reached down between their bodies and took his length in her hand, holding it near her entrance. Dean moved his hips forward as he looked down at her, his cock slowly pressed into her. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, a small smile spread across her face. When he was fully inside her, he waited. He wanted to do this right and not rush things. Apparently Y/N had other ideas though, as she combed her fingers through his hair roughly, and pulled him in with her legs.

“Dean” she gasped against his lips. “Please move.”

Dean chuckled softly, kissing her once. “Someone’s impatient.”

She gripped his hair tighter and groaned. He glared down at her playfully as she winked, her eyes glinting with mischief. He shook his head and smirked, leaning down to kiss her once again.

Dean pushed his hips forward and then back. He set a slow pace, thrusting carefully and taking his time. She leaned up and kissed his neck, biting his collar bone as her arms wrapped tighter around him. They looked into each other’s eyes, seeing all the years of longing for each other and how much they still loved each other.

“Dean” she moaned. “Harder.”

Dean wrapped his arms around her back and sat up. He leaned back and sat her in his lap, looking right into her eyes and their arms came around each other. She moaned into his mouth as his lips captured hers, her hands in his hair as her hips rocked against his. His left hand wandered into her hair as his right held onto her hip, his fingers pressing into her flesh.

“Fuck” he groaned, as her hips came down hard, repeatedly.

“Dean… I love you” she said, a hitch in her voice.

His hips begin to rock harder against her, as he pulled her in even closer. He kissed her fiercely, lightly biting her lip.

“Dean, I… oh my God” she moaned loudly, as she kissed her neck, the spot that always drove her crazy.

“Fuck, sweetheart” he huffed. “You feel so damn good.”

“Dean, I… I’m close” she gasped.

Dean could feel it. Her hips started to move faster, stutter slightly as she became overwhelmed with what she was feeling.

“Let go for me, Y/N” he said, looking up at her.

“Dean, I…” she started but cut herself off as she moaned loudly.

Y/N’s eyes shut tightly, as she moaned his name repeatedly through her climax. Dean’s hips moved faster and harder, as he feels his own release. Y/N placed her hands on his neck, as her thumbs ran along his jaw.

“Dean, baby” she moaned sweetly, as she smiled at him. “Cum for me, Dean. Cum inside me.”

“Fuck, Y/N” he grunted as he came, spilling his seed inside her.

He rode out his climax, resting his forehead against her chest. Y/N held him close, her hands in his hair, lightly massaging his scalp.

They came down from their high, breathing heavily. Dean lifted his head and looked up at her, his hand cupping her cheek and bringing her closer. Their lips met in a soft kiss, once, twice. Dean pulled away and looked at her again.

“I love you” he whispered, his breath still laboured from their love making.

Dean slowly pulled out of her, turned and laid down on his back. Y/N laid down next to him and pushed herself closer. He wrapped his arm around her as she laid her head on his chest and hooked her leg around his. They laid there in silence for a while, as they enjoyed the quiet and basked in the afterglow. Dean took a deep breath, trying to figure out what he was going to say next. How he was going to say what he wanted to since they got to her apartment.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, breaking the silence first.

Dean huffed a laugh. Of course, she knew that he wanted to say something.

He took another deep breath. “What would you say… if I said that I… if I said that I wanted to start things up again?” he asked, ripping off the Band-Aid.

Y/N turned and leaned her chin on his chest. Her eyebrows furrowed as she didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“What do you mean?” she asked him.

Dean brushed his hand down her arm, absentmindedly. “I mean that we hunt, together, and then we came back here… or the Bunker… together.”

She smiled softly as she thought about what he meant.

“Some things that have happened recently, they’re… they’re making me think differently about this life. About my life. I just know that now that we’re back here…” Dean explained, taking her hand in his. “I’m not ready to give it up again.”

She sighed as she leaned in and kissed his hand. “Me neither.”

“I know I’m risking everything again, doing this with you. I mean, we’re on God’s radar, and he could strike down at any minute but…” Dean started but stopped when she cut him off with her lips. She kissed him hard, pulling away and leaving him breathless.

“We can do it, Dean. Things are different now… scarier, yeah, sure but… I get it. I know what your life is and what it could mean, I know that joining you means I won’t be a regular, running-after-a-normal-monster hunter anymore. I know it and… I don’t care. Despite everything, despite whatever gets thrown at us… I know we can make it work” she said, as she shifted forward and leaned her forehead against his.

Dean smirked. She gets it. She gets the life. “So… we’re really doing this?”

She grinned back. “Yeah. We are.”

Dean leaned in and kissed her, passionately. He slowly rolled her onto her back, the kiss growing and becoming more intense. They both knew the risks, hell, they knew they could die at any minute, but as long as they had each other they had something more to fight for. The years of missing each other and now finding each other again, it would all be worth it when they got out of this alive. He was determined. They would find a way to get rid of Chuck, they would find a way to live a comfortable life, and when that happened, he wanted Y/N by his side.

The next morning, after the sun had risen and they made love once again, Dean made her breakfast. They ate and laughed together. Dean answered a call from Sam about another hunt he found. Y/N packed up her duffle bag and placed it next to Dean’s in the Impala’s trunk. They smiled at each other as she sat next to him, listening to classic tunes as they went to meet up with Sam and go off on the next hunt.

Together.

#dean x female!reader #dean x female!reader one shot #dean x female!reader smut #dean winchester #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester smut #supernatural smut #supernatural one shot #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural season 15

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eloarei · 3 years

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Thoughts and comments in no particular order

It is WAY too hot and humid for being long past sundown. Is this the price for trees and fireflies? I’ll take it, but...

My husband fixed my computer, so now I can type stuff again (which, in theory, means I can write as well, though that has yet to be proven). Apparently it looked like it had been spilled on? Not me, afaik. Like 90% of my big electronics, I got it used. So.

Listening to “Be Kind” on repeat again. Doubt I’ll hit a 7 hour streak like I did last time. I just put on an hour loop to kind of count the time before I need to switch tasks.

Enjoying having several days off in a row. I hope I never decide to go back to 6+ day work-weeks.

Hey why do animals always want to cuddle when it’s a million degrees out?

Really really want to write and draw. Really really not doing either of those things.

So I made myself a daily/weekly task clipboard, but I still need to refine it... and buy clips. I’m liking the idea though. I think it’ll keep me focused on doing useful things, and less likely to overthink about if I’m feeling icky or not.

The feral neighbor kittens are getting a little more used to me. I came within about 5 feet of them today before they scattered. I think they miiight realize I’m bringing food and water. They’re really cute; it’d be nice to get them adopted. I wish I had space to foster them, but I don’t, so I’ll just have to try to befriend them outside for now.

My bookshelf needs cleaning out again. And maybe... actually reading some stuff on it. I think I’m gonna read The Prydain Chronicles to husband, like I read Spindles End. These’ll be faster reads. I haven’t read them in ages but I remember thinking of them as kind of... ‘little Lord of the Rings’. LotR is about 20 years older, though I don’t think Lloyd Alexander exactly intended to copy Tolkien. (And it’s not really a copy at all; they’re very different. They’re just both... Welsh, you know?)

I should do some simple fanart to get in the swing of drawing again. Maybe something Trying Human, since FJ and Pig have popped up again, to my great delight. I love that little pink alien.

Anyone following my fandom blog has probably noticed I’ve been in a LotR mood lately. (Glancing at the LotR AO3 page, the first fic is by someone with a LotR/Prydain name. Made me smile.) I started reading Sansukh after a year of it sitting open in a tab. It’s nice. I like a fic that sticks close to canon but somehow expands upon it in interesting ways. It’s... comfortable? Admittedly though I am terrible at remember all the dwarf names ^^;

I started playing AC4 after finishing 3 a little while back. So far I don’t care about the story much (what is Edward doing? Does he have literally any real purpose in life?), but the gameplay is solid and the scenery is very nice. The ship controls also don’t suck.

I recently got this really lovely “Princess Sakura” tea-- it’s a green tea that’s a very hearty matcha-like flavor, with a good strong note of cherry, and despite the brewing instructions (which say to only use 6 oz. and 90 seconds), it never gets bitter, even if you double-steep it. It’s so palatable, I wish I could share it with my friends. Well, I always wish I could share delicious teas and snacks with my friends, but alas, most of you are too far away for that. That said, it’s tea time for me. See ya. =]

#elo talks #elo rambles #long post #using my blog as a journal? what a concept

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wherevermyway · 4 years

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the FiVE:RACHA project (1/7) // black mirror AU // 18+

chapter one: freedom series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ pairings: lee minho x kim seungmin | hwang hyunjin x lee felix x yang jeongin | bang chan x seo changbin x han jisung rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: creator chose not to use archive warnings, descent into madness, horror, thriller, technological implants, blood and gore, alcohol abuse, some sexual content in later chapters but it’s not, like, smut. word count: 3,101 also on AO3

PS: i made a carrd for this. check it out if you’re interested!

originally posted: 26 december 2020

Several years ago, five men created a website for South Korea's international rap sensation, 3RACHA. The website, The FiVE:RACHA Project, was almost as popular as the group themselves. About two years after the website went live, FiVE:RACHA had the opportunity to meet 3RACHA.

Immediately after they meet, the members of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA go missing. The FiVE:RACHA Project website is down. Their Twitter account has been deactivated, and 3RACHA stops posting. A few months after their meetup, it was announced that 3RACHA had disbanded. Nobody knows what happened to either group.

Nobody knows, until now.

For some, modern day fame comes at a price that is too high to pay.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now.

// note: with other darker stuff i post, i’m not totally sure i’ll post the entirety of this fic on tumblr. if not, i’ll do a little notice post for people interested to keep following it on AO3.

...Do you wish to proceed? To learn the truth of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA?

What is the true price of fame?

A Foreword:

Several years ago, there was a fan site, The FiVE:RACHA Project, dedicated to South Korea’s most famous rap group, 3RACHA. One day, it went down without notice. The site, as well as their Twitter account with over four million followers, was almost as well-known as the rap group itself.

3RACHA mysteriously disbanded several months after FiVE:RACHA went down. Nobody has seen or heard from the members of either group since the disbandment. There are several theories and myths surrounding the disappearances of both groups, but most of them are incorrect.

Be aware that, no, FiVE:RACHA did not go down because the site moderators were bored of 3RACHA. No, 3RACHA did not disband because Supreme Entertainment was about to collapse due to widespread fraud and their political scandals within the Korean government.

The stories of FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA are very much deeply intertwined within each other, and the truth is uncomfortable to witness.

This novel’s authors, comprised of some of the most loyal fans of both groups, will remain anonymous and stay in hiding due to fear of being caught by the one responsible for the disappearances. An individual outside of our group found a Shinyu of someone involved in this, someone discarded in the Han River many years ago. How the implant survived with no living host for so long is beyond remarkable.

In case the Shinyu is defunct or replaced by the time you’re reading this, allow us to explain. The name comes from “close friend” in Japanese, likely as a play on words for how close the implant gets to its host, both physically and socially. The Shinyu was created in Tokyo in 2025; it is a small technological implant embedded under the skin of the right side of everyone’s temples.

Everyone has one placed at thirteen, and it encodes all of our visual, tactile, and auditory data, syncing it to our phones and uploading it to personal servers in the cloud. The data is encrypted, and requires access from both the Shinyu and the phone to decipher. It allows us to integrate technology into our daily lives, records our memories and important moments, but there is a price we all pay for this. Critics have been outspoken about this since its inception, but the governments never listened.

Alas, we digress. The Shinyu is vital to uncovering so much information that has been hidden and speculated on after all this time. Regardless of our personal opinions regarding the ethics of the device, we are grateful that we were able to obtain one of the implants. It has been vital to connect a lot of the missing pieces of the greater picture.

The authors have spent years decoding the information from this implant. Thanks to an anonymous source, we were able to obtain the personal computer of someone in FiVE:RACHA, personal cell phones of both groups, access to the database of Supreme Entertainment and its defunct myIdol data, some declassified legal information, and archives of both FiVE:RACHA and 3RACHA’s Twitter accounts.

Why have we chosen to extrapolate all of this data in the form of a novel? Perhaps we would like it to serve as a modern day parable for the plights of technology being so intricately interwoven between us all now. We, as humans, are now one with technology. Technology is literally embedded into us. It is astounding that technology allows us to interact so closely with famed idols now, beyond some barriers that critics have denounced for being inappropriate or unhealthy.

Some of us may pay the ultimate price for this.

Some of us, unfortunately, already have.

However interconnected we are with technology and how close we can get to those of which we idolize in society, though, humans will still crave entertainment. That is why this was written almost as a work of fiction. Those that pay attention to the story will be rewarded. Maybe not immediately, and maybe only after self-reflection, but readers will be rewarded. That much can be promised.

Above all else, we cannot stress enough that modern day fame and convenience comes at a price that is too high for some to pay. Stay safe, err on the side of caution. Disconnect from your Shinyu if you choose to proceed any further, because you never know who is watching.

— Curators of The FiVE:RACHA Project

One: Freedom

Nobody really knows who exactly manages FiVE:RACHA, just that it’s a group of five fans that run a fansite for the popular rap group 3RACHA. Their website is the most well-known and widely used out of the millions of fans that are out there. It always has live updates for the members: Bang Chan, Seo Changbin, and Han Jisung. There are daily paparazzi photos of at least one of them slapped up on the front page, embedded social media posts from each of the members updated as soon as they post, and hard-to-find facts about each of them.

Hell, one of the FiVE:RACHA members went through and coded up a section of the site dedicated to decoding natal charts for each of the members. Again, like most things about FiVE:RACHA, the source of this information was a mystery. Nobody’s sure exactly how they obtained 3RACHA’s birth times and locations. Some had speculated that it happened the same day the government had announced that there was a security breach of some of their databases, because the timing was oddly convenient.

To most casual fans, it sometimes felt really fucking weird to have so much information on idols readily available at their fingertips. However, to 3RACHA’s most dedicated, most obsessed fans, it was perfect. Exactly what they wanted. Their work seemed well-appreciated by the broader community, since the amount of Twitter followers FiVE:RACHA had was comparable to 3RACHA’s following, nearly half of their total count: 4,100,000 to 8,500,000.

There was nothing else that could compare to the controlled insanity that The FiVE:RACHA Project had to offer.

The FiVE:RACHA website was an international sensation, known to most 3RACHA fans, even those that opposed it. There was even a small, but growing, fanbase for the members of FiVE:RACHA, something that was slightly worrisome to them, but they had remained anonymous for so long, they weren’t really overtly concerned over it.

“This article is bullshit, man. ‘Controlled insanity’? None of this is controlled, it’s just insanity.”

Idle hums and trills of various electronics thrum in a dark room. Two young men stare at several computer monitors in a daze, lost in their own worlds as a ticker tape-like feed of coding and statistics flew past them on screen.“Let ‘em talk, dude,” the younger-looking man with blue hair scoots away from his computer and sighs. “Fuckin’ gossip rags. Anyway, I can’t stare at this CSS anymore. I can’t figure out why the embedded feeds are busted. Can you take over on this, Seung?”

The slightly older man with short, shaggy black hair rolls his neck, snapping some joints, not bothering to look away from his screens. “Yeah, yeah,” he stops poring over the article written about them on one screen, tabbing away to another. He cracks the knuckles in his fingers, and waves his hand in the air as he taps a couple of keys on his keyboard. “Go take a break, Jeongin. Hyunjin was looking for you, anyways. Probably got something good from a source of his, since he’s in one of his giddy moods.”

As Seungmin settles into his work, Jeongin chuckles as he stands up and stretches. He takes a couple steps over to the other computer desk and pats the older man on the back. “Thanks, dude,” he says with a smile and walks out of the server room, out into the hallway that leads into the open living room of their flat. The ambient humming of the room stops as he shuts the door, now replaced by the sound of his feet shuffling, the muffled noises echoing against the hardwood floor.

Five men all lived and worked in this large apartment together: Yang Jeongin, Kim Seungmin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, and Lee Minho. Collectively, this was where they lived and breathed The FiVE:RACHA Project. Running the largest, most extensive fansite for South Korea’s most famous rap group, 3RACHA, was more than a full-time job. They all equally poured their hearts and souls into maintaining the website and their Twitter account. It proved to be almost too much for five people alone to handle as their shifts sometimes went from twelve hours and bled into sixteen, sometimes twenty-four hour shifts.

Minho, the leader, didn’t trust anyone but the original five to the project, however. Jeongin could hear the oldest man’s airy voice echo in his ears: “I trusted the four of you with this. Now, it’s devolved into something I don’t even recognize. There’s no way anyone deserves to see what we’ve done. Imagine if it got out that we were the ones in charge of this monstrosity?”

Jeongin glided into the kitchen, and pulled his phone out of his back pocket, eyeing the time. 13:36. He had another hour left of his shift, and he was exhausted after yesterday’s all-nighter. 33 hours of work, with only a small nap in between was rough on anyone, and he was starting to feel it, physically. His Shinyu Implant would ping him once every hour that he was very low on sleep, reminding him that it was unhealthy to go without sleep for so long and that he would not be able to drive. As he slinked his way to the fridge, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and yawned. He opened the fridge, the contents in the shelves of the door clattering as they abruptly shifted around.

The first thing he saw was a bottle of unsweetened coffee and, while he knew he shouldn’t drink caffeine within a few hours of hopeful sleep, Jeongin went against his instincts and reached for the bottle anyways. As he opened it, the cracking of the seal reverberated against all of the hard surfaces and sounded much louder than it should have, startling the man awake a bit.

He hated unsweetened coffee, but there was no way he would make it through another hour or so of coding maintenance without it. Jeongin polished off the entire bottle within seconds, grimacing in disgust the entire time. He tapped his right temple twice, and grumbled. “Set reminder, after work: grocery shopping. Have Hyunjin drive. Add to list: energy drinks. The good kind, none of that berry-flavoured shit.” A very faint, nearly inaudible ding responds after he’s done speaking, and Jeongin moves to discard the bottle into the recycling bin.

“Innie?” Almost as if the devil himself heard Jeongin’s request, a familiar voice rounded the corner of the kitchen. “Oh, good, I thought that was you. Anyway, you won’t believe the content I got from Yeji at Seoul Scoop, dude,” the lanky, beacon-like blond grins wildly at Jeongin, walking into the kitchen. “I actually got a photo of Chan and Changbin looking awfully close at KNECT’s backstage event a couple days ago. Think they were celebrating their recent win a little too hard.”

Hyunjin proudly slaps a grainy photo down on the countertop, where Changbin is sitting in Chan’s lap, arms wrapped around the older man’s neck. Sure, it could easily be explained away as friendly closeness, since everyone knew that all of the guys were very close friends, and the area was cramped. The photo, however, would cause a lot of panic within the community.

Jeongin smirked as he eyed the photo, taking it into his fingers and bringing it up close to his face. “The shippers are going to have a field day over this, you know.”

“I know,” Hyunjin shakes some of his hair out of his face as he arrogantly places a hand on his hip, shifting his weight to one side. “It’ll be great traffic for the site. I’ll have Seungmin put it on the front page later.” He takes a couple of steps closer to Jeongin and pulls the younger man to his chest, stroking his hair down. “I love you, but you look like shit. Why not call it a little early today?”

Jeongin shook his head, burying his nose into the older man’s shoulder, letting his eyes flutter shut with a sigh. “Seungmin and I are trying to fix a string of broken code that’s causing the social media feed to bug out a little bit. Definitely wanna have that fixed before we upload this.”

A clattering of keys startles both of the younger men, causing them to look behind Hyunjin. “Don’t worry about it, Jeongin,” a third voice speaks from the entrance of the kitchen. “Seriously, you worked really hard yesterday, and I’m sure we’ll manage. I’ll be sure to wake up Felix a little earlier and we’ll fix the coding.”

“You’re home early, Minho,” Jeongin chuckles once as he nods. “Figured you’d be stuck in the office for a few more hours.”

“Nah,” Minho dismissively waves his hand in the air as he walks over to the sink, rinsing his hands. “Seungmin called me earlier and said you were nodding off at your desk, asked me to come home early.”

A look of guilt washed over Jeongin’s face. “Shit, my bad.”

“Don’t apologize,” Minho smiles as he towels off his hands. “I appreciate all of the work you did yesterday; completely revamping the social media section was hard. But I can’t have you possibly miscode something and have it break the site because you’re running low on sleep. You’ve started getting pings, haven’t you?”

Jeongin sheepishly nods his head and mumbles an affirmation.

Hyunjin rolls his eyes and elbows the young man in the side. “I thought I told you to take a nap, dude?”

“I did!” Jeongin whines. “It was, like, a half-hour, though.”

Both Hyunjin and Minho roll their eyes at Jeongin. “Get out of here,” Minho scoffs, walking towards the server room. “Go to bed. I don’t wanna see you back in the server room until tomorrow morning.”

Jeongin opens his mouth to protest, but Hyunjin drags him away, up the stairs towards their bedroom. A ping comes from his implant, a transparent box popping up in the lower right-hand corner of his vision. The soft voice of the AI reverberates against his skull, allowing him to hear it as if it were a real voice whispering into his ear. It reads off the notification from his display.

“Movement away from workplace detected. Reminder: grocery shopping later, have Hyunjin drive. Would you like me to pull up your list?”

“No.” A low grumble comes up from Jeongin’s throat as he taps his temple twice to dismiss the notification. “Hyunjin,” he sighs, “we’ve gotta go grocery shopping.”

“You’re too tired,” Hyunjin shakes his finger without turning to look at Jeongin. “The grocery store will still be there tomorrow.”

“I’m out of my energy drinks, though,” the younger man protests.

Hyunjin smiles, opening the door to their bedroom and whispers. “I’ll be sure to get some for you. Go cuddle up with Felix and get some sleep.”

“Hyunjin, I—” Jeongin is cut off as the older man grabs his wrist, pulling him into his chest. They share a brief kiss before Hyunjin guides him into the bedroom.

“Shh, Lixie is sleeping.”

There’s a shuffling that comes from the bedsheets, and a sleepy voice grumbles. “Not anymore.”

“Aw, mornin’, babe,” Hyunjin says with a smile. “Sorry to wake you. Minho’s probably gonna come ask for you in a bit, anyways, though.”

Felix rolls over, sitting upright as he runs his hands through his brassy blond hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Jeongin sighs as he makes his way over to the bed, bringing an arm up to the blond and wrapping him in a lazy hug as he pulls them down to the bed.

The blond lets out a soft laugh. “Don’t worry about it, man,” he turns his head to face the bluenette and offers him a quick peck on the lips. “I couldn’t sleep much, anyways. Finding out about that myIdol rumour yesterday had my brain going kind of wild.”

