#i’ve added the ao3 link to the post now. fingers crossed it doesn’t hide it from the tags lmao

[eury--dice]

read on ao3

Antiope was bad with flowers.

She was always bad with flowers; good with nature, sure, crunchy, but not quite flowery. She could comport herself properly and without show, an upper-lip pride she couldn’t help but inherit, no showmanship necessary. Maybe it was the one part of the weighty Jones legacy she could shoulder with ease.

(Decorum over decor, though her parents had always found a balance of both.)

In Ranger classes freshman year, she received a big bright D on her report card in scavenging. She’d pored over textbooks, found each groove and variation between types of mushrooms and scavenger’s berries, determined to get this right of all things (if you’re going to be different you have to be the best but you can never be the best with all the others hanging above you) and then being faced with six flowering plants and feeling her heart sink into her not-yet growth-spurted knees. It was like face-blindness, only the faces were tiny, taunting, flowering buds Antiope couldn’t begin to decipher. She saw them when she closed her eyes, and when she fell asleep she dreamed of poisonous pollen sinking into her skin, petals wrapping around her fingers and clenching them shut.

“So who’s your favored enemy now? Flowers?” Corsica asked one morning, one foot out the door for her run, probably catching the sallowness in Antiope’s face.

“I’d like to see your favored enemy,” Antiope cut out before she could stop herself, grasping at straws for something to say, “anything that can drag you out of your office?”

“Aw, Ant, you know I’m not a ranger! Cute, though.”

Antiope got over it, like she always did. She studied and studied and brought up her GPA to a respectable amount, learning enough scavenging to know at least the difference between a weed and a wildflower. By sophomore year, she even thought she might turn the tide and make scavenging her thing, break that stupid favored enemy once and for all.

Something else broke it, of course.

The Seven love flowers, afterwards, and it’s a good thing they do. Their houses are overrun with arrangements as though they are attending their own funerals, as though the silence they’d left in their homes was permanent rather than solved. Antiope and Sam sort through them, orchids, carnations, chrysanthemums, and Zelda eats them one by one.

Danielle goes quiet, sitting a little ways away from everyone else, but not her normal, supportive quiet. She takes a lily with a cut stem and holds it in her hands, green energy flowing from her fingertips, and the stem elongates for a moment, divine creation right in front of Antiope’s eyes. But the energy ebbs a moment later, and instead mushrooms sprout from her palms and encircle the lily completely, disintegrating to nothing. Her eyes flick up to Antiope, and a smile spreads over her face, gentle and acknowledging.

“Druidcraft,” she says, tipping her palm to let the crumbles fall to the floor.

Antiope can feel herself frown, and she doesn’t stop. She stands up, carrying a carnation with her. “Why grow it just to let it die?”

Danielle shrugs. “Circle of life, y’know? ‘ts what they all thought we’d be doing be now.” In her palm, something bioluminescent glows for half of a moment, and then her hand is in front of Antiope’s face, twin mushrooms greeting her.

“Oh, uh, thanks?”

“Only if you want it,” Danielle says. “I’ve been working my way up all afternoon, man.”

Sam laughs behind them, loudly, at something Zelda said. Antiope smiles a little, and sees Yelle do the same, the skin between her eyes creasing. “Yeah. Yeah, sure. I’m gonna feel good about this one.”

“No, seriously. No pressure. It’s not for every — oh, God, please don’t choke on it,” Danielle cuts in, her peace signs rapidly morphing into outstretched hands of concern, voice flattening out a little.

Antiope holds up a hand to her throat, coughing around the mushroom. “That’s a —different texture than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah, man, sorry, should’ve warned you. Do you need some water or something?”

Powering through a cough, Antiope manages to wheeze out “yes please.”

Antiope Druidcrafts something herself for the first time at the start of her first senior year, and it’s half an accident; she wants so deeply to provide for her friends on their quest that her finger slips on her arrow and a faint paw noise comes from behind her. She spins, and it’s only her own magic she senses underfoot. That lily grows under her eyelids for a moment, her magic so close to Yelle’s she could practically reach out with a tether and yank her best friend closer to her. Instead she drops to her knees, gathers seed pods between her long fingers, and feels them blossom in her hands. Antiope makes it back to camp, a few rations short but overflowing with petals.

(Penny likes that. They make nice flower necklaces, apparently. And Danielle seems happy enough to handle the foraging with a tiny flower woven around her fingers.)

Antiope is better at flowers, it seems. Making them with her hands is easier than seeing them in the wild. But still, she leaves most of the flowery stuff to Danielle, the crafting with Penny, and the styling to Ostentatia. And so the matter of flowers seems to be a closed case.

Maybe a little too close. The course credit she fails — on purpose, but also, well, not — is an echo of Freshman year. Identification, Scavenging, and Flower Creation. She knew it was coming, but what crawls down her throat is a little cruel and metallic when she swallows that fact.

With the GED quest it almost doesn’t matter. It almost doesn’t matter, and Antiope could go through her daily life with no problem, Druidcrafting in the shadow of Yelle until her fingers cramp. But before she knows it, her friends are on a pile on the ground in front of her, and there’s something healing in the tears but Ant can’t bring herself to cry like that, not yet. So she takes first watch, and senses rather than sees Danielle approach her from behind, that thrum of common magic ever-present behind her ears.

Antiope locks eyes this time, and it’s like it always is with Yelle. Immediate. Understanding. Calm. And Antiope isn’t sure if it’s the words she can’t say yet rising in her throat, or maybe the vulnerability so close behind her she doesn’t want to feel, so she slides to her knees on the ground without breaking eye contact and grasps at anything. Without thinking, she cradles a weed in her hands and morphs it into a wildflower, holding it out for Yelle, looking upwards, the light of Druidcraft creation illuminating Yelle’s face with the offer and worsening Ant’s vertigo.

She fumbles it between her fingers. “Oh, I don’t know why — I didn’t have a plan when I picked it up,” she says, voice growing taut as she lets the wildflower fall. But Yelle swipes it from the ground, and nods, and it’s all that she needs to do.

“You’re pretty good at flowers,” Yelle whispers, smiling, and for once they don’t meet each other’s eyes.

[freckledoriya]

“my eyes adored you” (izuku midoriya x reader fic)

WARNINGS: slightly angsty at times, but happy ending! 

WORD COUNT: 1.7k

SUMMARY: You were best friend with Izuku Midoriya when you were little, but went your separate ways. What happens when your paths cross again, years later? 

LINKS: ao3 | masterlist | ask box

TAGLIST: at the end of the post, message me to be added/removed!

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is kind of (really) trash, but hey, it’s been a while and I’m trying to get back into writing. take it easy on me. 

inspired by frankie valli’s “my eyes adored you” 

You’re standing at the register of your local coffee shop, working a hundred miles per hour during the morning rush. It’s a job that you’ve had for a while now. You tell yourself you’ll leave when you find what you’re really destined to do, but the day has yet to arrive. With no current ambition and no quirk, you’re seemingly left to take coffee orders for the rest of your days. 

Today starts to blend in with all the days before. You hear the bell of the shop door sound, and sigh before preparing your best “how can I help you?” face. And that’s when you see him. Izuku Midoriya standing in front of you.

You and Izuku Midoriya have known each other for longer than you could remember. The two of you grew up together, learning how to read side by side while thumbing through hero magazines. As a pair, you two were inseparable.

“Let’s play ‘heroes!’” five-year-old Izuku chirped with a bright smile, running up to you. He sticks his hand out for you to take. “I’ll be All Might!” 

You can’t help but smile back, giggling at your best friend’s unmatched enthusiasm. “You’re always All Might,” you tease, taking his hand in yours. 

You don’t know it then, as a naive toddler, but that feeling of pure happiness that rushes through your veins when you interlock hands with Izuku, is love in its beginning form. A love that will grow so strong, it will dominate your life and never let you free of its hold. It’s the kind of love that will keep you up at night, always wondering if tomorrow will be the day when you finally get over it, knowing damn well that tomorrow will arrive and your feelings will have only grown stronger. But right now, you’re five years old, and liking a boy is icky. 

You stick with him through everything. Through him finding out he doesn’t have a quirk, to the endless bullying he endures throughout elementary and middle school because of that. You spend nights camped out in your parents’ backyard, staying up late past your bedtime to talk about each other's feelings. Comforting him through tears, you wrap your arm around him. 

“I don’t have a quirk either,” you say. “And you still think I’m pretty great, right?”

He sniffles and nods, looking up at you and giving you a slight smile. 

You're not sure why at the time, but his smile makes your heart flutter. 

It’s not till you’re in middle school, walking home along the river as Izuku carries your books for you, that it dawns on you that you want nothing more than him to be your first everything- your first date, your first kiss, your first boyfriend. That’s when he becomes your first crush. Little did you know, that crush would seemingly endure the test of time. 

Time isn’t the only thing that tests the magnitude of your crush. After middle school, something changes. Izuku somehow gets a quirk and enters into the hero program at the prestigious U.A. high school. You could tell that he didn’t mean to leave you behind. The two of you would text every so often, vowing to meet up soon. But things never seemed to work out. He was always busy training or hanging with his newer, cooler friends. By the time of high school graduation, you two barely talked anymore. And then one year, he forgot your birthday. And then the next, and then the next.

You watched him from afar, climbing up the mountain to becoming the number one hero that he is today. Working his fingers to the bone to get himself a name, you saw the hell he went through to achieve his dream. And you admired him for it.

Some days, you’d find yourself daydreaming the day away, wishing you still were a part of Izuku’s life, but knowing full well that things could never be. He’s a top hero with fangirls, and you work the counter at a coffee shop. That humbling thought brought you back to reality.

“Can I have a coffee, please?” 

You assume that’s what Izuku says, but honestly, you’re too lost in your own thoughts and in his gorgeous, green eyes to comprehend that he’s speaking. He smiles a little bit, making your heart flutter in a way that it hasn’t in a long time. 

“M-Midoriya,” you whisper, his name falling out of your lips. 

He looks at you and slightly cocks his head to the side. Then, suddenly, you see it hit him.

“Y/N?” he asks, his eyes growing wider and wider. 

You can’t help but smile at the way he says your name. After all these years, he still says it like he’s talking to his best friend. 

“Oh my god, Y/N!” he almost yells. “I can’t believe it’s you!”

“It’s me!” you giggle. “I’ve missed you so much.”

That last part was meant to stay in your mind, but slipped out. Thankfully, Izuku is too distracted by processing that you’re in front of him to really think about it. 

“Ahem,” the person in line behind Izuku clears their throat. “I hate to ruin this moment, but some of us are in a rush to get our coffee.”

The two of you blush and mutter apologies. But then you start to panic. No, this can’t be goodbye again. You can’t let him slip out of your life again. Do something. 

“I’ll be on break in 15 minutes, if you wanna go hang out and catch up?” you say, your voice cracking at the end from nerves. 

“I’m actually on parole soon, so I can’t right now. But I’ll be done with work later tonight... We should have dinner!” 

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Sounds like a plan. Meet me here at 6?”

“Yeah!”

A beat passes of awkward silence as the two of you look at each other. 

“Um…Y/N?” he asks, his eyes looking into yours. 

“Yes?” you whisper, seemingly under his spell again. 

“...Can I get that coffee?” 

That snaps you out of it. “Yes! Of course! Coming right up!” 

The day passes painfully slow at work as you wait for 6 o'clock to roll around. The day is full of you playing back memories of you and Midoriya as children-- laughing, crying, being there for each other no matter what. It felt so good to see him earlier, like a piece of your life had been missing and you didn’t feel complete until he was standing in front of you.

You sit outside the coffee shop, waiting for him to arrive. 

… But he never does. 

It’s not till 8 that it starts to hit you that you’re being stood up. You practically feel your heart start to break. 

Because, who didn’t see this coming? Izuku Midoriya has better things to do than to hang out with you. You’re stupid for thinking otherwise. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

He’s a superstar hero, and you’re nothing compared to him. Dust. Insignificant dust. Look at him, saving the world by taking out one villain at a time. And look at you, stuck in a dead-end job with no ambitions or dreams. Crushing on a man that removed you from his life for a reason.

You feel the tears well up behind your eyes. 

How pathetic. Look at you, sitting on a bench under a streetlamp, crying. You’re an adult, hopelessly in love with someone who forgets that you even exist. Why can’t you move on? You’re crazy, that’s why. You’re insane for even entertaining the idea that someday, somehow, Izuku will come to you with his arms open. 

You can’t stop the stream of tears coming from your eyes as you break down and cry. Softly sobbing, you put your face in your hands, wanting to hide from the world forever. Then, you hear it. Someone saying your name. No, not someone. You’d know that voice anywhere. 

You look up and see Izuku kneeling beside you, eyes wide and concerned.

Immediately, you see why he was late, and you feel stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

He is beside you in his hero costume, sweaty and bleeding in various places all over his body, obviously just coming back from an intense battle that went longer than expected.

“A-are you okay?” you ask immediately, wiping your tears away with your hands. 

Izuku furrows his eyebrows. “Me? Yeah, I’m okay. It’s just some cuts and bruises… Are you okay?”

“I-” you begin to speak, your brain telling you to say ‘I’m fine!’ and make up a story about why you were sobbing on a bench by yourself. 

But you can’t. Your heart won’t let you.

“I’m so scared to lose you again,” you confess, the tears coming back to your eyes. 

Izuku's face softens. “Lose me? What do you mean? You never lost me, Y/N.” 

You sniffle and shake your head. “You went on to do such incredible and amazing things. And I’m so proud of you. But I just wish I could be part of your life again.” 

He gently places his hands over your shaking hands, his touch feels impossibly electrifying and soothing at the same time.  

“I am so sorry,” he says. His eyes drift to the side and he gulps. “I… I was scared of how I felt about you.”

“How’d you feel about me?” you ask.. 

You can see a slight blush form on Izuku’s cheeks. “Like… I really liked you.” 

He looks up at you for a response, but you’re frozen in place, your brain working overtime to figure out what he’s saying. 

He must take you silence as something negative, because he begins muttering.

“I know, it’s stupid, it’s like we were best friends and you were so great and I was so not great but our relationship was so wonderful and you made me so happy like I never would have been able to get through middle school without you and I just adored you and-”

“And now?” you interrupt. 

He stops and looks at you, eyes searching yours for answers that you’ve kept hidden and locked away for years. 

“And now… I… I… I just want to be near you.” 

You don’t think. You just hug. 

You pull Izuku into you, wrapping your arms around his neck, breathing in the scent of him and reminding yourself that this isn’t a dream. It takes a second for him to unfreeze and hug you back, but when he does, you could swear that you’re flying. 

(TOLD YOU IT WAS TRASH IM SO SORRY PLS DON’T HATE ME)

TAG LIST: @prismaroyal @wesparklebitch @bnha-violetnote @sunflower-kami-boi @shoutosteakettle @strwbrry-lia​ @birds-have-teeth​ @ee-blue @shoutodoki @denise-the-death-goddess​ @sadistiks @knifeewifee @viceofaladriel @saltie @khemz1312 @frenchspeakingfilipina @tessaisalbright @katsumi-kaminari @pixxiesdust @izukuwus @knaite-solo @inochaos​ @kiripimarules @dnarez

[winryofresembool]

Fic: Nightmares and Morse Code

Fandom: Heroes of Olympus (I imagine this happening some time post TBoO. Also, I have not read Trials of Apollo and I don’t know if I ever will so if this fic has some canon divergence, that’s why)

Characters/ships: Leo Valdez/Calypso

Summary: Calypso notices a certain habit of Leo's when she's trying to comfort him after a nightmare.

AO3 link

A/N: I decided to post this fic here too, so if you saw a link earlier, yes it’s the same fic. Anyway, I guess I am now officially writing non FMA content. Heroes of Olympus has pretty much consumed my life for the past few weeks (or even months by now) and while I adore Leo and also Caleo as a ship, I've noticed the fandom doesn't agree with me especially on the latter and there's very little Caleo content anywhere. So, I decided to change that! The idea of Leo saying I love you for the first time through Morse Code had me soft and I just had to write a fic around that. So, without a further ado, please enjoy and don't forget to review especially if you'd like to see me write more HoO content in the future! (And FMA fans, don't worry, I surely haven't abandoned Edwin or my fankids!!)

Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: none?

...

That night was particularly bad. Leo thought that in exchange for the happy moments he spent with Calypso, some evil force had decided to make his dreams double as bad.

Some of them were old, familiar ones. The fire that had killed his mother. Abusive foster families and bullies at schools he had escaped from. The voice telling him that he’d forever be the seventh wheel, his friends smiling and laughing together while he was stuck alone in his bunker. The Argo II group, all except him, getting killed by the giants, because of him.

But there were a couple of new ones too. In the first one he was back in the underworld, feeling that same pain he had back then he had died, positive he was on his way to Tartarus. But he found the second dream worse: Gaea was torturing Calypso, telling Leo that he had to pick from two options: either Calypso would have to die or she’d wake up again and destroy all the life on earth. If Leo had had to pick between himself and the rest of the world, he wouldn’t have had to think long. But… Calypso was just barely starting to learn what living in the real world meant after her 3000 years lasting imprisonment, she was so excited and happy to see new things, and genuinely wanted to be with Leo (despite the constant bickering) for reasons he didn’t quite understand, and… he could not bear the thought of living without her. Finally, he woke up to his own screams as he watched Gaea’s ‘minions’ cut her with a sharp knife yet again.

“Leo?”

It was too dark in his room to see, but he heard fast footsteps approaching him and soon the door was opened and someone switched the light on. He had to squint and protect his eyes from the light before he finally saw the slender figure next to him. Relief flooded into him as he realized that it had all been just a nightmare and Calypso was just fine, although with a very worried expression on her face.

“Hey, Sunshine,” Leo said with a slightly hoarse voice, attempting a lopsided smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I… heard you screaming.” Calypso replied, suddenly embarrassed about rushing into his bedroom like that.

“Me? Screaming?” Leo sat up and waved his hand, trying to brush it off. “I think your ears are not quite yet used to the mortal world, mi sol.”

“Leo Valdez. I’m serious. I know what I heard.” Calypso glared at him, her beautiful features getting surprisingly scary when she wanted to. However, Leo didn’t budge.

“Sirius? Like Sirius Black from Harry Potter? I thought your name is Calypso,” he attempted, fully aware of how poor his joke was.

“What’s Harry Potter?” Calypso asked with confusion, not yet familiar with the modern popular culture.

“Only the most popular black-haired fantasy hero of our time… After me, of course.” Leo winked, but Calypso wasn’t happy with his answer.

“You’re only trying to make me forget the original topic. Why were you screaming?”

His face fell and he was twitching his hands nervously on his lap.

“Fine. It was a nightmare. But nothing I can’t handle.”

