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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years ago

Text

Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

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unironicduncanstan · 4 years ago

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❗ DISCLAIMER: Either way, I cannot take responsibility for a bracelet eventually breaking down. Kandi and elastic bracelets in general are a bit prone to snapping, but mostly over time and especially if used in rave settings. I use high quality jewelry elastic from amazon, very high rated and recommended by other Kandi makers, and I knot them 3 times, so mine should last as long as they possibly can. Please make sure your wrist measurements are as accurate as they can be, and please be gentle when taking them on or off, just being careful will help prolong it’s usage by a lot. Now if a bracelet arrives broken, I will of course replace it, no extra charge. ❗

🦄 STICKERS: Order 5 bracelets and get one free sticker! Order 10 and get two, so on and so forth in a pattern of 5. The stickers are hand cut by me from large books and sheets, so the edges might look odd but the sticker itself should be unharmed. These are completely random, and based loosely around a scenecore aesthetic. Most are pretty ‘medium’ sized, but they do range quite a bit. 🦄

✍ CONTENT: Kandi, scene and rave culture, is in a general sense, a very upbeat and supportive based environment. I do not want to make bracelets with negative messages on them. I will obviously NEVER make any with hate speech or rude remarks, but beyond that, please keep your phrases positive. If you want something thats meant to fight hate, like “kill all n*zis” or something, I'm not opposed to that as it’s for justice, it’s just that most Kandi is focused on ‘happy party vibe’ messages. As far as media or interests, like if you want a bracelet that says “Gir” or “100 gecs”, or uses ship names, etc. I will not deny you any interest you choose. BUT, I am personally uncomfortable with d.dl/g and won’t make bracelets based on that, nor will I ever make bracelets supporting ped0ph1lic or 1ncestu0us content, including if they’re based on medias or fictional ships. As far as pride bracelets, I would LOVE to make those for you, and I will Never deny working with your identity, pronouns, etc. once again, unless it’s a p/ed0 flag or something. I will never deny working with any mental or physical disability/illness or other kind of divergency pride. Race and/or religion pride is also great except for “White pr1de” because of the violent connotations behind that concept. NSFW Kandi is fine, cussing is fine, I hope this goes without saying but please only ask for Kandi with a slur on it if you can reclaim that slur, and overall, just be mindful with what you ask for if you plan to wear it in public settings like raves. If you have any controversial ideas you felt this didn’t cover, please feel free to ask, I will not get angry at you for your request, even if I have to deny it. ✍

Thank you for reading! I look forward to doing business with you 😊

#jewelry #custom kandi #custom jewelry #scenecore #scene #scene aesthetic #scene kid #kandi #kandi bracelet #independantbusiness #independantartist #bracelets #selling #commission #open commissions #tw flashing lights/ /#also if ur wondering why this is being posted on a total drama island fanblog its simple. it has more followers than my main OTL

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pikemoreno · 4 years ago

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if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter I: Coffee Cures All Ills

a/n: Here it is folks! The first part of a Marcus fic heavily inspired by the Netflix rom-com Set It Up.

It’s more structurally and conceptually inspired and not an exact scene-for-scene remake because a) I was interested in the idea of this not even really being an AU. This is extremely canon-compliant and you’ll see more of that as we continue on. 😏And b) because I had lots of ideas that spun off from watching Set It Up that I just liked better for the purpose of this fic. So that’s what you can expect. It’s gonna be cheesy and fun and great.

The first couple of chapters are a lot of, well, set up (which has been infuriating). But we’ll get into the meat of it soon. My outline says so.

As a side note, a lot of the gifs I’m going to be using are from the movie, but these are not my face claims for any of the characters. I’m using them simply for the ~vibe~ of the chapter. Reader is not a small white girl... Or she might be. She is you. Or whatever OC you’d like her to be. Period.

And that’s it. Let’s go, I guess.

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2k (probably one of the shortest chapters we’re gonna see out of the 14-ish lolz)

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.

Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love.