“You heard about it too, huh?” Hyunjin says, colliding down onto the bed opposite of Felix. “Someone at Seoul Scoop told me about it this morning. It lets fans connect with their idols, like they’re actually directly messaging them.”

“That’s weird,” the bluenette sleepily grumbles into Felix’s shoulder.

“I think so, too.” Felix says with a frown as he nuzzles his head against Jeongin’s forehead, staring up into the ceiling.

Hyunjin shrugs with indifference. “I dunno, I think it’s pretty interesting.”

Jeongin lifts his head and stares down Hyunjin with a smirk. “You just want to pretend like Changbin cares about you.”

The older blond frowns as he flips off Jeongin. “Like you wouldn’t want Jisung to send you a ‘Have a wonderful day, bestie!’ message?”

The youngest member flops back down onto the bed. “Okay, that’s fair. It’s still weird, though. Seems so artificial and fake, I guess.”

“Well,” Hyunjin sits up, offering a hand out to Felix, “I’ll have more information on it tomorrow, probably. Why don’t you let yourself sleep for a while?” Felix takes the hand offered to him, and both men stand up. “Lixie and I will go out and get some groceries and get you those nasty energy drinks you like so much.”

Jeongin grumbles as he wiggles his way up to the pillows, half-asleep and irritated from the loss of warmth from Felix. “Just not the berry ones, okay?”

“I’ll see what we can do,” Hyunjin says with a smirk before he spins on his heel and walks out of the room. “Love you, Innie!”

“Don’t worry,” Felix leans down to kiss Jeongin’s forehead, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get the kinds you hate. Let yourself actually sleep, too. We’ll make it all work out, okay?”

Jeongin mutters some sort of incoherent affirmation as he lets his heavy eyelids flutter shut. Seungmin would be able to fix the CSS by himself, he figured, trying not to worry too much about how broken small parts of the site were. He heard Felix say something else as he quickly faded off into sleep, but it didn’t register fully as he sank into the abyss.

There were a lot of sleepless nights ahead of them, whether FiVE:RACHA felt it coming or not.

#the fiveracha project #the five:racha project #skz fics #black mirror au #horror #technological horror #i'm not tagging the ships because they're not really important #wherevermyway

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tabbytabbytabby · 4 years

Text

2020 Writer Memes

I was tagged by the lovely @matan4il. Thank you! 💜

Writer Interview

Name(s): Tabitha, Tabby, Tabs (username tabbytabbytabby)

Fandom(s): So so many. My favorite ones this year were 9-1-1, 9-1-1 Lonestar, Chicago Fire, Prodigal Son, The Rookie, The Mandalorian, Anne With An E, Teen Wolf, Merlin, Hawaii Five-0, Agents of SHIELD, Julie and the Phantoms, The Umbrella Academy, The Witcher, Star Trek Discovery, The Good Place, New Amsterdam, The Resident, Roswell: New Mexico, All American, Doctor Who, and Once Upon A Time. I feel like I’m forgetting some. 2020 lasted a million years.

Where you post: AO3, mostly. Sometimes I double post to Tumblr if I have the time/feel like it.

Most Popular One Shot (by kudos) Overall/this year: High Hopes (906) (Sterek)

Most Popular Multi-Chapter (by kudos) Overall/This Year: Gonna Make This Place My Home (433) (Thiam). This one was started in 2019, but I finished it this year so it counts.

Favorite story you’ve written so far: I’m going to take this to mean so far in 2020, and not like overall. Because that is far too much pressure. Even 2020 is hard since there are 203 things. All Doors Lead To You was one of my favorites I did this year though. It was an endeavour plotting that out but I had a lot of fun with it.

Fic you were nervous to post: I get a little nervous with all of them. Even with how much I’ve written, it still happens. But the one I was probably most nervous about was The Best Present I Ever Got, which was major character death. I write MCD alot for the Teen Wolf fandom, but it makes me nervous doing it for other fandoms because I never know what the reception will be same. Same with unrequited love, which is why I was also nervous about Somebody Else’s Arms.

How do you choose your titles? I should say now that I usually hate naming things. Especially lately, when I’ll think of a title for something and then realize I’ve already used it before (which is bound to happen with 800 fics but still). Sometimes the titles come from lines from the fic or something about it, sometimes the prompt itself if there was one, and then other times song titles. I’ve started a doc with lines from songs that can work as titles so maybe that’ll help me be more creative with them 😆

Do you outline? It depends on the fic, really. I usually have a doc with notes if it’s a longer fic that I can turn to. I have outlined for a few though. Especially for Quest For Camelot, because it helps me know what I have planned for the chapters and who I wanted to write for. Which helped after I took some time away from it. I had an outline when I was writing All Doors Lead To You as well, which helped me keep track of which universe I wanted to have in which chapter and colors for doors, etc.

Upcoming work you’re most excited about: I’m pretty excited for my fic for the Buddie Big Bang. If it turns out how I want it to, it’s definitely going to be one of my favorites that I’ve done. I have a Sterek fic I’ve been working on that I’m pretty excited about too and hope to have done in the next couple of weeks.

AO3 stats (for 2020)

Amount of works posted: 203

Total word count: 608,437

Longest fic: Reconcile (80,545) (Thiam)

Shortest fic: Rainy Night (106) (Sterek)

Fic with the most kudos: High Hopes (906) (Sterek)

Fic with the most bookmarks: You Are In Love (153) (Buddie)

Fic with the most comment threads: All Doors Lead To You (90)

Total amount of kudos: 37,116

Total amount of bookmarks: 4,795

Total amount of comment threads: 1,976

Fandoms written for: 9-1-1, 9-1-1 Lonestar, Teen Wolf, Chicago Fire, Merlin, All American, Agents of SHIELD, Hawaii Five-0, Chicago PD, Prodigal Son, Criminal Minds, Star Wars, The Rookie, The Witcher, The Good Doctor

Fandom events you’ve written for: Fandom Trumps Hate, Fandom AU Fest, Jenna Geyer Appreciation Week, Dr. Geyer Appreciation Week, Buddie Big Bang, Thiam Big Bang, Sterek Week, Sterek Secret Santa, A small disord Secret Santa, 9-1-1, Crack Week, Secret Elf Buddie Discord fic exchange, Buddie Discord Advent, Sprint September, Whumptober, TW Bingo, Greenberg Appreciation Week, Laura Hale Appreciation Week, Merthur Glompfest, Scisaac Week, and maybe more? This year has been a blur.

Pairings written for: We’ll start with 9-1-1 and end with all the Teen Wolf pairings to make organization easier. Everything else in between. Here we go... Buddie, Jevan, Eddie/Josh, Buck/TK, Arthur Pendragon/Josh Russo, Greenberg/TK Strand, Brettsey, Chenford, Merthur, Geraskier, McDanno, Tarlos, Daisysous, Luke/Penelope, Finnpoe, Melendaire, Ashivia, Malcolm Bright/Derek Hale, Thiam, Sterek, Steo, Chris Argent/Dr. Geyer, Scott/Nolan, Scisaac, Berica, Morey, Therek, Isaac/Theo, Greenberg/Derek, Isaac/Jackson, Danny/Theo/Jackson, Halemore, Sceo, Danny/Jackson, Danny/Greenberg, Isaac/Danny, Liam Dunbar’s Mother/Liam Dunbar’s Father

Favorite fic you’ve written this year: I answered this above and said Doors, but here I want to mention my Geraskier fic I’m Mr. Brightside because it’s something I’m really damn proud of. And also a mention to my Theo/Derek fic Strangers on a Train where they meet The Doctor. It wasn’t something many people read, but I had fun writing it. ALSo, my Jevan fake dating AU You’re My Favorite Place

Goals for next year: Continue writing and being productive. It’s going to be hard over the next few months since I’m in the home stretch of nursing school (done in June). But I want to write when I can and just keep enjoying it.

Gonna tag (and sorry if you’ve done this already. I’m late here): @lovelylittlegrim @hazelestelle @novemberhush @manonisamelon @acejuddryder @schweetheart @theproblemwithstardust @dopemixtape @halinski @snaeken @li0nh34rt @lightfiretomypaperwings @imjustafangirl-nobodylovesme @underthegallowws @theladyandthewolves @seylaaurora (and anyone else that wants to do this, just say I tagged you!)

#tag game #writing meme #about me #my writing #my fanfiction #almost ten days into 2021 is the perfect time to do this okay

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paradisobound · 5 years

Text

Piece of Domestic Bliss

Summary: A slice of life one shot of Dan and Phil talking about their future: forever homes, dogs, and kids.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Implied sexual content and mentions of sexual acts

Written for Susan for the @phandomgives raffle!

[Read on Ao3]

The conversation comes up naturally most days. Mostly because there is no more questioning or no more of the ‘what ifs’ that could get in the way of the planning for their future. Dan supposes he likes this a lot more. It makes him feel more secure now that he knows he has a future with Phil that is 100% certain and no longer a, but what if this happens?

Most of the time, the conversation happens right before they go to bed. They’ll be laying side by side, Phil under the comforter with Dan over it because Phil’s always too cold and Dan’s always hot. Most of the time, Dan is on his laptop and Phil is reading a new book and sometimes, it’s domesticity as simple as this that makes Dan’s heart soar.

But it’s also times where he sees advertisements for Zillow on the sidebar of whatever website he is browsing where his heart swells.

They’ve been looking at houses for a few months now, although nothing has particularly caught their interest. They thought about penthouses in London, Victorians in the countryside, and cottages on the Isle of Mann. But the house in the advertisement is catching Dan’s eye so he opens a new tab and opens Zillow and begins to search down the list again.

“Are you still looking at houses?” Phil asks, adjusting his glasses on the tip of his nose.

Dan turns his head and shrugs, “Maybe.”

“Find anything good?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Phil turns on his side and perches up a bit to look at Dan’s screen. Dan scrolls a bit further and they stumble upon the £1.5 million penthouse that keeps popping up everytime they search for homes in London.

“Still don’t want the penthouse?” Dan teases because he knows how Phil is firmly against living in one.

“It’s all windows. I don’t want anyone to look up and see me running from the bathroom naked.”

“I thought you wanted a wall of windows?” Dan presses further. “Changed your mind?”

“Oh yeah, so one day when you decide you don’t want to wait to go to bed and we fuck on the couch all London can see us.”

“You’re being overdramatic,” Dan laughs. “That can happen in any house.”

Phil reaches over Dan’s hand and pushes it away from the trackpad and Dan scoffs as Phil begins to scroll. He lands on a small 3 bedroom house that states it is just outside of London, “This is nice.”

“Yeah, but is it going to be big enough for when we decide to get a dog?” Dan asks. “Or have kids?”

“That’s a long way away,” Phil says.

“Yeah, but if we buy a house, then that’ll be our forever home so we should look to make sure the house is going to suit our needs. We’ll need a big backyard for our dog to play and we’ll need to make sure that it has enough room for our children to run around in.”

Phil looks up at Dan and smiles, “I love it when you talk about our future.”

Dan smiles back and leans down, securing a kiss on Phil’s lips, “Me too.” He whispers against Phil’s skin.

“How many kids do you want?”

“We’ve had this conversation,” Phil answers. “2 and a half.”

Dan rolls his eyes, “And what the hell does the half stand for?”

“Half a human,” Phil says, voice completely serious. “Half a human could be a human toddler.”

“You’re weird as fuck,” Dan says, laughing. “Why did I agree to marry you?”

“Because I’m cute and attractive and great in bed,” Phil kisses a line down Dan’s neck that makes him shiver.

“Hm...just about your only good qualities. We know you can’t cook for shit.”

“Oi!” Phil counters. “Watch it you. I thought about actually having sex tonight but nevermind.”

“Oh behave!”

“You behave!” Phil presses back, shutting Dan’s laptop and pushing it off to the side onto the bedside table. “Why did you agree to marry me? Why did I agree to marry you?”

Dan chuckles, suddenly remembering a conversation that they had all the way back in 2009, “Do you remember when you asked me to marry you in your bedroom at your parents house after I gave you a blow job?”

Phil chokes and stops his mid-climb over Dan’s body, “That doesn’t count.”

“Hm? 18 year old me thought it did. Was waiting for a proper ring for nearly 10 years.”

“I got you a ring in 2016! It was not 10 years.”

“Felt like it.”

Phil leans down and kisses the smirk off from Dan’s lip as Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s neck and lets himself get lost in the gentleness. When they were younger, everything was more urgent, more sped up. They didn’t have the time that they do now. Back then it was quick fucks before Phil’s parent’s could come out or it was a quick hand job because they couldn’t wait to get their hands on each other.

Now they have time. They have time to kiss and explore each other's bodies. This is the time where Phil found out about Dan’s sensitive tummy and how he moans when Phil kisses it. Or how Phil likes it when Dan grabs his hips or his thighs and leaves marks.

Dan shuts his eyes and melts into the kiss just as Phil reaches under his hips and pulls at the waistband of his pajama shorts and yanks them down his legs tossing them to the floor.

Phil leaves Dan’s mouth to kiss down his neck and suck a light mark into his collarbone. Dan doesn’t care anymore whether or not Phil does this because he doesn’t show himself on camera much anymore. It was a choice he made when he and Phil got serious about wanting to settle down and get married and start a family.

Privacy was a big deal for Dan, and he wanted it to remain that way.

When all is said and done, Phil collapses on Dan, his weight heavy on his body as Dan pets his sweat slicked hair gently. Phil always got sleepy after sex, his body caving and giving way to try and make up some of the energy it just lost.

Dan never gets tired, he normally becomes wide awake, sometimes even lost in his own thoughts. But today, he just runs his hands through Phil’s hair and lets Phil rest on him, even though the room feels like a hundred degrees and his body is covered in various fluids.

“When we get a dog, or have a kid, we’re not going to be able to do this often.”

Phil’s voice cuts through Dan’s thoughts.

“Why not?”

“Don’t want a dog licking my arse during sex and don’t want my kid walking in on us and then me having to give the dreaded birds and the bees talk.”

Dan laughs. “Just be like my parents and tell them directly what we’re doing. How scarring can it be?”

Phil looks up and laughs. “You’re going to be in charge of all of the important conversations.”

“And you can be in charge of making sure the dog isn’t in the bedroom during sex.”

Phil swats at Dan’s chest and Dan laughs as Phil rolls off from him and settles into bed.

“I want to go to a real estate agent sometime this week,” Phil says, looking up at Dan, “I want us to finally find our forever home.”

Dan nods and leans down to kiss him again as tears prick his eyes a bit, because this is all he could ever dream of.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #fluff #implied smut #domesticity #slice of life #princesslexi763fics #fics for people

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theherothechampiontheinquisitor · 5 years

Text

Unto the Breach

Pairing: Eventual Pepperony, past Tony/May

Rated G

Iron Dad galore

Summary: At the age of 16 Tony Stark became a father. He also gave up his claim as the Stark heir and cut off all ties to that life to raise his son on his own. 15 years later his past finally begins to catch up to him and he has to set aside his pride and open his life back up to his parents in order for his son to have the life he deserves.

A Gilmore Girls AU

Notes: I know someone recently did something similar but this has been languishing in my drafts and I really loved it and wanted to post it so here it is. Not everything will be accurate to the show and I kinda made May Peter’s mom because I was watching Only You when I wrote this and yeah, they made a cute couple. lol Don’t judge.

Read it on AO3

------------------- The front door of “Pepper’s” burst open, nearly taking the bell off as it rattled and jingled the arrival of the only customer who could make an entrance like that. A cool breeze blew in behind Tony Stark, signaling what would soon be the start of crisp fall mornings, as he stumbled like a zombie towards the front counter, desperately clutching a well worn travel mug in his hands.

“Pepper, light of my life. Pepper, please you have to help me. I need you.”

He could feel Pepper roll her eyes as she moved around behind the counter, sizing him up as he collapsed onto the first empty stool.

“How much have you had today, Tony?” She raised her eyebrow at him and dared him to lie to her.

“Erm, this will be my first of the day…” It was mostly true. Her stare pierced down to his very soul and he squirmed awkwardly, the squeaks of the stool echoing beneath him. “Okay, the first of a normal person’s morning.”

“And how many before that?”

“Three but who’s counting? You know yours is the best anyways.”

Pepper’s coffee couldn’t be beat. It made every other brew taste like dirty dish water in comparison to the rich, smooth blend that was sitting in a pot just barely out of his reach. It was tatamount to torture to be this close and his cup still so empty.

Pepper’s stern face came back to his vision as she leaned down towards him, hands gripping the counter. “You have a problem Tony.”

He smiled what he hoped was a charming smile. “My problem is this empty mug, Pep.”

She just shook her head in despair and sighed. “Say it with me Tony…”

“I am addicted to coffee,” they both spoke at the same time, Tony’s voice slightly manic over Pepper’s monotone. She did this to him on purpose, always on the days that he needed his fix the worst. Tantamount to torture, damn it.

“There! I've admitted it. My shame is out there for all to know.”

She gazed into his eyes for a long time, before cracking a real smile, finally satisfied that she had made him suffer enough. Pepper swiftly turned back around and grabbed the coffee pot returning to slowly fill up his cup.

“And I am sadly your enabler.”

Tony inhaled the steaming brew as his cup filled and immediately took a large gulp, not caring how hot it was. He had developed an immunity to hot coffee by now. The groan it elicited could have put Meg Ryan to shame.

“You’re a godsend Pep and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Pepper just shook her head and went back to what she was doing before he burst through the door. Over her shoulder she asked, “Where’s Pete?”

“Oh, you know,” he began, sneaking a blueberry muffin from the display in front of him. “He fell behind on my quest for coffee. Decisions had to be made, casualties were endured.”

It was that precise moment the door blew open again and the younger Stark entered looking frazzled. He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, coming up to the counter and collapsing his books next to Tony. Tony jumped reflexively and nearly spilled the precious brown liquid all over his shirt.

“Man, for someone with short legs I’ll never get over how fast you can travel when properly motivated!” he exclaimed and Tony just shrugged, picking a couple of pieces from the muffin and sliding the rest down to Peter.

“Hey, we have the same genes so I would watch it if I were you.”

“Yeah, but I at least have the benefit of a few more years of growing to do.”

Tony frowned and nudged Peter’s shoulder. He took another sip of coffee as he evaluated the boy. “You’re being a terror this morning, let me help you out. Coffee?”

Peter nodded desperately. “Coffee.”

Tony waved Pepper over, taking Peter’s Spiderman mug, a gag gift from last christmas, and holding it out beggingly before him. He jutted his bottom lip out and giving the red head what he hoped was his most pitiful look.

“Please ma’am, may I have some more?”

“Don't go on tour anytime soon, your Oliver Twist is terrible,” she deadpanned.

“So, I’ve heard. Please, it’s for Pete. He’s a growing boy.”

"You know coffee actually stunts your growth right?"

"Lies and slander, probably made up by tea drinkers." Tony shuddered in his seat for dramatic effect.

Pepper eyed him up and down. "Sure about that one? You seem to be missing a few inches."

Tony scoffed. "C'mon Pep, stop browbeating me and do it for the boy."

Pepper looked between the pair and Peter had joined Tony in giving his best wounded puppy look. The pair made a striking picture, their features mirroring the other so perfectly, one would be hard pressed to deny their relation. Looking at Peter especially though, Pepper felt that same protective urge stir inside her that she had when he was still just a child, those big doe eyes pleading for another sweet. She relented, as she always did, filling his mug to the top.

Tony motioned to his now empty mug with a grin but she just gave him a pointed stare and put the pot back.

“Sorry, no refills to coffee moochers.”

“Aw, Pep don’t be like that. Just put it on my tab.”

“You don’t have a tab, Tony.”

“Well, I should.”

“Forget about it, you’re lucky you got what you did. I can’t enable you any further this morning.”

“This is oppression!”

Peter watched the exchange with a smile. It was old hat by now, the start of a thousand mornings for the Stark men.

“Thank you, Ms. Potts!” he called out to her and took a large drink from his own mug, Tony looking on enviously. Peter just ignored him and whipped out his cell phone, tapping a few buttons and bringing up a text thread.

“So, check it out, I was texting Ned this morning and he said that the acceptance packets for Midtown were supposed to be sent out this week. We could be getting them as soon as friday! And I was looking at the uniforms online again and they’re really not that bad. I mean I can deal with the coats and ties for a bit if it means getting to take robotics…”

He eagerly shoved the phone into Tony’s face, scrolling through the stock photos of the school uniforms that they had already perused through a million times at home. His excitement was contagious and Tony smiled along with him and listened as he described the different classes that he was hoping to take.

They had applied for the late fall term having completely missed the early fall registration deadline because Tony had stayed up all night on an inventing bender and passed out around six am, totally blowing through the morning alarm. Peter was a notorious heavy sleeper too, so neither stirred until well after the window for registration had closed. Tony felt awful but Peter had taken it all in stride.

The phone suddenly started buzzing in Peter’s hand, the Imperial March from Star Wars blaring across the small cafe making customers heads pop up and search out the cause of the disruption. Peter panicked and immediately declined the call from Ned, shooting him a quick text that he’d call him later, but it was too late and Pepper had already marched her way over to where he sat and eyed the phone he hastily tried to pocket.

“Peter, c’mon. Do you see the sign?” she asked turning around and pointing to the sign that boldly stated the cell phone free zone.

“Oh, I know, sorry Ms. Potts! I was showing him the uniforms for Midtown and then Ned called, but I told him I’d call him back after I leave,” he started rambling nervously but Pepper cut him off with a wave as Tony snickered in the background.

“Don’t worry about it, just remember for next time.”

“Oh, of course,” he smiled so earnestly it was hard to even feign annoyance.

“So, Midtown,” Pepper began, settling back between the pair, pretending to wipe down the already clean countertops. “Did you get in finally?”

“We don’t know yet. Should be finding out this week. If it’s a small envelope we’re doomed, but a big envelope and you’ll be looking at Midtown class of 2020.”

“Well, I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” she smiled and squeezed his hand affectionately. “You make it and I’ll make you that pie you always harass me to make out of season.”

Tony blanched. Pepper didn’t make concessions to anyone, even as doe eyed and innocent as Pete. “Um, okay, how come he gets the special treatment?”

“He’s more polite than you.”

“I resent that remark.”

“I can’t help the truth,” she shrugged and and headed to the other end of the bar to wait on a pair of blondes that walked in, looking very lost and out of place. Passerbys Tony, would wager.

“She’s in love with me,” he said with a matter of fact nod. Peter rolled his eyes so hard Tony worried they’d get stuck that way.

“I can tell by the way you both verbally assault each other every morning.”

“It’s just a matter of time, I’m telling you. She can’t resist the Stark charm forever.”

“Is that what that was?”

“Hey, don’t you have a bus to catch?”

“Nah, I have a few minutes. I like to watch Ms. Potts dance circles around you.”