Calypso looked at him sadly, wanting to reach him but not sure if she should. Instead, she said softly: “I know you’re trying to act brave for me, but you don’t have to. I can see that something is hurting you and I want to help you. Like you’ve helped me. Maybe opening up would help you feel better.”

At this point Calypso noticed that Leo seemed to be tapping a certain pattern on the wooden edge of the bed with his fingers. She wanted to ask about it, but decided against it. Instead, she sat down next to him and slowly inched her hand towards his arm, encouraging him to talk.

Leo shook his head to clear his mind. “I… well, in these nightmares, I was reliving some of my worst memories… My mother and stuff… But there was a new dream too.”

“Please. Tell me about it.”

Leo tried to resist but something about Calypso’s calm tone and expression worked like Piper’s charmspeaking and he started babbling so fast Calypso couldn’t keep up with him. “Calm down a bit, Hot Head,” she stopped him. “I only got the part that I was in the dream.”

Leo took a deep breath, trying to focus on his hands that were still tapping against the wood nervously. Then he started in a slower pace: “Yeah… Dirt Face… I mean Gaea…” he added when Calypso raised her eyebrow questioningly, “in this dream, she was trying to wake up again… And she tried to make me choose between you… and the rest of the world… I mean, either you die or them… and I couldn’t.”

Calypso let that information sink in. Trying to hide her emotions, she crossed her arms over her chest and asked: “Are you saying that you would even consider letting me stay alive if you could save the rest of the world?”

Leo probably hadn’t expected that reaction. He failed to recognize that a part of the reason Calypso asked that was to conceal the fact that she was moved, going defensive: “But Cal, remember how she tried to make you kill me in Ogygia. And she could have offered you something much better than I could. But you refused to kill me. You even helped me get off that island even though… you know.” In his mind he added ‘even though it hurt you’. “Do you really think that after all that I could just…”

“Hey, it’s OK. I… think I understand your feeling. But thankfully you don’t have to choose because I’m right here, I’m OK, and she’s gone.” Calypso squeezed Leo’s free hand briefly. After a moment of silence, deciding to change the subject: “That… thing you do with your fingers… Is that a Morse code? Or have you been listening to too much of that rap music you talk about?”

Suddenly Leo’s face went all red. Calypso probably would be weirded out by his habit if she knew the meaning. “You… don’t happen to know Morse code, do you?”

“Not really…” she had to admit.

“That’s… that’s fine. The thing I was doing was just something my mother taught me when I was a kid.” Leo shrugged, trying to look casual.

“Oh… I thought it might mean something.”

“Maybe it does, maybe it doesn’t. If you want to know, you’ll have to figure it out on your own.” Leo smirked, even though he couldn’t hide his blushing.

“Leo Valdez, so full of mysteries.” Calypso rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help but smile a bit.

“That’s why the ladies love me! Even you fell for my mysterious charm.”

“Uhhuh.” Calypso pushed him back to his bed, sticking her tongue out. Then she spoke with a softer tone. “So, are you feeling better now?”

“I think I am. Thanks. Talking with you made me feel better.” He still looked like something was bothering him, though. In reality, some, annoying part of him tried to tell him to reveal the code.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Calypso replied, reaching to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Um, maybe I should go back to bed. We have some work to do tomorrow.”

“Sure… Well, good night,” Leo answered, looking a bit… disappointed? Before Calypso was out of the room, though, he said with a new determination:

“Hey, Sunshine. I’ll give you a hint. It’s ‘te quiero’ in Spanish.

“What is?”

“The code. And… I mean it. With you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Calypso answered, even more confused than before as she exited the room. She only knew a couple of Spanish swear words (thanks to Leo) so she had no idea what ‘kiero’ or whatever that word was meant. But she decided to find out.

…

A week later, Calypso heard Leo scream again. But this time, instead of waking him up and inquiring him about his dreams, she decided to sit down on a chair next to the bed and hold his hand, hoping it would reach him. She had spent a long time researching on both Spanish language and Morse codes and had finally cracked Leo’s code. Some part of her had already known its meaning but seeing it for real had made her strangely overwhelmed. As she saw him there, whimpering quietly, scrunching his forehead and looking so vulnerable , that exact same emotion he had been expressing struck her with force. This brave, determined, smart (and, she had to admit to herself, sometimes kinda funny) boy had been through so much. Ever since his mother had died, his life had been nothing but a struggle, and even now that they were (relatively) safe, the ghosts of the things he had experienced were still haunting him. She wanted to show him there were still things worth living, worth loving, in this world.

So she started softly tapping on his hand.

.. .-.. --- ...- . -.-- --- ..-

I. Love. You.

It seemed his form relaxed as she reached the end of the code. She waited a bit longer to see if the nightmare had faded away, but when she finally stood up about to leave, his fingers suddenly wrapped up around hers.

“So you figured it out,” a sleepy voice said against his pillow.

“I did,” Calypso admitted.

“Cal.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t go.”

Calypso wasn’t sure if she had heard right. “Huh?”

“I… I’d like you to stay.” Leo said, sounding unusually vulnerable.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Sunshine.”

“OK. I’ll stay then.”

Leo backed up in his bed to make her space, and she settled down next to him. She didn’t protest when an arm wrapped around his waist after he had put the comforter over them, instead nuzzling closer to him and taking in the warmth that was radiating from him. And gods, he really was warm. The two didn’t say much after that, but Leo’s fingers started automatically tapping an answer to her message against her stomach. Soon enough, both of them started drifting into sleep, this time a much more peaceful one.

[talpup]

Erase the Shadow: 17

Summary: Despite sharing dreams with Teris for as long as he can remember, Aizawa Shouta never believed in soulmates.  That was until he met Teris in the real world on his first day at UA.  Trouble is, Teris doesn’t know anything about their shared dreams.  And the one time Shouta tried to tell her, he nearly lost her completely.

Five years after graduating from UA, Shouta still believes Teris is his soulmate.  But things have only gotten worse.  Teris moved to another town shortly after graduation.  And now she’s dating his best friend Yamada Hizashi.

Please remember, this fic is rated explicit and has warnings of sex, violence, and other possible triggers.

***If you prefer reading off AO3 here’s the link for that: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027552/chapters/56447029

I have had a few people ask if Shouta and Hizashi will be having any fun together in this fic; so for those of you wondering, no.  Our two guys won’t be doing anything together.  While I have read and thoroughly enjoyed more equal poly-ships between these two and reader(s), the guys will be solely focused on reader/Teris in this fic.  It’s why I’ve tried to stick to calling it a shared relationship.

For those of you interested in a more poly-ship with Aizawa/Reader/Hizashi there’s @inorganicone2230 (on here and ao3) and @weabooweedwitch (ao3) / @weebsinstash (tumblr).  Both have some A-mazing fics like that.  And I HIGHLY recommend them.

Chaos might be my baby, but Erase the Shadow is my guilty pleasure.  I honestly didn't think it would get the response that it has.  I absolutely love, love, LOVE thirsting over these two men with you all.  THANK YOU all SO much for the love you've shown.  Every comment you have left means so, so much.  THANK YOU!

As always, an extra special thank you to @inorganicone2230 for their encouragement and friendship.  Without them this fic never would've been posted.

17.1

The bedroom door closed with a soft click leaving Shouta alone in the dark with Teris.

“The light’s gone.”  Shouta said.

He grimaced at the needless statement certain she had heard the door close.

Teris rubbed and blinked her eyes open. “Thanks.”

If her quirk had been able to soak up light and pull energy, not just darkness and shadows, she might've wondered if she had caused the tripped breaker.  But her quirk couldn’t do such things. So even though her over dilated pupils, and some of the feelings might have been similar to when she used her quirk; the outcome had been so distinctly different that the possibility never crossed her mind.

She turned to Shouta in bed, smiling shyly at the stray strands of wavy, black hair that clung to his slick covered face. “Shou…”

“Yeah?”

“I—I know Hizashi said you were a—a virgin.  A—as your best friend, he would probably know.  But… are you?”

Shouta rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed.

He wasn’t embarrassed about the fact.  He had waited for a reason. Teris was the only one for him.  And though waiting this long had been hard, in more ways than one, he would've waited till his twenty-sixth birthday and beyond to have her be his first and only.

“S—sorry! It’s none of my business.  It’s just…”

Shouta looked in the direction of her voice.  “Just what?”

Her cheeks heated, and she was glad that unlike her, he couldn’t see in the darkness.

“You were… really good.  Though I guess you could’ve done that and not gone all the way—”

“I haven’t.”  Shouta said quickly, wanting her to know she was the only one.  “I haven’t so much as kissed or held hands with anyone but you.”

He ducked his head, blushing at the admission and her compliment.

He knew he had pleased her; but there was just barely getting off, and then there was good.  She had just said he had done really good.

“I had every reason to give it my best.”  He added, softly.

“Well...” Teris cleared her throat, feeling entirely unworthy of such a comment. “They say practice makes perfect, but if you’re that good already—”

“I would love to practice more with you.”  Shouta cut in.

Despite loving that idea too, Teris changed subject.

She pulled a pillow over and hugged it.  “Was it really that obvious?”

“Was what?”

“That I—  That I loved—love you.  Were my feelings really so obvious?”

“I had hoped.  But even watching.  Looking.  I wasn’t sure till our latest patrol together.”  Shouta smirked at the memory.  “You were clearly jealous of Delphin.”

“You had lipstick on your cheek.”  Teris accused, tone heating at the memory.

“I didn’t—”

“She kissed you.”

“On the cheek.  I didn’t ask for it.  If I...”  Shouta stopped and sighed.

He held his hand out and open in her direction, waiting, hoping she would place hers in it.

Teris eyed his extended hand.

The memory of Delphin’s bright, red lipstick on his pale cheek made her want to rebuff him.  But Shouta hadn’t been with her back then. Even now, he still wasn’t hers.

She slowly placed her hand in his.

Shouta's fingers twitched, wanting to close around hers at their first touch; but he held himself back and waited till the weight of her hand was fully seated in his.

“She kissed me.”  Though he couldn’t see her open mouth, Shouta hurried to explain.  “I didn’t see it coming.  If I had, it wouldn’t have happened.  Nothing like that has happened before.  It was an unwelcome kiss to the cheek.  Nothing more.” His thumb brushed over the back of her hand.  “I love you, Teris. I would never--”

“You—You do?”

Shouta sighed heavily.

Hadn’t he just shown her that?  Why did she continue to doubt what she saw with her own eyes?  He wondered if he should confess just how long he had loved her; but decided against it, afraid it would scare her away.

Instead his gently squeezed her hand. “You weren’t the only one wondering if their feelings were that obvious.  Maybe if mine had been more obvious things would've been different.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“The lights will probably turn on soon.  Got your eyes closed.”

Teris closed her eyes and nodded.  “Yeah.”

Another second passed before Shouta spoke again.  “I’ll stop using her if it bothers you.”

“Who?”

“Delphin.”

Teris’ eyebrows furrowed over her closed eyes.  “She’s a great CI.  One of your best, you said.”

“And entirely not worth any chance I have with you.”

“You said nothing happened.  That you didn’t want or expect the kiss.”

“And that’s true.  But if you still wonder.  Are jealous.  Or have any doubts…”

“You—you’d do that for me?  Give up one of your best CI’s?”

Shouta's other hand touched the top of their linked ones, and followed the trail up her arm.  Damn, he wished he could see her.  His hand reached her shoulder, then her neck, and finally her face.

Shouta cupped her face. “I’d do anything for you, Teris. I love you, Kitten.”

Just then the lights flicked back to life.

Shouta squinted, blinking rapidly at the sudden brightness.

His eyes focused on Teris.  The hand cupping her face slid to the back of her neck.  He leaned over and kissed her.

Eyes closed, Teris returned the gentle kiss.

More certain of himself and Teris’ feelings, Shouta didn’t lick at her lips asking for entry.

Teris sucked in a moaning breath around Shouta's tongue which parted her lips, slipping in without hesitation.

Shouta's tongue was insistent, lapping and swirling with hers in a dance that left Teris lost and dizzy.

She clung to his hand like a lifeline, melting at the taste, smell, and heady sensation of him.

When he finally pulled away, breathless, he didn’t pull back far.

“I take it the lights are back on.”  She murmured, lips brushing his.

Shouta took in her flushed face and hummed.  “That’s not the only thing back up.”

Still holding her hand, he led it to the erection tenting his pants.

He smirked at her sharp gasp.  He wanted so badly to tell her about them being soulmates.  Why couldn’t she remember their shared dreams?

There was so much he didn’t understand and wanted, needed to know; but now wasn’t the time.  The most important thing in this moment was to hammer home that he loved and wanted her.  He didn’t know what Hizashi had planned, and honestly didn’t care.  All he knew was that Teris had said she loved him.  If he made his own feelings clear, they would be together.  Sure she had said she loved two men.  But Teris was his soulmate.  They were meant to be together.  Hizashi couldn���t hope to hold a candle to that; even if Teris thought she loved him.

“I’ve never loved anyone else.”  He whispered against her lips.  He pressed her hand against him, hips lightly bucking in return. “Never wanted anyone else.  Tell me what it will take to convince you.  I love you, Teris.  You are more than special to me. You’re everything.”

“Shou…”

“Call me Raven again, Kitten.”

“Raven.”

“Baby.” The bedroom door opened.  “Got the lights back on.  You okay?”

Hizashi took in the scene.

Shouta was nearly on top of his girl.  His friends lips against hers. Teris’ eyes were closed, a pillow on her lap.  One of her hands was in Shouta's and pressed up against the clear bulge in his pants. Hizashi would've tried to convince himself that it was all Shouta's doing and his friend was taking advantage if Teris’ fingers weren’t wrapped around his best friend's clothed dick.

“I see you’ve been more than taking care of my girl, Shou.”

Shouta sat back.

Teris tugged her hand out of his, head dropping guiltily.  “Zashi…”

“It’s alright, Ris Wren.” Hizashi waved her off even though she couldn’t see with her eyes closed.  He picked his shirt up from the floor and draped it over the bedside lamp. “Though we all gotta have chat before continuing with this jam.”

Hizashi tossed Shouta a damp wash cloth.

Shouta caught it, scowling.

“For your face, Man.  You’re a mess.”  Hizashi chuckled at Teris’ blush.  “Don’t look so embarrassed, Babe!  I’ve done the same.  It can’t helped. You taste so good.”

“Zashi!” Teris turned away, trying to hide her heated face.

Watching his friend with a growing sense of unease, Shouta wiped his face clean.

Had Hizashi realized his mistake?  Was he going to take this moment to say this had been a one time thing?  Shouta wouldn’t let him.  He opened his mouth to say that he loved Teris and wanted to be with her, but Hizashi spoke at the same time.

“I--” Shouta began.

“We--” Hizashi stopped and smiled tightly at his friend.  “Let me go first, yeah.”

“I’m your guest.”

It was the wrong argument to make in order to speak first considering what he was about to say; but Shouta didn’t care.

“And you tried to kiss my girl in front of my apartment.”  Hizashi argued.

“Zashi. That wasn’t--”

“It’s alright, Baby.  I’m not mad.”  Hizashi interrupted, tamping down his ire and running a soothing hand down Teris’ arm.  He looked back at Shouta.  “But I do think my supposed best friend's very uncool attempt should give me the right to take center stage first.”

Teris squinted, lifting her hand to block the overly bright, defused light.

She stared at her boyfriend wanting to finish what she had started to say.  The near kiss hadn’t been entirely Shouta.  The betrayal was on both of them.  She had wanted Shouta to kiss her, and to kiss him in return.  And she would've done so if Hizashi hadn’t called when he had.

But she didn’t get a chance to say any of that because Shouta spoke up first.

“Alright.” Shouta allowed.  He glanced at Teris silently promising that whatever Hizashi said wouldn’t stop them from being together.  “Go ahead.”

“So.” Hizashi stood before them.  “I’m sure you’re both wondering where we go from here.  Yeah?”

Shouta's shoulders tensed.

This was it.  Hizashi was going to say that it had been a one time thing to get him out of Teris’ system.  Hizashi didn’t understand that Teris would never be out of his system.  Or he from hers.

He swallowed.

Shouta didn’t want to be rude or argue; but he wasn’t about to let Hizashi say this was a one time thing, and send him off with a thanks and pat on the back.  He wasn’t going to let Hizashi attempt to make things go back to the way they were before all this.

“Well,” Hizashi turned his green eyes on Shouta, “I was thinking that we could share her.”

Teris sputtered, eyes boggling.  “What?”

Shouta stared, stunned.  He hadn’t expected that.

Certain she hadn’t heard right, Teris questioned.  “You could--”

“Okay.” Came Shouta's quick reply.

“--what?” Teris finished.  Her head spun around to Shouta.  “What!”

“You alright there, Baby?  You seem stuck on repeat.”  Hizashi moved over to her.

He glanced at Shouta.

Yes, he had expected Shouta to jump at the chance.  But even so, Hizashi hadn’t expected such a rapid reply.  Though looking at Shouta, the man might've been just as surprised by the near immediate response as he was.

“You sure, Shou?  This isn’t like sharing a pencil or umbrella.”

Shouta's eyes narrowed.

Teris was her own person.  She was far from some inanimate object.  Shouta could’ve done without a pencil or umbrella.  He couldn’t do without her.

“I’m not giving up on her.”  Shouta told, staring his friend in the eye.

Hizashi stood to his full height and met Shouta's gaze without blinking.  “And I’m not giving her up.”

Shouta's teeth pressed together at the subtle yet clear reminder that Hizashi was currently with the woman he loved. “Then for friendship’s sake I suppose we share.”

“For friendship’s sake.”  Hizashi nodded, stiffly.

For him this had little to do about keeping Shouta as a friend and everything to do with keeping Teris.  Of course he didn’t want to lose Shouta as a friend.  While flawed and grumpy, Shouta was his best and greatest friend.  The man put up with him and had his back when nobody else did.  Shouta was the greatest friend anyone could ask for… well, other than the bit where he wanted and tried to kiss his girl.

Teris looked between the two men.

Brow furrowed, she shook her head. “What?”

Hizashi’s lips tugged up into a grin.

He looked from Shouta to Teris and back.  “Someone’s going through a feedback loop.”

Shouta looked her over, disappointed that the pillow in her lap covered most of her naked frame from view.  “She finds it hard to believe that we both want her.”

Hizashi rolled his eyes.  As if he needed Shouta to tell him about his girlfriend’s lacking esteem.

“What d’ya say we show her just how much we want her?”  Hizashi suggested, giving Shouta a smile he found he didn’t have to force.

The hard part was over. He had offered to share his girl, and Shouta had readily accepted. With the difficult, distasteful bit out of the way and an agreement in place, there was no changing his mind or retracting it.  Because of that, Hizashi felt a dark, angry weight lift off his shoulders.

He still wasn’t happy about the situation. But it was done.  And Yamada Hizashi was one who lived in the present, not the past.

