#i was so tired and hit with brain worms and ate way too much

[pricetagged]

🙃🙃🙃 I typed up a drabbly thing in the taxi omw back from a dwali party last night and clearly I was in a food coma or, that 1 drink hit hard or something bc I've looked at it this morning and apparently I wasn't using my English keyboard towards the end (probs hit the globe instead of the spacebar) so now it's just gibberish via characters 🙃🙃🙃

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

#7. “I’m trying to help! You had a problem, and I fixed it!” would be really interesting to see with c! /p yandere prime boys!

#7. “I’m trying to help! You had a problem, and I fixed it!”

(This takes place in the Fostercare AU btw!)

Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever stepped out of The Room since he woke up here. He’s not sure he remembered what it was like outside of it. He’s not sure how long it had been. Days, weeks, months, maybe even years. There were no windows, no clocks, nothing he could use to tell time.

Maybe he died, when whatever fucking drug Dream slipped into his system, and this was his hell. Nah, definitely not. Hell wouldn’t be that fucking boring. Most of the time Tommy just lay on his too-soft bed with the fluffy blankets that made his skin itch, feeling all dizzy from the bitter food and trying not to think. There wasn’t really much else to do. There were some books on the walls, when he first came here, but he threw them at Dream one day and they were all taken away after Tommy was punished.

(He’s pretty sure his arm's still broken. He doesn’t care anymore.)

He missed his bed back at the old place, with Wilbur and Techno and Philza (those must have been fake names, thinking back). Sure, it was scruffy and haphazardly thrown in the back room Wilbur and his little daughter slept in, but it was soft in a good way and they listened when he didn’t like it.

Dream never listened.

The Room was comfortable in a surface way. Two large beds, one mint green and the other a soft red. An empty shelf. A wooden carved table and two cushioned dining chairs. An en-suite, with a bath so big Tommy could sprawl his whole body out in it. It was a prison.

At least when he lay in bed, he was alone. He hated when Dream was there. He brought the bitter food he always had, and made sure Tommy ate it. Tommy always did his best to eat as little as possible, he was pretty sure that shit was drugged too, but Dream got mad when he didn’t eat enough. He slept in the other bed too, erratically enough that Tommy wasn’t sure figuring out time through it would work.

Dream never shut the fuck up. It gave Tommy a headache. He was used to loud noise- the best home he’d ever been in was a meth lab/crime base, for fucks sake- but Dream wasn’t loud. He just knew how to worm his way into your head and make you want to cry.

Today was no different. Tommy took delicate sips from soup so rich it made him want to be sick, poorly masking whatever Dream had put in it to keep him weak and tired. He tried to zone out whatever Dream was ranting about but like always, it failed.

“-And isn’t it a shame, those dreadful criminals out here again? I looked it up, you know. The trials. You must remember them, right, Tommy?”

Tommy mumbled a “mhm” with soup in his mouth. He was still with the- the SBI, that’s what they called them, when they were caught. Legally, they were put down as child abusers, despite his vocal protests. Sure, he’d helped Wilbur with his drugs, but he was off home school and he hated it when he wasn’t doing anyone. Sure, he’d seen dead bodies a few times, but he was never forced to dismember them or whatever bullshit the prosecutors got through. They never left him and Felicity, though, that was complete shite. If Wilbur wasn’t there, Big Q was watching them, but just because they were criminals and kids too it didn’t count.

So many places left him alone for days on end, locked him in closets, hit him, starved him, made him cry. None of those were ever prosecuted. Only the one family that ever cared for him. Well, this one counted he was pretty sure, but not in a good way.

“Don't worry, Tommy. You’re safe here. They’ll never get their hands on you again.”

Tommy bit his tongue. No need to make things worse.

“You didn’t deserve any of that, Tommy. Don’t let what they convinced you worm your way into your brain. I’ll make sure nothing can hurt you here.”

That was what finally broke Tommy. “You’ll make sure nothing can hurt me? Oh, how the fuck did I break my arm then? Did all the bruises on my wrist spawn out of nowhere? How noble of you, ready to-“

Tommy was cut off by a hard slap to the face. “Really, Tommy?” Dream tutted like a disappointed parent. “I take you in as my own, fly you all the way to Cuba to help hide you from a gang, and this is how you repay me? I’m trying to help! You had a problem, and I fixed it! Or would you rather be in the hands of criminals?”

What Tommy wanted to say was “yes”. Instead, he bit his tongue and shook his head. “No, sorry, Dream,” he said, overly calm. “I’m just… stressed. I know you care for me.”

As Dream hugged Tommy close to him, like Philza once did when Tommy was scared and little and wanted a father he never had and would never had, he smiled. Sure, he was trapped in this fucking hellhole, but knowing where he was infinitely more than he before, and he was going to use that as much as he fucking could.

[venomous--fics]

Anon requested: Can I please request Eddie Brock/Venom helping their s/o who has a tendency to overwork themselves? Like they work super hard at work, go above and beyond at school, but end up so tired and exhausted and anxious bc they should be doing more? Thank you!!!!

You groaned as you kicked the apartment door shut with your foot, nearly losing the papers you were comically holding in your mouth and arms. You carefully set everything on the table and began setting it into the appropriate stacks so you could continue working. It wasn't unusual for you to bring work home, but for the last couple of weeks, you've brought home nearly triple than what you were supposed to.

At first, Eddie didn't see it as an issue because you still got the right amount of sleep, you ate, showered, basically, you functioned like a normal human. But lately, he's gotten kinda worried because he's noticed how your anxiety has been making you go into overdrive. Sure, you liked going a bit overboard to show off, but now it just seemed like it was a real problem. 

Eddie had gotten home an hour after you did, and as he would've guessed... You were slouched at the table. Pen in your mouth, paper in your left hand, right hand holding your head up as your eyes fought to stay open long enough to even hit the space bar on your laptop. Maybe it was just a long day, he thought, but he saw that the plate of dinner you'd made for yourself was still in the microwave. It wasn't even warmed up.

He sighed as he took his jacket off and shushed Venom, who was confused as to why you were behaving this way. Outside of Eddie's anxiety, he didn't know how it affected different people. He didn't want to say it, but it worried him. Humans were stupidly complicated.

Eddie sat to your right and neatly set his folded hands on the table, "Hey. How was work?"

It took a minute for your fried brain to register that he was even there. Your glazed over eyes trailed over to him, "What?"

Eddie smiled a little and quietly shut your laptop, "Babe, I- Well, we think you need a break."

"But I-"

Eddie got up from the table and walked over to the fridge, "No if, ands, or buts."