“And just for that one you have lost coffee privileges,” he said and reached over to snatch up Peter’s mug before he could even protest. Tony threw it back in one drink as Peter unsuccessfully tried to get it back.

“You’re getting me more, that’s not right stealing a man’s coffee like that.” Peter folded his arms across his chest and glared.

“Please, you’re still a boy, and no refills remember?”

“That’s only for you.”

Tony slid the mug over to bump against Peter’s school books. “Then I guess you should start working Pepper now for that next fix.”

Peter groaned and playfully shoved Tony as he stood up and made his way to beg for more lifeblood.

Tony watched the boy go and felt the same immense pride and happiness swell in his chest that he always did when looking at Peter for too long. The kid was brilliant, maybe even more so than he was, only he was going to make something more of himself than a failed inventor moonlighting as an inn manager. He couldn’t dwell too hard on his own failings though. For the most part he was exactly where he wanted to be and it was sure as hell a much better enviornment for Peter to grow up in than that empty and foreboding Stark mansion.

Though the money of that life would definitely have been a huge help. By Tony’s estimation it would take around $75,000 altogether to put Peter through Midtown and he had no idea where he was going to come up with that kind of dough. They had enough money put back to be comfortable where they were but it wouldn’t take long for it to be bled dry. He wouldn’t let Peter worry about that though. Tony would stand out on a corner selling himself if it meant the kid got the education that he wanted. Okay, so maybe it wouldn’t come to that particular extreme, but there was nothing that he wouldn’t do to ensure Peter’s continued happiness.

A shrill laugh filled the air and brought Tony out of his daze. Peter still hadn’t returned and he looked around the small room searching for his curly bedhead. He spotted him at the end of the bar leaning back awkwardly, one of the leggy blondes from earlier practically sandwiching him against the counter. She had been the source of the laugh. Tony evaluated the scene and could tell that Peter was clearly uncomfortable as the woman looked at him like he was prey.

Pepper shot concerned glances every couple of seconds but she was busy helping another customer, unable to come to his rescue.

Tony hopped down from the stool and shoved his hands into his jean pockets as he approached.

“...cabin in the woods for the weekend. I’d really love it if you could join us too,” Tony caught the blonde saying in a suggestive tone as he approached.

Peter laughed nervously and rubbed his neck with the hand that wasn’t holding the newly refilled coffee.

“Is everything okay over here, Pete?”

Peter’s eyes shot to Tony’s in relief and he scooted towards him subconsciously. The blonde turned towards Tony too at first with a look of disgust and annoyance at having her conversation interrupted but then she raked her eyes across Tony’s form appreciatively and her grin from before grew more predatory if it were possible.

“Yeah, I was just getting coffee from Ms. Potts when I was…”

“Accosted?” Tony supplied helpfully.

The blonde tsked. “Hi, I’m Christine.”

“Tony,” he said with a nod.

“Tony. I was just discussing with your little brother here, that I was just passing through on my way to a weekend retreat with a friend. I think it’d be really nice if you guys could join us. We’ll go hiking, make a campfire, maybe some skinny dipping at the lake,” she raised her brow suggestively and Peter’s face turned an impressive shade of beet red.

Tony’s mind hadn’t even got to processing that part of the conversation yet.

“Brother?” he asked and looked over to Peter, holding the laughter at bay. The thought seemingly finally permeated his understanding as well because then Peter was laughing and Tony was right there with him.

Christine stared at the duo blankly as they tried to get the laughter under control.

“She thinks…” Tony began.

“That me and you…” Peter continued.

“This always happens.”

The laughter finally stopped and they both straightened up, Tony turning to Christine and schooling his features back to what Peter called his serious face.

“Peter is not my brother.”

“He’s not?” Christine asked in confusion. She looked the duo over once more noting the similarities in eyes and facial structure.

“Peter is my son.”

“Your son?” she gaped.

“According to the birth certificate,” Peter added, his confidence and joking manner returning at the shift in power of the situation.

Christine tried to recover from her error and squared her shoulders. “Well, the offer is still open. Father and son changes things a little but I do have a friend,” she motioned to a brunette that was sitting at a table glued to her cell phone an inch away from her face.

“Slow down, cougar town don’t let his height deceive you. Peter is 15 years old. You’ve been sexually harassing a minor for the last ten minutes.”

Christine’s eyes practically bulged from her skull and she backed away slowly, bumping into the table behind her. “I am so sorry, you look...and he looked…” she stuttered and snapped in front of her friends face a few times. “Jillian we need to leave.”

Tony had never seen such a hasty retreat in his thirty one years of life. He and Pete started laughing again and headed back to their original seats, Peter hastily grabbing his books from the counter and shoving them into his backpack.

“Well, that was fun,” he remarked and then threw an arm around Tony’s neck and giving him a quick squeeze. “Love ya, Dad. Star Wars marathon tonight?” Peter asked backing up towards the door with finger pointed at him. “You promised.”

“Original trilogy only,” Tony replied firmly.

“You’re such a snob.” Another eyeroll. Tony didn’t know how he didn’t get dizzy. “Take out from Joe’s and that new chinese restaurant?”

“Done.”

Peter smiled again and finally satisfied darted out the door and to the bus stop. Tony watched him run down the street until he couldn’t see him anymore, a grin still plastered to his face.The sound of coffee filling his empty mug caused Tony to whip around in wonder.

“I thought there were no refills?”

He folded his arms across his chest as Pepper just shrugged in response.

“Consider it a thank you.”

“For what?”

Pepper smiled sweetly and Tony got that fluttery feeling in his chest that always occurred when Pepper Potts smiled at him. He wanted to take a picture and frame it forever. She glanced to the table that Christine and her friend had vacated and then back to Tony and winked.

“For taking out the trash.”

He smiled back and took a long drink of the perfectly blended coffee. He didn’t care what jokes Peter made. That Stark charm was definitely wearing her down. Now if only they were close enough to ask her for a boatload of money to put his son through the school of his choice.

Tony did have other options.

He could call...them.

He would almost rather die though. Almost. They could definitely afford it and would almost certainly be thrilled to help their only grandson, but he didn't want to let them get their hooks in Peter and by extension himself. He spent so many years distancing himself from that life and proving that he didn't need them and their money. To come crawling back even for such a noble cause was painful. And who knows. Maybe Peter wouldn't even get in.

Shit. Who was he kidding? Peter was almost guaranteed to be admitted. He was his father's son after all.

Still. He could put off Howard and Maria a little longer.

Pulling out his phone he scrolled through his contacts. He had friends but none that he could impose upon like that.

There was one more person though. He scrolled down to the M's and his finger hovered over May's number. He and May had always retained a great friendship. They chatted often enough and she always made time to ask about and talk to Peter. If anyone would help him and not make him feel completely humiliated in the process it was May Parker. This was technically 50% of her responsibility after all.

She was Peter's mother.

#Mel's Fics #Pepperony #Iron Dad #Pepperony fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #Gilmore Girls AU

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shookethbrooketh · 6 years

Text

Christmas Constellations

Summary: Phil works putting up signs at a department store, and the signs never stop getting bigger and better. All the department store chains never cease to attempt to one-up each other, and this holiday season Phil’s has decided to try to beat out the competition with inclusiveness and feature a gay couple in their ads. As annoying as putting up a whole line of ads is, Phil can’t help but find himself infatuated with one of the men in the picture. After staring at him for too many shifts in a row, Phil ends up obsessively wondering if he’s single and if he’s even gay. Eventually he decides that there’s only one way to find out.

Warnings: Alcohol, Food, Cheating (sort of)

Word Count: 13.3k

Artist: @snekydingdong Beta: @diamond0604

A/N: This is one of two fics I’ve written for the @phandomreversebang, and as much as I love the other one, this one is definitely my favorite. I’d also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to my beta, Rachel, who was absolutely incredible. I hope you all enjoy!

Read it on Ao3

“We have something extra special for you today!” Cheryl, Phil’s manager announced, her tone coated in a false sense of cheeriness, even though Phil could have told from a mile away that she was just as miserable as the rest of them. The only thing giving her the incentive to even attempt to spur excitement in her workers was the extra money in her paycheck. “Today, we’re going to be revealing this year’s Christmas advert!”

There was a collective groan from all the employees, but Phil didn’t bother. Logically, he should have been the one groaning the loudest, since he was the one who would have to put up all the signs, but the adverts were no new news. It was the first of December, and it was the same thing year in and year out. It was that shitty, shitty time of year once again.

“Come on, guys! Christmas is exciting!” Cheryl tried to egg them on again, but to no avail.

“More work,” Gail muttered, and Phil snorted. She seemed to be joking, but only to a certain extent; she didn’t want the Christmas rush any more than Phil did. Gail, a short woman with long, red hair, was by far his closest friend in the store, and they had the same, terrible sense of humor.

“Not that I don’t love Christmas,” Phil chimed in, “the holiday itself is great; I just can’t stand the signage. There’s so much of it, and there’s so much stuff to stock, and not enough room to put it on the shelves. Not to mention the millions of customers. I love the holiday season, but I hate the busy season,” he ranted.

“Well, do you want to see the ad, or not?” Cheryl huffed, gesturing to the small flat screen they’d carted in to show the video.

“Sure,” Phil replied. “Might as well become get to know the people we’re going to hang out with for the rest of the month.” He couldn’t help but dread the piles and piles of signs he’d end up forced to hang up and then look at with the same few faces on them.

Cheryl turned on the television, and Phil kicked back in his chair. It opened with a little girl looking out her window at falling snow. She appeared dreamy, and she reminded Phil of when he watched the snow fall as a child. It was completely dark, the only light coming from a lamp outside. Her father appeared behind her. “Isn’t the snow a beautiful sight?” he asked.

She smiled and turned to him. “It reminds me of stars in the night sky.”

“Cheesy,” Phil heard Gail mumble.

“You know,” said a male voice through the screen. “I thought that when I was growing up too.” From the other side of the girl appeared another man, and Phil’s brain short circuited.

“We’re gay now?” he heard a coworker say.

“Oh, they’re GAY gay,” Gail, the local lesbian, joked.

Normally, Phil would have responded with some witty yet stupid remark, but his eyes were glued to the screen. He couldn’t tear his stare away from the second of the two dads. There was just something infatuating about him. Well, really, in Phil’s opinion, from his curly, chestnut hair, to his eyes, twinkling like the stars around him, to his flawless smile, there really wasn’t anything about him that wasn’t infatuating.

By then they’d been magically transported to space and were floating around and pointing out festive shapes in the stars.

“Space? Come on, how random can it get?” Gail criticized. “Amirite, Phil?” she added, reaching out and punching him softly. “Phil?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” he responded blankly, still refusing to turn his gaze from the screen.

Gail raised her eyebrows for a moment before smirking in realization. “Philly has a crush!” she whispered excitedly.

“Do not!” Phil whispered harshly, finally glancing away to give her a dirty look.

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

Phil and Gail spent the morning printing and putting up signs, as they usually did on Mondays or days when sales started. As much as Phil hated the manual labor of either carrying or climbing the ladder, the job was always made tolerable by Gail’s presence, but that day things were a bit different.

“You really can’t take your eyes off him, can you?”

Phil shook his head, tearing away from the actor’s face as it printed from the massive printer. “What?”

“I get we’re the only two gays in the store, but do we really have to act like the only two gays in the store?”

Phil rolled his eyes and groaned at her. “What does it matter anyway? He’s just an actor; it’s not like I’m ever even going to meet him, let alone have a chance with him.”

“So you just think he’s hot.” She narrowed her eyes at him in questioning.

“I just think he’s hot.”

“Fine,” she said, pulling the last poster out of the printer. She took a good look at the man on the poster as they went to get the ladder, “honestly, I’ll give you that. He’s pretty attractive, and I’m a lesbian.”

“Glad we can agree on something.” Phil sighed, pulling the ladder out of storage. They silently went about their normal routine of carrying the ladder out together to where they’d hang their first sign. It was completely normal for them; they’d always follow the same route through the store to hang the signs. They even knew exactly when to switch who was climbing the ladder and who was holding the other steady. It was a sort of a sacred morning routine for the two of them; although climbing a massive ladder to reach the ceiling of a retail building terrified Phil, it was worth it to be able to spend a morning alone banting with his best friend. It was their morning, and no one could take it from them.

Well, maybe the man on the poster could.

“Phil!” Gail shouted, and Phil had to grasp the ladder so tight his knuckles turned white to keep from falling.

“What? You scared the shit out of me!” he shouted angrily down at her. Luckily no one noticed, since he was too distracted by his own exasperation to remember he was screaming obscenities to an entire family-friendly retail store.

“You’ve been up there staring at that damned sign for a minute now! Just put it up and get down!” she breathed up at him. He took a deep breath and shut his eyes for a moment before carefully hanging the sign and coming down. As much as he hated to admit it, the attractive man on the poster was already starting to keep him from doing his job.

“Time to switch?” Phil asked, taking his end of the ladder as they carried it to the next stop.

“I swear, Phil, if you get distracted and drop me, as soon as I recover, I’m gonna kill you.”

“Understood.”

Somehow, Phil managed to stay focused throughout the rest of their signage. The death threats, however unrealistic, might have played a part, but Phil liked to convince himself it was due to his own self control rather than his primal instinct to stay alive.

The afternoon was long and fairly uneventful; Phil spent most of his time helping out on a register to help with the beginning holiday rush.

After they finally clocked out, Phil and Gail walked into the Underground together to catch trains back to their flats. “You really like that guy, huh?” she asked, catching Phil off guard.

“What?” he questioned, starting to sweat. “I mean, yeah, he’s cute, but I don’t know if I’d say I really like him. I’ve never met him.”

“Hm,” she grunted as her train arrived and she stepped in.

“Hm?!” Phil shouted back at her. “What the hell is hm?”

Later that evening, it became very obvious what “hm” was.

At first, when Gail texted him a link, he was simply terrified, as she had a horrific tendency to send him either cursed videos or terrible memes, but when he opened it, he found a surprise he wasn’t quite sure if he could call pleasant.

There, on his screen, through YouTube, was the very ad they’d watched in the break room that morning. There was the same curly-headed, gay dad he’d been pining for all day. And he still couldn’t take his eyes off him.

It took him a few replays of the video to even remember that he was living real life. He’d fallen into an abyss where the only thing on his mind was the actor’s face until he got a Twitter notification. “Oh, shit!” he yelped, throwing his phone down on the couch beside him in a sudden attempt to keep himself from watching the video for a second longer. He sat for a moment, deep in thought about how utterly pathetic he was, and picked up the phone and swiped away the YouTube tab. “This is ridiculous,” he said, shaking his head. “I need some fresh air.”

It wasn’t that cold of an evening, but it definitely warranted a light jacket. He threw on a hoodie and stepped outside, hands in his pockets. It had already grown dark, but, for a retail worker, he lived in a pretty good part of London. His neighbors were fairly nice, and there was little crime in the area, so he felt save as he wandered the sidewalks in the dark.

He got bored of walking quickly, but he didn’t want to go back to his flat, so he sat down on a bench and looked up at the stars. They were underwhelming, given he was in the center of London. He couldn’t help but wish he could see them all. “Why am I so weird?” he asked the void. He glanced around to make sure there were no people around him to avoid an awkward encounter before he continued talking. “Like, what kind of person has a crush on the actor in a Christmas ad anyway? It’s so overwhelmingly stupid.”

He put his head in his hands and blinked hard before jolting back up. “What does one even do with that? Am I just supposed to walk around all day staring at him for the next month?”

“I wish I could fix this.”

He watched the sky as he spoke, and snow began to fall. It immediately began piling up on the concrete around him. He was in a sort of a concrete jungle; he was sat on the lone bench on his street, and his surroundings were solely buildings and road. It was nice to see snow add some beauty to the grey. He was surprised, though, as it didn’t feel nearly as cold as it would have to be to warrant snowfall, and they didn’t tend to get snow that early in the winter, but he smiled at the snowflakes as they fell onto and melted off of his black hoodie sleeves. Phil had always loved snow.

There was a certain something about snow that just made him smile. He remembered watching the snow fall as a child and being so excited. Snow was uncommon in London, and it was even less common for it to accumulate, so when it did, they almost always got out of school. Snow, for him, just brought back a childlike glee he didn’t get from anything else.

He sighed and stood up, making the short walk back to his flat. He paused before opening the door to his building, taking one last look at the beauty of the falling snow. He watched as each individual flake fluttered to the ground, and his breathing slowed. It was calming, more than anything else. When he got back up to his flat, he made himself some popcorn and put an anime on his television. Finally at peace, he smiled as his phone was left discarded on the other side of the couch.

“You sent me the ad?” Phil laughed at Gail the next morning.

“Yeah, and you didn’t even thank me! Busy, eh?” she asked, nudging him with her shoulder.

“Oh my God, no!” he squeaked, his face going red. “That’s just weird,” he added in a normal voice.

“Okay, okay,” she said, raising her hands as if to defend herself, “but I’m sure you at least enjoyed it in a completely wholesome and appropriate fashion.”

“I did,” he said, folding his arms and holding his head up high. “However, I ignored it for most of the evening.”

“Well, that’s great! I’m proud of you!” she said, reaching over to give him a pat on the back. “Good luck ignoring it for most of the month.” She pat him a bit harder after that line, and he almost fell forwards. “See ya out there!” she called over her shoulder as she left the break room and went out to the floor.

Phil sighed. “This is gonna be fun.”

Whether or not it was fun was debatable. Trying to ignore the posters was not only not fun but also nearly impossible; they were massive and all over the store. But every now and then, when he did take a look, that could have definitely been considered fun.

A couple weeks passed uneventfully. Well, if you count Phil’s suffering as uneventful, that is. Nothing new happened, but the old was still garbage. It was like the actor was taunting him; everywhere he looked it felt like he was being laughed at.

“You have a crush on a poster!” the cardboard man seemed to say.

Phil didn’t even want to start with the other man. “I get the hot one, and you don’t!”

Worst of all, Phil had been pushed so far that he imagined rude lines being spoken to him by inanimate signs.

“Pathetic,” he sighed as he stared at the poster during a rare slow hour at the register. “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey was playing in the background, and it couldn’t have been more accurate. He was enamored by a picture.

“Man, you’ve really got it bad for him, haven’t you?” Gail asked, appearing at his side after closing her empty register.

“Yes, Gail, I do!” he shouted, and her eyes bugged out of her head.

“Well, that was unexpected.”

“Yeah, well, I give up. I’ve been trying to get rid of him for the last two weeks, but I can’t stop staring at him, and I watch the fucking video five times a day! It’s an obsession, and I’m losing my mind!” he shouted, all his frustration finally pouring out.

“Well,” Gail dragged out, a mischievous look in her eye, “I may be able to help you with that.”

“I can’t tell if this is a wonderful idea or a terrible one.”

“Oh, it’s definitely both.”

Phil groaned, rolling his eyes back in his head. “What is it this time?”

“What if we find him?” she asked, eyes wild.

“Gail, how the hell are we going to do that?”

“I don’t know, but we’re in London, and the Internet has a lot of power. I’m sure we can find it somewhere.”

Phil took a deep breath. At that point, he was desperate. “Fine.”

“Yay!” she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes. “Your place at eight.”

“Wait, what?”

“See you there!”

Sure enough, Gail showed up at Phil’s flat a couple minutes even before eight. He was a bit annoyed that she was early, given that he had five minutes left in his episode of Bake Off, but he turned it off and went to answer the door anyway.

“Ready to find this bitch?” she said cheerily, clapping her hands together. She seemed to have a bit too much energy for Phil’s taste.

Phil bit his lip. “Well, when you put it like that, I’m not-”

“The answer is yes,” she interrupted, carelessly tossing her backpack onto Phil’s couch and heading straight for his kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What?” she asked, already popping a bag of popcorn into the microwave. She’d been over to his flat enough times to know exactly where to find the popcorn. “I’m hungry.”

Three minutes later, they were settled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and open laptops. Apparently Gail’s backpack was packed only with her laptop, her charger, and a good portion of her candy stash. She seemed to be under the impression that they’d be up late and need some sugar.

“First step…” she trailed off, one hand browsing the Internet as the other stuffed her face with popcorn, “the YouTube video. See if there’s any traces from there. Look at all the intricate stuff, like the tags.”

“YouTube has tags?” he asked, dumbfounded as his mouth fell open. How much about his precious Internet did he not know?

“Exactly.”

Phil leaned onto Gail’s shoulder as she expertly opened a screen he had never seen before and began scrolling through it looking for names. Phil began to wonder how many people she had stalked on the Internet.

“Nothing,” she said, closing the tab. “Now what?”

“I don’t know! This was your idea, and, quite frankly, it scares me.” Phil receded to a corner of the couch and put in earbuds, deciding to simply rewatch the ad. “Do whatever; I don’t particularly want to be a part of it.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, getting down to business. As much as Phil tried to ignore her, he couldn’t; he still found himself looking over at her screen. One moment she was on Twitter; the next she was on some sort of Twitter-like website that seemed to be a search engine. After his third rewatch, he closed the ad tab and opened Tumblr. He glanced over at her screen and saw her cropping an image of the actor’s face.

“Now what are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m just gonna run his face through the database,” she said nonchalantly.

“The database?” Phil shrieked. “What the hell is the database?”

She shrugged. “Just the database.”

“Alright, that’s it!” Phil shouted. “No more stalking.”

“But-” she stammered.

“Go home, Gail,” Phil said, straightfaced and stern.

She sighed and packed up her things, leaving without a word. Phil felt a bit guilty; he hoped he hadn’t upset her too much. She was a great friend to him, as was obvious with her going to these lengths to help him. He just didn’t particularly want that help. At least not in the manner she was going about it.

Of course he wanted to find the actor he was crushing on; hell, he’d been dreaming about it for two weeks. He just didn’t want to stalk him. He loved Gail, but she had a tendency to go too far, especially when it was either related to the Internet or the gays.

Phil chose to avoid Gail for a few days as the holidays drew near. He wasn’t ignoring her; he was just giving her space. She never approached him, so he never approached her. Eventually, they met on their way to the Underground and had a casual conversation. It was more of a colleague one than a friend one, and Phil could barely endure it, but it was a conversation.

Eventually, the holidays rolled around. The twenty-third was one of the worst days, but it didn’t get worse than Christmas Eve. Phil and Gail both would have loved to take the day off, but they didn’t have much of a choice. All the other workers had families they needed the break to spend the holidays with; since they’d each come out, their families didn’t like them much. Without an excuse or a place to go, they were lucky to even get Christmas Day off.

About halfway through the hellish day, Gail approached Phil at the register. Their shift had just ended, but Phil was working a double, and Gail had just clocked out. She was checking out two microwave dinners, a box of microwave popcorn, and a few candy bars. “Got plans?” he muttered.

“Not yet,” she replied, not making eye contact with him.