Hizashi grabbed the pillow off Teris’ lap and pulled her to her feet.  “Come on, Shou.  Let’s show my—our girl how amazing we think she is.”

Teris tugged against him. “Zashi--”

Hizashi kissed her silent.

Shouta's heart fluttered in his chest at Hizashi's words.

Teris was his.  She had always been his. But hearing someone say it, even if she had yet to agree…

Shouta knelt on the bed and pressed up behind her.  “Would you like that, Kitten?  For me and Zashi to show you how amazing you are.”

A sound between a needy hum and pained whine came from Teris’ throat.

Shouta's lips brushed along one side of her neck while Hizashi's mouth latched onto the other side.

“Will you let us show you how much we want you, Ris? Let me show you?”  Shouta’s teeth plucked lightly at her earlobe.  “Didn’t you enjoy yourself?  I can feast on you again.”  He licked the shell of her ear, hot breath making her skin prickle. “If you thought I was really good the first time, just imagine how good I can make you feel if you let me practice.”

Teris’ head fell back against Shouta's firm chest with a groan.

Shouta and Hizashi's eyes met in conspiratorial agreement.

“It could be like this every night, Baby.”  Hizashi said, hands dragging up her sides toward her breasts.

Shouta palmed the twin mounds before Hizashi reached them.  He pulled Teris back against him giving his friend a smug, toying smirk.

Hizashi exhaled a huffing chuckle, lips lifting in a crooked grin.

Fair enough, he thought, hands trailing down to Teris hips. Shouta owed him that for earlier.

“What do you say, Kitten?  Will you let us have you?”  Shouta ground his aching cock against her ass as he rolled her nipples.

If he was willing to share her with Hizashi, the least she could do was accept.  She had said she loved both of them after all.

Hizashi’s hands stilled her swaying hips. “Tell us what you want, Baby.”

Teris leaned back against Shouta's strong chest.  One arm reached back clutching at his shoulder while the other lifted to Hizashi's.

She couldn’t believe this was happening.  She wasn’t worthy of one of these men, let alone both.

You’re a fool if you don’t accept this, she berated herself. Yes, your family found you wanting and you just learned how badly you failed your passed students; but for some reason both these men want you.  You’ve always been attracted to Hizashi.  You’ve wanted Shouta since your first year at UA.  Are you really going to turn down a chance at having both of them?

There’s a difference between having and being with, she told herself.  I already proved I’m a terrible girlfriend.  Terrible because you wanted and almost kissed Shouta.  But in this you can have them both.  There’s nothing else, no one else you want.  You can be loyal if you’re with both of them.  I don’t deserve one of them let alone--

Teris yipped at Shouta's stinging bite.

Shouta’s teeth released as he twisted a pebbled nipple in reprimand. “What have I told you about listening to that inner argument? Stay out of your head.”

Hizashi buried his face in her neck, long fingers dipping between her slick folds.  “I’d listen to Shouta, Ris.  Quit tellin’ yourself how awful you think you are.  We think you’re amazing, Baby.”  He pressed his aching cock against her hip. “Let us show you just how amazing.”  His head pulled back, impossibly green eyes piercing hers.  “Or don’t you trust us?”

Shouta’s eyes lifted to his friend, eyebrows furrowed in irritation. The question was manipulative.  And he knew Hizashi well enough to know the man had intended it to be.  But what irritated Shouta more was that he didn’t do or say anything about it.

A part of him felt that Teris needed to be convinced to let them share her, and that this was the only way to do it. Another part of him simply wanted make love and fuck her, in that order.  He had waited so long to be with.  He couldn’t wait anything longer.

His hips pressed against her, fingers splaying as he groped her breasts. “I want you, Kitten.”

Shouta's words, and the soft scrape of his stubble as he placed feather light kisses along the curve of her neck made Teris shiver.

Shouta's deep voice rumbled from his chest into her back. “Tell Zashi you trust us, Beautiful. Tell us you’ll have us.”

“Shou...” Her hand tugged at Shouta's shoulder, head rolling against his powerful chest, exposing her neck to his ghosting breath. “Raven...” Her hazy eyes met Hizashi’s, thighs squeezing, locking his teasing fingers in place. “Zashi. Please, Sunshine.”

Hizashi grinned at Shouta. “That sounds like a yes to me.”

Shouta frowned.

Teris’ response was far from a yes.  It certainly wasn’t a yes to the main question Shouta wanted answered. Teris was asking for relief, not saying she was willing to accept him and be shared.  But that was his problem, not Hizashi’s. Hizashi was already with her.  And even though Hizashi had done all this, the fact was his friend would probably prefer if Teris didn’t accept to being shared with him.

Hizashi pushed a leg in between Teris’, giving his hand room to work.

Sure he would’ve preferred it if Teris didn’t agree to being shared. Hizashi would've loved keep his girl for himself alone.  But after the two scenes he had walked in on when she and Shouta had been left alone, he was even less sure that she would stay with him if they didn’t share. He couldn’t lose her to Shouta.  Or chance losing her entirely because she up and left.  He desperately, dearly needed her.  And because of that, his need to convince her to agree to this was just as great as Shouta's. Possibly even more, he thought.

Strangely enough, convincing Teris would have gone a whole lot smoother without Shouta there.

Hizashi was use to getting his way.  And after three years with Teris, he found it relatively easy to guilt and talk her around.  But he had barely begun when Shouta’s dark disapproving eyes had bored into him.  He could practically feel the other man’s stern, silent judgment of his efforts.

It wasn’t as if Shouta knew about his own concerns, Hizashi thought bristling slightly at his best friend's unappreciative discernment. Shouta should be grateful.

Hizashi shoved his annoyance down with the rest of the evenings ill thoughts and emotions, locking them away.  He couldn’t afford to let himself slip and snap.  He and Shouta needed to work together in this.

Slipping a finger into Teris’ hot, dripping hole, Hizashi muttered against her pleasure furrowed brow.  “Seems like Shouta wants you to beg for it, Baby.  Who knew he was such a demanding devil in bed.”

“Tha--” Shouta's contest was silenced by Teris’ plea.

“Shouta, please!” She tugged at the back of his neck, turning her face to him.  “Please, Raven.  Please!”

Shouta groaned into her kiss. His arm wrapped around her waist.  His other hand trailed up between her breasts and came to rest at the base of her throat.

Hizashi pulled his finger out and pushed in three.

Teris sucked in a breath, breaking away from Shouta's hungry mouth.  She whined, hips rocking forward and back, trying to fuck herself on Hizashi's long, wiggling digits.

“Zashi!” Teris complained when his fingers cruelly refused to curl against her sweet spot.

“You gonna be good and beg for Shouta, Baby?  Tell him exactly what you want.” Hizashi curled his fingers.

Teris’ hips jerked against Hizashi's hand.  She grabbed the side seam of Shouta's pants and pulled him flush against her.

“Shit!” Shouta’s cock thrummed at the contact.

He growled, teeth sinking into her tender neck. His calloused hand pressed flat against her abdomen, pulling her to him. His body curved around her, face buried in her neck, leaking cock rutting against her plump ass.

Shouta grimaced at the uncomfortable sticky wetness of his cum stained underwear; but didn’t stop.  The friction, and feel of her was too good.

“It this what you want, Kitten?”  The hand at her neck lifted, fingers trailing along her jaw, turning her face to him.

Teris moaned at the teasing feel of Shouta’s thick, hard length humping against her ass cheek. She leaned back against his strong frame, lips seeking his.

Though it killed him, Shouta kept just out of reach.

His hot breath fanned over her face.  “Tell me, my Love.”  He glanced at Hizashi, remembering.  “Tell us.”

Hizashi spoke in her ear.  “Tell us what you want, Baby.”

Shouta's lips brushed hers.  “We can’t deny you anything.  All you have to do is ask.”

“We love you.”  Hizashi husked.

“I love you.”  Shouta breathed.

Lost in the inky depths of Shouta's eyes, Teris broke. “You.  I want you.  The—the both of you.”  She ducked her head and turned to Hizashi. “I—I’m sorry, Zashi. So, so, sorry.  I—”

“Shh.” Hizashi hushed, smoothing back her hair.  “It’s okay, Baby.  I told you already. It’s okay. Don’t apologize.  Don’t you ever apologize.  You’re perfect, Ris Wren.  Perfect. I’d do anything for you, Songbird.  I love you.”

“We both love you.”  Shouta said pressing his lips to her head while Hizashi peppered her face with kisses.

“I love you.”  Her hand caressed over Hizashi's chest, her other hand clutched at Shouta's arm. “I love the both of you.”

She shook her head, eyes squeezing shut.  How could she love two men? How horrible could one person get?

“Stop it.”  Shouta gruffed.  “Stop thinking terrible things about yourself.”

“You’re wonderful, Baby.  Let us show you just how wonderful we think you are.”

“Let me—us love you.”

“You’d liked that wouldn’t you, Baby?  For us to show you and make you feel good.”  Hizashi wiggled the fingers still inside her.

Her back arched, nails raking down Hizashi's chest.  “Please!  Zashi, Shouta fuck me.  Please. Please!”

Not one to deny his girl when she begged so pretty, Hizashi's mouth latched on to her left breast.

Shouta hooked his fingers under her chin and tilted her face to him.

As soon as their lips met, her mouth opened up to him, welcoming Shouta's hungry tongue.

Shouta’s confidence grew with every touch and sound that escaped her.

Her hand left his arm and slipped in between them, groping his straining cock.

Shouta groaned into her mouth, hips pressing into her hand.

Hizashi’s tongue vibrated against her nipple.

Teris whined, breaking the kiss, gasping for breath.

Shouta moved on to her neck.

She tugged at Shouta's belt.

Shouta’s hand closed over hers.  “Am I wearing too many clothes, Love?”

She trembled at the deep timber of his voice. “Yes.”

Hizashi bit down on her nipple.

“Ah!” She tugged at Hizashi's silken hair.  “Zashi!”

Hizashi pulled off her with a pop.  “What d’ya say we get you in bed, Baby?”

Teris nodded.

Hizashi pulled his fingers from her as he nuzzled her breasts.

She tugged at his shoulder, mewling at the loss.

“Such a greedy little Bird.  Don’t you worry, Baby. Shou and I will take our turns stuffing you full.  But first…” Hizashi held three glistening fingers up to her.  “Be a good girl and suck these clean for me.”

Shouta's head jerked up.

Hizashi smirked in smug satisfaction.  He didn’t need to look at his friend to know they had Shouta's undivided attention.

His fingers circled around her mouth. “Say, ah.”

Before Teris could complain, he held still.

Teris’ mouth dropped open.

Shouta stared, watching her suck Hizashi's fingers.  His mouth pooled with saliva, tongue moving within at the remembered taste of her.

“That’s it, Baby.  Lick ‘em good an’ clean.”  Hizashi crooned.

His shining green eyes, flicked over to Shouta, giving his friend a private look.

Shouta didn’t need years of friendship and silent understanding to know Hizashi was showing off.  But rather than be upset, all Shouta could think about was what it would feel to have her suck his fingers clean.  His dick twitched in the confines of his pants, balls feeling heavy and tight.  He licked his lips imagining kissing her after.  Tasting her sweet essence on her lips and tongue.

“There’s a good girl.”  Hizashi praised, pumping his fingers in and out of her mouth.  “Such a perfect little Songbird.”

He pulled his fingers free and ran them over her swollen lips before cupping her face and kissing her.

Hizashi groaned at the taste of her, tongue driving into her mouth seeking more.

Shouta swallowed.  He didn’t know if Hizashi was taunting him by doing exactly what he wanted and would've by kissing her; but it drove him to near breaking.  Sitting back on his haunches, he pulling at his belt.

“Whatcha doing there, Shou?”  Hizashi asked in amusement.

Shouta didn’t answer.

He glanced at Teris, dark, lust blown eyes roving over her as he fought with undoing his belt.  Either the thing was stuck, or his frantic fingers were too clumsy.  Shouta scowled at the unyielding leather prepared to take his utility knife and slice through it.

Teris turned around and placed a hand over his.  Eyes on the proud tent in his pants, she licked lips forcing her eyes up to met his.

Her fingertips skated over the back of his hand.  “Let me.”

Shouta's hands fell away.

Teris slowly undid his belt.

Shouta sucked in a breath when her hand brushed his cock.

“Want help with the rest?”

Yes, Shouta thought.  He shook his head, sure that he wouldn’t last if her attention focused on him and the area.

Damn, he always imagined this going smoother.  He had imagined that he would be more sure, and in control of his urges.  You were a fool, he thought.  A virgin fool.  No one’s that sure and in control their first time.  You’ve waited this long, and have had years of frustrating, bliss filled teasing in your shared dreams.  It’s wonder you’ve shown this much restraint.

Teris looked disappointed at his answer.

Shouta pulled her closer.  “Next time, Kitten.”

He kissed her, eyes rolling back at the lingering taste of her juices on her tongue.

She tugged at his shoulder, but Shouta didn’t budge.

As badly as he wanted to pull her into bed with him, he couldn’t.  He wouldn’t last, and he desperately wanted this to go on for as long as he could make it.

Shouta nudged her back, and got out of bed.

Hizashi shook his head and huffed, smirking in good and not so good natured envy.

Did Shouta have to be so damned good and confident at everything he did? It was bad enough the man had that whole tall, dark, and handsome thinking going for him.  Then there was Shouta's piercing stare, stoic expression, and deep, rumbling voice that girls seemed to go for...

Just when Hizashi thought the man was struggling and about to succumb to a blushing, blubbering mess, Shouta would pull himself together and leave Teris wet, whining, and wanting him all the more.  It wasn’t fair.  Hizashi hadn’t been that sure and in control his first time. Even his first time with Teris, he had been internally screaming and worried he wouldn’t please her.

Hizashi silenced his inner complaints and pressed up behind her.

Teris jumped as if she forgot of a moment that Hizashi was there.

“Why don’t we get into bed while Shouta gets undressed.”  Hizashi suggested.

Teris nodded, eyes raking up and down Shouta's body.  Damn, she wanted him to lose those pants.

Hizashi laid back in bed, and tugged at her hand.  “Saddle up, Baby.”

Shouta's eyes darted to between them.  “What about condoms?”

“You don’t think we’re clean?  I’m sure you are.  Virgin.” Hizashi teased.

“I can’t get pregnant.”  Teris told.

She saw Shouta's eyes widen and turned away from him.  She didn’t know if he wanted kids; but she had imagined he would be such a good father…

Shouta stared at her.  “You—can’t...”

Why hadn’t she told him?  Why hadn’t the Teris in their dreams told him?

“It has to do with my quirk and body temperature.”  She explained, bracing herself for him to leave.

Hizashi looked between the two.  Teris hadn’t told him till he had asked what birth control she was using.  Yet here she was telling Shouta right off the bat.  Was it because she saw and wanted a future with Shouta, and hadn’t seen or wanted one with him?

Hizashi rubbed the twitch under his eye till it stilled, and shoved down his raging jealousy.

“If Aizawa’s got questions, he can ask them later.  Right now.” Hizashi stroked himself and gave her a wicked grin he only half felt. “You’ve got a much bigger thing to answer to, Baby.”

Teris’ eyes lifted to take in Hizashi’s angry cock.

“You gonna ride me, Wren?”

Teris’ head began to turn back to Shouta.

“Don’t look at him!”  Hizashi silently cursed his sharp tone.  He took a moment to calm himself by linking their fingers and tugging at Teris’ hand.  “Just because you’re both our girl now doesn’t mean you need Shouta's permission.”

Shouta felt torn hearing Hizashi call her theirs when Teris had yet to agree to being shared.

Hizashi looked her over like a predator sizing up its prey.  “Do you wanna ride me, Ris?”

Teris could feel Shouta's eyes on her but didn’t dare look at him.  She couldn’t give him children.  Would he stay?  Would he still want her?  Want to be with her?

She pushed aside her worry and answered Hizashi.  “Yes.”

“Yes what, Beautiful?”

“Yes. I wanna ride you.”

“Then get over here.”

Teris squeaked at Hizashi's rough pull.

Shouta rubbed his clothed cock as he watched her.

Just the simple sight of Teris’ legs spread to straddle Hizashi did things to him.  While shorter, his body, like his cock was thicker than Hizashi’s.  The thought of how much further her long, gorgeous legs would have to spread to straddle him had precum leaking from his ready dick.

Hizashi's hands glided up Teris’ thighs.  “Let me see you put it in, Baby.”

Teris blinked slowly at him.  She took hold of Hizashi’s dick and rose up, positioning him at her entrance.

Hizashi gripped her hips.  “Nice and slow, Beautiful.  I wanna see that pretty little pussy stretch as it takes me in.”  His eyes darted to Shouta.  “Enjoying the show, Buddy?”

Shouta's cheeks heated.  But the image of Teris was too lovely to look away from.

Teris mewled as the barbells of Hizashi's piercings entered and rolled inside her.

Hizashi's voice was ragged, eyes fixed on her cunt slowly swallowing him. “Almost there, Baby.”

Teris’ thighs trembled with how slow Hizashi was forcing her to take him. There was no doubt that she would have bruises from his tight hold.

Finally seated fully on him, both Teris and Hizashi groaned in relief.

Hizashi's hands loosened around her hips and slid down to her thighs.

There was a passing second of stillness that Shouta broke, surprising even himself as he spoke.  “Didn’t you say you wanted to ride him, Kitten?  Let me see you bounce on Hizashi’s cock.”

Hizashi’s smile was instantaneous, completely real, and downright devilish.

Teris’ head whipped around to look at Shouta.

Shouta’s lips curled ever so slightly.  “That’s it Kitten.  Look at me.” He stepped closer to the head of the bed so she wouldn’t have to strain.  “Watch me while you ride Zashi’s dick.”

Teris swallowed.  She felt heated and weak at the Shouta's command.  Her walls tightened, making Hizashi grunt.

She couldn't fathom why these two kind, amazing, and handsome men wanted her; but she’d be crazy if she questioned them instead of enjoying this. Though with the communicative look Hizashi and Shouta just shared, she’d be lucky if she survived the night.  But what a way to go.

Hizashi hips thrusted up, jostling her.  “You heard Shouta, Baby.  Ride me like an amusement park roller-coaster and let us hear you scream.”

Hands on Hizashi's chest, Teris lifted up and dropped back down.  She started off slow and shallow.  She did as Shouta said, and kept her eyes on him.  In all honest, she wouldn't have been able to look away.

Wearing a secret smile, Shouta made no secret of his lustful thoughts and intentions.  His hands returned to his pants and popped the button open.

Eyes trained his sizable bulge, Teris licked her lips as she continued to rise and fall on Hizashi's cock.

Hizashi's hands glided up and down her thighs.  “You’re doing so well, Baby.  You feel so good.  I love it when you ride me.”