You looked at the mess of papers, feeling so irrationally uneasy about taking a break. Your brain wouldn't stop telling you to just ignore him and keep working. If you don't do it now, it'll never get done. You'll probably lose your job if you don't finish all of this work right this very second. 

"So, I'm no cook-"

"You really aren't."

"As I was saying-"

"You burn water, Eddie. I didn't think that was physically possible....But I guess it is for you."

"As..I was-"

"You always burn my tater tots too. It's not hard to follow instructions, Eddie."

Eddie sighed as he set the box of pasta noodle on the counter, "Why don't we ask Y/n to help with dinner then?"

"At least they don't burn water."

They paused for a moment. Normally you were ready to step in and make dinner, or tell them to bicker somewhere else, to which they'd just step to the other side of the table. But there was nothing. They turned their attention to you, and surprise surprise, you were working again.

"Don't you want to help with dinner?" Eddie asked a bit sheepishly, "You know I really suck at this.."

"Mmhmm." you hummed, "In a minute."

"Babe-"

"I said in a moment," you repeated.

Eddie walked back to the table and shut your laptop, and again, like earlier, it took your brain a moment or two to process what was happening.

Your hands slumped into your lap and you rested against the back of the old chair, staring blankly ahead. Eddie wasn't sure if you were giving him attitude or if you were just so tired that you didn't want to talk, but he just didn't like seeing you like this.

"Can you please take a break?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to get it done."

"Right now?" Eddie flipped through some of the papers and noticed that some of the dates were for next week, "Babe, you're gonna work yourself to death.."

You clenched your fists and pinched your eyes shut, "I have to get them done so that way I don't have to worry about them anymore."

"I was okay with you bringing, yknow, a normal amount of work home but this is a bit much, isn't it?" Eddie looked back to you, and that’s when he finally noticed the dark circles under your eyes. He sighed, not in disappointment or anything, just out of guilt that he didn't stop you sooner, "Listen to me."

He sat back in his original position, to your right, "Well, I mean, more like trust me.. This shit sucks, like alot, but worrying about it all the time isn't going to make it better."

"But, if-"

"Finishing it early won't really make a difference either." Eddie immediately realized how harsh that sounded, "What I mean is that, by the time you even get to the stuff for next week- It's gonna be next week..."

You sighed, caving in a little, "I guess I got a little.. Overzealous. I just.. I really need to stay on top of it all-"

Your sentence broke off into intangible rambling and you got so worked up about it all that you started crying, and then you started crying more because you were crying for a silly reason.

Eddie quickly pulled into a hug and rubbed your back, "It's okay, I promise. Just take a deep breath."

You listened to Eddie and took a few deep breaths, and when you calmed down enough, you noticed that your arm felt a bit warmer. You looked and saw Venom coiled around your arm, like a slick little worm, and his small blob head rested on your shoulder, and for the first time in a while, he looked sad or upset.

"Sorry," you said quietly.

Two little white eyes looked up at you, almost innocently, and not like he had eaten a mugger two hours prior to coming home, "It's not your fault."

Eddie, wanting nothing more than you help you feel better, helped you stand up, "How about this..?"

You looked up at him, wiping your face a little, but Eddie moved your hands and cupped your face, "What if Venom and I attempt to make dinner while you take a shower and get into something comfier?"

That did sound nice, you hadn't noticed how stiff your clothes felt.

"And we can watch whatever you want, or eat in bed, I don't care."

You paused for a moment, and Eddie knew you were thinking about working still. With your face still in his hands he gently tilted your chin up and gave you a soft kiss on the lips, "Won't take no for an answer, love."

"What if I want to eat in the shower?"

"Sounds terrible," Venom chimed, still latched to your arm.

You chuckled, and you saw how Eddie and Venom both lit up at the sound. You stifled another chuckle as you playfully ran a finger under Venom's chin as he uncoiled himself from your arm, "Okay, okay, I'll shower."

"Thank you." Eddie said, stepping back to the stove.

You were about to head to your bedroom for clothes when you looked back at the table. Eddie could feel you staring, "I promise we will help you work tomorrow, or the day after, but-"

"It's alright, I was just.." You cleared your throat, "Thinking about clearing off the table."

"And I'm the president," Eddie quipped, setting the pot of water on the burner.

"No you're not."

"It's an expression."

"I'm not happy about it."

"No, not that kind of-...That's an emotion."

"I feel nothing."

You laughing as you gathered some clothes and went into the bathroom, "It seems like V is quiet the comedian."

"Don't encourage him."

You started the shower and the moment the warm steam started filling up the room, you felt ten times better. Maybe you should really just take a step back for a bit. Take it easy, as all your friends would say.. Of course, you were stubborn so there's no telling if you would actually listen, but, it was worth a shot. Also, why do warm things have to be so relaxing? You were almost dozing off in the shower. It was nice, you had to admit, but, not exactly a good place to just fall asleep in.

You couldn't help but think about all the work you should be doing, but you tried to shut it all off by imagining the mess you'd have to help clean up after pasta night. It was a bit amazing how big of a mess one, arguably small, alien could make with a single noodle.

Maybe there was other things to worry about. Not that you should worry, but habits die hard. Either way, worried or not, you finished up in the bathroom and got into the comfiest clothes you'd worn in a while. And upon leaving the bathroom, you could hear Eddie and Venom bickering in the kitchen about how to cook the sauce. 

"Just read the can." you said, smiling as you stepped into view.

"That's easy for you to say," Venom said, "I can't read English."

"That explains alot," you replied.

"It's difficult. Eddie is no better."

"I love you guys."

"We love you too."

Eddie awkwardly held out a sauce covered spatula, "Could you.. Help me? I'm a bit worried I'll burn the sauce."

You took the spatula, "Just gotta make sure it doesn't get too hot."

"Oh."

"That's what I said," Venom spat.

You snickered a bit more as you helped your boys out in the kitchen. Dinner went smoother than expected and all three of you wound up crashing on the couch, wrapped up in a huge blanket Eddie had bought over the holidays because, 'It was on sale.' For your information, it had puppies and hearts on it, so Eddie bought it for those two things alone. Price was an after thought. It's always an after thought with Eddie.

[bronzeflower]

Poultry Man Saves the Day

Note that this is also on ao3

Chickens. Eggs. Yolks. Uh…what other words were chicken related? Wings? White? Like the white of an egg? Was that too much of a stretch? What puns could even be made using the word white?

He slaved over a book and quill, conjuring a list of words that could be peppered into a certain superhero’s speech. A certain...man in a chicken costume.