“Who’s the second dinner for?”

“Maybe I’m just buying ahead!” she exclaimed, acting offended.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, growing quieter on the second word.

“But I was thinking maybe it could be for you… If you wanted it.” She looked up at him, obviously extending an olive branch to end their argument, if one could even call it that.

Phil smiled as he rung up the dinners. “It’s on me.”

After Phil got off work, he headed straight for Gail’s apartment. The two spent the evening on Gail’s couch eating absolute garbage, and it was the best night either of them had experienced in as long as they could remember. Not once did they discuss their conflict or the man from the poster; they simply ate their junk food and watched an anime.

Phil was already tired from his double shift, but his eyes began to droop around the sixth episode. “Hey, Gail?” he reached over to her, but she had already fallen asleep. He picked up his phone and looked at the time; it was 12:13. He smiled at Gail, picking up the blanket she’d fallen asleep with and tucking her in. “Happy Christmas.”

Phil took a cab home and managed to sleep in late. He didn’t have any celebrations to attend that Christmas, so he simply sat in his lounge and watched as many Christmas movies as he could find. He loved the holiday, but it was difficult to do so when he had no one to celebrate it with.

The next day was Boxing Day, and it was all hands on deck at the store. Phil could barely stand the crowds; Boxing Day made him wonder how completely normal human beings could act like such animals. Every now and then he’d see someone who he went to school with come in for the deals. Normally, he’d be embarrassed to be seen working retail in his thirties, but when he saw one of his old classmates fighting an old lady for a vacuum, he realized he probably wasn’t the one who needed to be ashamed. Regardless, the Boxing Day crowds scared the absolute shit out of him, but the one decent thing about working that day was the fact that he rarely had to interact with them. Phil’s Boxing Day job was always signage.

Sure, he had to go in early to take down the Christmas signs and put up the Boxing Day ones, and he had to stay late to change Boxing Day signs to normal sales signs, but it was worth the long day to avoid human contact. He occasionally had to work a register, but most of the day was spent printing out the signs for the next round of sales.

Luckily, he wasn’t the only one working that schedule. Gail was right there with him on the “Hell Shift,” as they’d decided to call it.

It was still plenty dark outside as they took the ladder to the first of the Christmas signs; the doors would open in a few hours, and there were already plenty of people camping outside. Boxing Day was insane. “So,” Gail said as they set the ladder in place, “guess you’re glad to get rid of these, huh?”

Phil shrugged as he climbed up the ladder. “Kinda. I’ll definitely be glad to be rid of the curse of my irrational love for this man, but I won’t miss his face.”

“It’ll always be on YouTube,” Gail joked quietly. She seemed to be acting a bit odd, but Phil chose to ignore it and blame it on the ungodly time of day.

They went about their morning and took down most of the signs. All the posters and displays had been collected, and all that was left was one hanging sign. It was Phil’s turn to climb up, so he made his way up to the colossal face of the actor he’d been gushing over a month and sighed. “Goodbye, mystery man,” he said as he took the sign from its hinges and replaced it with the Boxing Day sign.

On the ground, Gail exhaled, stomping her foot. “Damnit, Phil, I have to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, a little worried as he climbed down the ladder.

“I know who he is.”

Phil nearly fell and broke his leg. “What? How the hell did you find out?” he shouted as he reached the ground.

She bit her lip, looking down at the floor so as to not make eye contact with Phil. “I may or may not have put him in the database.”

“Gail! I literally told you not to do one thing and one thing only.”

“I’m sorry!” she shouted, blowing steam from her nose as she ran her hand through her hair. “I’d already pushed enter when you got mad, and when I opened my laptop after I got home it was just… there. I never told you because I didn’t want you to be angry.”

Phil closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Obviously he wasn’t happy with the means by which Gail figured out the identity of this man, but he couldn’t deny the childlike glee he felt when she told him. He still had butterflies in his stomach, and his heart rate still hadn’t recovered from the fact that he jumped and almost fell off a ladder. “What’s his name?”

“Daniel Howell. Dan for short. I looked him up on social media, and according to his Instagram he frequents a bar downtown. I can send you the address if you want.”

By then it was too late to turn back.

“Sure.”

For once, Boxing Day was bearable. Phil had a certain livelihood about him throughout the day that he’d never felt on such a busy day; he even interacted pleasantly with a few customers. All the joy was solely due to the fact that he’d have the chance to meet Dan at the end of the day.

Dan. It was odd for Phil to think of the man as an actual person with an actual name; until then, it had been completely unknown. Learning more about Dan only made him more and more interested in him.

The day finally rolled to an end, and Phil giddily caught Gail on her way out of the store. “Well?”

She cracked a smile, pulling out her phone. “Impatient?”

Phil simply nodded as she sent him the address. He went home and changed clothes before setting his GPS to the address. It was time for a drink.

The bar was fairly nice; it seemed like the sort of place a commercial actor would go to. It wasn’t a home for deadbeats, but there certainly wouldn’t be any bouncers standing outside. There were a few tables around the bar area where people could order and eat a limited selection of food, and then the room opened up to a dance floor. He sat down at the bar and ordered a margarita to sip as he watched the bar scene unfold around him. It was a bustling place, with music and dancing; the bar and seating section was the only calm place in the room.

It had a good vibe to it, Phil thought. If that was the sort of place where Dan hung out, they would surely be compatible. It was chaotic, but in the best possible way. Phil surveyed the room as he had a few drinks, but there was no sign of Dan. Phil sighed, heading back to the bar to pay his bill. He put his head in his hands; he’d finally had a hint of how to find Dan, and he’d come up empty-handed. He’d been waiting a month to meet this guy, and he couldn’t even figure out how to find him. It was stupid of him to think he would find Dan the first night anyway. No one who isn’t a drunkard goes to a bar every night. Hell, it was probably a good thing that Dan wasn’t there all the time. Not being a drunkard was definitely a plus when looking for a boyfriend.

Phil crashed on his couch and pulled out his phone. On it he found multiple texts from Gail containing links to Dan’s social media. Phil smiled; Gail never failed to provide for him. He would certainly have entertainment for the rest of the night.

After reading up on Dan, Phil made a few conclusions. Firstly, he was definitely gay. Secondly, he was either single or didn’t particularly like talking about relationships on social media. Phil would take that bet. Thirdly, it was clearly worth his time to return to the bar. So Phil made his way back to the bar every few nights in search of Dan. Eventually the scene got boring, and he insisted on bringing Gail.

“Damn,” she said, looking around at the bar as they walked in, “this place is nice.”

“Yeah,” Phil said blankly, having gotten more to used to the bar, “it’s alright.”

They took seats at the bar and had a few drinks. Phil was relieved to have finally brought Gail, as she decided to call an Uber so neither of them would have to drive home. After spending enough time at that damned bar, it was about time he could get wasted.

The two each had a good few drinks, and Phil lost more and more hope with each one. “Gail, there’s no hope,” he said, not yet slurring his words, although he knew he was almost there, “I’m never gonna find him.”

“Do you wanna go home?” she asked, sipping down the last of whatever drink it was. Phil had lost track.

He nodded sadly and pulled his wallet out, handing it to Gail. “Pay for our drinks; I gotta piss.”

She giggled drunkenly and nodded, calling for the bartender as Phil slipped away towards the bathrooms.

The bathroom had a push door, and Phil simply walked straight into it and flung it open. To his surprise, there was a body on the other side, and it got a faceful of door. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry!” Phil exclaimed, his drunkenness immediately fading and being replaced by embarrassment and a bit of fear. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, mate,” the stranger said, clutching his face, “just be more careful next time.” He straightened up and pulled his hand away from his face. “Do I look alright?”

Phil froze. There he was, looking into the eyes of Dan Howell. The dark brown eyes stared back into his, and he couldn’t tear his own eyes away. His brain froze along with his body; he was too mesmerized to even be able to think. And then it hit him; he bashed his crush’s fucking face in. “Yeah, you look great!” Phil exclaimed, a bit too bouncy. “I mean, you’re fine. Nothing bad happened. Your face looks like a completely normal face.” He scrunched up his face; that could not have gone any worse.

But Dan was chuckling. “Your face also looks like a completely normal face. Do you wanna go get some drinks?” he asked casually. “I can get you home, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Phil’s eyes widened, and he struggled to keep his mouth from falling open. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but he was too nervous to get it out. His brain was working fine, but he was so terrified his body refused to cooperate with it. “Uh, yeah! I’d love to!”

“Nice.” Dan carefully pulled the door in and gestured for Phil to walk out. “This way you can’t hit anyone.”

Phil rolled his eyes, his nerves gradually melting away. He was still plenty nervous, his body a bit stiff, but at least he wasn’t fully panicking anymore. He had himself under control, despite not having a clue how to speak to Dan. Somehow, he had begun to go with the flow, and it appeared to be working. Dan seemed nice, with a compatible sense of humor to Phil’s, and he even seemed to like him already! Phil still had to pee, but he supposed he’d take what he could get.

“By the way,” Dan said, elbowing Phil as they made their way through the crowd, “you’re repaying me for that by buying our drinks.”

“That’s more than fair,” Phil chuckled.

They reached the bar where Gail was sitting. She took one look at Dan, and her mouth fell open so wide she could have fit her entire drink glass in it. “This is my friend Gail,” Phil said, giving her a look that told her she was acting ridiculous. She promptly shut her mouth. “She was about to leave, wasn’t she?” he said, gritting his teeth for the last two words.

“Oh, yeah,” she said with a grin. She stood up, grabbing her coat and patting Phil on the back, slipping him back his wallet. “See you at work.”

And then she was gone, and Phil was left alone with Dan. They ordered drinks and sat silently for a moment until it got maddening.

“So, you’re gonna tell me I’m hot and then not talk to me when we get drinks? I see how it is,” Dan said. His voice was intimidating yet obviously not cruel. Phil could tell Dan didn’t mean to scare him, but he was already a bit terrified of him, so his tone of voice, albeit joking, definitely didn’t help.

“I-I’m sorry; I’m just quite awkward around attractive people.” He delivered the compliment confidently; there really was no point in beating around the bush.

Dan shrugged, a slight blush stroking his cheeks. It was the first time Phil had seen him be anything but perfect. His curls were just as bouncy as they were in the ad, and when he smiled, he showed deep dimples. He had perfect teeth and chiseled cheekbones; he was truly perfect. “I get that. I used to be like that too until I started acting.”

“Oh, you’re an actor?” Phil asked. He wasn’t exactly sure why he said it, but it was barreling out in a desperate attempt to not make him seem like a fan. He wasn’t sure if Dan was even aware he had fans.

“Yeah, actually. Not any sort of famous one. My biggest gig was a department store Christmas commercial. It wasn’t much, but I got some money out of it, and I finally got to play a gay guy on screen. The whole ordeal, both the commercial and my acting career in general, really upped my confidence.” He looked Phil up and down, and Phil could tell he was aware of how nervous he was. “You should try stepping outside of your comfort zone some time; it really helps.” The bartender slid them their drinks, and they each took a sip.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” Phil said, spinning around on his barstool and gesturing to the room around him. The room was buzzing with activity; it was the last place one would expect to see Phil Lester. Phil was one to keep to himself, and that particular bar was a place for anything but. On the dance floor, a few dozen drunken people were screaming Despacito. Normally the scene would have scared the hell out of Phil, but he had more important things to worry about.

“Not a bar man?”

“More of a quiet bar man.”

“Well, then it’s time to try something new,” Dan said, slamming his drink on the table and taking Phil’s hand. Phil’s face flushed bright red, his body seizing up with nerves when Dan touched him, but Dan didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go dancing.”

“Wait, what?” Phil barely had time to respond before he was whirled away from the bar and into the crowd, his only tether to reality being Dan’s hand. His nerves shot back up to an all time high, but the alcohol reaching his bloodstream was working to calm him down. He knew for a fact that he would have been shaking from head to toe had he been sober, but the sedative relaxed his nerves just enough to keep him cool. Phil wasn’t quite sure how to feel, or if he was even feeling in the first place. All in all, the only word he could think of to describe it was… exhilarating.

Phil wasn’t particularly experienced in the field of club dancing, but Dan attempted to help him. “Just bop, my dude!” he yelled over the blaring music. Phil tried to bop around and enjoy himself, but he just felt awkward. He was being jostled by people dancing around him, and one of the annoyingly bright dance floor lights was shining in his face. Had Dan not been there, he would have bolted immediately. Dan could obviously tell he was uncomfortable, because after a few minutes he grabbed his arm and pulled him towards a circle of people with one young man, no older than 25, break dancing inside. Phil didn’t even know dance circles existed outside of grade school dances. “Here,” Dan said, making a path for them to reach the front of the circle, “all you have to do here is enjoy yourself.”

Phil took a look at the man dancing inside the circle. He seemed to be enjoying himself; who was to say Phil couldn’t enjoy himself too? It wasn’t exactly a tall order. So he clapped along to the beat and watched as people around him switched in and out of the circle. It was like a dancing tag team, and eventually Dan slipped from the ranks and made his way into the circle himself.

Phil, the drunkenness starting to settle in, was very amused by this; Dan moved so gracefully to the song, feet keeping perfect balance with the time as he rotated on a nonexistent axis. His hips swung to the music, and Phil found it very attractive. Phil couldn’t help to smile at the sight of it. Somehow, Dan was even better in person. Not only was he prettier, but he had a certain aura that made Dan never want to leave his presence; he was the life of the party, but he would still take the time out to make sure Phil was enjoying himself.

“Come on!” Dan shouted, reaching out and pulling Phil into the circle.

“Wait, I don’t know about this!”

“Dance with me!”

Luckily, Dan already knew dancing wasn’t Phil’s affinity, nor was being put on the spot. Dan more than willingly led the way, spinning Phil in circles until he felt like he might throw up. It was all a blur to Phil, the world moving too fast for him to keep track. He ignored the urge to vomit, though, as it was overcome by pure joy and maybe even a little bit of love. His heart was racing, about as far up in his throat as the drinks he was struggling to keep down. As the song drew to an end, Dan tipped him back into his arm and launched him back up, gasping for air. People around them applauded, and the circle began to dissolve as a slower, less danceable song started to play.

Phil hadn’t felt that alive in years.

“That was incredible!” he shouted. He was being quite loud, but he didn’t even notice; he was high on adrenaline and completely oblivious to the world around him. All he saw was his own hand being held by Dan’s as they trekked back to the bar.

“Wasn’t it? I told you stepping out of your comfort zone would make you more confident! You did great!” Dan shouted back at him. At that point, they were well out of the range where they’d need to shout over the music, but neither of them cared.

They spun back into their seats and ordered another round, neither of them getting up again until Phil finally remembered how badly he had to piss. By that time, the night was winding down, and it was about time for each of them to go home.

Phil paid for the drinks (his wallet was hurting that night) as Dan got an Uber. Phil’s flat was closer, so they would go there first. They stepped out into the cold, sobering air and slid into the back of the Uber. Unsurprisingly, being outside for ten seconds didn’t make them any less drunk.

“Hey, Dan?” Phil asked, resting his tired head on Dan’s shoulder.

“Mmm?”

“I like you,” he said, smiling up at Dan’s glowing face.

Dan smiled back. “I like you too.” Dan gasped, pulling his phone out. “Do you wanna call me?”

Phil, somehow understanding the meaning of that sentence, perked up and nodded excitedly before pulling out his own phone and trading it with Dan’s. They each put in their numbers and started a text conversation to make sure their drunken thumbs hadn’t mistyped a digit.

The streets were relatively empty, given the time of night, so they got back to Phil’s flat quickly. Phil opened the door and the frigid air began to pour into the car. “Phil, wait!”

Phil slowly turned back to Dan, too intoxicated to realize what was coming next.

Dan leaned in close but stopped himself, eyes widening. “Can I kiss you?”

At least he was a respectful drunk.

Phil responded by leaning in himself. At first he ran straight into Dan’s nose, but rather than feeling awkward they simply both giggled before connecting their lips. Phil’s body panicked at first, but it quickly relaxed into the kiss. He thought he would have been overexcited, as he was earlier in the night, but the kiss was comfortable; he felt almost as if he were at home in Dan’s arms. It was a short kiss, but it sent warmth through Phil’s body despite the cold air blowing against him.

Phil slipped out of the car and got one last look at Dan as he closed the door. “Text me.”

The morning sun shone through the window as Phil blinked his eyes open. He groaned, feeling as if the sun was directly assaulting his brain. He was hung over, quite obviously so, and the sun definitely wasn’t helping. He picked up his pillow and forced it against his face, refusing to let any light reach his eyes. The morning was not treating him well.

Suddenly, Phil jerked up straight in his bed, remembering the previous night. “Ack!” he exclaimed, the light aggravating his headache. He dragged himself out of bed to close the blinds before searching his sheets for his phone. Eventually he found it and lowered the brightness before fumbling for his charger. He was a bit annoyed that his drunken self had forgot to plug in his phone, as he always charged it overnight, but his annoyance faded as soon as he unlocked the phone and saw it still open to his conversation with Dan from the night before.

It was an odd relief to see the conversation on his phone; it served as proof that he truly did have Dan Howell’s phone number. Until that point, a small part of him had been convinced the entirety of the night before was just a dream.

Should he text him? Was it too soon? Phil hadn’t even had a date in over a year. He hadn’t a clue where to go from there. Without the drunkenness protecting him, he was left with all his normal social anxieties. He decided to text Gail and ask for advice first, but she was of no help. She simply keysmashed into oblivion in excitement that Phil got Dan’s number. So Phil decided to leave it for a few minutes to get some food and try to cure his hangover.

When he came back, Dan had made the decision for him; he had a message already waiting for him. Phil gasped and snatched his phone off his bed, eyes glued to the screen.

Dan: hey

That was underwhelming. However, Phil still felt the overwhelming need to start a conversation, and a good one at that. He wanted to see Dan again, and he couldn’t fuck that up. He’d been head over heels for Dan since he saw him on a damn poster, and it was a miracle that he managed to meet him. He’d gotten so far; he had to make it work. He just had to.

Phil: Hey! Does your head hurt as bad as mine?

Dan: fuck, it really does. i feel like garbage atm (but tbf i am)

Phil: I mean me too but you’re not garbage :p

Dan: don’t use :p it’s 2019

Phil’s heart raced; was that wrong? Did he fuck up? His eyes darted wildly around the room in panic. How could he fix that? Did Dan think he was lame? He typed the only thing he could think of.

Phil: sorry

Dan: lmfao it’s fine :p

Phil: Hey!

Dan: hehe :)

Phil: This is unfair

Dan: as it should be :)

Dan: so do u wanna meet up again sometime?

Phil: hell yeah! When?

Dan: tonight good?

Phil: Sure! But we’re not getting hammered tonight I have work tomorrow morning

Dan: fair enough

Dan: meet u at yours at 6?

Dan: i’ve got plans covered :)

Phil: rad!

Dan: seriously, don’t say that. it’s 2019.

Phil: :( you’re no fun

Phil: See you tonight :)

Dan: see you :)

Phil struggled to get through the day without texting Dan. He already missed him, and he wanted to keep talking to him, but they hadn’t even gone on a date yet. He couldn’t just text him all day. So Phil spent the impossibly slow day watching anime and scrolling through social media. He texted Gail in the morning, but eventually he abandoned that conversation because all she did was remind him of his upcoming date. Time only managed to pass slower and slower.

Finally, the clocks rolled around to 5:30, and Phil started getting ready. Anxiety crept into his stomach as he tried to pick out an outfit. He didn’t want to overdress, but he didn’t want to underdress either. He tore through his closet looking for anything that was presentable enough to wear on a date; usually Phil wore either quirky jumpers or his work clothes. Finally, after making an absolute mess of his room, he decided on a nice, blue button-up with and a pair of black jeans and went to look at himself in the mirror. Hands shaking, he slicked back his quiff and took a deep breath. He looked good, he told himself in a futile attempt to calm his nerves.

After the saga of choosing something to wear, it was nearly six. Phil barely managed to finish getting ready before he heard his doorbell ring. He rushed to answer it and was relieved to find Dan dressed about as casually as him. “You look great,” Dan said with a smile. Phil couldn’t help but notice Dan’s dimples pop out of his cheeks; he was absolutely adorable, and Phil nearly froze both from nerves and from infatuation.

“As do you!” he blurted out. He hadn’t a clue if he’d come across as such, but he was just about as nervous as the night before.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just grab a coat.” Phil peeked around his door and pried a dark coat off the hanger. It was a heavy coat, but the night was cold and Phil hadn’t a clue where they were going.

The taxi Dan took to Phil’s apartment was still waiting for them, and they piled into the backseat. The driver took off without instruction; Dan must have told him where to go on the ride there. They were silent for the majority of the cab ride; Phil was much too anxious to speak. Every time he even thought about saying something, he felt nauseous. He knew there was a chemistry between them that would come out if they started talking, but he didn’t know how to initiate that conversation.

“We’re almost here; don’t look,” Dan said, pulling Phil towards him so he couldn’t look out the window. Phil blushed a bit as his thigh grazed against Dan, but he was starting to get at least a little bit more accustomed to Dan’s physical presence.

Phil laughed. “Dan, I live in London. I know where we are.”

Dan furrowed his brow in fake anger as the cab stopped. He paid the driver and slid across the backseat to follow Phil out onto the curb.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to the planetarium before.”

It was Dan’s turn to laugh. “Clearly you haven’t, because this isn’t a planetarium. This is a restaurant called The Planetarium.”

“Oh,” Phil said in a small voice. “That’s misleading.”

“It’s awesome though. The ceiling is clear, so you can see all the stars. And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s getting dark.”

“A starlit meal?” Phil asked as they entered the dark restaurant. There was a fountain in the center of the restaurant that was sculpted in the shape of the solar system. Water rolled over the planets as they rotated around a lit sun. It was an architectural feat he’d never seen the likes of before. The rest of the dining area wasn’t any less impressive; every table was lit by candlelight, and he was probably the most casually dressed person there. “That actor’s salary must go a long way,” he joked.

“Howell,” Dan said to the hostess. He even had a reservation! Dan had obviously put plenty of effort into this date, and Phil wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that. He felt a warm love in his stomach because of it, but he also felt like he had some high standards to live up to.

Dan turned to Phil and smiled. “Definitely not. Usually I struggle a bit, but that Christmas advert paid the big bucks. That’s only a once in a few years sort of gig, though. I was quite lucky to have it.” He seemed fairly modest about his career, but he was obviously proud of the advert, and Phil certainly couldn’t blame him.

“Oh, no, you shouldn’t spend your money on me! You should save it!” Phil whined, his mouth falling open. He felt….guilty, almost, for drawing that much money out of Dan’s wallet. The anxious feeling in his stomach had been fading, but that brought it back just enough to bother him again.