She ground down around his penetrating length at the praise, letting his cock stir her up.

Shouta slowly pulled the zipper down. Though the room wasn’t entirely quiet, the sound was loud and lewd in his ears, especially when coupled with the soft smacking of skin and occasional wet squelching.

All too aware that she was being teased, Teris unconsciously picked up her pace, thrusts growing longer as she rose up higher. Though she wasn’t going hard, breath escaped her every time her hips came down to meet Hizashi's.

Shouta let his pants fall to the ground. “You look rather flushed there, Kitten.  Enjoying yourself?”

Hizashi chuckled at Shouta's taunting tone.  Shouta might’ve been a virgin, but his friend sure knew what he was doing.

Hizashi thrusted sharply up into her.  “Harder, Baby.  Shouta's putting on a show for you.  The least you could do is the same and make those pretty tits of yours bounce.”

Teris moaned, head rolling.  Hands pressed against Hizashi's chest, she impaled herself his long dick.

“That’s it, Beautiful.”  Hizashi grunted, gripping her hips.  “So good and pretty for us.  Isn’t our girl beautiful, Shou?”

“Perfect.” Shouta murmured, ignoring the irritation he felt every time Hizashi called her theirs.

He knew what his friend was doing.  And though Shouta appreciated why Hizashi was doing it, he didn’t like how and what the man was doing.  Manipulating Teris, even for his own aims wasn’t something Shouta ever wanted to do.  He and Teris belonged together.  He was sure she would accepted him without coercion.

Hizashi's thumb moved to her clit.

Teris’ back arched, hips jerking forward.  She ground down on him, head falling forward.

Hizashi pulled his thumb away.

“Zashi!” Teris pleaded.

“If you want me rubbin’ that little hot spot of yours then you gotta keep your eyes on Shouta, Baby.”

She turned back to Shouta, slowly lifting her head.  Her mouth fell open when Hizashi once again pressed against her clit.  She could feel her cheeks burn as she watched Shouta watch her.

Shouta openly looked his Love over.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  Cheeks flushed, with sweat just beginning bead her slightly pinched brow.  Plump lips parted and moist, exhaling puffs of air with every drop.  Speaking of that drop, that way her breasts bounced… the only thing better was seeing the way her thighs quivered as she worked.

Shouta ached to have those thighs wrapped and trembling around him.

His fingers hooked in the waistband of his boxer briefs and pulled them down.  He hissed as his cock sprung free, the dry, cool air a relief after the hot, damp confines of his underwear.

Teris’ eyes raked over Shouta's naked body.

He was pale and strong, with legs that could probably crush the life out of her.  The muscles in his chest and abs were a bit more defined than Hizashi's, but she had already seen that, as well as the dark trail hair that led down.

Now that his underwear were off, she could see what that trail of hair led to.  The answer.  The thickest cock she’d ever seen.  Not that she had seen many.

Shouta palmed his twitching length, thumb smearing pre-cum over the ruddy head.

“What do you think, Kitten?  Like what you see?”

Shouta felt like a fool for his earlier nervousness. He could tell just by looking at her that Teris found the sight of him pleasing.  Of course she would.  Though she didn’t remember, she had seen him undressed countless times before in their shared dreams.  Never once had she found his form displeasing.

“Yes.” Teris breathed, thighs trembling around Hizashi.

She was close and Hizashi could feel it.  He grunted, bucking up into her fluttering heat.

Shouta slowly looked her over. “I like what I see too.  Very much so.”

Teris shivered at the low rumble of Shouta's voice.  His words shot straight through her making her quaking cunt clamp down.

“Shit!” Hizashi cursed.

“Look at Hizashi for me, Kitten.”

Teris whined at having to pull her eyes away from Shouta's naked body; but she obeyed and turned to the man below her.  Her breath caught at the sight of Hizashi.

Still watching her, Shouta's loosely fisted hand slowly pumped his cock. “See what you’ve done to him.”

Her gaze pulled over Hizashi, hands gliding across his bare chest.

He was so handsome.  Long, silken hair splayed out and shining over the pillow. Cute, silly mustache twitching along with his lips as he panted.  Startling green eyes hazy and blown wide.

She hadn’t done more than ride him.  Even her hands had barely moved while she had watched Shouta, and yet Hizashi was so close to the edge.  Face and chest flushed with heated pleasure.

Shouta stepped closer to the bedside.  “You’re remarkable, Teris. Beautiful inside and out.  You think we’re crazy for wanting you. But knowing you the way we do.  Seeing what we see.  We’d be crazy if we didn’t.”

Teris turned to Shouta, mouth open to argue.

“I said look at Zashi, Kitten.  Look at what you’ve done to him.  See the way he looks at you.  It’s willful disregard on your part if you can look at that and still doubt how we feel.  What you mean to us.”

Teris’ eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and conflict.  She could see what Shouta wanted her to see; but--

Shouta gripped her chin and turned her to face him.  “Don’t try convince yourself otherwise.  You’re a smart woman, Teris.  It’d be stupid.  Illogical.  To talk yourself out of what you can plainly see.”

Shouta kissed her, hand dropping from her captured chin to the base of her throat and then her bouncing breast.  He tweaked a nipple and broke the kiss.

“When I take my turn, I want you to watch me.  To see the love and adoration in my eyes and the mess you make out of me.”

With a roll of her pebbled nipple, Shouta stepped back.

Hizashi planted his feet and began thrusting into her in earnest.  His hands gripped her hips and tilted them so his rutting cock hit the spot inside her, and pelvis smacked against her clit with every hard, sharp thrust.

“Zashi!” Teris’ hands pressed against his chest, nails digging in.

She was no longer moving herself on him.  Hizashi's firm hands bounced her up and down.

“That’s it, Baby.  Look at me.  See how much I love you.  How good you make me feel.”  His head fell back, struggling to hold on until he had thrown her over the edge of her peak.  “Damn, Baby.  You’re so good.  Come on!”

Teris panted and moaned.

Forget trying to move herself against Hizashi, it took nearly everything she had to remain upright.  Her legs trembled, spread wide on either side of him.  Her hips tingled and stung in his bruising his grip.  Her clit and cunt thrummed with heated electricity that continued to build as the coil within her belly tightened.

“Za—ah! Ple—Pl—Please!”

“Cum for me, Baby.  Come.  On.  Cum.”  Hizashi’s last three words were spoken with deep, demanding thrusts.

He wanted her to cum.  Needed her to cum.  He couldn’t not finish her off and leave Shouta to satiate her unfulfilled need.  He needed to last a few more thrusts.

“Za—ah—sh—!”

The instant Teris’ eyes rolled back in her head, Hizashi buried his dick deep inside her with loud, drawn out grunt.

Teris moaned, hips giving sharp, short thrusts in response to Hizashi’s pulsing cock shooting hot ropes of cum. Her spasming walls clamped down around him, greedily milking his spitting dick.

Hizashi’s hands tightened and finally loosened around her hips.

“Good girl.” He panted, and tugged her weakened arms out from under her.  “Come here.”

Teris collapsed onto his chest.

Shouta watched Hizashi kiss the top of her head and pet her hair.  He heard Hizashi murmur sweet, dirty nothings, catching only a couple of words. He did his best to tap down the dark emotions, but couldn’t completely seal away the rising jealousy and stirring possessiveness.

Even though Teris wasn’t Hizashi's soulmate, this couldn’t have been easy for his friend either.  Despite what she thought of herself, Teris was an amazing, beautiful person.  Of course others would be drawn to, and love her.

Shouta couldn’t fault Hizashi for that.  Nor could he find it in himself to be angry at Teris for loving the both him and Hizashi.  Though he was sure her love for Hizashi wasn’t half as strong or binding as her love for him was.  Teris and Hizashi didn’t share what she and he shared.  She and Hizashi weren’t meant to be together.

Even so, Shouta couldn’t demand that she give Hizashi up and be with him alone.  Not only because he didn’t want to upset his Love, or lose his best friend, but because he couldn’t be sure she would choose him.  Sure they might've been soulmates; but Teris didn’t know that.  She didn’t remember knowing and growing up with him in their shared dreams.  She didn’t remember that they were each others oldest and dearest friends.  She didn’t remember the love and life they’ve already shared.

As badly as Shouta may have wanted Teris to himself.  There were worse things than sharing her with Hizashi.  At this point, after years of watching and wanting, he would do just about anything to have and be with his Love.

“Woo!” Hizashi exhaled, pushing back his hair.  “You set me off there, Babe.”

He laughed, head falling back on a fluffy pillow. There was no way he was going to admit just how close he had been to finishing before her.

He had struggled a couple times before with keeping it together when he let Teris tease him for too long.  But he hadn’t expected it this time.  Sexy as it was to watch her ride him, he hadn’t expected Shouta watching and commanding her to be so damned hot.  He hadn’t expected Teris watching Shouta while she rode him to be so arousing.

It wasn’t as if he had never laid back and let Teris to use him before.  Those times had been incredible.  Teris red cheeked and panting as she impaled herself on his cock seeking release after release.  On one such occasion, he had grabbed her hips and took control telling her to stop cumming and pick a pace.

But to be used while Teris watched someone else...

“You ready to let Shou have at you, Baby?”  Hizashi pet her back and glanced at his friend.  “I think he’s waited long enough.”

You have no idea, Shouta thought eyes on Teris.

Teris turned her head on Hizashi's chest and peeked at Shouta from beneath a curtain of fallen hair.  The dark, hungry look in Shouta's piercing stare made her breath catch, empty pussy clenching in wanting.  She glanced down at Shouta's thick, erect cock.  The man’s hands were far from small yet…

“Baby?” Hizashi prodded.

Though he knew better, he couldn’t help the bit of hope that rose up at her delay.

Teris nodded against Hizashi.

Hizashi chuckled.  “Why so shy all of a sudden, Ris.  It’s not like you didn’t put on a perfect little show for him.  I mean I had to get Shouta a washcloth, you made such a mess of him.”

“Zashi!” Teris buried her blushing face in his defined chest.

Hizashi laughed all the more.

She lifted her head and cupped his face.  “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Sunshine?”

Hizashi's smile diminished.  No, he thought.

His fingers threaded through her hair, pushing it back.  “Do you want him?”

“Zash--”

“Do you?  Do you love him, Ris?”

Her fingers curled on his chest.  “I love you.”

“I know that, Baby.  But you love him too.  Don’t ya?  You love Shouta.”

She pressed her lips together.

“There’s no wrong answer here, Sweetness.  You already said it, so just tell me again.  Do you love and want Shouta?”

“Yes.” She closed her eyes and lowered her head.  “I’m sorry, Zashi. I--”

Hizashi kissed her face.  “Never apologize to me, Ris Wren.  Never.  You’re perfect, Baby.  You hear me.  Perfect.”

He rolled her onto her back and waved Shouta over.

Shouta didn’t need Hizashi's encouragement.  He crawled into bed, propping himself over her as Hizashi sat up and gave them some room.

“You’re so beautiful and brave, Teris. Saying what you want.  Admitting you love and want me.”  Shouta's lips brushed hers.  “If only I were half as brave as you.”

Hizashi tensed.

He knew what Shouta was thinking.  They both had wanted her since UA.  They both had missed their chance and let her go when she moved away shortly after graduation.  While Hizashi had lost himself to one night stands and short term relationships with people that looked like or reminded him of Teris.  Shouta had lost himself to work and quietly pinned.

Hizashi had no doubt that Teris would have been with Shouta if he had gotten up the nerve to visit or call her.  What he did doubt was if they would still be here if he were in Shouta's place.  If things were reversed and Teris had been with Shouta for three years, would her secret feelings for him have gotten to the point that Shouta could no longer ignore or would they had diminished Would Shouta even do something like this? Doubtful.

Teris shook her head.  She wasn’t brave.  She was selfish.  She opened her mouth to tell Shouta just that but his gentle lips sucked the air right out of her.

He licked at her lips, grinning when she opened her mouth to him.

His movements were slow, almost lazy, and Teris found it torturous.

Needy as he was, Shouta wanted to savor this moment.  He wanted to relish this.  Relish her.  It might not be her first time, but it was their first time together. He wanted to please her, but first he wanted to make her just as needy for him as he was for her.

Hizashi smirked when Shouta didn’t get straight to it.  “Careful, Shou. That teasing might bite you in the ass later.”

Shouta ignored his friend's taunting advice.  He would take Teris when and how he pleased.

“So beautiful.”  Shouta murmured, the tip of his nose running up the line of her neck.

His thumb and middle finger pinched and rolled one of her nipples, his first finger lightly flicking it.  He might not have ever touched her like this before; but he had seen her touch herself enough times to know her favored spots and the treatment she liked.

Teris moaned, back arching.  She buried a hand in his wavy, black hair, nails scraping lightly across his scalp.

Shouta shivered, humming in response.  It was almost as if she knew, remembered, how sensitive his scalp was.

Hizashi's eyes narrowed.  How did his virgin friend seem to know all of Teris’ spots?  His mind once again conjured up images of them in bed together when they were suppose to be on patrol.

Shouta's hand left her breast and lowered.  His fingers stroked up between her swollen folds.

He chuckled at the weak thrust of her hips, and nipped at her jaw. “So needy.”

Teris mewled, body rolling against his.

Other hand holding her hips down, Shouta slowly pushed three fingers into her sopping heat.

“Shouta...” Teris whined at the agonizingly slow entry.

Her head tossed.  How was it that even his smug smirk was so sexy?

“Fuck.” Shouta cursed at how her body fought the spread of his fingers.

How was she so tight?  His fingers pulled out and pushed back in, fucking her open.  If she was this tight around his fingers after taking Hizashi…

Just the thought of her sheathed around him had him rutting against her soft thigh.

Hot pre-cum smeared along her trembling flesh.

Shouta cursed, realizing the wisdom in Hizashi's taunting words.  He wanted her so bad.

Teris moaned.

She wanted Shouta so bad.  As amazing as his fingers felt, it wasn’t what she wanted.  She wanted Shouta’s big fat cock splitting her open.

Shouta's wrist angled, fingers curling to barely brush her sweet spot.

“Shouta!”

“That’s it, Kitten.  Sing for me.  Tell me what you want.”

“You! Please! Please, Raven. I need you!”

A deep rumbling purr of contentment reverberated through Shouta's chest.  He pulled his fingers from her and pumped them loosely over his cock, slicking himself up.

People often made the mistake of thinking he was patient.  Aizawa Shouta was not a patient man.  He was long suffering, but most definitely not patient.  Like now, once decided, Shouta acted instantly and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

Teris’ legs spread to accommodate him.  Her hands glided up his arms and over his chest.  She cupped his handsome face and tucked his hair behind an ear.

Shouta lined himself up.  “You ready?”

Teris nodded.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him down to her. “Yes.”

Shouta shivered, body tingling at that single, heated word.  He kissed her, hips pressing closer.

Teris moaned.  She could feel the head of his cock brush against her sensitive folds.

Shouta’s tongue met hers.  His confidence grew with every noise he devoured from her sweet mouth.  He felt her shiver against him and responded in kind when the head of his cock glided between the hot, drenched lips of her cunt.

She sucked in a breath, whining when the head of his cock hit her clit.

Shouta’s shaft slid through her puffy folds, searching.  He exhaled in relief when he found her entrance.

Breaking their kiss, he pulled his head back enough to see her entire face.

A long, low groan sounded from him as the thrumming head of his cock pushed into her.

Teris mewled, nails digging into Shouta's shoulders at the incredible stretch.

Breath heavy from his attempt at control, Shouta slowly sunk into her. Restraint crumbling, he finished with a sharp thrust, firmly sheathing himself to the hilt, with a groaning grunt.

Hips against hers, Shouta bowed his head, taking a moment.

Green eyes sparkling in teasing, partially malicious mirth, Hizashi questioned. “Gonna blow your load already, Shou?”

Teris’ hand left Shouta's shoulder, smacking blindly at Hizashi.

Hizashi leaned away laughing.

Maybe it was her own guilt and nervousness making her imagine things; but she felt something dark, almost sinister in Hizashi's laugh.  Yet it didn’t sound any different than his usual open and disarming laugh.

As annoying as Hizashi's comment had been, Shouta was grateful for it. It had distracted and stopped him from doing just that.

Teris opened her mouth to tell Shouta to ignore Hizashi, and assure him that she didn’t care if he couldn’t keep it together. Before she could speak Shouta's mouth met hers.

He buried his tongue in her as his hips pulled back and thrusted.

“Shit!” He hissed in her mouth.

She was like a second skin.  A deliciously hot and wet second skin that was smoother than the softest velvet.  His lips left hers, moving on to her neck.

Teris wrapped her legs around him.

Shouta loved the small gasps and moans she gave, but wanted more.  His hand gripped her thigh and pressed it against her.  Her legs scissored open, he was able to drive in deeper.  He thrusted in at different angles searching for the spot that would make her scream.

He knew the instant he found it.

Teris’ vision when white. “Shouta!”

“Fuck!” He barked along with her cry.

His hips staggered in their thrust.

Teris writhed beneath him, his cock continuing to brush against the spot that made her see stars.

Shouta growled, nuzzling her neck.

Teris clawed at his back. “Raven!”

Shouta's teeth sunk into her neck.  His eyebrows pinched together as he tried to keep a measured pace.  He lifted back up and stared down at her.

He had wanted to be with her for so long.  This moment felt almost like a dream.  A part of him was afraid that he would wake up any moment, alone in his own bed.  That he would go into work, and have to try and hide his feelings while he was forced to watch Hizashi be with the woman that he loved. But this couldn’t be a dream.  At least not a shared one.  He was touching his Love.  He was inside her.

Teris gripped his upper arm.  Her head lifted, teeth nipping at the short stubble on his chin.

Shouta caressed her sweet face.  He dipped his head, giving her a chaste kiss only to pull back and watch her again.

Damn, she was perfect. Her hair fanned out over the pillow.  Soft pants, and sweet noises falling from her kiss swollen lips.  Long eyelash fluttering over flushed cheeks.

He leaned back down, kissing one of her heated cheeks. “You’re beautiful.”

With Shouta's forearms resting on either side of her, Teris felt sheltered. Protected.  Like nothing and no one else could touch her.  It was just her and Shouta, and she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Her hand moved the back of his neck. She pulled him down, nipping at his bottom lip.

Shouta's tongue licked lightly over her panting lips.

Her body rolled up to his, trying to spur him to a harder, faster speed. “Shou… Please.”

Shouta pumped harder into her willing, hot body.  The angle of his thrusts changed.  No longer brushing against the spot inside her, he hit it with every sharp snap of his hips.

Teris gasped at the startling precision that he was able to tear her apart. How did he know her spots and body so well?

Her feet pointed, the coil within her tightening. “Yes! Please!  Fuu--! Raven!”

The grip Teris has on his shoulders made his biceps jerk and tense at the delicious twinge of pain.