Eggcellent, Eggciting, Eggtravagant, Eggcruciating, Yolking, Eggsplosion, Chickening out, Eggilouge, Eggscalating…

Honestly, there weren’t that many puns there, which was pretty pitiful. What kind of chicken-themed superhero didn’t have chicken-themed puns? He wasn’t exactly pulling these puns out of his ass! There was actual thought put into them!

“Grian! Grian! Oh, where is that guy? Grian!” A voice floated around his base, and Grian snapped his book and quill shut, hiding it in his inventory to prevent anyone from reading it.

“Mumbo? Is that you?” Grian called out, sneaking out of The Coop and looking for Mumbo who was wandering around the base in a desperate attempt to find Grian.

“Oh! Grian! There you are, bud.” Mumbo placed a hand on Grian’s shoulder, practically using him a support as he leaned over slightly and panted in exhaustion. Egghaustion. There was another pun to add to the list.

But this wasn’t about puns.

“Mumbo, what’s wrong?” Grian questioned. Mumbo looked more exhausted than he would’ve been normally if he only just rushed over here. Something was up.

Mumbo took a moment to gather his breath before responded.

“It’s something I’ve, I’ve never seen before in Minecraft. I don’t think it was in an update-I would have heard about it if that was the case because this is, this is huge-I’ve never even seen anything like it, I don’t even know if I can describe it-none of us can even do anything about it-”

“Mumbo!” Grian interrupted. “What is it? And why didn’t you message me about such an emergency?”

“I needed time to recuperate from fighting, and I needed to make sure that you were actually able to arrive and be properly prepared. A bunch of the other hermits are currently fighting, but we need more firepower.”

“What are we up against? What is so terrible?”

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy for saying this, but I promise I’m being completely serious,” Mumbo paused for a moment. “We’re facing up against a giant worm.”

“We’re facing off against a worm?”

“I know it sounds insane, but it has a tough outer coating, and it’s digging into the ground and destroying so many things in its path. Not only is it causing a bunch of lag, but it’s also not taking any damage from our blows.”

“Nothing is working?” Grian asked desperately.

“We’ve tried swords, bows, crossbows, and we even tried other tools like axes and shovels! I hit it with a hoe! A hoe! An absolutely ludicrous diamond hoe!”

“What about other things? TNT? Sand? Redstone contraptions? Anvils? Fire? Drowning? I don’t know-fall damage? Potions?”

“We’ve done pretty much all of of that, even used both potions of weakness and regeneration to see if that would hurt it, but neither have worked,” Mumbo frantically rambled. “It drills through blocks like a Haste V pickaxe used nearby a beacon, and it absolutely refuses to go into the water. It’s pretty much impossible to get it high enough in the air to get it to take fall damage, and it doesn’t stand still long enough for redstone or anvils, and I swear it has an outer shell made out of obsidian! Nothing is working!”

“Then, what can I do if no one else can do anything?” Grian inquired.

“I, I don’t know. I don’t know. Uh, I guess there wasn’t any particular reason, but I figured the more heads we have to think about how we can beat this thing, the better chance we have of actually doing damage to it. My brain is dead, and most of the hermits are too busy fighting to think of anything.”

“I...I don’t know if I could come up with anything better than what you guys have been coming up with.”

“Grian, at this point, anything would be better than what we have been coming up because what we have been coming up with has been nothing.”

Mumbo looked hopeless. Grian was trying to calculate what would be most effective against a giant, invincible worm.

Grian began pacing.

“Alright, so tools, tools- sword, pickaxe, shovel, axe, hoe, bow, crossbow, trident, I don’t know, a flint and steel? Shears? Come on, brain, what would a worm be weak against? What hasn’t been tried by the other hermits? What hasn’t been considered yet? Snowballs? Blazes take damage against those. What about it, Mumbo, have you guys tried snowballs?”

There was a moment of silence as Mumbo went through all the strategies they had used against the worm.

“I don’t think we have. But, in case that doesn’t work, we should think of another strategy.”

Mumbo messaged the other hermits to tell them to try snowballs. Because if nothing else was working, they might as well.

Grian went to his array of Shulker boxes and chests to see if there was anything in there that could help.

The sounds of frantic opening and closing chests filled the base like the chests were the instruments and the base was the theater, creating a symphony of music that sounded less like a beautiful melody and more like that part of the concert where all the instruments were trying to tune. Except in this case, the melody never comes, and the audience is stuck with the out of tune strings of the violins.

Grian opened and closed yet another chest before freezing. He opened the chest again, staring at its contents before closing again. He opened it up again as if the items that resided inside were simply something that he dreamed up.

“What about fishing rods?”

“What?” Mumbo responded. “Say that again?”

“What about fishing rods? Have you guys used any fishing rods yet?” Grian repeated. “It’s a worm, isn’t it?”

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” Mumbo held his head in his hands. “How could’ve I been so stupid! Oh my god! How did we forget fishing rods!? Fucking fishing rods! Oh my god. I’ve...I’ve got to get a bunch of fishing rods.”

With that, Mumbo flew out of Grian’s base, as gracefully as ever, as Grian thought about ways to help.

There were many questions bouncing around Grian’s head. The most notable one was why nobody opted to notify him of this emergency until now. Did they not want him to help? Was it because he was the new guy? Or was it because they needed a person who wasn’t fighting to get resources? If they needed someone to get resources, why not inform him that they needed them?

Perhaps these questions were better left unanswered. Perhaps helping out wasn’t really a job for Grian.

He looked around the base, making sure no one was around when he went towards the center nearby the beacon and threw a trident at the ground.

He fell down and was face to face with the costume he thought he had retired. But it looked like it was time for the one and only Poultry Man to shine. Afterall, chickens ate worms for breakfast.

He donned the wings, then the leather pants dyed white and the yellow leather boots. Finally, he placed the chicken head over his own head and gathered up enough chicken eggs to fill up practically his entire inventory, saving room for rockets, food, and a fishing rod.

Poultry Man flew out of The Coop and gathered information about the worm was before flying over to the given coordinates as quickly as he could.

Why hide behind the mask? Was it the shame? The embarrassment? A vague attempt to grasp for glory but solely for a persona?

Poultry Man didn’t know. All he knew is that he had a job to do.

The damage was devastating. The lands were ravaged, and Poultry Man was hard pressed to find any area that was untouched.

He eventually got to the point where there was an insane amount of lag. And, there Poultry Man saw the worm.

It wasn’t quite in motion because of the lag. It was more like snapshots of a camera, clicking off randomly and without warning.

There were other hermits around, hooking fishing rods into the worm. It did seem to do some damage, but everyone knew that fishing rods did almost nothing.

So Poultry Man whipped out his eggs and began throwing them.