“Nonsense,” he said, waving his hand, “sometimes you’ve just got to live in the moment. It’s worth it.”

Phil wanted to respond, but a waiter was ready to take them to their table. They were seated near the fountain, allowing Phil to admire it from closer up. “This is incredible,” he said, eyes glued to the water flowing down the orbit of Neptune as he took off his jacket.

“It really is,” Dan responded, a soft smile on his face. It was a smile Phil hadn’t seen yet--one of content. Dan appeared almost mesmerized by the fountain. He gave a peaceful smile, and it gave Phil some peace as well. “It gets better, though,” he said, tapping Phil’s hand to get his attention. “Look up.”

It was a clear night in the dark restaurant, and when Phil looked up through the clear ceiling he could see the entire night sky. The moon wasn’t in view yet, but the stars glimmered overhead and reminded him of Dan’s commercial. Phil was amazed that the stars were so visible from the center of a restaurant dining room, especially since they were in the middle of London; he could see every constellation in the sky. “Wow.”

“Wow is right.”

They picked up their menus, and Phil was astounded once again. The food was just as expensive as he assumed. “Dan! I can’t let you pay for all this!”

“Then don’t.”

“Okay, well, I certainly can’t pay for it.”

“Then let me.” He smiled slyly and Phil rolled his eyes. There was no winning that battle.

Phil ordered the least expensive thing off the menu and watched Dan order some fancy fish he couldn’t even pronounce the name of. Of course, neither could Dan, but Phil assumed that was a common occurrence, as the waiter simply laughed and took down the order on his notepad.

“Glad to hear you’re still a normal person who can’t pronounce foreign names,” Phil said.

Dan chuckled. “I’m no celebrity, nor can I speak French.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not French, but okay.”

“Too bad, because we don’t have our menus anymore. Now we’ll never know.”

Phil snapped his fingers in fake disappointment. “Darn.”

They both broke out into a quiet laugh as Phil’s anxiety dissipated. The conversation was all he needed for his muscles to finally relax. He knew he’d be able to speak with Dan; he just had to get it going, and once he did, it went wonderfully.

The wait for their food was obnoxiously long, but they managed to entertain themselves with conversation. Phil was shocked; a few minutes earlier, he hadn’t been able to speak with Dan, and then suddenly he couldn’t stop. It was magical, to him, in a sense.

“I blame your freaky fish,” Phil said, becoming tired of waiting for the food. “I just got pasta and chicken.”

“Maybe it’s your crazy chicken!” Dan argued.

“Are we just putting adjectives in front of meats now?”

“I guess so.”

They laughed again, a constant of the evening. The people around them were giving them looks; they definitely didn’t belong in that restaurant. They were two normal people in a house for extremely rich people, and they weren’t faring well. But neither of them cared, and they just kept on laughing. The laughter brought Phil a certain joy he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember; it had been so long since he’d smiled so much his cheeks started to hurt, and he didn’t realize how much he missed it until he was doing it again. When the food did come, he was almost sad the conversation had to slow down.

The food was incredible. Of course, for those prices, Phil would have been angry if it wasn’t, but he enjoyed his simple pasta dish, and Dan seemed to enjoy whatever the hell he had on his plate.

After the food was eaten, the waiter came back and read them the dessert menu. At the end, they looked at each other.

“Solar system sundae,” they said in unison. The waiter simply smiled, nodded, and walked away.

They spent the next twenty minutes demolishing the biggest ice cream sundae either of them had ever seen. It was in a circular pan only a couple inches deep, and it had a simple vanilla base, but it was then coated in chocolate fudge and had planets drawn on it in different syrups and icings.

“Dan…” Phil trailed off, his breathing heavy. “Can’t...eat...any more ice cream,” he breathed out, hand shaking as he shoveled another bite into his mouth.

Dan laughed, but he wasn’t doing much better. “It’s so good...but I’m so full!”

“On three,” Phil said, “we put down the spoons. Okay?”

Dan nodded. “One.”

“Two.”

“Three!” they yelled at the same time, each of them slamming their spoons down on the table. There was a collective groan from the two of them.

“I don’t want to move,” Phil complained.

“Luckily,” Dan choked out, “you barely have to.”

Phil raised an eyebrow as Dan gestured to a patch of fake grass Phil hadn’t noticed before. There were benches around the grass where couples sat and chatted, but Phil much preferred the concept of lying aimlessly on the grass and admiring the sky. “Would you like to stargaze while you digest?”

Phil smiled both at Dan and at the concept of lying on the floor for a while. “I’d love to.”

Dan paid the check, and they stood up and made their way over to the stargazing grass. Phil laid down and looked up at the constellations, snuggling up under his jacket. “Hey, leave some blanket for me!” Dan said, jokingly nudging Phil as he laid down beside him. He promptly pulled some of the jacket onto him as he nestled up to Phil.

“The stars are amazing,” Phil said dreamily, “how did we get lucky enough to have such a clear night?”

“Dunno,” Dan whispered back, “same way I got lucky enough to find you.”

“That was so cheesy,” Phil teased.

“And so is this.” Dan leaned up and pressed his lips to Phil’s, and Phil’s body filled with life. It was their first kiss they shared with neither of them being intoxicated, and it was just as wonderful, if not more. In that moment, that was all Phil felt: wonder.

After a moment they pulled apart, and Phil smiled. “That was definitely cheesy, but I’ll give you a pass because I’ve always wanted to kiss someone under the stars.”

“Glad to check that one off your bucket list,” Dan said, beaming.

They returned to their original position of simple closeness, and Phil was more than content. He felt like he could lie there in Dan’s presence forever. He so wished he could, but he knew he couldn’t.

“I don’t feel gross anymore, do you?” Dan asked him in a whisper. It was a simple conversation, but it felt like an intimate experience kept just for the two of them. Phil shook his head. “Are you ready to go?”

“Am I going home?” Phil asked, and Dan nodded. “Then not really,” Phil replied, “I want to stay with you.”

Dan chuckled, breaking into a smile. “You know, me too.” He paused for a moment, deep in thought. “How about this?” Dan sighed happily, “You’ve got to get some sleep and work tomorrow morning, and I’ve got some lines to learn for a shoot tomorrow. We meet up at the Eye tomorrow at seven and go see a movie. You know, just for the sake of being together. Does that sound good?”

“That sounds wonderful.”

They hailed another cab to drive them home, and they refused to break contact throughout the ride. Thighs pressed together, they felt as if they were at home in each other’s presence. They each craved the same feeling of safety that came from simply being in the same space.

This time, Dan’s flat came first on the route home. It was a simple building, a little bit nicer than Phil’s, but it was nothing special. It was a bit comforting to see that Dan truly was no celebrity; he was simply a normal person, perfect for Phil, the most normal person on the planet.

They kissed goodbye and let their touch linger as they separated. As they pulled apart, Phil felt as if a part of him was being dragged away from his person. Neither of them wanted him to leave, but it was necessary. There was an empty feeling in the air as the door shut and the space between them began to grow, but Phil was comforted with the knowledge that they’d meet again in a short day.

He sighed as he leaned back against the headrest. Finally, all his emotions truly began to hit him, and he couldn’t help but smile. After all those hours spent staring at the posters, he’d finally gotten to truly know Dan, and damnit, Phil was in love with him.

Phil hated the day at work leading up to his second date with Dan. Not only did he have to wait, making the day longer, but he also had to put up with Gail annoying him the entire time.

“So, how was the date?” she pried, raising an eyebrow as she elbowed Phil.

“Good,” Phil said, monotone.

“Second date?”

“Tonight.”

She squealed like the fangirl she was. “Where are you going? What are you doing? Are you excited?”

“Yes, Gail, I’m excited,” he said, rolling his eyes as he put up a sign. Of course it had to be sign day; everything had to fall into place for Gail to have as much time as possible to bother him about Dan. “We’re going to the Eye, and I don’t know what we’re doing. Apparently he likes planning dates.”

“That’s so cute. I can’t believe this actually worked out!”

“Neither can I, but you know what I believe?”

“What?”

Phil turned to face her and gave her a stern look. “You being so utterly annoying about it.”

Gail pouted, refusing to make eye contact with him. “Sorry. But you’ve got to admit, it would never have happened without me.”

“Fine, fine. Just come up with at least ONE other conversation topic.”

“Deal.”

Although it certainly didn’t cease, the annoyance decreased throughout the day. Their morning routine was basically back to normal, despite seeming to last twice as long as it did. Phil and Gail worked adjacent registers in the afternoon, and she actually managed to help the time pass.

Mid-afternoon, they started a conversation about their favorite television shows and only stopped talking whenever a customer showed up at either of their registers. They probably weren’t supposed to be spending so much time talking. In fact, Phil knew they weren’t supposed to be spending so much time talking. But the conversation made the shift manageable, and he couldn’t have been more thankful for that. There was no better reminder of why he was friends with Gail.

“Good luck,” she said to him as he left for the Underground after his shift. It was the first time in hours she had mentioned it, but this time it was in good faith. He nodded, a soft, genuine smile on his face.

He took the train home simply to change into nicer clothes and then headed back out to catch a train to the Eye. He managed to lay out an outfit before he left that morning, so he would be a bit early, but he didn’t want to risk something happening on the train and making him late. Besides, he was starving. He knew he’d get dinner with Dan, but it couldn’t hurt to pick something up in between the station and the Eye.

Phil stepped onto the platform at the station nearest to the Eye at 6:30. He stopped at a Starbucks on the way and picked up a small muffin to snack on as he walked. He managed to arrive fifteen minutes early and take a seat on a bench near the Eye. He looked up at the wheel and let it mesmerize him as he nibbled his muffin. The slow circulation of the Eye was quite calming. Watching it slowly rotate numbed his mind and effectively calmed his nerves.

He finished his muffin and pulled out his phone to check the time; it was 6:03. Phil raised an eyebrow and glanced around him; Dan was nowhere to be found. He quickly shot a text to Dan saying that he was there and on a bench and opened a game on his phone. Dan must have gotten caught up in traffic; either that or the tube managed to fuck up. Neither would be surprising. He played a couple levels of his game, and Dan still hadn’t arrived. He texted asking Dan if he was alright; by then he was fifteen minutes late.

Phil sat for a few more minutes and stared at the Eye, the main source of light in the night sky. The spokes of the wheel were lit in various colors; the rhythmic change from color to color was soothing before, but it didn’t relieve his fear anymore. It was getting late, and Phil was freezing. Phil dialed Dan’s number, but he didn’t answer. He bit his lip; he was starting to get concerned on multiple levels. Was Dan alright? Had something happened? Nearly as bad, had he simply ghosted Phil?

Phil tapped the ‘Favorites’ tab in his Phone app and called the first number on the list.

“Gail?”

“Yeah?” she answered. “Why are you calling me? Aren’t you on your date?”

“Should be,” he said, disgruntled.

“What happened?” Her concern was evident; for once, Phil was grateful for how much she cared about his love life.

“How long do you stay before deciding someone stood you up?”

He heard a sigh through the phone. “Oh, Phil… I’m so sorry.” He wasn’t planning on crying over it, but hearing her sympathy made him fight back tears. Phil struggled to maintain even breaths, the pain pooling in his throat from restricting his tears. He wasn’t angry at that point; he simply felt like human garbage. He was in his thirties and he needed sympathy over getting stood up on a date. It was pathetic. “Did you text him? Call him?”

“Did both; he didn’t answer.”

“Do you want to come over and hang out with me?”

Phil’s first instinct was to say yes; bad dates were Phil and Gail’s best nights. Whenever one of them had a bad date, they’d go to the other’s flat and eat enough ice cream that they didn’t care anymore. That wouldn’t work this time; the ice cream simply reminded him of Dan. Besides, something was nagging at him, telling him to go somewhere else.

“Actually, I think I’ve got another idea. Thanks for the offer though. Be sure to keep it open; I may show up later if this ends up sucking ass.”

“It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up. Phil wiped the freezing tears out of his eyes and stood up, taking one last look around for Dan. He took a deep breath and marched back towards the tube station. He had new plans.

After a few Google searches, Phil found himself at the bar where he first met Dan. He wasn’t quite sure why he’d brought himself there; he assumed his brain thought it to be a good way to grieve. Again, he didn’t understand why, but there he was, rolling with his impulse.

He stepped into the bar and took a seat, ordering a glass of liquor. He usually was one for more fruity drinks, but at that point he just craved the warm, familiar feeling of drunkenness. He wanted to feel the way he felt when he fell for Dan in real life. He wanted a fuzzy mindset that would wash away his sadness. He didn’t care how he got there.

A couple drinks later, someone swiveled into a stool a few spots down from him. “Phew,” they exhaled, obviously coming straight off the dance floor. “Usual,” they said to the bartender.

Even drunk, Phil would recognize that voice anywhere.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He turned to Dan, his eyes piercing into Dan’s skin with anger. His vision was a bit blurry, but he could still see Dan’s fear.

“Oh, shit, Phil, I-”

“Don’t ‘oh shit’ me! You blew me off!”

“No, I didn’t mean to, I genuinely just forgot, I swear!”

Phil’s mouth fell open, his body shaking with rage. “You forgot? You forgot you had a date! That’s significantly worse than just blowing it off!” he snarled.

Dan exhaled through his nose, trying to find words. “Listen, I’m sorry. There’s more to this than meets the eye.”

Before Phil could respond, a man came from the direction of the bathrooms. He approached Dan and put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, babe. You got our drinks?”

Phil’s body relaxed, the tension in his muscles relieving as he realized he hadn’t the remaining energy to be angry. At that point, he wasn’t even sure he could call his emotion anger. More, he felt a certain understanding he hadn’t had before. Finally, he knew what was going on, and as much as it hurt him, it was almost relieving.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said to Dan, taking out some money from his wallet for his drinks and slamming it on the bar, “there is more to this than meets the eye. Thanks, Dan.”

He pushed himself off of the barstool and stormed off; Dan didn’t bother to follow him. He pulled open the door and stepped outside, letting the cold air hit his face. As the cold sobered him, his feelings didn’t change. Phil took a train to Gail’s flat, not because he wanted to spend time with her, but because it was farther away than his own home. All Phil wanted in that moment was to put as much distance between him and that bar as he possibly could. He succeeded, and he never went back to that bar again.

~ Five Years Later ~

“Finally.” Phil sighed as he crossed a red x over the fifth of July on his calendar. The sixth was circled for a very special reason. “One more day and I can get out of this hellhole.”

It had been three years since Gail found a new job. It paid twice as much as her shitty retail job, and it actually had room for improvement. Room for a better life.

Of course, she and Phil remained friends, but they didn’t see each other nearly as often as they used to. She still lived in her old flat for a while, and they met there often, but then she found a girlfriend and moved into her flat. Phil even went to their wedding, but it wasn’t nearly as happy for him as he hoped it would be. He basically watched Gail get her life together while he was still stuck in the same rut.

Shortly after Gail left, Phil decided to go back to university. He’d started going after secondary school, but some things had come up and he ended up having to quit, throwing him into the dead-end retail job he’d held for twelve years. As he watched his only friend move up in the world, he decided he couldn’t sit still any longer.

Of course, he still had to work his retail job for money while he got an education, which basically made his life a living hell. He couldn’t work as many hours, and he never had any free time, let alone time to try and find someone to settle down with as Gail did. Undoubtedly, it was the worst three years of his life.

But finally, he’d finished his degree from years ago, and he’d gotten a job in filmmaking. He would be working on a commercial, and he started July 6th. Although he was absolutely terrified to start the new job, he felt as if he was a prisoner finishing his sentence; he could finally leave his old job.

His last day at the retail job was undoubtedly the best; they even had a party for him. He didn’t particularly care much, as he had virtually no friends in the store without Gail there, but the cake was good, and there was nothing that had ever given him more joy than walking out of the store for the last time.

The next morning, after an anxious night of little sleep, Phil walked in to his first day on set. He would be the assistant to the director of the commercial, and it paid about as much as his retail job did. From there, he’d hopefully be able to move up in the industry. It was scary, but anything was better than retail.

“Phil!” the director called out, walking towards him with a spring in his step, “good to see you. Meet our actors.”

A few adults followed behind him, and all but one waved at him. He didn’t take much notice in them; he was doing his best to pay attention to the director. “Meet Emma, Riley, Will, and Dan.” He looked down the line at all the faces and gave a smile and a wave to them each as he said their names. But when he got to Dan, his smile quickly turned to a frown. He’d gained a few age lines on his face that he didn’t have before, but it didn’t take from his features; he was still as attractive as ever, if not more. Other than that, he simply appeared more mature. In front of Phil was a man who knew the ins and outs of life.

“Hi, Dan,” he said, his voice quiet and stern.

“Hey,” Dan said, a tint of shame in his tone.

The director simply looked confused. “Do you two know each other?” Each of them nodded, and he nodded in understanding. “Ah, well, whatever happened in the past is in the past now. Let’s get going with production!” The director clapped his hands, and Phil turned and walked as far away from Dan as fast as he could. The last thing he wanted was to ruin his first job in the film industry by causing drama with his ex-boyfriend.

The morning went seamlessly; they got all the shots they needed with the first set and took lunch while the crew replaced it with the next. Phil took his lunch and kept to himself, eating in a corner away from all the actors and even from the director. Still, he couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” As expected, Dan was standing over him, wringing his hands. He was biting his lip in an anxiety Phil had never seen from him before; usually Dan was the confident one, but he was a nervous wreck.

Phil sighed. He didn’t much want to talk to Dan, but he decided it was probably best to just let him talk and get it over with. “Sit down,” he said, defeated.

“I just wanted to say...I’m really, REALLY sorry about what happened a few years ago. If you don’t want to hear me out, I completely understand, but I’d really like to explain myself.”

Dan? Showing him respect? What a feat. “Might as well listen. Maybe it’ll be fun,” he said, straightfaced and full of resentment.

“Okay, so you’re still mad. I can’t blame you. But let me just explain what happened,” Dan pleaded.

He paused, and Phil gestured for him to continue. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“Well, I was in a long term relationship with a man who I was in love with. He, however, didn’t love me, and was extremely manipulative. He had broken up with me about a week before I met you. I was empty, and when I found you, I felt like a little bit of that void he left inside me was filled. So I went out with you, and I made plans for a second date. And I swear, I really did plan on meeting you that night. And that was when he texted me.” Dan sounded almost ashamed of his past relationship; he’d obviously been taken advantage of, and he wasn’t happy to admit it.

“I want to stress how head over heels I was for this guy. He had me in his trap; I would have done anything for him. He told me he missed me, and I fell right back in. I know now that I should have ignored him. I should have gone with you instead. But this guy just had some terrifying control over my brain. He was my number one priority, to the point that when he texted me I completely forgot you even existed. I know, that’s shitty. That’s what you told me when it happened. But believe me...my relationship was fucked up.”

“Clearly,” Phil interrupted, still struggling to let go of his years-old bitterness. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sympathetic, but he wasn’t particularly ready to react positively.

“I… completely understand if you can’t forgive me. Obviously I’d love it if you could, but I probably wouldn’t be able to forgive me either. Just know that I’m not that person anymore. I’ve been to therapy; I’ve dealt with my shit…. it’s been a wild five years.”

Phil chuckled. “Same here.”

“So, are we okay?” he asked tentatively.

There was a long pause for thought before Phil could answer. First, he thought back five years. So much had changed since then. Five years was a hell of a long time, and Phil, too, had become a different person since then. But he still remembered the happiness he felt on the one date he had with Dan, eating ice cream and lying under the stars. It was a certain type of joy he wasn’t sure he’d felt yet. Plus, Phil decided Dan had somehow gotten even more attractive as he aged.

“Yeah, we’re good.”

Dan exhaled, a smile of relief crossing his face. “Good.”

As the shoot went on, Phil learned that Dan wasn’t lying. It was obvious just from how he interacted with both Phil and others that he really had changed. Even back then he seemed like a nice guy, but now it was on a different scale. The way he cared for other people, the way he cared for himself...he really had dealt with his shit, and he’d grown from it.

After a few days, the shoot wrapped up. Phil wasn’t worried about his future; he’d worked with the director to line up a few more shoots to work at. The first shoot went off without a hitch, and he was content with the fact that he might have a future in the industry. Things were going well for him; he was ready to move on with his life.

But Dan wasn’t.

“Hey, Phil, wait up!” he heard Dan shout from behind him as he was walking to the station to take a train home. Dan ran to catch up with him. “Okay, okay,” he panted, trying to gather himself. Phil stopped walking to give him a chance to catch his breath.

“Listen, Phil, I know this is a long shot, but-” he blinked hard, and it was obvious that he thought he was being ridiculous, “I like you. I liked you years ago, and now that I’ve met you again, I still like you. I know things went horribly last time, but I’ve gotten rid of those terrible influences that drove me to hurt you, and-” he threw his hands at his sides. “it just doesn’t feel right to let you walk out of my life again. I shouldn’t have let you leave the first time, and I can’t make that mistake again.”

He stood in silence for a moment, looking like a deer in headlights. Phil smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Is this you asking me out?”

A small bit of color entered Dan’s previously pale face, but he still appeared a being of pure fear. “Yeah! Yeah, that, um-” his eyes darted wildly around the parking lot; he obviously didn’t think he’d get that far, “could I take you out for some drinks? Maybe? Tomorrow night? I promise I’ll show up this time.”

Phil smiled. Something told him this was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He watched as pure relief replaced the panic on Dan’s face, and he couldn’t help but smile wider. “Same apartment. See you tomorrow.”

“Great!” he shouted as Phil began to walk away. “Seven?”

“Seven!” Phil called back to him.

“Awesome!”

Suddenly, Phil turned on his heel. “Oh, and Dan?” A few feet had been put between them, and Phil began making up the distance. “If you fuck this one up, I will NEVER talk to you again. Deal?”

By then, he was standing right in front of Dan. He stuck his hand out, and Dan, regaining a small amount of confidence, offered Phil his own.

“Deal.”

About a year later, Phil took great joy in inviting Gail to his own wedding.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #phic stuff #dong and ping #phandom reverse bang #prb #tw alcohol #tw food #tw cheating

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maydei · 6 years

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I was tagged by @history-rover and @the-katuki-niliforv for the AO3 tag game like A MILLION YEARS AGO!! kjsddhfkjshfks sorry i forgot, i love you guys!!! <3

partially below a cut because this shit got LONG!

What’s your total word count on AO3?

762,774. Closing in on a million!! tho i know i’ve written waaaaay more than that when you add in my forbidden ffnet and quizilla days

Do you have a routine for writing?

sit down, open google doc, open several tabs of research. get interrupted by cat. get chewed on for a while. DRINK. write a little. browse tumblr for an hour. DRINK. read someone else’s fanfic. pass out on the couch. once i actually finish the chapter and slack off for a while, i go back to edit and re-read what i wrote, nit-pick my sentences, rearrange some stuff, then format on ao3.

it’s not hella deep lolol and most of the time i have NO memory of what i’ve written until a day or two later and i go back to read it, tbh. i almost always end up surprised with myself.