He’d seen what it had done to him in failed relationships including everything up to a failed marriage. Some would argue that it wasn’t love then, that love doesn’t fail, so it couldn’t have been. But he disagreed. He knows it when it hits. It comes on you like lightning, bright and fast. You accept it, letting it run through your veins, and risk suffering a fatal blow to your heart. And it most definitely can fatally fail. It can cause joy and pain in equal measure. He’d already been struck so painfully once, the blow of the electricity going straight to his heart. He was beginning to hope to the high heavens that he wouldn’t be so unlucky as to be struck a second time, just in case it should reach his heart so painfully once more.

Marcus Pike never wanted to fall in love.

He felt that especially strongly as he watched Adrian go through his recent break-up. He felt for his fellow agent, he really did. Adrian was completely convinced Sam was the one, sold to the point of going ring shopping soon. But one brief mention of an engagement sent Sam running for the hills. He’d been moping around the office for a couple of weeks now and, as much as Marcus understood the pain, he was already really looking forward to Adrian’s rebound or some similar distraction. He was needing his friend’s signature fire back right about now, not to mention his focus. His work had gotten sloppy in this mourning period. He was constantly distracted. Marcus was dreading getting him on this case today, but maybe it was just the push he needed. He hoped. He stepped up to Adrian’s desk, watching the glazed over look in his eye.

“Hey, Adrian, do you mind getting a head start on this? I’d really like you to be our head man on--” he slid the file onto his desk, but was cut short by Adrian’s response. A response that had nothing to do with anything Marcus had just said.

“I’m gonna die alone,” he muttered, hands supporting his chin, elbows on his desk. Marcus let out an exasperated sigh that he didn’t seem to notice.

“You’re not gonna die alone,” he played along once again, rubbing his temple.

“Maybe I’ll go be a monk. They never have to worry about this shit.”

“An honorable profession.”

“Yeah.” Adrian blinked out of his dream-like state. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?” Marcus nodded rigidly. “Sorry, Pike.” He opened the file, nodding slowly, “Yeah, I’ll get on this.”

“You look exhausted,”

“I am,” he admitted sheepishly.

“I’m making a break room run to get coffee, you want one?”

“Please.” Marcus nodded his understanding and made his way down the hall to the break room. He doubted a case and a coffee could get his friend back on track, but he could hope, right?

***

If you had to listen through one more of Wendy’s mood swings, you might just scream. You love the girl, you really do. She’s your friend and the best boss you could’ve asked for, but Lord Almighty, had she been in rare form. Some days she was perfectly fine, strutting around like she didn’t care that her asshole boyfriend Daniel gave her an ultimatum instead of a ring on their last anniversary. Other days would see her doing a complete 180, shutting herself in her office and weeping into suspect files. Your least favorite days, though, were days where the heartbreak made her angry, where thinking about Daniel saying “It’s me or your job” made her border-line vengeful. But, unfortunately for you and the rest of the team, he wasn’t around to take the beating.

You couldn’t say you entirely understood. The short catalog of even shorter flings that you boasted brought largely apathy rather than heartbreak. You couldn’t say you’d ever been in love like Wendy had been. You’d never felt anything quite that strong-- and thank goodness for that. It wasn’t something you particularly looked forward to, at least, not the way you’d seen it lately. It was an uncontrollable force, dangerous and all-consuming. You liked control, liked being in your right mind. If love was to take up it's unfortunate residence, you could only hope it was for someone worth losing your mind over. You hadn’t seen anyone of the sort so far.

Unfortunately, it was already too late for Wendy Harrod. The already intimidating head of the Jewelry & Gem Theft Program in Texas was in rare form. You watched as an HR intern ran from her office in near tears. Poor Randy. Her sharp “come in” in response to your knock on her door made you wince.

“Harrod, I have the results of that house search you requested if you--”

“No, no! Absolutely not, I cannot handle this right now,” she was absolutely raging, leaving you grasping at straws for a response.

“I-- Uh-- Of course. I’ll just leave it right here whenever--” you placed it gently on the end table by the door before being interrupted again.

“Ughhhhh,” she groaned out before flopping into her desk chair, the red leather creaking as she let sit spin her around once, “I’m sorry. I’m being mean.” There was your Wendy.