Shouta's eyes fell closed.  The sound of skin slapping skin filled his ears.  There was a lewd wet squelching of Teris’ pussy as it smacked around his cock that Shouta loved almost as much as her pleasured cries. The heady smell of sweat and sex was intoxicating.

His hips gave a ruthless slam and then another.

Back arched, Teris’ jiggling breasts pushed up against his taut pecs. Her hands flew to the side of her head intending to grab the pillow. Instead she was met with Shouta's large, strong hands.

His calloused fingers wrapped around the smooth skin of her wrists, pinning them to the bed.

“Shou!”

Shouta rose up higher, chest pulling off hers.  His eyes traveled down her body delighting in the way her tits shook with ever pummeling drive of his cock.

Head thrown back, Teris whined.  Her hips no longer lifted to meet his, all she could do is lay there and take it as Shouta fucked her into the mattress.

No longer able to ignore his growing erection, Hizashi stroked himself as he watched Teris come apart. “Damn, Man!  I was joking earlier but you really are a beast in bed.”

“I—didn’t—know. Never—  Fuck!”

Hizashi chuckled at Shouta's curse.  “She’s good.  Isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Shouta grunted.

Teris’ whimpered moans filled the room.  She tugged at her pinned arms needing to touch him.

Shouta released her.

Her hands darted straight into his hair, pushing the sweat dampened mane out of his handsome face.

Her nails scrapped against his scalp causing Shouta to tremble.

The reaction wasn’t missed by Teris who scratched against his head again.

“Shit!” Shouta pressed his chest down against hers.

One hand gripped her thigh, the other snaked under her arched back and held her close.

Shouta loved the feel of his body rocking into hers. He wanted so badly to kiss her, but didn’t want to muffle her glorious sounds.  He settled on brushing his lips against hers.

Sharing the same breath, pressed up against her, bodies literally one. Shouta felt so completely joined with his Love.  He didn’t want it to end. Yet at the same time his cock buzzed, aching for blessed release.

If it felt this good, what would her clamping down around him as she came feel like?  He had to find out.  He had to last and feel her squeeze down around him.

Tears of joy and pleasure prickled Teris’ eyes.  Even fucking her hard and deep Shouta still made her feel loved and cherished.  It was overwhelming.  She wasn’t worthy of such care.  She was a failure of a daughter and a failure of a girlfriend.  Why did Shouta want her?  Why did either man want her?

Seeing her eyes turn troubled, Shouta picked up his pace.

Teris cried out at the almost harsh slamming of his hips.

“Stay with me, Kitten.”  Shouta's low voice rumbled.

Sweat beaded his brow as he ravaged the love of his life.

“Shou… Shou—ah!  Please.  Please, Raven!  Yes!  Please!”  Teris babbled in between broken moans.

She was so close to falling off the edge that her body felt like a fiery live wire.

Shouta basked in her mindless pleas.

He might've heard her mewl and moan in a similar fashion in their shared dreams; but here he was the cause.  It was his touch and actions that were pulling such noises from her.  And that made the sound of her vocal pleasure all the sweeter.

Shouta’s parted lips grazed up her neck.

Teris trembled, goosebumps rising up in response to his heavy, hot breaths.

“I’ve wanted this.  For so long.”  He nuzzled and nipped at her ear. “I’ve wanted you—for what feels like—forever.  I love you, Kitten.”  He panted.

Teris sucked in a gasping breath.  She told herself he didn’t mean it. That it was just the sex talking.

Knowing her thoughts, Shouta gave a hard sucking kiss to her pulse point.  “I mean it.  I love you, Ris.  Have for—more years—than you can—imagine.”

“Shou--” Her words cut off, eyes rolling as his pelvis pounded against her clit.

“You don’t have—to say anything, Ris.”

Her nails dug into his back, her other hand burying in his hair.

She struggled to keep her sanity and not lose herself to her impending orgasm.  “But I—want to.  I love you-too, Shou.  For so—so long—ah!”

Teris’ head pressed back into the pillow exposing her neck to him.

Shouta took full advantage, claiming every bit of her flesh.

Her nail bit and raked against his back.

The muscles in Shouta's chest and back jumped.  He growled against her throat, sucking harder.

Her body tightened around him.

Shouta hissed, hips stuttering.  He gripped her thigh with bruising strength, his thrusts becoming rough.

Losing himself to it all, Shouta found it harder and harder to remain focused.  Though he tried to aim for the spot that made her toes curl, his directed thrusts missed more times than hit.

He would get better, he told himself.

Unable to bare it, he kissed her, swallowing her lovely sounds.

He pulled his head back, panting heavily.  “I love you, Teris. I’ve—always—loved you.”

“Shouta!” Teris’ arms and legs trembled around him.  “I—I--”

Shouta rolled his hips against hers.  “You’re close.  Aren’t you?”

She nodded, trying to met his long, hard thrusts.

Shouta pressed her hips down and thrusted sharply.  “Answer me.”

“Yes! Yes!  Shou.  Please!”

Shouta growled, doing his best to fuck the life out of her.

Suddenly the tightening string within her snapped.  Teris’ body tensed.  Hot pleasure shot up her spine, leaving her deaf to everything but heavy drumming of her heart in her ears.

Shouta cursed under his breath as Teris’ body arched off the mattress. His thrusts slowed to a near halt as her pussy convulsed around him.

Teris panted, chest heaving.  There were stars behind her eyelids.  Her curled toes began to cramp.  She shivered, body quaking as the tide of her orgasm washed over her leaving her weak and boneless.

Shouta pressed his forehead to hers.  “Look at me.”

Teris obeyed, prying her eyes open.

“There’s a good, Kitty Cat.”

The even deeper rasp of Shouta's voice sent another pleasured shiver through her clenched cunt.

“Fuck!” Shouta cussed.

He rose up, hands planted on either side of her.  His breath became heavy and audible, adding to the symphony of slapping skin, wet squelching, and squeak of the bed.

She didn’t know how she managed, but her hips rose up to met his.  A shaky hand pushed Shouta's damp hair from his sweat beaded brow.

His head bowed, sharp thrusts becoming erratic as they shortened.

Teris felt his cock pulse.  “That’s it, Raven.  Cum for me, my Love.”

With long, low grunt Shouta came.

His head flew up, orgasm hitting him almost violently.  “Fu—uck!”

Buried deep within her, Shouta lowered his head and bit down hard on Teris’ shoulder.

“Shou!”

Shouta groaned, tongue lapping at her skin even as he continued to bite down.  The last spitting ropes of cum were milked out of his cock with short, hard, sloppy thrusts.

His jaw relaxed along with the rest of his body.

He kissed her neck and jaw, and lifted his head, caressing her face.  “I love you.”

Teris’ hand smoothed through his hair.  “I love you too.”

They stared at each other, still panting, hearts beating wildly in their chests.

Shouta brushed the tip of his nose against hers. “Will you accept me, Kitten? Will you let Zashi and me share you?”

Teris shook her head, and Shouta's heart dropped.

“I—I don’t—  Why? I don’t understand why you want me.”  She glanced at Hizashi. “Why either of you--”

“Oh, Baby!”  Hizashi leaned closer.  His hand rested on her arm. “You’re amazing, Wren! How can you still doubt it? Doubt us! Didn’t we just show--”

Shouta cupped her face, stern but gentle words cutting over Hizashi’s. “Stop it.  You don’t need to understand why.  There are plenty of things I live with that I don’t understand. Loving you is the one sure, stable thing in my life.”

Teris stared up at him in disbelief.  How could someone as amazing as Aizawa Shouta want and love someone like her?

Shouta's hope-filled eyes belied his neutral expression. “Tell me what you want, Teris. Do you want me?  Us? Will you accept me and let us share you?”

Shouta was right.  She didn’t have to understand it.  All she had to do was accept it.  Unworthy as she felt, she would be a fool not to.

“Yes.” Teris breathed.

Shouta smiled, heart soaring.

Teris moaned into the bruising kiss he gave her. Her walls flutter and clamp down around his spent cock.

Shouta hissed, but refused to pull out from her.

Wanting to stay one with her, he ignored the oversensitive ache her quaking cunt caused. It felt too good to be so connected.  After so many years of waiting and wanting, his Love had finally accepted him.  He was with his soulmate.  And he could live in her, and feast on her lips forever.

Hizashi watched to two.  He understood that this was Shouta's first time, and that Teris had just agreed to be with him; but a part of him chafed, thinking his best friend was being selfish.  Shouta had had his turn.  They were suppose to share; but instead Shouta was hogging his—their girl.

They would need to talk, Hizashi decided.  Lay a few ground rules.  He buried his heating jealousy, telling himself that he could use this moment to guilt his friend and get his way in things.

Teris felt Shouta stiffen inside her and gasped into his mouth.

Shouta grinned against her lips, cock twitching to life.

Teris’ needy mewls and tightening walls made the blood rush to his dick all the quicker.  His lips left hers and moved on to her neck.  His hips moved in slow, lazy circles stirring her insides up with his hardening length.

“Fuck.” Shouta groaned, low and drawn out.  He pulled his head back, lust blow eyes piercing and pinning her in place.   “Do you wanna go again, Kitten?”

Teris licked her suddenly dry lips and nodded.

Shouta smirked looking far more handsome than any man had the right to be.

“I’ll accept that for now.  But I expect you to be good and use your words for me, Love.” He leaned down, heated breath ghosting over her neck as he whispered in her ear. “I wanna hear you.”

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (7)

A/N: y’all ., ., .,,. . ..  we’re finally getting to the Good Shit. my hand was literally Over the “post” button and then i remembered “oh shit this is supposed to be touchstarved roman”, so, uh, that’s not reflected in this chapter at ALL. but it’s still filled to the brim with angst. but like, hurt comfort angst. i think i can call this a hurt comfort, right? right

WARNINGS: cursing, arguments, yelling, like a lot of yelling, Complex Emotions, self-hatred (implied) — if I missed anything, please let me know!!! <3 <3

Words: 6575 

Pairings: im proud to say that this has some Logicality. only 20,000 words into the story and we’re finally getting small tastes of ships. still DLAMP endgame but by god. 

Part 1 (chivalry is dead) — Part 2 (i’m wishing) — Part 3 (the bells of notre dame) — Part 4 (honor to us all) — Part 5 (i’ve got no strings) — Part 6 (god help the outcasts) — Part 7 (go the distance)

AO3 link!

@starlightvirgil @forrestwyrm @daflangstlairde @marshmallow-the-panda@askthesnake @k9cat @patromlogil

i hope y’all like this one!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 

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It seemed that, without Roman’s focus, the Imagination sustained a regular day/night cycle. Logan made a mental note about it as they watched the sun go down behind the forest hills, perfectly in tune with his internal clock’s knowledge of the real world’s time. The sky, however, was darkening more rapidly than it would normally. While walking through the forest, he hadn’t noticed any incline changes, so perhaps the forests were thicker than he’d originally thought. The map didn’t indicate that, anyway.

It was a fascinating place, the Imagination. It seemed semi-sentient — at least, based on how the Playwright described it and from what they’d seen so far. Logan regretted not asking to see more of it when Roman was….

No. He’d ask Roman to show him once Roman had returned. His chest hurt a tiny bit to think of it. Nothing was out of reach.

He faced forward again, marching silently. Patton was humming, had been for the whole trip, humming Disney songs.

The Child was staring at Logan still. It was unnerving, for many reasons (A child? Roman was a fucking child? Why was he staring so much? How much less formed were each of the Romans? How did they select what they looked like? Who was the Child based upon? What did he believe?) so he looked away.

“Stop,” the Child patted Patton’s back, “Stop here.”

“Ooookay,” Patton stopped, and Logan stopped behind him.

They’d been walking towards the castle this whole time, away from the sunset. It was clearly huge now, with multiple large spires with red and glittering gold flags. Patton thought it looked straight out of a medieval movie, almost too grand to just be based on Disney alone, though it did bear some resemblances to the castle in Disneyland. It was incredibly pretty.

Oh, sure, he’d seen the Imagination before. Patton and Roman had sat at the window in his room and Patton would listen to Roman as he talked about the various worlds he created. Sometimes it was a balcony with seats and a tea set, but he liked the window sofa more, since he and Roman could sit in each others’ laps and bundle up beneath a pile of blankets. Patton could recognize this castle from a distance. He’d seen this setting before, with the forest and large lake and glittering dual rivers that Roman’d named and then renamed and named again, though Patton couldn’t remember what names he finally chose.

Logan seemed surprised by it all, though, and Patton didn’t want to make it seem like he was rubbing his friendship with Roman in his face. Plus, he’d never been inside. Things were a lot bigger up close.

Yeah, he could see how Logan kept frowning around the world. How he’d been glaring at the Child for the whole walk. Patton’d made a pun — “This sure is a magic kingdom, eh?” — and he hadn’t even groaned!

Patton shifted his weight on his feet, casting Logan a worried look as the logical side inspected the building before them. Whatever was eating at him, he hoped it’d settle soon, because Patton knew they’d need Logan thinking properly to get Roman put together.

“We’ve gotta go in here,” the Child pointed to the building.

It was an unassuming door with two steps leading up to it, attached to a building that looked exactly the same as the others. Besides the door was a wooden sign, fixed to the stone wall, that read “Art Museum (Ages 3–6)”. It was a fairly unassuming building, similar to the other stone buildings to the left, right, and other side of the road.

“Okay,” Patton reached out and touched the door’s handle, just to be interrupted by the Child waving his arms up.

“No! No, no, not yet!” he put his hands out.

“Not yet? Well, what’re we waitin’ for?” Patton put his hands on his hips, watching the Child with a small smile.

“The sun is lowering. It will be night soon,” Logan added, giving the sky a quick glance again.

“But the Artist can’t know that you’re Dad and Mister Logic,” the Child said, mirroring Patton’s hands-on-hips position.

Logan, on the other hand, crossed his arms in thought. “Why can’t he know? Is he a danger?”

“Nah,” the Child shook his head and pointed a finger at Logan. “The Artist doesn’t like you most.”

Logan exhaled sharply. His brow furrowed, nose scrunched, as he processed THAT. Of course,the Playwright supporting him meant there was a counter. Of course Roman didn’t harbor only positive feelings towards him. Logan knew his and Roman’s opinions differed on a multitude of topics, often resulting in unpleasant quarrels. He knew. And, yet, it hurt. “Come again?”

“The Artist doesn’t like you. Don’t worry, he doesn’t like Mister Anxiety either. Or Mister Deceit. He kinda sorta likes Dad?” the Child made a so-so motion with his hands, before letting his shoulders drop with an exaggerated groan. “Not really. He doesn’t like Dad. It’s okay, he barely likes Thomas!”

Logan looked toward Patton with a frown, now thoroughly confused, and was greeted with a similar confused pout. There was a part of Roman who just didn’t like any of them. Not even Thomas. That upset Patton fairly well, but Logan….was almost relieved.

The Child waved his hands again, sticking them up in between the two adult Sides. “Hey! Like I said, that’s okay! We just gotta walk around him and he probably won’t notice you.”

“Do you think he won’t notice that three people have entered his house? Especially two adults. Two full Sides,” Logan couldn’t keep the disbelief from his voice.

If the Child noticed, he didn’t let on. “Yep! He barely looks up from the whatevers he’s working on, anyway,” he bounced on the balls of his feet, “Maybe….hm.”

He looked up at the sky and rubbed his hands together. Above them was a thick cloud. It would probably rain that night; they were still looking for him, anyway.

The Artist was probably getting worried. Right? Curfew was coming up soon and if Child got caught, Thief and Bard would be upset, and so Artist would be upset, too, right?

“We have to go in. If he asks, uh,” an idea popped into the Child’s head, and he snapped his fingers. “You can say you’re Dad guy and Teacher guy!”

Logan’s eye twitched. “Do you mean the characters from Thomas’ short videos?”

The last semblances of seriousness Logan held inside himself was shattered by the Child’s enthusiastic nodding. “Yeppers! They’re really nice! Teach is really good at making Dad laugh, and since this all happened, they’ve been—”

“The Shorts characters are alive inside the Imagination,” Logan wasn’t even trying to hide his disdain anymore.

He’d been half angry, half curious as they marched through the sleepy town. He could accept magic, sure, he could suspend his disbelief. It made sense that the Dominoes guy was in here. That was backed by science. But what in the name of Newton did the Shorts characters—

“Logan,” Patton held his hand and gave it a quick squeeze, “This is the Imagination.”

—okay, really, why the FUCK were the Shorts characters real in here?! — and the Child was now just rambling on about characters who were actually fictional. Characters who were characters. Scratch his curiosity from earlier, the Imagination followed no reason and he wanted out. Immediately.

Patton squeezed Logan’s hand again, in a rhythm, one two three four, tight, and raised his other hand toward the Child, who was still talking.

“Hey, kiddo,” the Child immediately quieted, looking up at Patton, “This all sounds fun, but can we talk more about it when we’re inside?”

Patton immediately regretted interrupting him. The Child’s lip curled inward, eyes growing wider as he nodded silently. He looked at Logan, who was scowling at the door, and wilted.

“Yeah. Not important. Okay,” the Child took the door handle and flung it open.

Before Patton could respond, he darted in. Logan looked at Patton, scowl replaced with a confused raised eyebrow, oblivious to the quiet tension he’d missed while internally monologuing.

Patton just slouched. The Child was more skittish than he’d anticipated.

The museum was dark and dusty, though not unintelligible. Patton entered first. There were drawings everywhere, some on actual pieces of paper, some on torn-out notebook pages, some on the wall itself. All of which were children’s drawings, of course, scribbles and splotches of paint. In the halls were also some sculptures on pedestals, most seemingly made of Playdough.

He stopped by a drawing of a house, two windows and a door, and read the placard beside it. Patton was pretty sure he had the same drawing in his room, tucked away in an old photo album.

“Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 41, 1994. Crayon on cardstock.”

Patton felt tears coming to his eyes. Thomas was only five, oh those were good times, learning about the world around him! Such a soft era. And Thomas’ grown so much since then, too.

This was an interesting place for someone to live, but considering his name was Artist, it made sense for him to live amongst his work. Patton turned around, a bright smile on his face, and motioned Logan to join him. “Logan! Come look at the art!”

Logan was standing just inside the door, which was closed behind him, eyes examining the exhibit. It was disorganized and clearly unkempt. Roman must not have visited in a while. Or maybe he didn’t have a curator for this museum. Before he could respond to Patton’s call, the Child’s voice echoed from down the hall.

“Are you coming?”

Logan and Patton shared a look, one disgruntled and one sheepish, and hurried down the hall lined with childish artwork. There were more houses, some family drawings, a fun looking self portrait with bright colors.

“Hurried” is an overstatement. Logan had to pull Patton away from a drawing on more than one occasion.

“Down here,” the Child’s whispers bounced along the walls.