What are your favorite kinks/tropes/pairings?

for someone who is absolutely fucking sick of college and never wants to go back, my last two fics sure as hell were college student fics, tho admittedly i like, never want to write one again.punch me if i do, ok?

kinks.... 👀 many. many, many. browse my bookmarks and you’ll get an idea. i’ve lived on the internet since like 2006, sooooo. i’ve seen it all, i think. i’ve passed from denial into acceptance.

PAIRINGS: love me some pairings. Hannigram and Victuuri are the OTPs, Spirk gets an eternal special mention. There’s honestly so many I can’t count them all.

Do you have a favorite fic that you’ve written?

Well, the fic that’s gotten the most attention in terms of hits remains my SPN fic The Boy King. (RIP my child. Maybe someday my heart will sing again and I’ll finish you).

but finishing Fated was a huge achievement for me tbh, and Fated is GUNNING for the top slot in my stats page. Fated was the first longfic I’d written and finished in.... years. years, years, years. it had a HUGE effect on my confidence, the reactions I got were amazing. the reader feedback was unparalleled, and I was so fucking lucky to inspire enough people with that story that the YOI Soulmate Zine came into play. So if we’re talking about sheer impact, I think Fated takes the cake. It’s gonna hold a special place in my life basically forever. I think once I hit the year mark of that fic being completed I’ll probably go back and re-read it tbh. I don’t think I’ve ever sat down and read it from start to finish, so I’ll have to make a date to make that happen.

but undeniably Making Headlines is, like. It’s something else. The outline for this fic is immense. It’s certainly the most complicated in terms of plot an emotionally convoluted nonsense. I have NO idea if it makes any sense at all, but I have Plans™ and I am SO excited to get into the thick of the plot and the drama of this fic. once Arc Three starts it’s all over for you readers. also me.

Your fic with the most kudos?

Fated, at about 1400!

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

Honestly, there’s a lot of things. Pacing is the big one. I often feel as thought I get too bogged down on characters and not enough on the plot, even though the scenes I write later inform the plot. It’s a weird fine line that I’m not really sure how to reconcile. Also the way I write sentences gets wonky. Sometimes my mental voice does some fucky things and ends up with weird word arrangements. I have to catch myself when I go back and edit.

Inconsistent style is another. My mental health is a bag of cats, and I find I write different ways on different days depending on my mood. It can lead to some really dynamic scenes, but some that feel too slow. It’s hard to know. I just know when I get on a roll, it feels GOOD and I just churn it out. The beach scene in Fated was like that, and so was the last section in this most recent chapter of Headlines. Sometimes it just ROLLS. Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth. I never know which it’ll be.

Tag some others:

@highermagic @hanni-bunny-lecter @weconqueratdawn @fragile-teacup @jadegreenworks @sinkingorswimming @omgkatsudonplease @lucycamui @coloredink

What’s your total word count on AO3?

Do you have a routine for writing?

What are your favorite kinks/tropes/pairings?

Do you have a favorite fic that you’ve written?

Your fic with the most kudos?

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

Tag some friends!

#luc writes #long post #tag games #ao3 #writing meme

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getsterekt · 7 years

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STEREK FIC REC POST

500 twitter followers on my @getsterekt twitter account! thanks so much guys. here is another fic rec post in honor of u guys.

(fics marked with * are personal faves)

!!!!Before reading any fics PLEASE make sure you take note of the warnings and tags! as some of these fics may include triggering content to certain readers!!!!

—————————-

i will not give you up this time by stxrxk

Derek Hale was hard lines and rough skin.

WORDS: 304

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: none

to fall in deep by decideophobia

“the guy i fucked last night woke up this morning, disoriented and looked at me, and said “oh, you’re hot.” and went back to sleep.”

WORDS: 618

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Gen

WARNINGS: none

They would have loved you by Bellakitse

Stiles finds an old camera in the Hale house, he decides he’s going to find a way to give a little bit of Derek’s family back to him.

…..

“He has nothing left from his family, Peter doesn’t count. No pictures, everything that belonged to them burned, I-I wouldn’t know how to deal if I could never see mom’s face again, we have pictures and family videos and he just doesn’t, I want to try to give something back to him,” Stiles looks up at his dad, embarrassed by his confession.

WORDS: 1282

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: none

TLC by KARIN848

Alternate title: Derek Hale Deserves to Be Loved. Almost 1500 words of self indulgent Derek being cared for by Stiles after fight. Derek Hale deserves to be told that he is loved and he deserves good things. Stiles endeavors to prove that Derek is worthy of his pack and worthy of love.

WORDS: 1396

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Brad The Douchebag Ex by LadyDrace

Stiles and Derek bump into Stiles’ shitty ex while Christmas shopping. Derek isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but when Stiles grabs his hand, he just kinda rolls with it.

WORDS: 1436

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: douchebag ex

**Hey, Babe. by Areiton

It doesn’t happen every time they’re out. But it happens. Enough that he stops thinking it’s strange.

WORDS: 1571

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: not rated

WARNINGS: none

here, in the light of day by yodasyoyo

“Go to sleep Stiles,” he mumbles.

Sleep.

Sleep?

They are naked, like, completely naked. As in Stiles’ naked dick is now pressed right up against Derek’s naked thigh. Sleep? Stiles may be exhausted and hungover, but sleep is impossible.

WORDS: 1997

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

The Well Deserved Day of Derek Hale by mackietommo

Derek doesn’t remember the last time he got a good day.

WORDS: 2066

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: none

Ephemeral by thegirlgrey

Stiles has a weird reaction to his anesthesia. He wakes up with temporary amnesia. The resulting video gets 1 million hits on YouTube in 6 hours. (Beyoncé can suck it.)

WORDS: 2182

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Money Honey by paintedrecs

Derek’s a moderately well off businessman who has a soft heart, a rapidly emptying wallet, and a serious problem with dogs, panhandlers, and life in general.

Until Stiles comes along.

WORDS: 2845

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Five Times Derek and Stiles Wanted the Same Book (And One Time There Were Two Copies) by mikkimouse

“Hey!” Stiles yanked the book back, but the other guy had a firm grip on it. “What are you–”

He trailed off when he set eyes on the leather-clad god with a glare that could strip paint off a car who also had hold of the book.

Stiles gulped, but he didn’t let go. “Hey, dude, I had it first.”

Those powerful black eyebrows bent down further. “Like hell you did.”

WORDS: 2896

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

I’m so in love with you. by beautyinstarlight

When Stiles first says I love you to Derek, it’s a completely ordinary day in their new lives. They aren’t even dating…

Or: The story of when Stiles and Derek both said I love you and beyond.

WORDS: 3510

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: General

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Homing Mechanisms by SmallBirds

Magnetoreception: The sense which allows an organism to detect a magnetic field to perceive direction, altitude or location. How birds find their way home.

–

Stiles returns to Beacon Hills after four years at Stanford, only to find out that Derek has moved back into town. He brings him a housewarming gift. Derek makes food. Things escalate from there.

WORDS: 3741

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: none

Operation Rescue Sourwolf by HelloWhyTheFuckAmIHere

Derek Hale will not be accused of another crime he didn’t commit. Not on Stiles’ watch.

(What really happened when Stiles used his position as FBI Intern to save Derek’s life.)

WORDS: 4221

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: violence

When Your Teachers Have No Chill by giantteenwolforgy

Derek’s not his boyfriend, but sometimes it feels like he should be.

WORDS: 4314

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: none

How to Pretend You’re Not a Virgin and Other Sordid Tales by KuriKuri

Stiles likes the anonymity, the security his pseudonym provides. Likes that there are entire forums dedicated to speculating about his identity: his gender, his sexuality, his age.

Of course, there’s one thing they all seem to agree on: he’s some sort of sex god.

Which is really, really awkward, because he’s a twenty-three year old virgin.

(Or: in which Stiles is a bestselling erotica novelist and Lydia makes him attend a convention to promote his upcoming book.)

WORDS: 5347

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Notches in Your Spine by whiskey_in_tea

Stiles is the one who finds them in the first place, Derek’s college applications.

(this fic is restricted so you will need an ao3 account to be able to read it)

WORDS: 8741

CHAPTERS: 3/3

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: none

The Truth Is by BulletBlaze

“Well, you should get going then-” “You could come around some time-” A pause. “Wait, what?” A blush bloomed across Derek’s cheeks, barely visible over the top of his beard. He shrugged again. “If you wanted to. You could stop by while I’m fixing it up. Help me with some things. If you wanted to.” “You already said that,” Stiles, the idiot, mumbled in disbelief. Derek’s blush grew a shade darker.

WORDS: 8851

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: sheriff has a heart attack

put ‘em together and what have you got? by yodasyoyo

“Oh, bibbidi bobbidi fuck you.”

Unsurprisingly, Stiles’ fairy godmother is a menace.

WORDS: 11,162

CHAPTERS: 2/2

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Keeping Tabs by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)

After Erica’s death at the hands of the alphas, Stiles wants to be there for Derek, but Derek just wants to be alone. In the process of waiting him out, Stiles comes up with a plan to stay a step ahead of the alpha pack, and ends up spending lots of quality time with Cora and Peter.

WORDS: 12,896

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

trusting wolves by ourdreamsunfold

In the midst of a werewolf war against the alphas, the Sheriff learns that in a pack, loyalty is earned. And his son works hard enough to earn trust for both him and Derek, and all of their friends. Especially when the pack won’t even admit to liking each other most of the time. The kids are all a work in progress, and the Sheriff is lucky to be there for them. Werewolves and all.

WORDS: 13,572

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

*borders and horizon lines by magneticwave

“Let me do this nice thing for you, Derek, no strings attached,” said nobody ever.

WORDS: 14,833

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

*Help Wanted by Jebiwonkenobi

Nice things begin to happen to Derek Hale and it kind of freaks him out.

WORDS: 15,593

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Can I Keep You? by wearing_tearing

After practically being raised watching Buffy, The X-Files, and Ghostbusters, Stiles liked to think his reaction to seeing a shimmery shadow resembling a seventeen year old boy floating ten inches above ground and glaring fiercely at him wouldn’t be to let out a high pitch scream, try to karate chop him, and then, when that obviously didn’t work, throw a basketball at him.

A basketball that just went right through the boy’s stomach.

or, the Sterek Casper AU.

WORDS: 16,005

CHAPTERS: 6/6

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Imagine Me And You by callunavulgari

“My name,” the kid tells Derek, sounding amused. “It’s Stiles. I figure if I’m going to wrestle a complete stranger for a pumpkin the least I can do is offer my name afterwards.”

“Stiles,” Derek tries, testing the way the name sits on his tongue. “I’m Derek.”

“Derek,” Stiles breathes, like he’s testing the weight of the name too. He grins, bright and blinding, which Derek guesses means that he likes the sound of it. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but since we almost got to second base a minute ago, I’d say we’re past that point.”

WORDS: 16,080

CHAPTERS: 6/6

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: none

Regression to the Mean by theroguesgambit

There aren’t really words for this. “Sure, dude. Let’s hang out sometime and bond over the fact that our lives suck and we’ve both basically killed a bunch of people by accident” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. –

Prompt: In the aftermath of 3B, Stiles and Derek learn to trust, learn to fuck, and learn to love themselves, each other, and their pack.

WORDS: 16,580

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: ptsd (both stiles and derek)

We’ll be Better Around the Second Time by Cantabo

It’s been months. Months of fading contact with the pack. Months of the silent treatment from his father. Months of nothing but himself and the occasional lesson with Deaton to entertain him.

It’s too much, and eventually, Stiles leaves.

For years, everything goes great, until of course his dad gets injured, and he is suddenly forced to deal with people he thought he left behind in his past for good.

OR: Stiles gets pushed out of the pack, hits the road, makes new friends, learns how to grow up, and falls in love.

WORDS: 26,589

CHAPTERS: 12/12

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: None

You Can’t Dodge Stiles Stilinski by stilinskisparkles

“And this is it?” he points at the first girl. “I saw you in first period, you barely bothered to catch any of the balls you were tossed. I’m pretty sure you spent more time on your cell.”

The girl rolls her eyes, and looks completely unashamed of the fact she had her phone out in class. Derek knows Finstock would have stepped on it.

“And you,” he points at the second girl, taller and with eyes that meet Derek’s coolly. “You can’t throw anything worth half a damn. And what are you,” he points at the boy, trying not to look him in the eye, and failing. “A hundred and fifty pounds wet?”

The boy smirks at him, and Derek looks resolutely away. He’s now desperately trying not to picture him wet.

“I can’t work with this.”

WORDS: 27,250

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: underage (nothing sexual happens until stiles is 18 but theres flirting and stuff between stiles and derek while he’s 17) teacher-student relationship

A Perfect Storm by keeperofstories & queenofday

The first time Derek sees him is on the Subway.

The fifth time Derek spots him, the boy has a split lip and an angry alpha threatening him.

(OR: Where Scott is a really bad boyfriend and Derek ends up being Stiles’ hero)

WORDS: 30,848

CHAPTERS: 7/7

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Graphic violence, abusive relationships, domestic violence

Take Me Out To The Ball Game (Or to dinner, I’m easy either way) by Whisper91

In which single-father Derek Hale falls head over heels for his sons’ new Little League coach. Unsurprisingly, it’s all Laura’s fault.

WORDS: 32,556

CHAPTERS: 7/7

RATING:Mature

WARNINGS: so much fluffff (says theres 7/8 chapters finished but im pretty sure its complete as it hasnt been updated in 2 years and the ending of ch7 is super nice and fluffy)

To Each Their Own by SylvieW

Stiles agrees to become the owner of a werewolf with some very special needs. Derek has been abused for so long he’s nearly feral. Stiles has to find a way to gain his trust before Derek’s heat, or he could be put down.

WORDS: 32,668

CHAPTERS: 10/10

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: !!heed the tags!! dub-con, werewolves are pretty much slaves, kate argent warning. abusive kate.

**Ghosts In The Suburbs by Hypocorismm

Stiles gets cursed by a witch and can see dead people.

WORDS: 37,263

CHAPTERS: 15/15

RATING: Teen and Up

WARNINGS: angst

You Look Like Bad News (i gotta have you) by standinginanicedress

Option A : violently tell Derek that they are under no circumstances ever to hook up again because it was stupid and dumb.

Option B : tell Scott the truth, stand back and watch as Scott kills Derek with his bare hands so Stiles doesn’t even have to face the music. Not an option at all, actually. Expunge this from the record.

The real Option B : calmly explain to Derek that the situation is too fucked up and hey, maybe if Derek and Scott ever shake hands and make up, he and Stiles can hook up again because, man…it was great.

Option C : forget everything, charge headfirst into danger like fuckin’ Bravehart and have sex with Derek all over again.

Option D : bury himself alive and wait for the worms to eat him.

WORDS: 38,954

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: none

***Come with Me and Walk the Longest Mile by DevilDoll

“Stiles shouldn’t accept rides from werewolves he meets behind abandoned convenience stores.” In which the zombie apocalypse is just one of their worries.

WORDS: 39,275

CHAPTERS: 4/4

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: underage

Killer Smile by Black_Calliope

One. Two. Seven. How many times should a killer strike before getting called 'serial’?

Or the one where Stiles works as a member of a Behavioral Analysis Unit, gets insulted quite a lot, learns that love doesn’t always take the shortest path and cultivates an illicit relationship with a coffee mug. Not necessarily in that order. Also, Boyd has a thing for explosives and Lydia is the most BAMF coroner ever. Derek doesn’t get his spring rolls because he doesn’t deserve them. Neither does Stiles, but that’s another whole story.

WORDS: 51,434

CHAPTERS: 1/1

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

**Those Are The Days That Bind Us by s_a_m

His father wasn’t stupid. He was an officer of the law, trained to look for patterns. He confronted Stiles about werewolves and they shouted and Stiles tried to explain but his father was so, so, so mad, more mad than Stiles had ever seen him, ever in all his life and then his father looked at him and said,

“It’s like you’re not my son anymore.”

And Stiles broke.

WORDS: 52,171

CHAPTERS: 5/5

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: angst, PTSD, violence, gore, implied/referenced non-con, death of an unborn baby, panic attacks

[Sleep]Walking After You by relenafanel

Derek is a sleepwalker who keeps wandering into his downstairs neighbour’s bedroom.

Stiles is pretty sure the hot guy from the park is going to kill him in his sleep. He knows he shouldn’t have been so obvious about objectifying the guy’s really fine ass.

Too bad it turns out Derek is easier to get along with when he’s sleeping.

WORDS: 56,551

CHAPTERS: 10/10

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: none

***Safety in Silence by Survivah

It’s perfectly understandable. Even Derek wouldn’t want to be Derek’s soulmate.

WORDS: 66,901

CHAPTERS: 5/5

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: none

The More Things Change by KouriArashi

Ten years ago, there was a major war between the supernatural world and the mundane. Now Beacon Hills is cut off and the Argents are in control, and the supernatural creatures are slowly being hunted down. But when Stiles, who was adopted by the Argents after the death of his parents, makes friends with the Hale Pack, things start to change…

WORDS: 80,378

CHAPTERS: 18/18

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence

***One life stand by Vendelin

Stiles is used to selling himself to make ends meet. But it’s getting harder to keep those ends meeting, and there’s only so much of Stiles to go around. Until a too-fancy car shows up in his neighborhood, and he meets Derek Hale.

All Derek wants is Stiles’s time, someone to stay on his arm for events and smile for the cameras. It’s the easiest job Stiles has ever had, the best-paying one he’s ever had, and he’s more than happy to sign up.

Derek is everything and nothing Stiles expects him to be, with his tailored suits, sharp mind and his quiet way of caring. But it’s just a job and Stiles never meant to fall in love.

WORDS: 84,278

CHAPTERS: 6/6

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: read tags for warnings

Into The Open Air by Acherona & trulywicked

It was a little strange moving back to Beacon Hills. His daughter becoming enchanted with his odd and very attractive neighbor didn’t really help matters.

WORDS: 99,482

CHAPTERS: 22/22

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: Violence

Hallowed Grounds by damnfancyscotch

Everything in Beacon Hills is the same when Stiles comes home from college.

Well, except for the fact that he’s a published author now, Scott is halfway across the world with a travelling circus, Erica’s epilepsy has been cured, her boss offers him a job too, and there’s this weird black dog that seems to be following him around just to judge him.

Oh, and the murders, of course.

But other than that stuff… totally the same old BH.

WORDS: 109,578

CHAPTERS: 16/16

RATING: Mature

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Bruises and Bitemarks by oblivions172

Biologically, Stiles is weak. When he presented as an omega, he knew that to be the truth but that never stopped him from running his mouth as a defense mechanism. However, it could only save him so many times before he ended up pissing off the wrong person. After he’s attacked in the parking lot outside of school, Stiles realizes he can no longer protect himself with just pure wit and sarcasm. When the attack lands him in the hospital, his dad forces him to pick between two options, report the alphas who attacked him or join a kickboxing gym run by omega rights activist and alpha, Derek Hale, a man Stiles has been in love with for many years.

WORDS: 121,566

CHAPTERS: 27/27

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: !!Read Tags!!

#sterek #eternal sterek #eternalsterek #sterek is eternal #sterek fic rec #sterek fic #fic rec post #sterek rec #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek haleinski #teen wolf #sterek ficlet #dylan o'brien #tyler hoechlin

1K notes · View notes

thegreatwhiteferret · 7 years

Text

I was tagged by: @its-reddie-bitch (Thanks for this by the way, Elle. 85 fucking questions...Jesus. Lmao ❤️❤️❤️ )

1. last drink?: Venti Soy Blonde Latte from Starbucks because I am a basic white bitch

2: last phone call?: My older sister when I was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

3. last text message?: “Can I use your card for Starbucks?” Because I am a poor ass basic white bitch.

4. last song you listened to?: Rainbow by Kesha (Gets me in the feels every time)

5. last time you cried?: Mmmmmmmm last night or the early hours of today...

6. dated someone twice?: Noppppppppppppppe. Thank fucking God.

7. kissed someone and regretted it: I don’t think so.

8. been cheated on?: We weren’t “exclusive” so...but I’d fucking say that it still felt like it.

9. lost someone special?: So so many.

10. been depressed?: Severely for the majority of my life. (In case y’all hadn’t figured out that I’m an anxious and depressed mess)

11. gotten drunk and thrown up?: OH MY GOD. Only twice that I can think of, but one was really bad. Sour blue raspberry Smirnoff vodka and Titos vodka, and I filled like a full tumbler glass with that and chugged it...because why the fuck not? I’ll tell you why not, I ruined a $2,500 cowhide rug...fuck.

fave colors

12. Fluorescent Pink- Basic white bitch with Barbie tendencies.

13. Tiffany Blue- See above reasoning

14. Anything Pastel Ever

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends?: Yes, but I also lost a shit ton.

16. fallen out of love?: Hahahahaha. No romantic interactions at all in the past year so...not possible.

17. laughed until you cried?: All the time. That wine drinking Pennywise was the last thing that made me do this.

18. found out someone was talking about you?: Yes, and that bitch is lucky I had enough self control to not throw hands with her.

19. met someone who changed you?: Yes. (For better and for worse)

20. found out who your friends are?: In the hardest way possible.

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list?: Nope, and we can leave it that way.

general:

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl?: All of them.

23. do you have any pets?: My furry baby who is actually an alien like Stitch dog, Pippa. (But I also have my sister’s dog with me right now)

24. do you want to change your name?: Nah, I’m good.

25. what did you do for your last birthday?: Went for dinner with my family and tried to keep myself together.

26. what time did you wake up today?: Erhmmmmmm 10:30 ish, but I laid in bed with the dogs until almost 12. It was glorious.

27. what were you doing at midnight last night?: Finishing the latest chapter of I Will Try To Fix You so I could post it and watching Bloodline (legit only for Owen Teague...don’t judge me.)

28. what is something that you can’t wait for?: Things to get better...?

30. what are you listening to right now?: Someone You Like by The Girls and The Dreamcatcher

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom?: Yup.

32. something getting on your nerves?: What doesn’t get on my nerves would be a shorter list. What irks me more than anything is people being assholes to other people because their ideals don’t match. No one is fucking asking you to engage in a poly relationship or marry your same gender so fuck off! Gahhhhh.

33. most visited website?: Tumblr (But if Google Docs counts (14 tabs open Jesus) then that’s close behind and so is Ao3).

34. hair color?: Bleached white blonde with horrendous roots. I sooooo want to do something drastic to it though,

35. long or short hair: It’s shoulder length so whatever that is.