“Just a little.”

“Sorry, sorry. Bring that here please.”

“What can I do for you? As your friend, I mean. You--” you weighed your words carefully as you hand her the report, “You haven’t quite been yourself since…” you stopped that thought, “Well, lately.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what I need,” she began to skim the report before looking back up with you with a tight lipped smile, “Maybe a coffee? For the more immediate problems anyway.” You laughed.

“Now that I can do. I’m headed there now. Break room coffee ok?”

“That’d be perfect.”

“The usual?”

“The usual.” She yelled after you as you walk down the hall, “You’re an angel!”

She wasn’t gonna be saying that when you came back without coffee.

The sign on the coffee pot reading “out of coffee” was going to seriously ruin your reputation and Wendy’s sensitive mood. You ran through the options: you couldn’t leave to get her a Starbucks; there were some bottled iced coffees in the fridge, but Wendy hated them; you could wait for someone to make a run at lunch and pass on the order, but this was too urgent. Then it hit you. Everyone knew the sixth floor had the better coffee stock anyway. The art freaks loved their fancy stuff. You could always just waltz down a floor and snag two cups from their stash. 5 minutes in and out. No harm done, no questions asked.

Or so you thought.

The sixth floor break room was already occupied when you walked in, finding another agent also brewing a morning cup in a single cup coffee maker.

They really did have everything here: multiple pots, another much fancier looking machine that looked like it might come to life and attack at any moment, recyclable coffee cups, every type of creamer. You name it.

You’d have to sneak over here more often.

You stepped up to the larger coffee pot, rinsing out the carafe before reaching for the container of grounds. Empty.

They had everything here. Except coffee.

Was the whole damn building in a coffee famine? You didn’t have time to check.

“No, no, no, no,” you panicked, frantically searching the cabinet for another container. In your peripheral you could see the other agent look at you like you’d grown two heads. You couldn’t be bothered with his judgement, but you met his eyes to ask, maybe a little too frantically.

“Is that the last of it?” you questioned, eyeing the cup he was brewing.

“Well, yeah, sorry.” It was obvious he meant it, but apologies were not what you were needing right now.

“Shit.”

“Withdrawals?” he laughed a little at your panicked state, but it wasn’t demeaning. He was genuinely amused, and maybe a little concerned, but it made you narrow your eyes at him all the same. You were not in the mood for the mocking, no matter how light-hearted it may be. No matter how much it was softened by the bright smile next to you.

“It’s not for me. It’s for my boss. My very upset boss who needs just one small ounce of joy in her life right now. The kind of joy that can only come from the fueling of her caffeine addiction, so if I could please just have that cup?” You blinked at him innocently, but his dark brown eyes widened as he shook his head

“What? No. I have a friend who needs this. If I don’t bring him this, he won’t be working for the rest of the day.”

“If I don’t bring my boss a cup of coffee in the next two minutes, I will probably not be working again. Ever. I will be dead. Do you want to be complicit in a murder, Agent--” you glanced at his badge, “Pike? Can you really live with that?”

“You’re awfully dramatic aren’t you?”

“I wish it was an exaggeration.” He inspected your badge then too.

“Jewelry and Gem Theft. Floor 7, right? What brings you down here to steal our coffee?” The argument was pointed, but his demeanor was anything but. He was smiling, enjoying this. A little too much, you seethed. You couldn’t stand around arguing all day.

“We’re out too.”

“Try another floor?”

“Time is of the essence here, Art Squad.” There was no room for addressing him politely now, he was riling you up on purpose.

“If you didn’t stand here arguing with me you could’ve tried another floor by now, Jewels.”

He must think he’s so clever.

“Please. This is DEFCON 5.”

“You do know DEFCON 5 is the good one, right?”

“You know what I mean. Please.” He looked at you and then the newly brewed cup, biting the inside of his cheek, thinking through the problem.

“Tell you what. I am willing to split this if you are. Maybe it’s enough to fix both of them.” The crease between his eyebrows was deep as he studied your face, “I know Adrian is too out of it to notice he’s getting jipped, not sure about your boss.” You shrugged.