They entered a room, still lined with drawings, and found the Child standing in front of one of the artworks. He held out a hand to them. “C’mon, we’re going in,” he said.

Logan squinted at the painting in question. Yes, painting, done in “Crayola Washable Paint on Cardboard,” according to the placard beside it. “Thomas and Roman Sanders. House 118.”

He looked at Patton for support that this was absolutely ridiculous, but was only met with another shrug. “It’s the Imagination,” he said, as though that explained everything, “Don’t think too hard, or you’ll get a headache.”

Too late for that, Logan thought, though he stopped himself from pondering. Instead, he grit his teeth and held Patton’s arm, determined to get to the bottom of this figurative rabbit hole. Patton himself took the Child’s hand.

The Child gripped Patton’s hand and leaned toward the painting. He pinched the painted door’s handle, tugged.

They all felt a pulling sensation, the Child pulling Patton who pulled Logan.

And then there was a door before them.

It was as though someone poured white paint all over their surroundings, from every angle, wiping away the museum they’d come from and leaving a blank emptiness behind them, all within less than a second.

Logan stared at the door. Then he turned, slow and steady, overlooking the blank white expanse. Like an empty page.

Something wasn’t computing. It’s the Imagination, he repeated in his mind, like Patton’d said earlier.

Directly behind them was the only piece of “world” they could see other than the door. It was another painting, of the museum, of the room that they’d just left, hanging in the middle of nothing.

Social realism, Logan thought. The painting’s placard read “Roman Sanders. The Art Museum repaint, 2019. Oil on canvas.” A reverse portal, created recently. Logan almost wanted to touch it and see how dry the paint was.

“C’mon, we gotta go inside,” the Child whispered, giving Patton’s hand a tug.

Patton, in turn, tugged Logan, who turned back around. “Sorry, this is just….” fascinating? Interesting? Enchanting? Something I would like to experiment with Roman on further? “Different.”

Patton watched the Child as he watched Logan. Roman was clearly still in there, Patton thought, and he didn’t want to be. And, to be frank, Patton understood that feeling. There were many days where he wanted to curl up into his hoodie and be young again, if only to hear a good joke once more. Those were the two-cookie kinds of days!

Maybe Logan couldn’t see what Patton was seeing? The Child’s big wide eyes, staring at Logan and Patton as though searching for approval. Or how he tried so hard to ignore Logan’s obvious contempt for the situation. It was obvious that the Child was actively trying to ignore it, but Patton didn’t miss how he flinched at Logan’s tone. The Child wasn’t naïve, not entirely — in certain turns of phrase and side-glances, the Child revealed his thirty years of life experiences.

But the Child also didn’t seem to notice that Logan wasn’t angry about the world. No, Patton thought as Logan turned back to the museum painting quickly, he was more upset at himself for not being able to understand it.

“Different,” Logan repeated, brow furrowed. It didn’t feel like the right word. He wasn’t usually one to have vocabulary troubles, but he couldn’t find a more adequate word.

It satiated the Child. Or, rather, the Child was thinking of something else. His hand was stiff on the doorknob. Patton leaned in, letting go of Logan finally to put both hands on the Child’s shoulders. “Go ahead,” he whispered. He hoped the Child could feel how much Patton loved him.

Perhaps he did, because the Child calmed down. Enough for him to open the door.

The most notable thing was the mess. There were a lot of things inside that door. Canvases, sketchbooks, pens, pencils, paint sets, notebooks, cups of water, all in piles or scattered about the floor. Some canvases were hung on the walls, too, and some were laid flat on the ground. Others were stacked atop each other or leaned in bunches against the walls. There was a clear path through the mess on the floor, that branched to the stairs on the left and then into the kitchen on the right. Logan could see a drawing tablet over there, too, propped against the wall. Where the laptop was, he couldn’t tell. Patton could see that most of the paintings were unfinished. Whether it be sketch lines still showing or just clearly half-painted, half-white canvases, not a single finished piece was in this clutter.

The second most notable thing was the person painting.

Another Roman — the Artist, most likely — was sitting on a stool in front of a painting on an easel. It was also only an assumption that he was another Roman, because he absolutely did not look it, clad in a white hoodie covered in paint splotches and red sweatpants, hood pulled up and covering his hair. The only thing that indicated his Roman status was the golden waves adorning his sleeves, the same as the waves on Roman’s crest.

He held a large painting palette in his right hand and a brush in his left, dabbing oil paint against the half-finished canvas in front of him. Another work in progress, it seemed.

The clutter and the painting didn’t bother the Child. He closed the door behind himself, being careful to not slam it, and cleared his throat.

The other Roman didn’t move nor speak. Just kept painting, dabbing his brush on the palette and swiping it along the canvas. The painting was unfinished, but it looked so far like an impressionist piece, Logan thought.

The Child coughed again, yet the other Roman didn’t flinch.

“I’m back, Arty,” he said.

“I heard you,” came the impatient reply, snappy and fast, the Artist not turning to speak to them, “Who’s with you?”

“Dad. And Teach. Dragon was mean today,” the Child was playing with the hem of his shirt

“Mhm.”

“It’s curfew. They couldn’t go back to their houses.”

“Mhm.”

“So they’re gonna sleep here. I’ll keep them in my room.”

“Mhm.”

The Child took Logan and Patton’s hands into his own again and pulled them toward the stairs. “Good luck with your painting,” his voice teetered off into silence as the Artist failed to turn again.

Patton opened his mouth, but the Child squeezed his hand and shook his head. Logan took a little more tugging, as he stood by the bottom of the stairs, trying to look at all the paintings. Some were paintings — oil impressionist, pop art, surrealism and cubism, even some De Stijl paintings — some were simple figure drawings on lightly-crumpled paper, some even….was that a painting of Virgil?

The Child tugged harder and Logan stumbled after him.

They made it to the top of the stairs. The Child let go of Patton and opened the door, ushering both of them in before slamming the door shut behind himself.

This was probably the most regular room they’d seen so far in the Imagination. A small twin bed sat in the corner, with a big canopy and fairy lights overtop. There were streamers and drawings and posters hanging all around the walls, even some stickers and some drawings done directly onto the wall. A wardrobe sat in the corner farthest from the bed, a desk and vanity mirror besides that, and five bean bags were arranged in a circle around a circle rug in the middle of the room.

There was an air of magic around the room, too. The fairy lights bobbed up and down slowly, despite being hung on wires, and the clouds painted onto the ceiling seemed to move. The ceiling was fairly low, too; Patton reached up, eyes stuck on a cloud in the shape of a heart, and found that he could actually touch them. The heart swirled around his hand, glowing light blue before dissipating entirely.

“Sorry about him,” Patton and Logan looked down at the Child — he’d gone to the wardrobe and was taking off his cloak, revealing a plain white shirt with the crest’s sun emblazoned across his back. “Artist’s, uh, not a people person.”

“So we saw. His work, however….it’s breathtaking,” Logan stepped aside as Patton went for one of the beanbags, “I didn’t realize Roman was that much of an artist.”

The Child snorted. He sat down on one of the other beanbags and started untying his shoes, chubby fingers unlacing them down a few notches. “Yeah, well. You never seemed interested. No one was. Arty doesn’t like leaving his art all alone, so ever since we formed he’s been in here with it.”

“Yeah, you said somethin’ like that.” Patton crossed his legs on the bean bag, leaning forward on his elbows toward the Child. “The Playwright also said something about everyone having different thoughts on what’s best for Roman.”

“Playwright!” the Child tossed his shoes into the corner behind the door and laid back in the bean bag, spread out with his arms open. “Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen him in a while, is he okay?”

Logan let his shoulders loosen and slouch. It….did feel good to unwind, after the events of the day. Maybe the adrenaline and shock were wearing off finally. He sat down on another bean bag, bending his knees as though he were in a normal chair. “Yes, he is fine. He is, ah, backstage, as he called it.”

“Yeah, I thought so. Artist doesn’t like Playwright at all,” Logan and Patton shared another confused glance at that, “Thief says it’s ‘cause he doesn’t like mister Logic, but I think he doesn’t like you ‘cause he doesn’t like Playwright.”

“Why doesn’t he like the Playwright? That seems counterintuitive, to not like yourself,” As soon as the words left Logan’s mouth, he realized how hypocritical it sounded. And how obvious the explanation was.

Patton seemed to notice as well, because he grimaced, putting a hand on top of Logan’s knee. The Child, however, just shrugged. “Well, I don’t like all of me, you know? I wanted to figure out what parts of me I could live without, but every part of me has an opinion about what part’s important.”

“I?” Logan asked, softer now.

The Child nodded. “Roman. I,” he made a gesture up at the air, and it reminded Patton a little of the hand flip Roman typically did when rising. “I’m Roman but I’m not Roman.”

“How does that work, kiddo?” Patton coaxed him.

“It’s like….” he trailed off, resting his hand on his chin as he thought. After a few quiet moments, he continued.

“Okay,” The Child sat up and patted his own chest. “Me. I’m the Child. AND I’m Roman. I’m all….”

He flopped backward again onto the bean bag, making vague gestures with his hands as he wrestled to find the words, only to find that there were none. No words truly.

The Child let his hands fall onto his stomach with a groan, staring upwards. Patton and Logan shared a nervous glance. It was clear something was bothering the Child, something integral to this Hunger Games of Romans situation.

“Take your time, kiddo,” Patton tried to comfort him, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

The Child was just looking up at the sky ceiling. After another few seconds, he heaved a sigh.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? The sky?” Logan and Patton both looked up as well.

“With all the clouds that look like pretty things. And even if they don’t look like things, they look soft and fluffy and wonderful. And then, when there aren’t clouds, it’s the most beautiful shade of blue or a dazzling red, like how a nice summer night makes you feel?” The ceiling had been full of fluffy white clouds, meandering across the painted blue expanse, but as soon as the Child mentioned “dazzling red” the clouds began to glow pink as the ceiling’s paint color changed to red. He clapped.

“Or, or! Even better, sometimes, when it’s really, really late, and there are stars out? And every star is like a gem on a glittering cloak that the world’s putting on you?” the ceiling changed once more, painted black as the clouds vanished. One by one, twinkling stars seemed to glow from nothing against the ceiling backdrop. In actual constellations, no less.

“It’s all so….” the Child exhaled, “Beautiful.”

Silence followed. All three of them were now laying on the bean bags, looking up at the twinkling stars and the occasional barely visible line that connected them. They just starred, Logan and Patton unsure of how to break the silence, until the Child continued himself.

“That’s what I want Roman to remember,” Patton looked at the Child, who was watching the stars. He spoke with a strong determination, voice set. “That’s what I want to see. The beauty.”

He faltered, closing his open mouth and gritting his teeth. Logan looked away from the sky now, too, and watched the Child as he closed his eyes. Wiser than he seemed. “But that makes me really childish, doesn’t it? If we just see the beauty, then that means we’re ignoring all the bad stuff. And if we’re too childish, we don’t get taken seriously, and we really need to be taken seriously. I mean….”

The Child glanced over at Patton, and he could have sworn that the Child had tears in his eyes. Oh, he hoped he wasn’t crying. Patton reached out, offering his hand to maybe comfort him, but the Child just shrugged, unwilling to look at him anymore.

“We see how you get treated, Dad,” Patton’s brow furrowed in confusion, hand retracting a little, as though the Child’s words hurt. “No one takes you serious and you always have to prove yourself. We don’t take you serious, either, a lot of the time. ‘Cause if you’re childish, then you don’t deserve to be taken seriously. That’s what Roman tells himself. Tells me. But it’s wrong.”

Now the silence was just awkward. Patton lowered his hand into his lap as the Child looked back up at the sky. There was no denying now, now that the Child’s quiet breathing hitched and stuttered, that he was crying.

“It has to be wrong,” he whispered between gasps.

Slowly, the Child pulled his hands up to his face, rubbing his eyes and sniffing into his hands. Patton was going to start crying himself, watching the Child cry. He turned to Logan with a bitten lip. He knew, deep down, that the others didn’t always take his opinion seriously. Heck, it was a running theme! Patton the childish, the inner child, the baby. But Jesus, that was point blank.

“You’re correct, Roman. I don’t always understand you both, but the things I don’t understand aren’t…they aren’t unimportant. Occasional immaturity does not equal insignificant. We….” Logan faltered and looked up at Patton, who was staring at him now, tears dotting his eyes.

They really did walk on him, didn’t they? Logan considered the times he had helped elevate Patton’s concerns, and the situations in which Patton’s concerns were elevated. No one took the puppet suggestion seriously, until it was proven successful, and Thomas himself had to step in to get them to even consider it as an option. Along with that, Deceit was able to mimic Patton by, what? Literally saying he was a fan of cartoons and was silly? It was so easy to character Patton into a caricature of immature glee that he, Roman, and Virgil barely noticed.

That was the insult, wasn’t it. Childish. Not to be taken seriously. Silly and immature. Was that what he thought of Patton?

Patton wiped his tears and looked away. “I….guess that’s true. But hey! That’s what comes with being Thomas’ inner child, isn’t it?” there he went, voice heightening in pitch as he tried to make it sound as though he weren’t so upset with Logan’s silence and the Child’s assessment. “Your dorky ol’ Dad can be a lil’ goofball a lot of the time.”

“Your goofball-ness is welcome, often appreciated. We….do have a lot to learn, about having fun and seeing things anew.”

Patton looked over at Logan, who was watching him with determination. The Child, too, was watching Logan with both eyebrows raised, having grabbed a pillow from his side to press his face into. His eyes were two large spotlights.

“I do not understand the Imagination. I cannot claim to. But there IS immense beauty in this world you’ve created, and I see that it would be a waste to focus on making logical sense of it rather than take in the world around as a work of art. It might be childish, but sometimes….a little childishness is what we need to maintain a healthy lifestyle and a healthy headspace. Your input is appreciated.”

If Roman was having these sorts of concerns, about being perceived as childish or not, then Logan knew it was likely Patton had similar concerns. He chided himself mentally for letting this self-consciousness fester but a direct approach was always the most efficient.

And it was all worth it to see Patton smile and remove his glasses, wiping the tears from his downcast eyes.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns with us, kiddo,” the Child smiled at the nickname and rubbed the back of his neck, turning away for a bit. Patton smiled at him, then at Logan, beaming like the sun. “Logan put it real well.”

Logan fixed his glasses, pleased with himself, and the Child patted his arm. “Thank you, Logan,” he said.

They sat in silence, eyes flicking with new brief understanding between each other, until there was banging from below the floor. Patton squeaked and Logan stiffened, but the Child just groaned into his pillow.

“WHAT’RE YOU TALKING ABOUT UP THERE?!” the Artist’s voice boomed from below.

“JUST TALKIN’ ABOUT THE OTHER SIDES WITH TEACH,” the Child shouted back, voice muffled by the pillow.

“WELL, SHUT UP ‘BOUT THEM! THE DRAGON BITCH’LL HEAR YOU!”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

“YOU BRATTY LITTLE—DON’T MAKE ME COME UP THERE!”

The Child leaned his back, groaning loud and angrily. “FINE! SORRY!”

Logan and Patton exchanged worried glances. Had the Artist heard that whole conversation? They looked to the Child for any thoughts or input, but he just shook his head.

“He won’t come upstairs. Ugh, I was doing real good at not saying your names,” he rubbed his face, rubbing the tears into his skin to hide them, “It’s–It’s like the taboo system. Dragon, he put a curse on your names so all of us can hear it when someone says them. The others aren’t really scared of that, they–they….Artist doesn’t want anyone finding this house. He heard me say your name, mister Logic.”

Before either of the adults could respond, however, there was another crash from downstairs. The Child frowned and climbed off the bean bag, kneeling on the ground with an ear pressed to the rug.

“What—” Patton was cut off by the Child shushing him harshly.

They weren’t confused for long, though, as the voices grew more raised and angry.

“—TOLD YOU—FUCK OUT!” they heard the Artist shout.

“I WILL ONCE YOU STOP TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE OTHERS! THEY’RE IN OUR REALM NOW, THEY COULD HEAR YOU!”

Patton raised his eyebrows. He looked at Logan, who was frowning at nothing. When he noticed Patton, Logan mouthed “Playwright.” He didn’t seem like the type to be so….explosive.

“WELL TOUGH, PLAYWRONG. I DONT GIVE A FUCK IF THEY HEAR ME! I JUST DON’T WANT DRAGON SHOWING UP, THOSE UNGRATEFUL CRITICAL ASSHOLES—”

“THEY’RE MUCH MORE THAN THAT, THEY’RE BETTER THAN ALL OF US COMBINED, YOU STARVING STEREOTYPE—”

The Child stood up slowly, stepping carefully on the rug and sliding his feet along the wooden floor. He slid all the way to the door. As slow as he could, he clicked the lock in place, and let out a breath. The yelling died down immediately to a whisper, as though locking the door disconnected the room from the whole house.

“That’ll keep them out. They’re probably not gonna come up here, can’t get into my room now, but if they find you then we’re all fucked,” he mumbled.

“Language,” Patton mumbled, and the Child giggled at him. “No swear words when there’re children present, you know that!”

“Yeah, yeah—” the Child cut himself off with a yawn, shoulders hiking up slowly.

He shuffled back to the bean bags and collapsed into the one he’d been sitting in. He curled into a ball, huffing a small sigh. Patton yawned, too, and smacked his lips. Logan had to stifle a yawn himself. They were contagious.

It had been a long day. They were due for a sleep, especially after the arduous experiences they’d had throughout the day.

“Y’know, I didn’t think the Playwright’d let y’all in,” the Child’s words jumbled over each other, and he covered his mouth as he yawned again.

“What makes you say that?” Logan pressed.

Despite the tiredness, he knew there was something wrong with his initial read of the Playwright, and this situation didn’t leave space for those kinds of errors. The Child shrugged. “I….from what I know, he’s more….he likes things done his way. He really wants all of you approve of him. Mostly mister Logic, but all of you. And he really, really, really doesn’t like Princey. Him an’ Dragon an’—an’—” the Child yawned again, mumbling the rest of his sentence incoherently, but Logan didn’t process that.

There was another mention of this “Dragon” character. Logan rubbed his cheek, arms crossed on his knees as he ran the new information through his mind. The Playwright was volatile — he scoffed quietly, of COURSE Roman, with his boisterousness and exuberance, wouldn’t be able to contain his energetic nature into something reserved and quiet. He had his quiet moments, but he couldn’t maintain stoicism forever. They would have to assess him again, it seemed.

“I thought….” Patton whispered, and Logan looked up at him.

Patton’s eyes were downcast at the ground, brow furrowed in anguish. He’d thought they’d gotten at least one part of Roman, one bit to understand that they were accepted. That Roman was LOVED, damnit, because that’s what it was! He was loved, Roman was loved, and by God it felt like he’d failed if one of his friends doubted that so much that he couldn’t believe that.