36. do you have a crush on someone?: A real life person? No. Celebrities? Hilary fucking Knight always and forever. People on this site? ...Maybeeeeeee.

37. what do you like about yourself?: This is a really hard question. I guess I’m an alright writer and I genuinely like helping people.

38. want any piercings: I have quite a few, but I have my eye on a few for the future.

39. blood type: O+

40. nicknames: Meg, Megs, Meggie, Mefge (Typo from Wii that will never cease to haunt me!), Texas...really freaking boring I guess.

41. relationship status: Single AF...by choice, not my choice, but a choice.

42. zodiac: Libra

43. pronouns: She/Her

44. fave tv show: Golden Girls (and a million others, I watch a lot of TV tbh)

45. tattoos: I have a list of 14 that I want when I have money.

46. right or left handed: Right

47. ever had surgery: I’ve had sinus surgery and gastric related surgery so far. There will be more in the future I am sure.

48 . piercings: Two lobes each ear, industrial, rook, conch, and tragus. (Nips, belly button, and something else in the future hopefully)

49. sport: HOCKEY, ALL DAY EVERY DAY BABY!!!

50. vacation: I haven’t been on one in years. I am dying to go to Disney and London.

51. trainers: Converse Chuck Taylors

more general

52. eating: Salad but I want to make a mug cookie...

53. drinking: Still working on that Latte

54. im about to watch: I’m watching some British family cook off show with my mom and sister on Netflix.

55. waiting for: Better days, they better be coming quickly.

56. want: To actually be motivated enough to quickly finish the 14 requests I have!!! Hahahaha, that’s why it’s a want and not a possibility.

57. get married? YES PLEASE! But I think someone has to actually be able to tolerate me for this to happen. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

58. career: I quit my original dream career and now I am going back to school for nursing. It was toxic and I needed a change.

59. hugs or kisses: ALL OF THE PHYSICAL AFFECTION PLEASE!

60. lips or eyes: Eyes. Oh my God, EYES.

61. shorter or taller: ¿Por que no los dos?

62. older or younger: I don’t care as long as they are at least 18...sounds bad but whatever.

63. nice arms or stomach: Uhmmmm either?

64. hookup or relationship: Relationship

65. troublemaker or hesitant: It depends on the situation.

66. kissed a stranger: Not yet, but I would.

67. drank hard liquor: Pretty much all I drink because I am allergic to beer and do not like wine. I actually owe my sister six shots of fireball, so that’s going to happen and I will be on the floor...

68. lost glasses: All the fucking time and then I can’t find them because I’m blind! Endless struggle.

69. turned someone down: Yes...and ghosted people too.

70. sex on the first date: SURE. Why the fuck not??

71. broken someones heart: I don’t think so.

72. had your heart broken: Yes, and at the time I thought I would never recover, but I’m still kicking bitches.

73. been arrested: No.

74. cried when someone died: So so so so so so so so much.

75. fallen for a friend: Yes, multiple times, and they were awful decisions!

do you believe in…

76. yourself: No. Unfortunately. It’s a struggle, but I promise that I am going to get help very soon and work on this. I’m just very very hard on myself and don’t like when I’m not perfect. 😕😕😕

77. miracles: Maybe...

78. love at first sight: Nope. Infatuation of lust at first sight? Yes. Love? No, I don’t think it’s something to play around with and it has to grow.

79. santa clause: I CAN HEAR THE BELLS!!!!

80. kiss on a first date: I mean I already said why not to sex on the first date, so kissing is mild.

81. angels: I don’t know. Angels I’m not sure about, but I do believe in spirits and things of that nature.

82. best friend’s name: Can I say my dog? Is that pathetic? Pippa is my ride or die, guys.

83. eye color: Blue

84. fave movie: Inglorious Basterds, IT, and Rise of the Guardians in no specific order, because I am indecisive and can’t choose.

85. fave actor: I can’t choose one! Taron Egerton, Michael B. Jordan, and Evan Peters are high on my list though.

I have no idea who has already been tagged so I’m just going to throw some names out... @billbenbev @milagric @theriodiaries @demianhill @dannybriereisaliferuiner @valiantlydeepestdinosaur And literally anyone else who wants to do this!

#Meg Writes Things #Meg Takes Way Too LOng To Answer Simple Prompts #Meg Overthinks everything too #ME

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modernart2012 · 7 years

Text

Testing Testing (You and I Might Just Be the Best Thing)

posted on ao3 here

Hizashi would like to State For The Record that this is Plausibly Not His Fault. Outside, a Godzilla-like figure breathes fire across the Tokyo skyline. Inside Shōta’s apartment, sprawled across the mismatched living room furniture in various states of injury, exhaustion, and dishevelment lie Shōta, Nemuri, and Tensei. Hizashi himself is spread-eagled on his rug, trying to glare Shōta’s cats into submission from where they’ve taken up residence on his torso.

Tensei is the first to stagger to his feet, croaking, “I need a drink.”

Shōta groans after him, “Hizashi hid the whiskey in the jumbo box of cornflakes after last time.” Tensei whimpers his assent.

Nemuri moans from where she’s face down on the floor, “I can’t feel my spleen anymore.”

Hizashi continues to Regret His Life Choices. Whatever sins he had committed in his last life, they must have been awful to deserve karma like this.

Tensei pulls straight from the Ardbeg Uigeadail, then passes the bottle to Nemuri before flopping down onto the cat bed again with an audible oof. Incidentally, he made the same noise when Godzilla-lady - Suoh Aiko was her name, unless that was fake - had kicked him clear through a building.

Given the way everyone stared at him - including the cats, but the cats had been staring at him anyways - he hadn’t managed to keep that thought firmly on the inside of his skull. Shōta balefully lifts a single finger in salute before declaring, “Hizashi you’re a Walking Disaster,” and then accepting the bottle from Nemuri and tossing it back. Hizashi is going to proactively blame the (probable) concussion on finding the line of Shōta’s throat as he swallowed attractive. From the judging look Nemuri is shooting him, he’s not doing a good job of hiding it.

There’s pervasive silence as the sounds of rampage, mayhem, and general chaos filters in from outside.

Hizashi clears his throat to announce, “Thank God none of us -,” only to be shut up by Same trying to stick his face in Hizashi’s mouth. Fugu gets up to chew on his hair, and around the same time as Hizashi Gives Up On Life, Tensei sits bolt upright and woodenly states, as if hit by some sort of epiphany, “Yamada is a Walking Hellmout .”

Nemuri raises a hand in the air to interject, “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

Shōta keeps drinking. The bottle is nearly done. Hizashi didn’t even know anyone could drink that much whiskey at once.

Tensei considers, then amends, “Yamada is a Walking Magnet for Villains.”

Nemuri contemplates, then lets the statement stand.

Shōta slams down the bottle, empty. No one comments on how, previously, the bottle was full. “Okay. Hizashi can’t seem to meet a nice normal girl. Or guy. But, are the villains incidentally interested in him or does he find people who are villains attractive.”

If there’s a distinction, it’s lost on three-quarters of the party as they exchange looks of confusion (or attempt to). Don't people date if they find each other attractive? Same takes the moment to attempt to stick his tail up Hizashi’s nasal passages. Shōta uses the resulting spluttering to proclaim without objection, “Hizashi, you’re no longer allowed to date without one of us having performed a thorough background check on them.”

Hizashi manages to bat Same away, and shoo Fugu out of his hair, “Come on! This doesn’t happen that often!”

Tensei starts counting off on his fingers, “There was that time in 3rd year with the Heart-Eating Villain.”

Shōta examines the empty bottle forlornly, “And then the guy who was weirdly into banks and dismemberment.”

Nemuri supplies, “The serial killer sacrificing people to bring about the end of days.”

“And the furry.”

Tensei shudders, “And the furry.”

“The furry wasn’t so bad. A bit out there but not planning on murderizing me.” Hizashi protests feebly.

Nemuri ponders, “Didn’t xhey want to take over the world?” Hizashi pointedly ignores her.

Tensei continues, “And then the Godzilla Lady.”

Hizashi shrugs, “She also isn’t so bad, considering she isn’t a mass murderer.”

The Godzilla-lady roars, and the windows shake. Shōta gestures to the window, “Even Godzilla-lady calls bullshit. And she wanted to eat you alive.”

Tensei glances out the window. “You know, I’m not sure why they called Endeavor to deal with that. Fire plus Fire-Breathing Giant Lizard seems like a ‘fighting fire with fire’ situation.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means.”

Shōta ignores them. “So, we are going to be your personal vetting squad for any and all future people you even contemplate going on a date with. If you even think they’re attractive, we need to know.”

Seems a bit overzealous, but Hizashi is willing to forgive Shōta because he was probably drunk. The whiskey was like 95 proof or something after all.

The bloodshot stare and double finger salute that garnered him informed him that that was also uttered out loud. Silence falls again, interspersed with the cats batting at the empty whiskey bottle and softly chirping at each other. Then Tensei looked out the window and declared, “They finally brought in All Might. We should be able to head home now.”

Then he and Nemuri picked themselves up and hobbled out the door. Hizashi tilted his head back and blithely asked, “Sooooo. Think the ramen stand is open?”

He was entirely prepared for the judicious application of Shōta’s capture scarf. Not to say that he dodged, that’d take too much energy and his head was already pounding, but that he was resigned to his fate as soon as he opened his mouth.

They do end up going for ramen, but at a different place than the usual because the usual place is closed due to flaming debris punching a hole in the ceiling. Shōta glared at him hostilely until he promises to pay the entire tab, then dragged him through four grimy alleys (discounting the one side trip to drop off abandoned kittens at a shelter), past one street gang fight (which they did not stop to intervene in), and finally into the most ancient ramen stand Hizashi had ever seen. “Are you sure this isn’t from the Edo period?”

The suspicious way Shōta remained silent was entirely telling. “Come on, are we going to eat or not.” He indicates two customers, then drags Hizashi to seats at the counter.

The girl behind the counter doesn’t seem to recognize Shōta, unlike the rest of the staff, but does xir level best to flirt with Hizashi every chance xe gets, which is often since the shop isn’t busy. Shōta busies himself on his phone in the midst of one of these chances.

After they’ve eaten, and Hizashi has settled the tab for the ramen and alcohol, Shōta takes a moment to stop Hizashi and show him the information on his phone.

Hayashida Nanako was wanted for theft, amounting to 900 million yen, and that was in Japan alone. The picture looked too much like the girl behind the counter to be a coincidence.

Hizashi looked at his own phone, where he had just gotten xir number, and deflated.

Shōta awkwardly patted his shoulder. “There there, at least you found out early. Before the rampage of destruction. Come on, the police have already moved to arrest xir, and I have DDR.”

It’s not until a month later (and 5 other failed dating prospects - an assassin, a mass murderer, a hitman, a yakuza boss, and a psychopath), that Hizashi is hiding at Nemuri’s while Tensei and Shōta deal with his latest attempt at dating (a regular old government-overthrower, which was a nice change of pace). He’s stolen borrowed Fugu for Reasons (read: cuddling for comfort), and is being a general mopey mess under a blanket while Nemuri laughs at him. He’s Not Pleased by the Laughing, but given that the other choice was to be judged by a pre-teen with glasses for being pathetic on Tensei’s couch again, he’ll take the laughing.

He’s just managed to cuddle Fugu into submission - though he’s sure she’s plotting retaliation, all of Shōta’s cat’s are evil masterminds - when Nemuri speaks at him over her cup of tea. “You know, your tastes in romantic partners is really telling when you think about it.”

Hizashi sticks his head out from under the protective cover of the blanket burrito, indignant, “What?” Fugu takes the distraction as an opportunity to chew on his hair again.

Nemuri ticks off on her fingers, “Dark hair, dark eyes, dry wit and smart, and if you can manage to land ‘em loners who you annoy into accepting your presence. Not to mention generally scruffy at first glance, but clean up nicely. Add that together with the way Drunk You is stuck like glue on Shōta when he’s there, and things aren’t particularly difficult to work out you know.”

Hizashi pulls his head back into his blanket cocoon - which, is amazingly cozy and he can see why Shōta enjoys being cocooned - and thinks Very Hard about Disappearing. It’s never worked before, but there’s a first time for everything.

Nemuri sighs from her perch on her chair, “I don’t think blankets work like that.” (So he apparently said that out loud. Whoops.) She peels back the corner of the blanket and peers in. “You know, I can’t see why you shouldn’t date Shōta. We know he’s not a villain or a megalomaniac or a murderer or otherwise criminally inclined. He’s already far better than your previous dates, and you both like each other.”

Hizashi gawks at her, and Fugu uses the opening to flee for her life. Nemuri ignores her, and continues blithely, “I’m pretty sure he’s been pining since you met, if it helps any. Or thereabouts. You kinda grew on him like a particularly stubborn fungus.”

That wasn’t an especially positive review, all things considered. He wondered if Nemuri knew that, and simply didn't care enough to put it in different terms. She tended to be perverse like that. “That doesn't tend to mean anything,” he tried feebly.

Nemuri gave him her best pity-and-disappointed look. “It’s Shōta. He would have kept trying to avoid you if he didn't start to like you. And he wouldn't have kept up with you so steadfastly if he didn't like-like you. I mean, I had to hunt him down after graduation. You he chose to keep up with. And buy you stuff. And take care of you, even when it’s probably detrimental to himself. Q.E.D. he loves you. Though why, Heaven only knows.”

“You know, this distinctly feels like a conversation we’re not having.”

“Why, because you’re scared to confront your feelings and don't even know how to begin contemplating the idea of your love interest returning your feelings because you've spent so long convincing yourself it's unrequited and trying to move on?” Nemuri arches a single eyebrow. She settles back into her armchair, pulling the massive quilt with her and leaving Hizashi bereft and exposed. The damned cat sides with her too, leaping into Nemuri’s lap and yawning scathingly at him. Hizashi knows he is in no way positioned to win, given that the cat is judging him, but something’s sparked in him.

“Okay, you know what. Yeah, I love Shōta. I have for a very long time. Looks aside, because he’s so so beautiful always; he’s so amazing. Have you ever met him? He’s perfect. He’s got his own twisted sense of humor, loves to prank, is oddly competitive and hardworking. He’s smart too - so damn smart. He can keep up with me on pretty much any topic, and even when he doesn’t seem to be paying attention he is. He tolerates me rambling for hours, without complaint, even though we all know he’d rather sleep, and he never turns down offers to go out even though that cuts into his sleeping time! So yeah, I’m not going to “confront” my feelings, or confess or whatever other asinine idea you have, because he’s my best friend! I’ve spent so long looking for even a hint that he sees in me anything other than ‘friend’, and I’ve never gotten a single indication. I will never ever be lucky enough to meet anyone as astonishing as Shōta, in any context! I’m not going to throw that away just because I have stupidly inconvenient feelings!” By the end he is thundering at Nemuri, Fugu long having fled. Her eyes are wide in shock, but her face reads panic and a dash of regret.

Hizashi grabs his coat and turns to go, only to be met with Shōta behind him stock still and stone silent, face blank. Heat flushes through him, embarrassment followed by humiliation, then heart wrenching pain. There is only one recourse, and he takes it. He flees.

Hizashi knows it’s probably cliche to brood at the top of a building, but it’s a good place to brood for a reason and you don’t mess with classics unless you are a godless heathen - looking at you, Nedzu, AC/DC didn’t need to be remixed with the Baha Men for any reason ever. Also, no one is going to spot him by looking up. It’s not a natural direction to check, after thousands of millennia of survival being conditional on looking around and down rather than up.

Of course, this means jack all when you’re an underground hero and frequently utilize this fact to your advantage in order to deal with criminals and villains.

“Hey.”

Hizashi flails from where he’s seated on the edge of the roof, and it was only judicious application of capture gear that keeps him from falling 7 stories to the cold hard concrete and into the next life. He carefully climbs back over the edge of the roof himself, ignoring the hand offered to help him up and keeps a careful distance though the night is cold and he knows Shōta will be toasty warm. “He-ey.” He hunches into his jacket, carefully not making eye contact and trying not to think very hard about the fact Shōta’s hunted him down instead of avoiding him like he’s a plague victim.

He’s rewarded with a punch to the face with only Shōta’s capture gear wrapping around him keeping him from going over the edge again, “You utter imbecilic moron!”

He’s seeing stars, the punch kind not the shoujo-manga heroine kind, and reeling. A hard yank of the capture gear spins him back towards Shōta and Hizashi braces for becoming reacquainted with Shōta’s fist. Instead he is met by the overwhelming sense of chapped lips against his, a hand fisted in his collar, and the scritch-scratch of Shōta’s beard against his cheeks. His shocked gasp is devoured, and why hadn’t he ever considered Shōta to be a voracious kisser? He clenches his hands against Shōta’s hips, tilts his head for better angle and more contact, and wonders if he didn’t die from the fall after all.

“You’re not dead,” is the response to that thought, in between soft quick kisses, and apparently that was out loud. Hizashi really needs to get a handle on that. Right after he dies of mortification, he’ll figure out how to stop thinking out loud.

Speaking of utter and complete mortification, he catches sight of his reflection in the chrome finish of the water tank, and realizes he’s red and punch-drunk (half-literally) and has a swollen cheek that’s going to bruise just in time to have to teach Monday. Shōta has the gall to snicker at his horror-stricken face, and for half a moment Hizashi remembers that things are supposed to be awkward between them until Shōta reels him back in and informs him, “Since me trying to throw you clue for years has gone over your head, I’m going to tell you clearly. You and Me. We’re dating. Any objections?” Shōta paused, then continued after no objections were raised, “Okay. Dating. Now, we’re going to get you ice for your cheek, then dinner, then sleeping. And in the morning we will further discuss this, because it is 3am and I am tired from hunting you down across 4 different wards. Okay? Okay.”

As Hizashi let himself get (gently!) dragged down and out of the building, he couldn’t decide if he was elated, terrified, or finding the whole thing hot.

It’s exactly one week later that Hizashi finds himself ducking into an alley quickly followed by Tensei. Tensei turns to him and comments, “You know, after you and Aizawa got together I was certain we were done with this Villain of the Week/ Flavor of the Month thing we had going.”

Hizashi yelps in outrage, “This is Provably Not My Fault, okay!”

“You said that about the photo of you dazed wrapped in Aizawa’s capture scarf on the train too!” Pieces of masonry fall loose from the walls they’re pressed against, shaking with the concussive force of air being displaced at rapid speeds.

“Damn, Shōta’s down. What was Kayama-senpai’s ETA again?” A much stronger clap, closer, followed by typhoon force winds that shake the ground. “In any case, we really did run into a kid who’s Quirk wasn’t under control! No one expects hallucinogenic scents in the cereal aisle! There was a police report and everything! It’s not my fault this granny thinks we were up to something deviant!”

Tensei points a finger in his face, “You owe us so many drinks. Drinks until we need liver transplants.”

As Hizashi ducks out of the alley to scream at the gigantic handed woman, he can’t help but grin. Even the Villain Rampage (Still! Not! His! Fault!) Issue (Resolution Under Construction) can’t make him Regret Anything.

(Even When He Has A Concussion And Shōta Yells At Him And Aggressively Feeds Him Miso Soup.)

#art writes #boku no hero academia #erasermic #crack #getting together #pining #things I write when I should be writing other things #following the crack bunny down

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ineverhadmyinternetphase · 7 years

Text

A Peek into the Future

AO3 Link

Genre: Oneshot, fluff, domestic fluff, talks about the future, and a dog

Summary: Fiction. Moving was a hassle, and not something they were keen on, but they'd been putting it off for literal years. Perhaps it was about time to get kicked into the future - and maybe that kick pushes them farther than they thought. Essentially, some mostly plotless reality fluff.

Warnings: Literally nothing if you’re ok with talks about moving house and dogs and the future

Word Count: A little over 5k

A/N: Happy birthday, @mecaka! I found out yesterday that it was her birthday recently, so I wrote her a fic. She wanted fluff, I hope I have delivered. Also sorry for any typos/errors, this was for my beta so I couldn’t exactly ask her to check it over for me :P

Reminder that I don’t know Dan or Phil at all and I’m not suggesting this in any way reflects reality. This is a work of fiction

…

“This one?”

“Nah, too small a kitchen.”

“How would you know, you’re never in the kitchen.”

“I cook,” Dan argued indignantly. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes is right.” Phil’s voice was slightly muffled, squashed somewhere behind Dan’s elbow. He hadn’t asked for Dan to come over and flop right on top of him, but that was something Dan had always done, as long as they’d known each other. It was just, Dan was so much bigger now.

Phil sometimes wondered what had happened to that gawky, gangly little teenager, all elbows and knees. Not that he was unhappy with the Dan he had now.

“This one?” Dan shoved his phone screen into Phil’s face, making Phil blink. His contacts were itching he needed to go and take them out, if he could persuade Dan to get out of his lap.

He focused on the screen, squinting, and saw a fairly typical house out in the country somewhere – certainly not London – with windows and a pretty door and a gate leading into the garden.

Despite himself, Phil smiled, even as he answered rather exasperatedly, “We said not a forever home, Dan.”

“I know.” Dan was pouting somewhere behind the phone screen; Phil could hear it.

“That’s most definitely a forever home.”

“But do you like it?”

Phil squinted up at Dan, blinking through the dim light in their too-full lounge. Dan was curled up on his chest, twisted a little so he could hold his phone out for them both to see, but the slight tensing of his body against Phil’s told Phil everything he needed to know. He knew how much this mattered to Dan. He knew how much stability mattered.

So Phil reached out and took the phone from Dan, bringing it closer to properly examine it.

“You should take your contacts out,” Dan murmured.

“In a bit.” Phil peered again at the house on the screen – green garden, a couple of flowerbeds, a doorstep with a welcome mat. He melted a little, imagining Dan standing on that doorstep.

“It’s a good house,” he agreed. “A good forever home.”

“That’s what I thought.” Dan sounded satisfied, taking the phone back and shuffling up a bit. “Go take your contacts out.”

“In a minute.” Phil wrapped his arms around Dan, gave him a squeeze, before tucking his legs back over to the ground and shaking them to return feeling to them.

Dan curled up on the other end of their (very run down by now) sofa, legs curled up, eyes still fixed on his screen. His hair fell in his curls, the shaved sides visible that Phil liked running his fingers across. His dimple was barely visible.

“I like it,” Phil repeated, and watched the dimple deepen. “For a few years’ time.”

Dan glanced over at him, and Phil’s stomach still dropped at that warm brown gaze. There was hope hidden in there somewhere, along with the slight insecurity that even after eight years Phil hadn’t completely managed to eradicate.

He was getting there, though.

“A few years,” he reiterated, bones creaking as he got up to his feet. “You have to give me time. I’m an old man.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. Want to be in our house before you’re geriatric.” Dan grinned up at him impishly.