Even though chickens in Minecraft only ate seeds, real life chickens did eat worms, and to Grian’s surprise, the eggs were actually doing damage to the worm.

Poultry Man, however,  was filled with certainty. There was no doubt in his mind that this would work.

He just kept throwing eggs. Other hermits like Stress joined him in throwing eggs at their shared enemy.

Eventually, Poultry Man ran out of eggs.

He dropped down next to what might have been thousands of chickens, many of which were still baby chicks, but there were some that were adults.

Poultry Man watched in awe as the normally passive chickens began attacking the worm, successfully doing damage to it.

But he wasn’t dumbstruck for long, gathering more eggs from the adult chickens and shooting them out towards the worm.

Poultry Man could see why Mumbo went to Grian in person. There was hardly a moment of time when anyone could message anyone, especially given the amount of lag the worm caused. Not that he was helping much with that.

Poultry Man was probably making the lag worse, but that didn’t really matter too much because the chickens seemed to be doing some pretty substantial damage to the worm, much more than the eggs Poultry Man threw at it, and certainly more than the fishing rods people cast towards it.

Not to mention that the chickens were unaffected by the lag. Truly, they were the most powerful sources on the server.

At long last, the worm perished.

There was a silence. Only the clucking of chickens remained.

And then there was cheering.

“Thank god!” Iskall shouted. “I was so tired of fighting that thing.”

“I still can’t believe that we forgot about fishing rods.” Mumbo mentioned.

“I always knew chickens were great.” Stress said. “Thanks , Grian!”

“It’s Poultry Man!”

“Yeah, sure-Thanks for saving us, Poultry Man!”

“I’m just doing my duty as the hero of Hermitcraft,” Poultry Man emphasized his statement by throwing a few eggs obtained from the many chickens surrounding him.

After celebrating the victory, many of the hermits shouldered the responsibility of killing the chickens that were now lagging the server, who were infinitely easier to defeat than the giant worm.

Poultry Man returned to The Coop to relax. He removed his boots, then his pants, then his wings before finally removing the chicken head he wore. He returned the uniform to its rightful place.

He sat down and returned to thinking up potential chicken puns.

[phoutube]

Pacing - Oneshot

ao3 link - kudos appreciated!

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

Word Count: 2423

Summary: It was snowing. It was mid-December and Dan was curled up on a sofa meant for two, swaddled in a fluffy blanket and watching the snow drift by outside. The heating was on in the flat, the potted plants that usually sat on the balcony had been brought inside, and the duvet that belonged on his and Phil’s bed was casually thrown over the back of the couch.

Pacing - by @dan-howells-tongue

It was snowing.

It was mid-December and Dan was curled up on a sofa meant for two, swaddled in a fluffy blanket and watching the snow drift by outside.

The heating was on in the flat, the potted plants that usually sat on the balcony had been brought inside, and the duvet that belonged on his and Phil’s bed was casually thrown over the back of the couch.

It could be considered very peaceful, if not for the fact that Phil had left the flat an hour ago in search of hot chocolate and other necessities (they had run out) and now the news playing on the dim television screen showed that the streets had been closed down in lieu of an impending snowstorm.

He had been wondering what had taken Phil so long. Tesco wasn’t more than a ten-minute Tube ride away. So where could he be? The streets were clogged, he knew that, but Phil should have been home twenty minutes ago. What happened? Where was he? Was he okay?

Dan sighed. He just wanted Phil to be safe and here with him.

Stretching his hand out to the coffee table in front of him, Dan grabbed his phone and started swiping on the screen, trying not to let his anxiousness show.

...Because obviously, the fact that he was alone in the flat  did not  mean that he was free from embarrassment. God, why did everything have to make him so nervous? He couldn’t even go twenty minutes without hearing from Phil before starting to panic. Dan shook his head at himself, and then pressed the green button that said Call Phil.

It rang four times, and then went to voicemail.

Dan didn’t bother leaving a message, and instead swallowed the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach. He pressed Call Phil again.

Nobody answered.

Maybe Phil’s phone had died, or maybe he had left it at Tesco (which wasn’t uncommon, for Phil) and now he had to travel back to retrieve it.

Yeah, that was probably what was taking so long.

He got up off the couch and walked aimlessly towards the kitchen, clutching the blanket around his shoulders even closer for moral support. Waiting anxiously for Phil to come home didn’t seem like a sitting-down type of problem.

Once he got to the kitchen stove he turned back and paced towards the hallway, turning sharply when he reached their bedroom door and making his way back to the living room.

The blanket kept sliding off his lanky frame. Absentmindedly, he realized he probably looked like an overgrown Russian grandmother or some sort of cryptic nun.

Fuck. There he goes again, letting his mind wander all over the place instead of focusing on the actual maybe-problem.

Why wasn’t Phil picking up the phone? Dan wondered if he should call again. Maybe he didn’t hear the first two calls. Maybe he had put his phone on silent and stuck it in his back pocket. Maybe it had been stolen. Or- or maybe Phil had been  mugged and now he was dead lying in a ditch somewhere and Dan had no idea because he was standing here doing nothing.

There were probably valid reasons as to why he wasn’t answering, of course, but his brain seemed to be defenestrating all rational thought. He retrieved his phone from its place on the couch, and he pressed Call Phil again. Maybe he was worrying too much. Maybe he wasn’t worrying enough.

It was at the end of the third ring that Phil picked up.

“Hello? Dan? Is everything alright?”

Dan cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed.

“Er, yeah- everything’s fine, actually--I was just a bit worried because they’re shutting the streets down and I didn’t know if they were going to keep running the Tube and you weren’t answering your phone and I-” He cut himself off. “Sorry. I know you’re probably fine and everything, I was just a bit worried…” Dan trailed off, chewing his lip.

Phil’s soft laugh bled through the speakers. Dan could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “A  bit? Dan, everything’s okay. I decided to make a stop on the way home and I, er- got a bit held up. I promise I’m fine and I’ll be home soon, yeah?”

Dan nodded, and then realized that Phil couldn’t see him.

“Yeah.”

A beat, and then Phil’s voice. “Love you, Dan. I’ll see you in a few.”

Dan smiled softly. “Love you too.”

Relief wormed its way through his limbs as Dan exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Phil would be home and then he and Dan could watch cheesy movies on the couch together and pray the power didn’t go out before they made a sinfully large amount of microwave popcorn and ate it  all  . Maybe they could light candles and have sex in the semi-darkness of the flat, Dan awash with pleasure as Phil came undone on top of him, both panting as the other worked his hands  just right. Maybe they’d clean up sleepily and fall asleep together like that, with the battery-operated heater running and blankets from both bedrooms piled on top of them.