“I’m gonna sleep. Just right here. Y’all can take the bed if y’all want,” the Child’s voice slurred together, halfway asleep already and cutting into both adults’ trains of thought.

Patton sighed. He slowly switched into Dad Mode as he pushed himself up and rolled his shoulders. “Nope. You’re a growing boy, kiddo, you’re goin’ in the bed.”

He stooped down and picked the Child up, chuckling quietly as he groaned in dramatic despair. Still, the Child wrapped his arms around Patton’s neck lazily, snuggling against him once more. Logan crossed his legs on the bean bag and watched as Patton sat on the bed, rubbing the Child’s back, and tried to pry him off.

“You need to get in bed, kiddo,” Patton whispered gently, “You’ve gotta sleep. A prince needs his beauty sleep, right?”

The Child giggled. “I’m not a–a–a,” he yawned again, “A prince! I’m a child!”

“But you’re gonna grow up to be one! You’re gonna grow up to be a great prince, ruling over all the Imagination,” Patton was whisper shouting, putting on a grandiose voice full of gusto.

He mimicked blowing a trumpet with one hand and the Child laughed, patting Patton’s hand down.

“Nuh uh!” he hummed between tired giggles.

Logan stood up behind Patton and gently took the Child’s hands. The Child looked up at him, squeezing Logan’s hands sleepily and giggling.

“You will be a valiant prince,” he lifted the Child’s hands away from Patton, and he took the cue to start tucking the Child into bed, “You will be a prince, lion-hearted and loved. But tonight, you must sleep.”

The Child squeezed his left hand, then his right, and laid down in the bed he’d been placed in. He looked so comforted as Patton pulled the blanket up higher around his face, big brown eyes questioning as he looked up at Logan from beneath the edge of the blanket.

“Will they listen to me?” his voice was thick as he teetered between unconsciousness and lucidity, “Will–Will they care, when I’m a prince?”

Logan nodded at him, and Patton nodded too. They were both sure, sure as the sky is blue. “Yes,” Patton whispered, “Everyone will hear you. And you’ll live happily ever after, my Prince.”

The Child giggled quietly. Slowly, he snuggled into the bed, and his hold on Logan’s hands relinquished, now gripping the blanket as he curled into a ball. Within mere seconds, he was snoring softly.

Patton stepped back and stretched. He looked up at Logan, who was removing his glasses in preparation for sleep.

“Wanna sleep on the floor?” Patton asked, “Or should we stack the beanbags in a square and use those as a bed?”

Logan considered the bean bags for a moment, actually, before deciding the morning back pain wouldn’t be worth it. “I think we can suffer the floor for a night,” he said, taking his coat off and spreading it out on the ground.

Patton followed suit, throwing his cat cloak down and spreading it out like a bed mat. They both slowly climbed to the ground beside each other, fitting themselves into the space that was to be their sleeping mat, grabbing some of the pillows and stuffed animals strewn about. At least the carpet was soft, adding extra padding. They both laid down, heads resting on some of the Child’s pillows, staring up at the stars on the ceiling.

Though they were both tired, Patton wanted to clear one thing up before letting himself drift off.

“....Lo,” Patton asked, voice soft. “Lo, are you awake?”

Logan sniffed. He was actually partway asleep already. “Yes, Pa—er. Patt.”

Patton giggled. It wasn’t always that he got to hear Logan call him by a nickname. He sobered up fast, though. “Did you mean what you said? About…about appreciating the childish things.”

Ah. Logan opened an eye. Patton smiled sheepishly at him.

He still had his glasses on. Logan turned to his side, facing Patton, reaching a hand out and taking his glasses off carefully. He slowly folded them and set them aside on the ground, with his.

“Of course I did. You provide important opinions and insight, often noticing details I….overlook,” Logan rested his hand on Patton’s shoulder, “You are appreciated.”

Patton beamed with a wobbly lip, more tears threatening to spill over. He slowly took Logan’s hand and pressed it to his lips. Not in a kiss, per se, but more to hold him close. To show that he was so thankful, so grateful for this acknowledgement. Plus, he was afraid that the tears would spill if he opened his mouth.

Logan didn’t seem to mind, though his face did turn a brighter shade of crimson, just barely visible in the starlight.

After a few seconds, Patton regained his stability. “Thanks,” he whispered. “We...we’re gonna get Roman back.”

Logan nodded, discombobulated. Patton’s breath on the back of his hand was comfortingly warm. There was that feeling in his chest. What was that?

He let go of Logan’s hand and rolled back onto his back, letting out a sign of contentedness. Their little prince was fast asleep and the next day would bring more trials. They had to find Virgil and Deceit and hopefully the Roman who’d been on the roof. They had to talk to the Artist. They had to confront the Playwright. They had to find the OTHERS and talk to THEM.

And Patton knew they’d be able to face it all head-on. He knew it in his heart. “Goodnight, Lo’. I love you.”

Logan exhaled beside him. Perhaps….things would be okay. He looked over at Patton, whose eyes were already closed, legs crossed and hands interlaced on his chest in a peaceful manner.

There was that feeling again. The data points — he was too tired to be thinking coherently, look at him, applying statistics knowledge to emotions of all things — indicated that he felt warm and fluttery near his lungs whenever he considered the other Sides. It felt as though his lungs were clenching, breathing constricting and carbon dioxide exhalation warming. That couldn’t be literal, though, or else he’d be ill. On this particular adventure, in this particular day, it’d happened a few times.

Perhaps he was just tired. It had been a long day, all of this just in one day. Logan would consider this issue more in the morning. However, he would indulge in the working hypothesis just once, whilst muddled in this warm-chested comforting confusion. “....I love you, too, Patt. Sleep well.”

It may have been a trick of the light or his mind, but Logan thought, just before he closed his eyes, that he’d seen Patton smile at him.

[ineverhadmyinternetphase]

In My Way - Chapter 18

AO3 link, First Chapter

Genre: Chaptered. Actor!Dan AU, fluff, bit of angst, slow burn, getting together (eventually)

Summary: Fiction. Daniel Howell is 21 and Britain’s newest star. He’s just been cast in the much-anticipated film adaption of Last Man Standing, the popular teen fantasy novel with a huge fanbase hanging off his every tweet. In other words, Dan has made it big.

Phil Lester couldn’t care less. He’s a stressed out PHD student working part time at a bookshop while he struggles to get into post-production. He’s 26 and still lives in a tiny flat on the fifth floor of a building with a lift more broken than it is in use. He loves books, but he thinks big film adaptions screw with the plot too much.

Needless to say, Phil is less than impressed when Last Man Standing is getting filmed in his hometown. And he certainly doesn’t want anything to do with obnoxious, arrogant, so irritatingly perfect leading actor   Daniel Howell.

Warnings: Swearing, Ace!Phil, Bi!Dan, slight a- and bi-phobia, discussions of sexuality

Word Count: 3000-5000 per chapter (ish)

A/N: Once again, sorry for the delay in this chapter! I’m just gonna say this once: I have M.E., a medical condition that effects my energy levels and gives me chronic pain and nasty things. Sometimes it affects my ability to write, which is why updates can be slow. But good news: I know this fic is going to be 25 chapters long, and I have them all planned exactly. I’ll update as regularly as I can ^_^

Again, giant thanks to my beta @mecaka! This is only possible because of her hard work. Go send her love if you’ve got time because honestly, she is the best thing that could have happened to me with this fic

—

Two months, it turned out, was the length of time left on the film set.

“Well, actually, it’s closer to a month and a half,” Dan elaborated from his place sprawled across Phil’s lap, eyes narrowed as he tore around another corner in Mario Kart. “And did you have to bring this up now?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you about it all day,” Phil grumbled gruffly. Which, in his defence, was true. Ever since the call with Tyler last week, Phil had been working up his courage to bring the subject up with Dan, and this morning he had finally done it only for Dan to distract him by dragging him out to the sofa to challenge him to a duel.

Which Dan was going to win, because this was Mario Kart and Dan was insanely competitive.

“So after the set,” Phil started again, barely even focusing on the screen and much more occupied with the warm person lying across his lap, “Are you, um, are you going away?”

Dan raised an eyebrow. “Away where?”

Away from me, Phil thought, half-heartedly firing a shell. It went backward, straight off the course, completely missing Dan’s little figure that was racing far ahead.

“There,” Dan said satisfactorily as he crossed the finishing line, then paused the game and rolled onto his back. He narrowed his eyes at Phil. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing’s up with me,” Phil answered immediately. Perhaps not the best method for improving communication, or generally getting anywhere with Dan, but denial was still and would probably always be Phil’s first defence mechanism.

Thankfully, Dan had been around Phil for long enough now to recognise this, so he wasn’t dissuaded at all. Instead, he sat up, tossing his controller carelessly onto the cushion beside him, and fixed Phil with a stern look. “So something is definitely up.”

“It isn’t,” Phil insisted unhelpfully.

Dan had one brow arched at him in a perfect expression of disbelief. Practised many times for several film roles, probably, and now Phil was being subjected to it in all its realness.

“If nothing’s up,” Dan said calmly, “Then we can just carry on playing, and you interrupted a perfectly fun round for no good reason.”

“Yes,” Phil replied quickly, then stopped. “Well, no. Um. Maybe.”

“Congratulations on giving every possible answer.” Dan rolled his eyes, but there was a fond smile at his lips. He flopped himself back down over Phil’s lap, arranging himself to be perfectly comfortable so he could still see the screen, and grabbed the controller again, starting up a solo level. Phil’s eyes traced Dan’s character, and he felt his heartbeat calm down a little. Watching Dan do things always calmed him down – there was a level of professional confidence about everything Dan did, as if he’d thought every action through at least four times. It was… reassuring. Especially when every aspect of Phil’s life was currently being made up as he went along.

“So you asked if I’m going away,” Dan said evenly after a few moments of silent playing.

Phil swallowed.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean leaving the country, or, like, dying,” Dan continued, and was that a hint of laughter hiding away in his tone? “But you still brought it up, so something must be on your mind.”

“Yeah,” Phil answered softly without thinking. His fingers had somehow found their way into Dan’s hair. It was comforting to have the knowledge that Dan was still right there. For now.

“So what is it?” Dan asked again after another moment of watching his character easily cruise the level. Dan really was insanely good at Mario Kart. How did he even have time to practice as an actor?

Phil gave his head a small shake. He shuffled around a bit, until Dan made a noise of complaint, and then went very still with his fingers still curled in Dan’s hair.

Phil just didn’t want to lose this.

“I suppose,” he started slowly, “I mean what your roommate said in the call.”

“Tyler?” Dan sounded surprised. He had no idea at all, then.

Phil gathered his courage and said, “Yeah. When he said he was getting you back. That means… that means you’re leaving me, right?”

The words sat heavily. Phil winced as soon as he realised their full meaning. He hadn’t meant it quite like that, but… but therein lay his fears, really.

Dan squawked. He dropped the controller, not even bothering to pause the level this time, and rolled around to face Phil just as his character made a squealing noise as it fell off the course.

“What?” Dan asked, staring at Phil, a picture of surprised disbelief.

Phil shifted awkwardly. “Tyler said he’d be getting you back.”

“Yeah!” Dan narrowed his eyes. “And you think that means I’m leaving you?”

Phil bit his lip. He considered for a moment. “Um. Well. Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Leaving… me.”

“No!” Dan sat up properly then, giving Phil the full extent of his glare. “Why? Do you want me to?”

“No, not at al! I just—” Phil paused, realising he’d done an extremely bad job of explaining himself. He deflated in place a little. “I just – don’t understand.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Dan answered after a moment of silence. He shook his head, sitting back a little on Phil’s sofa cushions so he could draw his knees into his chest. Defensive, Phil realised. He’d made Dan go all defensive again.

Desperately, Phil tried to salvage the conversation and make it go back in the direction he’d originally intended. “What I’m trying – very badly – to say is, you aren’t staying here forever. In Manchester, I mean. Are you?”

Dan blinked. Slowly, comprehension started to show on his face, and Phil thanked every lucky star he’d ever wished on for it. But there was also fear tugging at Phil’s stomach, because he’d brought this up now. They were going to have this conversation, to face the issue that had been itching at him all week.

“No,” Dan answered slowly, his tone cautious, his eyes fixed on Phil’s face. “No, I’m not staying in Manchester forever.”

Phil’s heart plummeted.

“But you knew that, right?” Dan added, leaning in a little bit closer. “I’m only here for the set. That’s over in a couple of months, then I’m going home. You knew that, right?”

Phil swallowed. Dan said home so easily, and he was referring to a place where Phil wasn’t. That shouldn’t hurt, they’d hardly known each other four months, but somehow Phil’s idea of home already had a Dan in it. “And then back to London. And Tyler. Right?”

Dan didn’t answer straight away. Instead, he tilted his head, regarding Phil closely with something warm hiding in his eyes. “I mean, yeah. London is home for me.”

Phil nodded once. He kept his face clear of expression.

After a moment, Dan asked, “Does that bother you?”

Phil shifted, considering the question for a moment. He reached out to grab Dan’s hand, smiled a bit when Dan gave a startled movement that settled into a small smile. He squeezed Phil’s fingers.

“It doesn’t really bother me,” Phil answered slowly. “I mean, it’s your home. Tyler seems nice.”

“He is,” Dan agreed, his gaze still intent on Phil. “My best friend.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you have a best friend.” Phil glanced at Dan, tried not to let jealousy slip into his tone. “How did you meet him?”

“Oh, I met him years ago,” Dan answered with an easy smile and went on to tell Phil that Tyler had met Dan on Dan’s very first set. Dan had been a nervous wreck, unsure of everything around him, and Tyler was his make-up artist. He’d taken one look at Dan’s pasty face and gone Oh no, we can’t have that. Dan at first thought he was being mocked – it turned out Tyler was just very exuberant and exacting in what he wanted.

After that, they’d become fast friends. Tyler was new to England, and so Dan took it upon himself to show him around the main sites. After a year, they’d decided to move in together, and when Dan hesitantly stuttered out that he was maybe attracted to boys as well as to girls, Tyler had embraced him in a warm hug and welcomed him to the party. (Tyler was as gay as a pink elephant, and as exuberant about it as he was about make-up).

“So he knows?” Phil interrupted, surprised.

Dan nodded. “He’s the only other one who does. You and him.”

“Not even your family?” Phil asked without thinking, and then winced. “No, wait, you don’t have to answer that.”

Dan’s eyes had tightened up a bit, but he hadn’t removed his hand from Phil’s. Dan glanced downwards, at where his fingers linked up so easily with Phil’s. “I just – I didn’t want to risk the exposure. You know. If the press ever got wind of it…”

“I get it,” Phil spoke into the silence quickly. “Honestly. That’s not what I meant.”

Dan sent him a tiny, grateful smile.

Phil fidgeted for another minute, then reached out to pull Dan into a hug. Dan muffled a chuckle as he leaned into Phil, speaking into his shoulder, “You can’t solve everything with a hug, Phil.”

“I can try,” Phil said adamantly, and then added, “I just… don’t want you to be gone.”

“I won’t be gone,” Dan murmured, his own arms slotting easily around Phil. “Not really.”

“But London is far away.”

Dan tilted his face up until he was looking right at Phil, and suddenly he was very, very close. “I’m not in London now.”

Phil was frozen, immobile, still taken aback by these moments of intimacy. But he was very sure that was happiness bubbling up inside him, so he leaned closer at Dan’s invitation and kissed him lightly.

Dan smiled, kissed him back, and for a moment everything was perfect. Things like this got easier every time they did them, and Phil was growing in confidence every time, more and more sure that yes, he liked this. As long as it didn’t go too far, and Dan was wonderful and soft and never pushed him.

When Phil pulled back, Dan didn’t complain at all. He didn’t even look insecure, which Phil always worried about because he had a feeling that Dan would kiss for longer if it was up to him. But Phil always started to feel weird after a few minutes, and he was endlessly grateful that Dan never brought it up, but just smiled happily every time Phil pulled away.

Dan was smiling happily at him now, and then he whispered, “You could always come with me.”

Phil blinked. His voice squeaked a bit. “Come with you?”

“To London.” Dan’s eyes were bright, but a bit guarded. He didn’t look away from Phil’s face. “When the set is done with. You could come back to London with me.”

Phil’s eyes widened. He’d never even considered that as a possibility – that Dan might ask him to go with him, that maybe there was a solution that didn’t involve Dan staying in Manchester forever.

Dan couldn’t stay in Manchester. He had a job, and friends. Obviously.

But Phil still felt the tiniest tug of disappointment. Manchester was his home. He’d deliberately moved back here after doing his undergrad in York, because York felt too far away.

It was closer than London, though.

Dan was still looking at him, but that guarded something in his eyes had grown. He was shrinking back a bit, shrinking into himself, behind all those walls that Phil had started to break down.

Phil grabbed for him again. “I want to be with you.”

Dan brightened up again immediately. “So you’ll come?”

“I’ll…” Phil took a breath, bit his lip. “I’ll… I’ll think about it. London is… far away.”

Dan’s eyes had clouded over again. Phil hated that, wished he could banish it away in an instant and have Dan happy and smiling again, but… but he’d learned not to dive straight into scary things. He needed to think, to process.

And they still had time.

“There’s a month and a half left, right?” Phil added almost desperately. “There’s time to… to think. We can figure it out.”

Dan nodded slowly, his gaze clearing a bit. “Yeah. Yeah, we can figure it out.”

Phil smiled back at him, and really, really hoped it was true.

---

A few days later, when Dan was away at the film set and Phil was sitting at home half-heartedly tapping away at his thesis, the idea crossed Phil’s mind again.

Moving to London.

It didn’t seem quite possible when Dan mentioned it. Like a dream, something to be imagined but never to be lived, at least not for someone like Phil. Dan’s world was full of glittering lights and camera flashes and interviews – hell, that was why they never went on proper dates outside. Phil could still remember with a shudder the day a camera had followed Dan back to Phil’s bookshop.

That was Dan’s world, not Phil’s. And if he was honest, Phil wanted no part in it.

Except… except he did want to keep Dan. He really did. To the extent that thinking about Dan going away to London without him had Phil’s chest constricting until his breathing was difficult.

This was crazy. He’d only known Dan a handful of months, and the majority of that had been spent trying to avoid him. Phil had hated Dan when they’d first met, he was sure of it – he remembered that arrogant smirk, the way Dan had looked down on him.

Knowing Dan as he did now, Phil could see that had been because Dan had believed Phil snubbed him deliberately. But he hadn’t. Phil was just a bumbling mess, he always had been, and he probably always would be.

Dan shouldn’t even want him around anyway.

Phil shook away the thought with a sad little frown. He was staring blankly at his thesis document, on its way to finished with a month left to the deadline, and then his course would almost be over. Just another month after that until his official graduation. His mum had already invited everyone over for the celebration – Phil the Doctor, Phil the smart one, he’d always been the brains of the family, she’d proudly say.