“Wendy will manage. It’s enough to keep her from throwing something at my head next time I walk in.” He dutifully split the coffee between two of the recyclable travel cups and handed one to you. You took it gratefully.

“I hope this keeps you from… Dying? What’s up with that anyway?” You’re not sure what made this person that was essentially a stranger so interested in your life, but something about it feels nice.

“She had a really bad breakup: anniversary, thought it was going to be a proposal, instead it was him being a piss-baby. She’s a little all over the place right now. They’d been together for years and now there’s just… A hole. She doesn’t know how to deal with it.” Pike’s nod in response is emphatic, giving the cup in his hand a little wave.

“Same with him. Terrible breakup. He didn’t see it coming at all. She broke up with him on a voicemail… Then moved. ‘Course it just put him in this crazy funk, though. Doesn’t wanna work or do much of anything. No violence. Yet. But it’s sad to see.” You winced.

“That’s a rough one. Best of luck with him, Art Squad. Thank you. I owe you one. Seriously.”

“You definitely do, Jewels.” His smile is blindingly bright as he jokes. It makes you smile back.

“See you around.”

series taglist: @whiskeyslasso @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

forever tags: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives

#im not in love with this first chapter but hey!#gotta start somewhere #marcus pike x reader #iyewbil #bri writes

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1dsource · 4 years ago

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This list consists almost entirely of newer fics, so please show them some extra love and leave a kudos, and even a comment if you have the time. It’s important we also give the newer, unknown authors a chance so they keep having motivation to write more amazing stories for us all to read <3

Are you afraid of God? by @lightwoodsmagic l 53K l Supernatural Elements

It was supposed to be simple; bring us the boy, wipe away the debt. Watching Harry now, beautiful and almost untouchable where he stood against the railing, it seemed clear to Louis what he should’ve known from the moment he saw him. It was never going to be simple. “Do you think it’s possible to redeem everything that we’ve done?” Louis moved, desperate to be closer, the siren in the background obvious that everything was about to fall apart again. “I don’t know if there’s any point.” Harry kept his gaze on the burning city, eyes weary but bright. “Are you afraid of God, Louis?” “No, but I’m afraid of you.”

A Bioshock Infinite AU where nothing is ever as it seems, and time is always irrelevant.

I'm a Rocket Man by @adoredontour l 47K l Road Trip

All he could hear were the faint sounds of Pina Colada coming from the radio and his own heart beating erratically against his chest.

“Oops,” he heard coming from the other side of the front window. He quickly pushed the grey rubber towards the back of the car, the rubber of the thing groaning and squeaking as he did so. Finally, after wrestling the thing away from him, Harry came into view, face pressed against the other side of the window.

“Hi.” Louis smiled, looking towards Harry, eyes curious. He almost got lost in the way Harry’s face was so cutely pinched, green eyes glowing in the sunlight. He was brought back to reality when Harry tried to move, causing the grey whatever it was to push against Louis again. “What the fuck is this?”

“Uhh... it’s Randy?”

or, Niall is an investigative journalist, Liam is his biggest fan, Zayn is just along for the ride, and Harry probably isn’t an alien. A roadtrip au no one asked for.

Take A Chance On Me by @peachypetalhazz l 39K l University

When Harry receives two tickets to see one of his favourite bands, he'd expected that his best mate would accompany him. However, it is soon learned that the intentions behind this so-called gift were far more wondrous than he initially thought.

with no way out and a long way down by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed l 31K l Royalty l Soulmates

Prince Harry is ten when he receives his soulmark.

Just Let Me Adore You by @chloehl10 l 26K l Kid Fic

When Louis’ daughter presents him with a Christmas gift far beyond the price range of a four year old, he jumps to the worst of conclusions. He’s pleasantly surprised when he finds out how she isn’t as naughty as he thought she was, and who came to her rescue.

Lovin' you is a gift by @goldbootsandvans l 25K l Fake Dating

With his 28th birthday approaching, Louis was looking forward to celebrating in New York City with an all-expenses paid trip. He just didn't expect to spend it with an escort when he suddenly finds himself single a few days before it. A Pretty Woman AU.