He was getting ahead of himself.

Dan sat back down against the couch, flipping idly through channels and wondering whether he would have to go to Netflix to find anything good or if there would be a decent movie playing somewhere.

He had just gotten up to make himself some hot chocolate (he had forgotten they had run out) when he heard keys clinking together at the door, and then a rather frustrated knock as someone realized he would have to use more than a little effort to get the stubborn lock to move.

Dan crossed the kitchen and opened the door, revealing a tired-but-happy Phil with melting snowflakes in his hair and blue eyes shining exceptionally brightly. He was holding a bouquet of pink pansies, that he held out towards Dan.

“I brought you flowers,” Phil said, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, “Because I realized that it’s been forever since I bought some for you, and I  also thought they would look quite pretty on the dining table, especially because it’s winter and all our plants are dead-” he paused as Dan took the flowers and buried his face in them, “-and there was only one florist that was still open. She looked at me like I was  crazy when I said I wanted an entire bouquet! I should have realized that not many flowers grow in the wintertime,” he added, frowning.

Dan grinned, and opened his arms for a hug. “I appreciate the surprise, Phil. Sorry for spamming you with calls and pacing around the flat because I assumed you were dead.”

Phil, whose arms were wrapped tightly around him, laughed into his shoulder. “Dan, you absolute twat, you  really thought I died? And the first thing you thought to do was walk in circles?”

Dan snorted over-exaggeratedly and swatted at Phil’s ass with his free hand. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Phil leaned back and pecked him on the lips. “You’d better not, Howell. Next thing you know our house will have been robbed and you’d be pacing around my dead body.”

Dan shuddered. “Ugh, don’t make me imagine that.” He stepped away from Phil and turned to find a vase. There was probably one under the sink, or perhaps in the AmazingPhil room. There were all sorts of useless props in there.

After he had located a vase and had placed the flowers inside, he felt a smile tug at his lips as Phil stepped up behind him and wormed his arms around his waist, burying his nose in Dan’s hair.

“Affectionate today, are we?” Dan teased, hiding a smile.

“Oh shut up, you were the one panicking over nothing!” Phil shot back, his fond tone nowhere near as vicious as his words.

Dan tipped his head back to rest it on Phil’s shoulder. Phil pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, smiling while he did so. He exhaled over-exaggeratedly, allowing his hot breath to wash over the spot.

“Stop, that tickles,” Dan said, with no conviction behind the words. He was grinning fully, now.

Phil bit down lightly, teasingly- until Dan started worming away impatiently.

“C’mon Phil, I wanted to make popcorn! Do you want to find a movie?”

Phil rolled his eyes and pressed another quick kiss to Dan’s cheek--before moving away quickly in search of the TV remote.

Dan grabbed one of the plastic bags that Phil had brought home and dug through it until he found the popcorn box. His stomach was growling in anticipation. Behind him, he could hear Phil flipping through channels impatiently.

“D’you wanna just try Netflix? I know we can only use it on the laptops, but maybe that would be better? Cozier, maybe,” Dan suggested, placing the bag on the plate and turning on the microwave.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Behind him, Dan heard Phil wander off in search of the computer. Dan grabbed a bowl from the lower cupboards and set it on the countertop, nearly hitting his head in the process.

When the popcorn was ready and Phil had located the laptop (and grabbed a couple extra blankets), Dan walked into the living room and set the bowl down on the table. Phil was already sat on the couch, scrolling through Netflix and in his pyjamas.

Dan settled next to him, tucking his own ankle behind Phil’s and resting his head on his bony shoulder.

“What do you feel like watching? Horror? Something dramatic? Romance? Sci-Fi?” Phil suggested, rattling off movie genres off the top of his head. Dan supposed that was what happened when you were dating someone with a degree in filming.

Dan shook his head. “Something with adventure, or something funny, maybe. I don’t want to fall asleep.”

Phil snorted. “Are you implying that horror movies make you want to sleep? Because, considering past experiences, it seems to be quite the opposite…” Phil trailed off, turning his head to look at Dan, whose eyes were closed.

“D’you want to watch a TV series, maybe? Then we won’t feel as bad if we abandon it halfway through,” Phil suggested, resting his head on top of Dan’s. Dan tilted his head up to kiss Phils chin. “How about The Office, or Brooklyn 99? I heard that was good. Parks and Rec., maybe? I feel like I need something to laugh at after all that.”

“All what? Your  pacing?”  Phil teased lightly. Dan smacked the back of his head.

“You twat!  Actually shut up.”

Phil shrugged and returned his focus on the computer screen. “We’ve already finished The Office, haven’t we?”

Dan frowned. “Sorry. I forgot. I remember we started Parks and Recreation, but you wanted to wait until spring when it was warmer out, and sunny?”

Phil nodded. “So we could connect more with the characters on the show, you know- walking around in parks and stuff.” As he said this, he poked Dan’s cheek fondly.

“I feel like you and I both know that’s  not what the show is about, but okay.”

Phil smiled innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to make Dan smile. Dan felt his heart start to fucking melt or whatever.

“Brooklyn 99 it is, then,” Phil said, clicking on the show.

As the episode started, Dan leaned back against Phil, who wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Balancing the small laptop on both of their laps wasn’t an easy task, but it definitely wasn’t the first time they had curled up like this.

And honestly, nights like these was truly why he loved Phil. Even fighting over blankets and popcorn bowls and debating the personalities of the characters on screen really made it all the more worthwhile.

It was snowing outside, and the world was slowly becoming more and more silent as the evening wore on.

Dan and Phil were cuddling under three massive blankets, limbs tangled together as the music and voices from the show echoed around the empty flat.

They were sharing a bowl of popcorn, and at one point Phil had gotten up to make both of them warm drinks. Dan had whined dramatically at the loss of body heat, but the resulting cup of hot chocolate, he thought, was definitely worth it.

In this moment, he felt alive.

It wasn’t until late at night when Phil’s head was nodding and Dan’s limbs felt heavy that he finally closed the laptop. Dan set it on the table and pushed Phil back against the couch gently, climbing on top of him and tucking the blankets around them.

Phil’s arms automatically wrapped around his body, one hand on his lower back, the other running lazily through his hair.

Dan rested his head on Phil’s chest, their legs tangling together as he settled down. Phil’s breaths were deep, on the edge of sleep. Dan wrapped his own arms around Phil, reveling in the comfort and warmth his significant other was providing.

Tilting his head up one last time, Dan pressed a chaste kiss to Phil’s cheek. “Goodnight, Phil. I love you, so-” his voice broke, for some reason. “-so, much. I just hope you know that.” Fuck, he was  not  about to cry over absolutely nothing. He was  not.