But then what?

There’d be a big celebration, and then… then what? Phil had never been one to look at the future too hard, never been one to wallow in worrying. He’d just enjoyed what he did without thinking too much about where it would lead him. But now… now, he was facing a gaping hole with no more education to fill it.

And he didn’t want to face that alone.

So Dan. He had Dan, he wanted to keep Dan, and miraculously Dan wanted to keep him. That had to be worth all the worry, right? All the stress? There had to be something worth holding onto in the feelings he had for Dan, in the feelings Dan had shared with him.

He hadn’t had a text from Dan yet that day. Phil had messaged him in the morning but hadn’t heard anything back. That wasn’t too unusual. The film set was getting busier every day, with the closing deadlines looming. Then everything would be moving down to London.

London, where all the post-production work would be happening. Phil’s speciality. Phil’s favourite aspect.

If only…

Phil chewed on his inner cheek, having a staring contest with his laptop, until he relented and pulled up a new internet tab.

Post-production film jobs in London.

Unsurprisingly, there were a lot of results. Phil trailed through the first few, registering some of the company names, recognising some. There were a lot of internship programmes that he’d be eligible to apply for.

He didn’t have to make any decisions yet. But it was an option.

Just then, his phone buzzed against his desk. Phil snatched it up to see a new tweet from Dan: literally starving at the set @amazingphil where is my coffee

Phil snorted. They were still being publicly open on Twitter, and while they’d never explicitly stated the exact nature of their relationship (Phil still got a fuzzy little feeling whenever he remembered that Dan was his boyfriend), it was a good thing. Having Dan happy with them being public, even in this tiny way – it gave Phil hope.

Hope that this was actually ok.

Definitely a possibility, Phil decided as he glanced at the results on his laptop, and then bookmarked it before answering Dan’s tweet with another public one of his own.

@amazingphil: @danisnotonfire on my way right now

---

The days continued in their easy pattern, but the time was constantly being eaten up. Without even meaning to, Phil found himself subconsciously counting down the days to their deadline, the deadline when Dan would be leaving.

He’d visit the set with coffee for Dan and think, only five more weeks of doing this.

Dan would crash into the bookshop during Phil’s shift and regale him with stories of the day’s filming and Phil, in between fits of laughter, would find himself saying, “Not much longer left, now.”

Dan’s eyes always went cautious. He answered carefully, “No. Not long left.”

Phil tried not to think too much about the way Dan’s eyes lingered on him, as if he was waiting for a response, for something more from Phil. Something more that Phil wasn’t sure he could give.

They’d be curled up together on Phil’s sofa, or cuddled under the blankets on his bed watching Netflix on Phil’s laptop, and Phil would stay silent but the thoughts running around his head were full of not much longer, you don’t get to have this for much longer. He tried to quiet the doubts, knew that Dan moving away was very different to Dan breaking up with him, but it was still hard.

He tightened his grip around Dan and buried his face in Dan’s hair.

Dan made a questioning noise and wriggled a bit, so Phil batted at him until he stayed still. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to face the questions that he knew Dan was going to want to bring up. In all honesty, Phil just didn’t want to face the future. He wanted this present to extend forever, with Dan in his arms and something easy on TV and blankets and cuddles and nothing else more complicated going on.

Why couldn’t he just have that? Phil didn’t think it was too much to ask for.

It was when there were only three weeks left that Phil came home from a shift at the bookshop to find Dan sitting on the sofa on Phil’s laptop.

Phil blinked, and then let out a heavy sigh. Coming home to Dan invading his flat wasn’t exactly unusual, not since Phil had given him a key, but still. There were privacy limits. Weren’t there? Or shouldn’t there be?

Dan grinned at him impishly, and then pulled Phil’s laptop further into his lap. “Mine for now. Sorry.”

Phil rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “I guess I shouldn’t even be surprised anymore.”

“Probably not,” Dan agreed, already buried back in whatever he was doing. As long as it wasn’t another skype call to Tyler that Phil could embarrass himself in front of, then Phil didn’t really mind. It was an excuse to forget about proof-reading his thesis for a bit, after all.

“Hot chocolate?” Phil offered on his way into the kitchen.

“Mm, please!” Dan called back, and Phil’s smile was widening before he even realised it. Having Dan around just made Phil feel… buoyant. Like there was something under his skin lifting him up, making his feet hardly touch the ground. It didn’t quite feel real, except when he could feel Dan in his arms, breathe in his scent, see the possessions he’d slowly left scattered around Phil’s place. Honestly, Phil didn’t even know the last time Dan had actually spent long periods of time in his hotel room.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Dan said when Phil returned with two steaming mugs. He curled his legs out of the way, making room for Phil to join him, and grabbed eagerly for the mug.

“Don’t spill that on my laptop,” Phil warned him, but otherwise settled in happily. He cast Dan a slightly worried look. “Also, that doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not bad, exactly,” Dan hedged, casting another quick look at Phil. He grimaced. “I just – I saw a car.”

Phil arched a questioning brow.

“A black car,” Dan elaborated, “Um, outside.”

“Wow, amazing, anyone would think we were in a main city.” Phil grinned. Some of Dan’s sarcasm had rubbed off on him.

Dan kicked at him delicately. “No, you idiot. Outside here. Outside your building.”

Phil blinked, taken aback. “…Oh?”

“Yeah. It looked like a journalist to me.” Dan was looking steadfastly at the laptop screen again, not meeting Phil’s eyes. “So, um. They might have seen me, and my guess is they could call you at some point."

Phil’s stomach dropped.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Dan added in what was clearly a carefully researched speech. “You can just refuse to comment if they badger you. And if they do it too much, threaten the police, it’s harassment.”

“The police?” Phil asked a bit faintly.

Dan shot him a look, then bit his lower lip. He shifted a bit closer to Phil. “I did try and warn you this might happen.”

Phil remained silent. That didn’t help very much. Sure, he remembered when Dan was first trying to get closer to him, that Dan warned him what his lifestyle meant – but Phil wasn’t anyone interesting. He hadn’t really given much thought to people bothering him, or what he was supposed to do or say. He was far too awkward for any of it.

And it wouldn’t even matter soon, with Dan going away.

Phil shook away all those thoughts, a crease appearing in his brow. Dan reached out to smooth it away with his thumb, a sweet gesture he’d started doing whenever Phil was stressed or worrying about something. “You don’t have to say anything, Phil.”

“I just,” Phil started, and then turned to look straight at Dan. “Do you want me to say anything?”

Dan blinked. He looked startled for a moment before casually schooling his expression back into a careful blank. That was the problem with Dan being such a good actor – when he didn’t want to show his emotion, he really didn’t show it.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” Dan answered delicately.

“I don’t,” Phil agreed, “I mean, not if you don’t want to. I just. Does that mean you want it to be a secret?”

Dan looked a bit pained. “That isn’t a fair question.”

“What do you mean?”

Dan squirmed, but Phil pressed him, leaning in a bit closer. “What do you mean, Dan? Communicate, remember. Talk to me.”

Dan made a face at him. He took in a breath, slowly, and then let it out. He closed Phil’s laptop and slid it onto the floor, and then made grabby hands at Phil in a gesture that Phil had come to realise meant come closer, need to hold you.

Phil obliged, and let Dan wrap him up in long arms, hold him against his chest. He laid his head comfortable on Dan’s shoulder.

“Saying something would mean that this is something that’s going to last,” Dan eventually murmured into Phil’s hair.

Phil’s mouth went dry. He froze.

“I don’t mean that would be a bad thing,” Dan hastily continued, “I mean, like, it would make it official.”

Phil managed to unstick his mouth enough to say, “And that would be a bad thing?”

“No, no, I don’t mean anything like that.” Dan let out a cross little sigh. “I mean – um – it would mean we’d both face a lot of questions about it, and if you’re… if you’re in Manchester, and I’m in London, um. We’d have to face them alone.”

Phil took in a careful breath. The weight behind Dan’s words told Phil that he’d thought about them a lot, probably been thinking about the coming month just as much as Phil had, in fact. Maybe if they’d talked about it sooner, Phil wouldn’t have had to do as much worrying on his own.

“I mean,” Phil started, and then stopped again.

Dan nudged at him. “What?”

“I mean, we might not be apart forever,” Phil answered quietly. He felt Dan quiver against him, and he bit his lip. He didn’t know if now was the time to bring this up, or if there would ever even be a better time, but Dan sounded worried and Phil didn’t like Dan being worried.

He leaned back enough to look at Dan, right in the eyes, and the worry he saw there made Phil want to dispel it immediately. “I mean, London is a thing.”

Dan smiled briefly. He didn’t look away. “London is indeed a thing.”

“I’ve been looking,” Phil confessed quickly, “There are internships. Places that do the kind of thing I’d want to do.”

“Really?” Dan was obviously trying really hard to keep the hope out of his voice, but he wasn’t quite succeeding. That warmed Phil. He was wanted, obviously, desired by Dan Howell, and that still didn’t quite make sense in his head.

“Not yet,” Phil warned him. “My PhD doesn’t finish until two months after you’ve gone back to London.  I have to be here for that.”

Dan wilted a bit. But he nodded. “I’d expected something like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve been working for ages on your degree, I’m happy for you.” Dan smiled at him, the expression a little shy, a little vulnerable. Phil felt his heart give just a little bit more. He loved this man – he really loved him, and that was still hard to come to terms with.

Phil smiled back. “But after that – after that, well, I don’t know. It’s a possibility.”

Dan was staring at him almost disbelievingly. Phil didn’t like it much when he did that, but his options to make Dan happy were still fairly limited. Phil just wasn’t very good at it, much as he’d like to be.

Phil leaned in, pressed a kiss to Dan’s cheek. “It’s a possibility.”

Dan’s cheek had gone red. That was nice. He also still had his arms around Phil, which was also nice, and he was smiling a bit as he answered, “To be clear – are you saying you coming to London with me is a possibility?”

Phil thought about it for a moment. Then he nodded a bit hesitantly. “After my degree. Maybe.”

Dan’s eyes were a little wide and a little wild. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. Well,” Phil amended, “I’m thinking about it. It’s not something to rule out.”

Dan kept staring at him for a bit, and then he was grinning and holding Phil tighter. “Good enough for me.”

---

There was hope, but there was also sadness, because time was running out on them too fast and Phil still hadn’t made a decision.

Three weeks disappeared like sand rushing through Phil’s fingers. It didn’t matter how much he tried to grab onto it, the time just went faster and faster, rushing on and inexorably on until he was left standing alone and forlorn in his own apartment with boxes of Dan’s stuff gathered up all around him.

All the things that had collected in Phil’s flat over the past few months, every little memory of Dan being here, was wrapped up carefully and packaged and taped and shut away, all ready to be moved out. Including Dan himself.

Phil felt sick to his stomach.

Dan stood opposite him, an awkward distance away, playing with the ends of his sleeves. He wasn’t looking at Phil, seeming to find it easier to study his carpet instead. The air between them felt charged. The last bag was sitting packed by Dan’s feet.

“It just makes more sense to leave tonight,” Dan was explaining, still steadfastly studying the carpet. “The cars are leaving the hotel really early tomorrow. I don’t want to disturb you in the morning.”

You wouldn’t, Phil was desperate to say. But he didn’t. He stayed quiet, except for the ringing in his ears and the slightly wild thud of his heartbeat.

The boxes were moved, one by one, into the car waiting outside Phil’s flat. They did it together, woodenly, not talking but not staying far apart either. Phil treasured every brush of Dan’s elbow, every minute left in his company. They were rather rapidly disappearing, after all.

The last box was in the car. Dan was hovering awkwardly on the pavement, one hand on the car door, his eyes fixed on Phil.

Phil should turn around and go back inside. They were in public, and even if they weren’t, Phil was bad at goodbyes. This was why he’d always returned home. He couldn’t deal with last times, with never-seeing-people-agains. He left everything open-ended, and always came back to the place that meant the most to him. He didn’t do well at leaving.

Was he ever going to see Dan again?

Dan was staring at him with carefully masked emotions. Phil hated that too. He wished he could push back past those boundaries, get back to where he and Dan had been. They’d been so close, they’d been so open and honest with each other. Eventually. Dan was the one person Phil had never wanted, and then everything he’d wanted but never thought he’d have, and then, miraculously, been the person to openly accept him. Everything about him.

Phil couldn’t lose that. He didn’t want to let go.

Dan swallowed. His hand awkwardly fumbled on the car door, and for a moment Phil thought he was going to step away from the car and back into Phil’s arms, and this whole hellish ordeal could be over.

But he didn’t.

Instead, the car door flew open, and Dan turned as if to climb inside.

Phil’s heart stopped.

Dan paused, turned back to face Phil. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, he just stared at Phil’s face some more.

Phil hung in stasis. His body tipped forward, telling him to take the step and go, to stop the best thing in his life from walking away from him.

But the crease in Dan’s brow was back, and he turned away again with a muttered, “See ya, Phil,” and then he was climbing into the car.

“Wait,” Phil’s mouth said without his permission.

Dan paused, span back around again in an instant. His face was still carefully blank.

Phil stayed still for a moment, counting the racing beats of his heart, tracing the planes of Dan’s face that he’d come to know so well. Dan Howell, the Dan Howell, famous actor, blind fool at times, but most importantly, Phil’s Dan.

There was no way Phil could let him go like this.

“Stay,” he begged.

Dan’s mouth dropped open.

“Just tonight,” Phil pleaded, because, apparently, he wasn’t above actual begging. He took a step forward, grabbed one of Dan’s hands in his own.

Dan’s blank expression was melting.

“I know it can’t be forever,” Phil continued, his tone shattering a bit. “Just stay. You can wake me at whatever hellish time you have to tomorrow, just – just stay one more night. Please.”

Dan hovered, his gaze quickly flicking left and right. They were in the middle of a public street, Phil’s street, and there was a suspicious looking car sitting up the road that had been there all morning and was still directly facing them, but Phil just couldn’t let Dan go like this.

He prayed he was doing the right thing.

“Please,” he said again and tugged once at Dan’s hand.

Dan’s face finished melting, and he was standing there looking at Phil with the warmest, most vulnerable gaze Phil had ever seen. His fingers were trembling a bit, but he closed them firmly around Phil’s and took a step towards him, until Phil was forced to look up to meet his eyes.

“Ok,” Dan whispered, and then span to say to the driver, “Go back to the hotel. I’ll meet you there in the morning.”

The driver, as discrete as ever, simply nodded and disappeared.

Phil felt a little bit faint. His fingers tightened in Dan’s, the world swaying around him. Dan was still here. For now. He was here.

Fingers tightened around Phil’s arm, gently pushing him towards the door. “Inside, now,” Dan whispered into his ear, “Quickly, I need to – Phil, I need to—”

Phil understood. He knew exactly what Dan was talking about. He fumbled for his keys, got them both back inside his building, and hurried quickly to his flat door.

They didn’t make it two steps before Dan was pushing Phil against the wall, still metres from his actual flat, and this was still dangerous because anyone could walk past, anyone could see them—

“Phil,” Dan whispered, and the sound was broken and almost desperate and Phil couldn’t think about anything else, not right then. He stared right back at the man in front of him, the man clutching at his shirt sleeve hard enough to pinch his arm, the man who looked so young suddenly with no hint of sardonic amusement on his face.

Phil reached up for him, leaned in, and kissed him.

Dan sagged into him, like he was melting all over again, fitting perfectly in Phil’s arms until Phil was the only one holding him up. Phil wasn’t the only one this was taking a toll on. Not with the way Dan reached for him, held onto him, kissed him like a drowning man.

“Not yet,” Phil whispered against his lips, dragging him down the hall into the safety of his flat.

---

They did the most kissing they’d ever done in one go that night. Up until then, kisses had been small, gentle things, sweet nudges of affection against each other’s lips, nothing more. They hadn’t needed anything more.

But this time – this time, Phil felt like a desperate man, like someone who was about to lose everything under his fingertips. He clung onto Dan, remembered the feeling against him, tried to lose himself in someone else’s arms.

They stayed fully clothed, which held off Phil’s repulsion. And the kissing was still just kissing, aside from when Dan occasionally leaned down and pressed his lips to Phil’s throat, which sent a shiver down Phil’s spine which was just this side of good. Any more, and he’d have been pushing Dan away, but Dan had grown to learn his reactions and knew not to push him any further.

Dan needed this, too. He never left Phil’s side, never left any unnecessary space between them, until the warmth was almost unbearable. But Phil would never have had it any other way. They stayed wrapped up in Phil’s bedsheets in a tangled heap of limbs and faces and breathing and kisses, and neither of them got much sleep that night.

“I’m going to miss you,” Dan mumbled at some point with his face buried in Phil’s hair.

“Shush,” Phil muttered back, swatting at him, and then rolled them over so he could lie himself down on Dan’s warm, sturdy chest. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to hold Dan here, in his bed, and remember what it felt like to have another person in his flat.

He fell asleep soon after, but Dan remained awake, eyes hiding a shadow as he stroked his fingers through Phil’s hair.

In the morning, Phil woke up to an empty bed and a note scrawled hastily on the back of an envelope and left on the bedside table. Car arrived. Didn’t want to wake you. There were a few scribbled out lines, and then, finally, Don’t break anything before I see you again. All my love – Dan.

Phil stared at it for a very long time, until his vision had blurred and his breathing sounded funny.

All my love – Dan.

He’d thought that word would terrify him. Phil still hadn’t said it, wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to without it feeling like some sort of lie. But he felt it. The emotion blossoming in his chest, constricting his heart until he thought it would burst – there was no denying what that was.

Phil blinked, hard, grabbed the note, screwed it against his chest, and flopped back into his pillows. Dan was apparently just as bad at goodbyes as Phil was, but Phil couldn’t help wishing Dan had at least woken him up. Just to have one last hug.

But would Phil really have been able to let go?

Honestly, Phil wouldn’t put it past himself to just upend everything on a whim and head down to London with Dan, his PhD be damned. But that wasn’t the sensible, adult thing to do. Phil needed some thinking time, time to actually consider his own future and how best to keep Dan in it. Maybe he did need space to do that.

But no amount of rationalising would stop the hollow ache in his heart when he rolled over to find the other half of the bed empty.

Phil bit his lower lip, glanced down at the note still squished between his fingers, and then tucked it securely under his pillow. He’d leave it there, he decided, until Dan was back with him again.

They wouldn’t leave it too long. Phil didn’t think he could cope.

But for now, he had work in a few hours and a thesis to finish, so after a few minutes more of moping, Phil forced himself out of the bed for day number one without Dan.

A/N: A note before you go: (incredibly) this fic is up for several phanfic awards (thank you so so much to anyone who nominated me, I couldn’t believe it!!) so if you’re interested in the awards and want info on how to vote check out this post here