Forever And Always by @jacaranda-bloom l 25K l Vampire Harry

“Right,” Harry says and slaps his hands down on the kitchen benchtop. Now he just has to get home, find this poor Niall guy who is currently camped out in his body, and have them swapped back. What could possibly go wrong?

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

Bare Essentials by @onlyforthebravee l 14K l Stripper Harry

Harry works at Bare Essentials as a stripper, but when he loses his first job, he decides to start doing the VIP's, which is how he meets Louis, who is as mysterious as he is fascinating.

i took my love (take it down) by @leedsau l 11K l Historical

“You know you’re crazy right?” Louis says one afternoon while they’re out on a stroll with the twins. All-day Harry had been trying to get cozy with him. He was the one who suggested that they walk to the town square together because he wanted to pick something up, and Louis was the one who made the twins tag along with them as a buffer.

The annoyed look on Harry’s face as he told their parents the plan was almost enough for him to call off this whole thing and just say he was feeling ill and needed to lay down (Louis wouldn’t put passed Harry to try and nurse him back to good health which would mean being in close proximity to each other that so idea was squashed). So he watched Harry suck it up, broke the news to the twins and now here they are walking.

Harry threw the leaves he’d been throwing around, at him, making them laugh. He gave Louis a funny look. “How am I crazy?" He asked, "Is it because I know what I want and I go after it.” Harry gets in Louis’ face, he can feel his heavy breathing on his lips. “Or is it something else?”

Wildflower by @halosboat l 10K l Florist Harry

"So, since you're an expert on the whole flowers thing, what kind of flower do you think I'd be?

"Would fit you," Harry amends, "and that would be sunflowers."

"Okay... and why sunflowers?"

Harry gazes down at him, running his fingers through Louis' soft fringe.

"Simple, because the sun follows you wherever you go."

The one where Harry works as a florist at Wildflower and Louis is a customer who keeps coming back.

temporary fix by @onlyforthebravee l 2K l Bartender Harry l PWP

Harry meets his one time Idol, Louis Tomlinson, while he's working at the bar one night. Louis takes him home.

Again, if you read, please remember to leave kudos and/or a comment so we keep motivating our lovely, talented writers and make them feel valued

#hljournal #hlcreators #larry fanfiction #fics #larry #strangers to lovers #ficmp

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cover2covermom · 5 years ago

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Goodbye April & hello May!

I can see the light at the end of the tunnel & I’m running toward it…

April seemed to drag on despite the days flying by. Does that even make sense? Like I’ve mentioned before, my days are filled with homeschooling, home projects, mask making, and reading. I’ve been doing my best to fill my hours to ease the COVID-19 anxiety.

I received the notification that I will be returning to work next week, which was welcome news. I’m ready to get back a little bit of normalcy in my life. Thankfully, our library system is reopening in phases. Our first phase will be employees only (3-5 employees in the building at one time) and offering curb-side service to our patrons. As of now, we will not open our doors to the public until June 1st at the earliest. At that point in time, we will be limiting the number of patrons allowed in the building. It is definitely going to be a learning curve to see what my new work normal is going to entail. I’m looking forward to adapting & rising to the occasion.

» Be Not Far From Me by Mindy McGinnis

As per usual, Mindy McGinnis puts out another harrowing YA book. I love survival stories, so I enjoyed this story about a girl that has gotten lost in the woods. Be Not Far From Me was uncomfortable to read at certain points.

» Here in the Real World by Sara Pennypacker

*3.5 Stars*

This was a sweet story about two kids that form a friendship while hanging around an abandoned lot. The first half of this book didn’t grab me and moved far too slowly. I enjoyed the second half of this book a lot better than the first half.

» Keeper of Lost Cities (Keeper of the Lost Cities #1) by Shannon Messenger

An awesome MG fantasy! I cannot wait to continue on with this series. I’d recommend this to fans of Harry Potter.