...But, as Dan had to admit to himself, it  wasn’t nothing. In fact, quite the opposite.

Phil meant everything to him, and if he was going to shed a few tears because he couldn’t fully comprehend why Phil had chosen him all those years ago, then so be it.

Dan buried his nose in Phil’s chest and breathed deeply, inhaling his scent and drifting almost immediately to sleep.

In the morning, they would wake up feeling completed, in a way that only people who had fallen asleep to bellies full of hot chocolate and the gentle sound of snow pattering against the trees outside could. They would get up and make coffee, and move on with their day, but for now, everything was still. Everything was silent, and calm, and cozy.

It was snowing. It was freezing cold outside and Dan and Phil were curled up together on a sofa meant for two, surrounded by house plants and knick-knacks and various other trinkets they had managed to collect after all their years of living together.

It was mid-December, and the heating was on in the flat.

It was snowing.

[fandom-games]

It was snowing.

It was mid-December and Dan was curled up on a sofa meant for two, swaddled in a fluffy blanket and watching the snow drift by outside.

The heating was on in the flat, the potted plants that usually sat on the balcony had been brought inside, and the duvet that belonged on his and Phil’s bed was casually thrown over the back of the couch. 

It could be considered very peaceful, if not for the fact that Phil had left the flat an hour ago in search of hot chocolate and other necessities (they had run out) and now the news playing on the dim television screen showed that the streets had been closed down in lieu of an impending snowstorm.

He had been wondering what had taken Phil so long. Tesco wasn’t more than a ten-minute Tube ride away. So where could he be? The streets were clogged, he knew that, but Phil should have been home twenty minutes ago. What happened? Where was he? Was he okay?

Dan sighed. He just wanted Phil to be safe and here with him.

Stretching his hand out to the coffee table in front of him, Dan grabbed his phone and started swiping on the screen, trying not to let his anxiousness show.

…Because obviously, the fact that he was alone in the flat did not mean that he was free from embarrassment. God, why did everything have to make him so nervous? He couldn’t even go twenty minutes without hearing from Phil before starting to panic. Dan shook his head at himself, and then pressed the green button that said Call Phil.    

It rang four times, and then went to voicemail.

Dan didn’t bother leaving a message, and instead swallowed the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach. He pressed Call Phil again.

Nobody answered.

Maybe Phil’s phone had died, or maybe he had left it at Tesco (which wasn’t uncommon, for Phil) and now he had to travel back to retrieve it.

Yeah, that was probably what was taking so long.

He got up off the couch and walked aimlessly towards the kitchen, clutching the blanket around his shoulders even closer for moral support. Waiting anxiously for Phil to come home didn’t seem like a sitting-down type of problem.

Once he got to the kitchen stove he turned back and paced towards the hallway, turning sharply when he reached their bedroom door and making his way back to the living room.

The blanket kept sliding off his lanky frame. Absentmindedly, he realized he probably looked like an overgrown Russian grandmother or some sort of cryptic nun.

Fuck. There he goes again, letting his mind wander all over the place instead of focusing on the actual maybe-problem.

Why wasn’t Phil picking up the phone? Dan wondered if he should call again. Maybe he didn’t hear the first two calls. Maybe he had put his phone on silent and stuck it in his back pocket. Maybe it had been stolen. Or- or maybe Phil had been mugged and now he was dead lying in a ditch somewhere and Dan had no idea because he was standing here doing nothing.

There were probably valid reasons as to why he wasn’t answering, of course, but his brain seemed to be defenestrating all rational thought. He retrieved his phone from its place on the couch, and he pressed Call Phil again. Maybe he was worrying too much. Maybe he wasn’t worrying enough.

It was at the end of the third ring that Phil picked up.

“Hello? Dan? Is everything alright?”

Dan cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed.

“Er, yeah- everything’s fine, actually–I was just a bit worried because they’re shutting the streets down and I didn’t know if they were going to keep running the Tube and you weren’t answering your phone and I-” He cut himself off. “Sorry. I know you’re probably fine and everything, I was just a bit worried…” Dan trailed off, chewing his lip.

Phil’s soft laugh bled through the speakers. Dan could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. “A bit? Dan, everything’s okay. I decided to make a stop on the way home and I, er- got a bit held up. I promise I’m fine and I’ll be home soon, yeah?”

Dan nodded, and then realized that Phil couldn’t see him.

“Yeah.”

A beat, and then Phil’s voice. “Love you, Dan. I’ll see you in a few.”

Dan smiled softly. “Love you too.”

Relief wormed its way through his limbs as Dan exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Phil would be home and then he and Dan could watch cheesy movies on the couch together and pray the power didn’t go out before they made a sinfully large amount of microwave popcorn and ate it all. Maybe they could light candles and have sex in the semi-darkness of the flat, Dan awash with pleasure as Phil came undone on top of him, both panting as the other worked his hands just right. Maybe they’d clean up sleepily and fall asleep together like that, with the battery-operated heater running and blankets from both bedrooms piled on top of them.

He was getting ahead of himself.

Dan sat back down against the couch, flipping idly through channels and wondering whether he would have to go to Netflix to find anything good or if there would be a decent movie playing somewhere.

He had just gotten up to make himself some hot chocolate (he had forgotten they had run out) when he heard keys clinking together at the door, and then a rather frustrated knock as someone realized he would have to use more than a little effort to get the stubborn lock to move.

Dan crossed the kitchen and opened the door, revealing a tired-but-happy Phil with melting snowflakes in his hair and blue eyes shining exceptionally brightly. He was holding a bouquet of pink pansies, that he held out towards Dan.

“I brought you flowers,” Phil said, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile, “Because I realized that it’s been forever since I bought some for you, and I  also thought they would look quite pretty on the dining table, especially because it’s winter and all our plants are dead-” he paused as Dan took the flowers and buried his face in them, “-and there was only one florist that was still open. She looked at me like I was crazy when I said I wanted an entire bouquet! I should have realized that not many flowers grow in the wintertime,” he added, frowning.

Dan grinned, and opened his arms for a hug. “I appreciate the surprise, Phil. Sorry for spamming you with calls and pacing around the flat because I assumed you were dead.”

Phil, whose arms were wrapped tightly around him, laughed into his shoulder. “Dan, you absolute twat, you really thought I died? And the first thing you thought to do was walk in circles?”

Dan snorted over-exaggeratedly and swatted at Phil’s ass with his free hand. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

Phil leaned back and pecked him on the lips. “You’d better not, Howell. Next thing you know our house will have been robbed and you’d be pacing around my dead body.”