Phil rolled his eyes back. “I promise I’ll still be able to walk our dog and cook food for you and our children by the time we have our forever home.”

That made Dan’s eyes light up some more, his dimple reappearing even deeper. “So if we get a dog and start adopting then you’ll have to buy me a house?”

“In a few years.” Phil leaned over to poke Dan’s dimple. “For now, why don’t you put yourself to some use and look for actual useful flats we could move into now while I go take my contacts out.”

“You should definitely go do that,” Dan agreed, smiling up at him all warm and happy.

Phil smiled back; a reflex. Then he headed to the bathroom, leaving his contact lens pot on the tap even though he knew Dan hated it.

Sometimes he was a good significant other. Sometimes he liked to be a troll.

---

Later, in bed, Dan rolled over to him and pushed another bright screen into Phil’s face. “This?”

“Dan.” Phil mumbled into the pillow, the duvet up over his head.

“You told me to look,” Dan pointed out, like the brat he was being. But his body was warm beside Phil’s under the blankets, a good solid weight that Phil rolled into and tried to bury himself back into sleep.

“This one’s good,” Dan said indignantly, wrapping an arm around Phil and dragging him closer.

“’n’th morning,” Phil mumbled.

“You’re hopeless.” Dan slid his phone away, though, hiding it under the pillow, and settled down to hold Phil properly. Phil made a satisfied sound and cuddled closer.

Everything smelled like home – a smell that Phil hoped would transfer to wherever they ended up next. He had a feeling it would. His real home was these bedsheets and the kooky belongings and the warm solid weight of Dan against him, the shared life they’d built together over the past eight years. Five in this house.

Half a decade.

That wasn’t going to just disappear when they left, Phil knew it. There was a warm glowing weight in his heart that was never going to leave him, not as long as Dan stayed by his side. And he was fairly sure that would be forever.

“So once we have a dog, you’ll get me a house?” Dan murmured into Phil’s hair.

Phil made a noncommittal sound and pressed his face against Dan’s warm side. Sleep was tugging at the corners of his eyes, fogging up the edges of his brain, and as warm and comfortable as he was it didn’t take long for him to drift off.

The last sensation he had was Dan running fingers through his hair.

---

After that, it didn’t take them too long to find a good flat. A duplex, not far, still in London and in an area they were familiar with. Dan walked around the viewing peering into corners and admiring the aesthetic, excitedly grabbing Phil’s hand when they got to the biggest upstairs bedroom and hissing about how he could turn it into a moon.

Phil nodded along, but he was caught up with looking at Dan in this space. It looked right. He looked right, and there was something tight coiling in Phil’s chest because this was his future. Right here.

Dan looked back, smiled softly. He couldn’t do much in front of the estate agent, but he did reach out and tug on the sleeve of Phil’s jacket, just once, a move of affection.

Phil moved into his side in response.

Moving was a hassle and not one they were keen on doing, but they’d been putting it off for literal years. The last flat had grown too small years ago, if they were honest with themselves, but they’d allowed stuff to litter the floor, creeping into piles in the corners, encroaching slowly on their space. It only got worse after the tour. They kept everything, mostly because Dan was a sentimental fool and went all misty-eyed over every little thing they’d ever been given.

Phil appreciated them too, but not quite in the same way as Dan. To Dan, every little object meant something, showed that his work really did have meaning. It was good for him, and Phil liked watching the way Dan’s dimple would deepen as he read back over letters, or glanced through photos and messages and art, his fingers fluttering carefully over the fragile paper.

Wanting to keep everything, as important as it was, did lead to more problems. Neither of them were particularly dextrous, but with the floor space rapidly decreasing, Phil tripped over about a million times more a day, and he was losing count of the number of times he’d heard a crash and a loud Dan-screech from down the hall.

They needed to move. The situation was getting desperate.

Actually moving was even more stressful than either of them had planned for. It didn’t help that the only time they could move was right around the time they needed to be in Australia, and then Playlist and Phil’s family holiday (to which Dan was invited, had been for a few years) in Florida, so it was a while before they returned and could actually start settling in.

Boxes were their lives for a while. The new place came with new corners to trip over, and an entire glass wall that Phil had loved and Dan had raised both eyebrows at.

“We are both going to walk into that more times than we could count,” Dan predicted.

“I don’t care.” Phil was standing right in front of it with bright eyes, attempting to hug it. “It’s perfect.”

“It’s going to be the cause of our deaths.”

“Don’t be mean, it’s trying its best.”

Dan lifted his eyes heavenwards, but he was trying to hide his grin.

There was no more mention of dogs, or forever homes, or picture-perfect postcards shoved in Phil’s face in the early hours of the morning. This was an intermittent period, they both knew. So they set up their belongings, downstairs as a sort of reminiscence of what they’d had the past five years, the upstairs a glance towards their future. Dan got his perfect moon bedroom, and though Phil had rolled his eyes, he had to admit it looked pretty stunning when it was done.

“Told you,” Dan said rather smugly before he pulled Phil onto their new, sturdy, and thankfully non-wicker bed.

---

Dan became slowly more secretive over the next few days.

He’d click off a tab whenever Phil needed to borrow his laptop, sit with his legs slung in Phil’s lap rather than his whole body when they were cuddling so he could hide whatever he was looking at on his screen. He stayed up later than Phil, too, lurking on his phone, at least until Phil cuddled him so hard that Dan couldn’t resist leaning into him.

“I’m busy,” he mumbled, trying to lean his head away from where Phil was insistently tucking his face into Dan’s neck.

“It’s time to sleep though,” Phil argued, tugging at Dan’s hip. “C’mere.”

“Busy,” Dan grumbled again, but he was melting against Phil’s side.

Phil got his head resting on Dan’s shoulder, craned his neck around to try and see his phone. “What have you been so busy with?”

“Nothing.” Dan clicked out of the screen so fast Phil got no more than a flashy white blur (not that he’d get much better without his glasses on). “Just updating myself on Kanye.”

Phil groaned.

“I’ll spare you the details.” Dan’s tone was warm. A hand tangled in Phil’s hair, scratching lightly at the back of his head.

Phil melted, eyes closing. Just before sleep took him again, he mumbled, “You weren’t looking at more forever homes, were you?”

“No,” Dan answered truthfully, but his eyes were warm as he looked down at Phil sleeping against him. “At least, not yet.”

That last was whispered against Phil’s hair like a promise, and Phil was almost sure he’d imagined it.

---

“We’re not doing anything on Friday, are we?”

Phil blinked, pulling himself out of the editing hole he’d fallen into. He glanced across their new upstairs lounge to where Dan was sprawled across the sofa (new, not quite crease-level yet, but Dan was working on it).

“Friday,” Dan repeated, glancing over from where he was tapping about on his laptop. “We’re free, right?”

“Um.” Phil blinked a little more, glancing back at his screen and then quickly away again. “I think so?”

“Good. Keep it free.” Dan was back to tapping on his laptop, trying too hard to look relaxed. His shoulders were a broad tense line, his jaw just slightly clenched.

“What are we doing on Friday, then?” Phil asked lightly. He watched the way Dan sat up a little straighter, determinedly not looking at Phil. Phil tilted his head. “Is it a surprise?”

“Yeah, a surprise, let’s go with that.” Dan’s voice cracked, just a little, the way it still did sometimes when he was nervous. Phil kind of loved that he’d never lost that, it was like a reminder of the awkward little gangly thing he’d been when they’d first met.

But it didn’t alleviate Phil’s curiosity any. It wasn’t completely unusual for Dan to surprise him, he tended to like romantic gestures more than Phil, but more than anything Dan liked being spoiled by Phil. As such, it had become one of Phil’s favourite things to take Dan out to a sky bar or a fancy restaurant or even something simple as buying him a new plushie. For Dan to surprise Phil, though – that was still a little rarer.

But from the way Dan’s eyes had creased and his shoulders had tensed, Phil knew he wouldn’t be getting it out of him any time soon.

“Will you at least give me a clue?” Phil wheedled, all editing abandoned.

Dan shot him a look. “No, and don’t make those eyes at me.”

“Please? I just need to know if I should, like, dress up.”

“You never dress up, you have no fashion sense,” Dan snorted, and then turned his face deliberately into the sofa cushions so he couldn’t see Phil’s pleading expression. “No, no, that shit’s not working on me today, go back to editing.”

“Pleeeeeease,” Phil whined, because sometimes Dan really couldn’t resist him.

All it earned him was a grumble, so with a theatrical sigh he went back to editing. It didn’t take him long to get lost back in the familiar click-and-drag of perfecting his videos, working to slide in his new favourite effect (still fireworks, he hadn’t told Dan yet because he was saving up the exasperated but fond eye-roll that would earn him).

Minutes, or hours, later, there was a stir from the sofa as Dan got to his feet. On his way out of the room, he paused to drop a kiss to Phil’s head and murmured, “You don’t have to dress up.”

Phil watched him out of the room with a curious smile twitching at the corner of his lips.

---

Friday rolled around and Phil hadn’t forgotten about the ‘surprise’, but he’d kind of placed it on the backburner of his mind. His new video was up, and doing fairly well, and Dan had been sucked in a gaming video editing hole for the past day or so (he refused to let Phil upload it until he’d been over every single second, utter perfectionist that he was).

So when Phil woke up on Friday morning to find Dan leaning over him with wide eyes, he could be forgiven for being a little taken off guard.

“Finally.” Dan had a hand splayed flat on Phil’s chest, his other arm on the bed, bracing himself up over Phil’s body.

This was unusual. Dan was normally asleep until he absolutely had to be dragged awake.

Phil blinked up at him kind of owlishly, everything still blurry. “Huh?”

“We should get going soon.” Dan hovered over him for a minute longer, searching Phil’s face, expression giving away nothing.

Phil held in a groan. Curiosity was starting to curl through him again, the beginnings curling around him almost as insistently as his hands were tugging at Dan to come cuddle again. “Do I get a clue yet?”

Dan hid his smile in Phil’s shoulder, giving in to his urging and folding his body carefully down against Phil’s until they were pressed together again, like they always should be. “One clue.”

“Just one?”

“For now.” Dan pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. “Wear clothes you don’t mind getting a bit dirty.”

Phil blinked. “…You’re not taking me through a swamp?”

“No, fuck off, what do you take me for?” Dan huffed.

Phil squinted at him suspiciously, but Dan refused to say more. He squeezed Phil against him, head buried in Phil’s shoulder, and let Phil cuddle him for a while. Phil tangled a hand in Dan’s hair and smiled despite himself, enjoying the warmth and softness and feeling of home in their new home.

He’d been right. The sensation of home had carried across from their old place. Sometimes he still woke up and flailed for a moment, fear gripping him that he wasn’t somewhere he knew, but all he had to do was grope across the bed for Dan and he knew he was at home. (Or, more likely, Dan had somehow grappled his way on top of Phil in the night, and then Phil was without a doubt where he was).

After a few moments of holding Dan close, Dan started wriggling against him. Phil made a disgruntled sound and clutched tighter.

“No, you’re not allowed to do that.” Dan put up a bit of a fight, wriggling until Phil finally released him with an even longer groan.

Dan rolled his eyes at him, but he was smiling enough for his dimple to appear. Phil reached out to poke it.

Dan made a face at him and reared back, clambering over the side of the bed (and almost falling over in the process). “Come on. I promise you’ll like today.”

“No more clues at all?” Phil asked again, sitting up with a groan and reaching for his glasses.

Dan shook his head determinedly. His hair was all ruffled curls, peeping out the top of the black jumper he was determinedly tugging down over his face. He emerged with a loud, “woah,” and then turned to send Phil a grin – the kind that still made Phil’s stomach flip over.

Eight years, and he’d never got past the butterfly stage.

“I’ve told you you’ll like it, that’s all you need to know,” Dan said loftily, and then stalked out of the room before Phil could badger him anymore.

---

The itch to hold Dan’s hand in public was still a prevalent one, but over the years Phil had learned self-control. Besides, they had their own ways of showing affection when they were out and about. So, squashed on the tube, Dan’s hand was on the small of Phil’s back, and Phil’s ankle was hooked around Dan’s. Tiny gestures, but they both knew exactly what they meant.

They got off at a stop Phil hadn’t been to too often before, the streets just a little unfamiliar. But they were pleasantly lined with trees, the smell of spring high on the air, and the air just warm enough to be pleasant. Dan was starting to fidget by Phil’s side, nervous energy causing him to bounce on the balls of his feet, tuck his fingers insistently around Phil’s elbow and all but drag him across the road.

Phil’s curiosity was unfurling further with every step. He still didn’t know what Dan had planned, and he was getting no further clues from their surroundings, but Dan’s continuing insistent tugs were sign enough that they were getting close.

“Do I get any more clues yet?” Phil asked as he was tugged along a street.

Dan smirked at him. Insufferably. “You haven’t guessed yet?”

“You haven’t exactly given me much to go on!” Phil was completely lost. His sense of direction was terrible at the best of times, but he’d been disoriented ever since they got off the tube and he had never quite recovered his bearings.

Dan just leaned in closer – this street was quiet, but no that quiet, so all he could do was grip Phil’s elbow and steer him ever onward. “You’ll see very soon.”

“Unhelpful,” Phil grumbled, but he let himself be led easily enough.

They rounded a corner, and Phil stopped short at the sight that greeted him.

An animal shelter. Set back a little from the road, with a gated entrance and a welcoming set of doors, paw prints littering the walls, grass neatly trimmed. Phil blinked at it. There was a refreshing natural smell, a kind of serene surroundings different from the usual hustle of London, even though they hadn’t left the city centre.

“We’re going over there,” Dan explained, and pointed towards one of the side-entrances.

The sign over the top said Dog Rehoming Shelter.

Phil’s heart melted a bit. He bit his lip, staring for long enough for the words to imprint in his brain, sizzling into his synapses and painting a beautiful picture that he wasn’t quite ready for yet.

“Dan,” Phil murmured, and it was almost a rebuke.

“I know we said not yet,” Dan rushed to placate him. “I know we said a few years, that this is a stop-gap, but I just – I can’t get it out of my mind.”

Phil tore his eyes away from the sign to look at Dan instead, noticing the slight distressed crease that had appeared in his brow. His heart was absolutely melting.

“It’s the thought of you, with a dog,” Dan mumbled, looking for all the world like a toddler who’d been caught with his hand in the sweet jar. “And this one has corgis.”

Phil raised one brow and tried to ignore the way his heart was trying to do backflips. “No shibes?”

“No, you’ve been so hung up on corgis for ages.” Dan bit his lip, still looking a little chagrined. “Well, ok, maybe there’s a shibe-corgi cross here, but still—”

“Dan.” This time Phil said it with a small laugh, and reached out to pull Dan into his arms. A risky move, on the street, but by the shelter’s gate there weren’t many people around, and none of them were looking their way.

Dan mumbled something into Phil’s shoulder. Phil squeezed him tight and then stepped back. “What was that?”

“I said, there’s no harm in looking, right?” Dan shuffled his feet, still standing in Phil’s space. “For the future. And you said you’d buy me a forever home if we found a dog.”

Phil snorted. He vaguely remembered a conversation like that – when he’d been half-asleep and Dan had been mumbling something in his soft, adorable voice that Phil preferred cooing over without actually listening to what he was saying.

“Well, I found us a dog.” Dan lifted his chin, looked determinedly at Phil.

Phil shook his head at him, but a fond smile was tugging at his lips. “You do know we can’t actually just ditch the new flat and find a house right now, right?”

“I know,” Dan said indignantly, “Obviously.”

Phil arched a brow.

“I do,” Dan insisted. “I just – this dog is a next step. And wait until you meet him.”

Phil huffed. “Have you been secretly dog-hunting without me?”

“Only online.” Dan tugged at Phil’s arm, leading him towards the gate. “But I found the perfect one. You have to come meet him.”

“So that’s what you’ve been hiding this whole time.” Phil paused at the gate, hand hovering over the latch. He glanced over at Dan with a soft look, and melted a little more at the grin Dan sent back to him.

“I was just finding us the perfect life companion,” Dan promised, lips pressed together to try and hide his smile. His dimple was popping. Phil itched to poke it.

“Well, then.” Phil turned to the gate and lifted the latch. “I’d better go meet him.”

---

Getting through the shelter was difficult enough, because Phil stopped every few steps to coo over the new dogs all wagging their tails at him. The person showing them around was thankfully very patient, a kind middle-aged woman with a red polo shirt and blonde hair in a messy bun, explaining all the breeds as they walked.

Dan seemed to have done his research well, as he also whispered things into Phil’s ear, more facts like that one looks soft but its temperament isn’t so good and the spaniel is adorable and friendly, I nearly went for that one if it wasn’t all the walking it needed and neither of us go outside enough for that.

Phil listened, but his attention was mostly caught on all the big brown eyes and fluffy fur looking up at him. (Including Dan).

The shibe-corgi cross was curled up in a corner, her golden fur fluffed up and adorable. Phil squeaked and strode over, but she simply sent him an unimpressed stare and then laid back down again.

Dan chuckled, reaching out to lead Phil back. “I secretly ruled out that one,” he whispered into Phil’s ear on the way back to their guide. “Not the best temperament. She kind of hates people, which, relatable, but I kind of want a dog that wants to cuddle me.”

It was towards the end of a corridor that their guide paused, glancing back towards them. “It was Roger you wanted to look at specifically, wasn’t it?”

Phil blinked.

“Yes,” Dan answered quickly, grip tightening on Phil’s elbow. “Is he here?”

“Just up this way,” the guide answered with a smile, and led them on.

Phil leaned into Dan’s side. “Roger? Who names a dog Roger?”

“It’s hilarious when they have human names,” Dan argued with a straight face. “Like Colin, at my parents’.”

“Colin is adorable,” Phil agreed, thinking back to the photo of Dan snuggling him that currently resided on their bedroom shelf.

“Well, I think you’re going to like Roger even more.”

They turned a corner, and the guide pointed to the side. “There he is. He’s just had a feed, so he might be a little sleepy.”

“Same,” Dan said, causing the guide to chuckle. But Dan’s attention was all on Phil, staring with wide eyes to gauge his reaction.

Phil stood transfixed. Roger was, apparently, a corgi, tiny legs and long body and tail that wagged a little as he looked back at Phil. His ears perked up, mostly golden with a bit of white fluff, and his back was totally golden with a little white marking around his muzzle. As Phil stared at him, his mouth opened and he looked exactly like he was smiling.

Oh, Phil was melting. This was dangerous, what had Dan done.

“Do you want to go and play with him?” The guide asked with a knowing smile.

Dan glanced over. “Phil?”

Mutely, Phil nodded, and he could feel Dan’s smug smile. He’d done this on purpose. Oh, Phil was going to make him pay.

They were let into the kennel, stooping a bit, and the moment Phil approached Roger leapt up to his feet. His tail was high in the air, wagging, and his mouth was still open in that little corgi smile that Phil had been cooing over in pictures for months.

“Oh, look at you,” Phil murmured, and crouched. Roger pattered his way over, tail still high, and gave Phil a sniff. Phil held completely still, and then Roger’s tongue lolled out and he seemed to relax.

“Try petting his back,” the guide advised.

Phil moved carefully, but Roger seemed perfectly at ease, so he carefully placed his palm against the soft fur on Roger’s back. It was golden, smooth and soft under his fingers, and he was absolutely melting.

Roger gave a wiggle, then leaned back. Phil instantly worried that he’d done something wrong, but Roger simply bowed his head and lifted his tail, wagging it enthusiastically.

“That means he wants his ball.” The guide handed something to Dan, but Phil was too busy cooing. Roger was doing that corgi-smile thing again and Phil’s chest was painfully constricted at this point.

“Hey, what do you think, little guy?” Dan crouched down beside Phil and offered the ball in the palm of his hand. “Want to play?”

Roger immediately turned his attention onto Dan, tail wagging increasing in its intensity.

“So fickle,” Phil murmured, but he edged back enough and watched as Dan rolled the ball, and Roger scrambled to get it before bringing it right back over.

And if Phil’s chest had constricted painfully before, it was now at dangerous levels.

Watching Dan with a dog had him crumbling. Dan’s face softened, his eyes warm and gentle as he watched Roger bouncing about after the ball, the curls pushed back from his face, his freckles scattered about and his dimple the deepest it could ever get.

He looked so happy, so content, and Phil knew he was looking at his entire world just then.

And their future. Their future, and they couldn’t do this now, why was Dan doing this to him.

“Do you like him?” Dan asked quietly, batting the ball back to Roger.

“Stupid question,” Phil mumbled back, and his voice was thick with emotion that he tried his best to hide. The guide was here, after all. He had to stay in his public place zone.

Dan seemed to catch on – he was the only one who possibly could. He looked over from petting Roger and gave a wild smile, reaching out to lay his hand on Phil’s thigh. “I told you. I told you we had to see him.”

Phil both loved and hated him in that moment.

---

They played with Roger for as long as they were allowed, but then he started to get sleepy and the guide informed them that he needed a break. Walking away from the kennel was one of the hardest things to do, and Phil kept twisting around to glance back and watch Roger as he curled up in his basket, tail tucked in perfectly behind his back.

Dan was basking when they got back outside. Phil glared at his obviously smug face, the smile that threatened to burst across his lips at any given moment. “You did that deliberately!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dan answered, but his lips were twitching.

Phil shook his head. They strode back along the street, not quite hand-in-hand but close enough to be leaning in each other’s space, through the spring sunshine that almost dared to be warm.

“We can’t have him yet,” Phil reiterated. “Still renting. Landlord would disapprove.”

“We could talk to the landlord,” Dan answered immediately.

“We could, but there’s still no guarantee.”

“No, but it’s still just a stop-gap.” Dan turned a look on Phil that was bordering on excitement. “A stop-gap before our forever home.”

Phil glanced back, pausing for a moment in the middle of the street.

A forever home.

A forever home, with Dan, with a little dog like Roger pattering about their feet, together surrounded by the things they loved, in their perfect little life.

Somehow, that was actually his future.

Phil felt himself grinning without permission, and he gave Dan a nod. “Exactly. It’ll happen. Our forever home, it will happen.”

Dan absolutely beamed back. His dimple was prime poking position.

They walked back through the street, back to the station, and it wasn’t until they were pressed together on the crowded tube that Dan leaned back in to murmur in Phil’s ear.

“You did promise to find a forever home once I found us a dog.”

“Well then,” Phil murmured back, “I’d better start looking.”

Note: I have never been to a dog rehoming place so sorry for inaccuracies. I also don’t know too much about dog breeds. Please suspend your disbelief and I hope you enjoyed ^_^

#phanfic #phan fluff #phanfiction #domestic phanfic #iwritephanthings #I can't come up with titles

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