Dan shuddered. “Ugh, don’t make me imagine that.” He stepped away from Phil and turned to find a vase. There was probably one under the sink, or perhaps in the AmazingPhil room. There were all sorts of useless props in there.

After he had located a vase and had placed the flowers inside, he felt a smile tug at his lips as Phil stepped up behind him and wormed his arms around his waist, burying his nose in Dan’s hair.

“Affectionate today, are we?” Dan teased, hiding a smile.

“Oh shut up, you were the one panicking over nothing!” Phil shot back, his fond tone nowhere near as vicious as his words.

Dan tipped his head back to rest it on Phil’s shoulder. Phil pressed a gentle kiss to his neck, smiling while he did so. He exhaled over-exaggeratedly, allowing his hot breath to wash over the spot.

“Stop, that tickles,” Dan said, with no conviction behind the words. He was grinning fully, now.

Phil bit down lightly, teasingly- until Dan started worming away impatiently.

“C’mon Phil, I wanted to make popcorn! Do you want to find a movie?”

Phil rolled his eyes and pressed another quick kiss to Dan’s cheek–before moving away quickly in search of the TV remote.

Dan grabbed one of the plastic bags that Phil had brought home and dug through it until he found the popcorn box. His stomach was growling in anticipation. Behind him, he could hear Phil flipping through channels impatiently.

“D’you wanna just try Netflix? I know we can only use it on the laptops, but maybe that would be better? Cozier, maybe,” Dan suggested, placing the bag on the plate and turning on the microwave.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Behind him, Dan heard Phil wander off in search of the computer. Dan grabbed a bowl from the lower cupboards and set it on the countertop, nearly hitting his head in the process.

When the popcorn was ready and Phil had located the laptop (and grabbed a couple extra blankets), Dan walked into the living room and set the bowl down on the table. Phil was already sat on the couch, scrolling through Netflix and in his pyjamas.

Dan settled next to him, tucking his own ankle behind Phil’s and resting his head on his bony shoulder.

“What do you feel like watching? Horror? Something dramatic? Romance? Sci-Fi?” Phil suggested, rattling off movie genres off the top of his head. Dan supposed that was what happened when you were dating someone with a degree in filming.

Dan shook his head. “Something with adventure, or something funny, maybe. I don’t want to fall asleep.”

Phil snorted. “Are you implying that horror movies make you want to sleep? Because, considering past experiences, it seems to be quite the opposite…” Phil trailed off, turning his head to look at Dan, whose eyes were closed.

“D’you want to watch a TV series, maybe? Then we won’t feel as bad if we abandon it halfway through,” Phil suggested, resting his head on top of Dan’s. Dan tilted his head up to kiss Phils chin. “How about The Office, or Brooklyn 99? I heard that was good. Parks and Rec., maybe? I feel like I need something to laugh at after all that.”

“All what? Your pacing?” Phil teased lightly. Dan smacked the back of his head.

“You twat! Actually shut up.”

Phil shrugged and returned his focus on the computer screen. “We’ve already finished The Office, haven’t we?”

Dan frowned. “Sorry. I forgot. I remember we started Parks and Recreation, but you wanted to wait until spring when it was warmer out, and sunny?”

Phil nodded. “So we could connect more with the characters on the show, you know- walking around in parks and stuff.” As he said this, he poked Dan’s cheek fondly.

“I feel like you and I both know that’s not what the show is about, but okay.”

Phil smiled innocently, batting his eyelashes in an attempt to make Dan smile. Dan felt his heart start to fucking melt or whatever.

“Brooklyn 99 it is, then,” Phil said, clicking on the show.

As the episode started, Dan leaned back against Phil, who wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Balancing the small laptop on both of their laps wasn’t an easy task, but it definitely wasn’t the first time they had curled up like this.

And honestly, nights like these was truly why he loved Phil. Even fighting over blankets and popcorn bowls and debating the personalities of the characters on screen really made it all the more worthwhile.

It was snowing outside, and the world was slowly becoming more and more silent as the evening wore on.

Dan and Phil were cuddling under three massive blankets, limbs tangled together as the music and voices from the show echoed around the empty flat.

They were sharing a bowl of popcorn, and at one point Phil had gotten up to make both of them warm drinks. Dan had whined dramatically at the loss of body heat, but the resulting cup of hot chocolate, he thought, was definitely worth it.

In this moment, he felt alive.

It wasn’t until late at night when Phil’s head was nodding and Dan’s limbs felt heavy that he finally closed the laptop. Dan set it on the table and pushed Phil back against the couch gently, climbing on top of him and tucking the blankets around them.

Phil’s arms automatically wrapped around his body, one hand on his lower back, the other running lazily through his hair.

Dan rested his head on Phil’s chest, their legs tangling together as he settled down. Phil’s breaths were deep, on the edge of sleep. Dan wrapped his own arms around Phil, reveling in the comfort and warmth his significant other was providing.

Tilting his head up one last time, Dan pressed a chaste kiss to Phil’s cheek. “Goodnight, Phil. I love you, so-” his voice broke, for some reason. “-so, much. I just hope you know that.” Fuck, he was not about to cry over absolutely nothing. He was not.

…But, as Dan had to admit to himself, it wasn’t nothing. In fact, quite the opposite.

Phil meant everything to him, and if he was going to shed a few tears because he couldn’t fully comprehend why Phil had chosen him all those years ago, then so be it.

Dan buried his nose in Phil’s chest and breathed deeply, inhaling his scent and drifting almost immediately to sleep.

In the morning, they would wake up feeling completed, in a way that only people who had fallen asleep to bellies full of hot chocolate and the gentle sound of snow pattering against the trees outside could. They would get up and make coffee, and move on with their day, but for now, everything was still. Everything was silent, and calm, and cozy.

It was snowing. It was freezing cold outside and Dan and Phil were curled up together on a sofa meant for two, surrounded by house plants and knick-knacks and various other trinkets they had managed to collect after all their years of living together.

It was mid-December, and the heating was on in the flat.

It was snowing.

this makes me feel super nostalgic and its so sweet!!  100 points! your team has completed this challenge

-leo 

[shift-shaping]

dwc: 📚 library sex for Solas and Surana :)

Glimpses: A Quiet Evening Alone

@dadrunkwriting

Rating: M

Genre: Romance

Verse: Confessions of a Teacher’s Pet

Pairing: Solas x Surana

Warnings: Teacher x student, age gap

Lonely, emotionally conflicted, and chronically anxious, Eirwen hides away deep in the recesses of her school’s library. But her own thoughts invade her privacy, and she finds herself unable to resist testing the boundaries of her relationship with the professor she’s pining over. 

Eirwen stretched back over the armrest of the old leather chair and yawned deeply. The arms were too high for her to sit on it naturally, so she laid across it lengthwise like a bed. As her back straightened, the pile of books and papers in her lap fell to the floor in a heap. She groaned and sank back into the chair, glaring at her fallen study material as if it had betrayed her.

She’d been reading for hours, trying to get as much information into her brain as possible before her test in two days. It seemed so close, uncomfortably close, and her quiz grades left her feeling unprepared. As a mage and an elf, she was on a short leash at the university, and her athletic scholarship was dependent on her maintaining a 3.7 GPA or above -essentially all As, with only a few very minor mistakes allowed.

As of last semester she had a 3.9, but doing poorly in her Genetics class could put her in serious jeopardy. She was an excellent student, she knew that, but every good grade she had was earned after dealing with anti-mage and anti-elf prejudice from almost every professor she had. 

It had been a long time since she took a break, though. She sat in the depths of the library, tucked away into a corner she was confident few knew about. If she could muster up the motivation she could go get something to eat, but she was too anxious and too tired for that.

With a soft grunt she reached down and pulled her phone from her pile of things on the floor. The little blue light blinked incessantly, and when she woke it up she saw she had a new text. 

[4:14pm] Hahren: I prefer bodyweight work. It requires little space and minimal equipment.

She raised an eyebrow, scrolling up briefly to remember how they got on to this discussion. That naturally made her recall what she’d been thinking about before she buried herself in her work: her philosophy professor’s incredible arms. 

Earlier that day he’d worn a button-down shirt and pulled up the sleeves, revealing his tight, well-muscled forearms. Eirwen couldn’t take her eyes off them, thoroughly distracting her from whatever the lesson was supposed to be. They were already more than just a teacher and student -they messaged each other frequently, spent over an hour in his office most afternoons, and often went out for lunch or coffee together. He even helped her calm down when she was having a panic or anxiety attack. 

Whatever they were, it only made her attraction to him worse.

She shifted in her seat and looked around, a horrible idea worming its way into her head. She really was alone here, and it was so quiet in the library. Maybe she could use a quick distraction, just something to satiate her mind for a couple of minutes before returning to work.

Since realizing her attraction to him, Eirwen had developed a neat and tidy string of content for her horribly inappropriate mind. First there were pictures, mostly men in dress shirts and women in schoolgirl outfits. Stupid, but it helped. She had a folder of pictures on her phone that went from vaguely sexual to fully nude and definitively pornography. This time she only intended to look at the less explicit shots, the ones that could hopefully feed her curiosity without requiring her to take action. 

If only she had pictures of him. That would be creepy, super creepy, but Maker she would love being able to look at him whenever she wanted. He was so handsome, so frustratingly kind and wise and sweet that she found herself longing for him far more often than she should. She could almost picture him right now, walking toward her, finding her in this quiet corner of the library and just kissing her when she least expected it.

Thinking about him like that was so wrong. So inappropriate. No matter how much time they spent together, no matter how many times he complimented her hair or gulped when he saw her in a short skirt or held her gaze for just a second too long, he was still ultimately her teacher.

But he was so handsome. And his arms looked so strong. She imagined him pinning her to her seat, muscles flexing as he looked deep into her eyes. Then he would crash his lips into hers, his free hand moving under her back to hold her close to him. 

She imagined his fingers, soft and strong, sliding up her back to unhook her bra. His lips looked so kissable, so warm and inviting, and feeling them on the bare skin of her neck would surely drive her wild. She’d have to be quiet, even as he slipped his tongue against her neck, his voice low and teasing as he reminded her where they were.

She squeezed her eyes shut and let her head roll back, feeling her nipples harden in her shirt and wetness surge between her legs. Damn her imagination. She couldn’t do this here, not where someone could theoretically walk in on her. 

She covered her warm face and groaned inwardly, her ears drooping in frustration. This was a disaster -she was a disaster. She had to decide whether she wanted to do something or nothing, whether she would let this burn or fade away. No matter what, it couldn’t simmer like this.

So she took a deep breath and made a bad decision.

[7:38pm] Me: Are you busy tonight?

[7:43pm] Hahren: Is something wrong?

She frowned -why did he have to be so sweet all the time?

[7:44pm] Me: Not exactly. I could just use some company and a study break. Have you eaten dinner yet?

[7:45pm] Hahren: No. Why?

[7:46pm] Me: Want to get something quick with me? I can buy it.

It was a long time before he answered her, long enough that she put her phone down and, defeated, went back to her work. She could hardly concentrate though, and only got through two sentences before her phone buzzed again. Naturally, she picked it up so fast she almost dropped her books again.

[8:03pm] Hahren: No need. They don’t pay us so little I cannot afford a meal. Should we meet somewhere?

Her heart almost stopped, and she had to read the message at least three times before she could process it. She didn’t know what she was expecting with that, but it definitely wasn’t this. If she had to bet on this exchange she would have expected a shaky no, something that suggested he wanted to but also knew he couldn’t. 

But this was entirely out of her realm of possibility. She had to answer him; she didn’t think she’d get this far. 

[8:06pm] Me: How close are you to campus? I’m at the library.

[8:08pm] Hahren: Not far. I can pick you up. Do you have a restaurant in mind?

She wracked her brain for an answer that wasn’t embarrassing. Most of the places she ate at were mostly vegetarian, if not entirely, and they were probably pretentious enough for him.

[8:10pm] Me: There’s a place on Piroette that makes incredible veggie burgers. They put eggplant in them. Any interest?

[8:11pm] Hahren: Sure, sounds good. I’ll be outside the library in about twenty minutes. Will you be ready by then?

[8:11pm] Me: Mind if I bring my books?

[8:12pm] Hahren: Hah, what kind of teacher would I be if I did?

Her heart skipped and she sank down in her chair again, eyes wide. This was really happening. She swallowed hard and typed up a quick response, trying to keep herself from panicking.

[8:13pm] Me: A shit one. I’ll see you soon then, hahren.

[8:14pm] Hahren: See you soon, Ms. Surana.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Eirwen put the phone down on top of her backpack and crossed her arms over her lap. This was really happening. It was just a quick dinner, just burgers and fries, but it was still dinner and he was going to pick her up. 

As she shifted to pack her things, she realized with an annoyed frown that her fantasies earlier had made her far more aroused than intended. Fantastic. She was meeting her professor for dinner while absolutely drenched from thoughts of him making out with her. This could only go well. 

if you enjoyed this fic, please hit the reblog button on this post. comments are cool but not necessary -you can leave no tags, a keysmash, or even just 'nice' if you'd like! thanks for your support -arden