» Separation Anxiety by Laura Zigman

*2.75 Stars*

I read this for one of my book clubs. I think the author was attempting to write a book that would charm readers with eccentric characters & a humorous plotline, but don’t think it delivered. Instead of being funny, the story felt odd & forced.

» A Wolf Called Wander by Rosanne Parry

I think the author did a tremendous job writing a book from a wolf’s perspective. You can tell the author did extensive research into wolves & their behaviors. While I think this animal perspective was very well done, I didn’t think the plotline was all that entertaining.

» The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Oz #1) by L. Frank Baum

I’ve decided to challenge myself to read more children’s classics in 2020. To kick start this challenge, I started with The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. This was a delightful read! I was surprised to learn that the slippers were actually silver instead of ruby red… mind blown!

» SHOUT by Laurie Halse Anderson

This is a must read for fans of Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak. While you don’t HAVE to read Speak to read SHOUT, I feel like it makes a bigger impact if you read Speak prior to this. If you didn’t know, SHOUT is Anderson’s memoir told in verse.

» Loveboat, Taipei (Loveboat, Taipei #1) by Abigail Hing Wen

*4.5 Stars*

This is a guilty pleasure type of read. Actually, it reminded me a bit of Crazy Rich Asians a bit. It is a tad racy for a YA book… So I’d probably recommend for older YA readers that are 16+

» Exile (Keeper of the Lost Cities #2) by Shannon Messenger

I am LOVING this MG fantasy series. While these books are a bit chunky, don’t let the page count deter you. I flew through the first two books in this series this month. Also, I’m happy to report that this second installment does NOT suffer from “second book syndrome.”

» Nooks & Crannies by Jessica Lawson

Nooks & Crannies is an excellent MG historical mystery. Some of the elements of this story gave me Matilda mixed with A Series of Unfortunate Events vibes. The audiobook is well narrated.

» The Penderwicks (The Penderwicks #1) by Jeanne Birdsall

This is the perfect book to pick up during the summer months. It really gave me modern Little Women crossed with The Secret Garden vibes. The ending was so heartwarming it almost brought me to tears.

Goodreads Challenge Update: 46 books!

*I know it says 47, but I finished The Last (Endling #1) on May 1st*

March 2020 Reading & Blogging Wrap-Up

April 2020 TBR

Childhood Classics 2020: TBR

Most Anticipated Books of 2020 (May – December)

Mini Book Reviews: April 2020 – Part 1

Mini Book Reviews: April 2020 – Part 2

If you were ever curious what a bookworm’s quarantine stress shopping spree looks like, here you go…

» The Guinevere Deception (Camelot Rising #1) by Kiersten White

There was nothing in the world as magical and terrifying as a girl.

Princess Guinevere has come to Camelot to wed a stranger: the charismatic King Arthur. With magic clawing at the kingdom’s borders, the great wizard Merlin conjured a solution–send in Guinevere to be Arthur’s wife . . . and his protector from those who want to see the young king’s idyllic city fail. The catch? Guinevere’s real name–and her true identity–is a secret. She is a changeling, a girl who has given up everything to protect Camelot.

To keep Arthur safe, Guinevere must navigate a court in which the old–including Arthur’s own family–demand things continue as they have been, and the new–those drawn by the dream of Camelot–fight for a better way to live. And always, in the green hearts of forests and the black depths of lakes, magic lies in wait to reclaim the land. Arthur’s knights believe they are strong enough to face any threat, but Guinevere knows it will take more than swords to keep Camelot free.

Deadly jousts, duplicitous knights, and forbidden romances are nothing compared to the greatest threat of all: the girl with the long black hair, riding on horseback through the dark woods toward Arthur. Because when your whole existence is a lie, how can you trust even yourself?

» Song for a Whale by Lynne Kelly

The story of a deaf girl’s connection to a whale whose song can’t be heard by his species, and the journey she takes to help him.

From fixing the class computer to repairing old radios, twelve-year-old Iris is a tech genius. But she’s the only deaf person in her school, so people often treat her like she’s not very smart. If you’ve ever felt like no one was listening to you, then you know how hard that can be.

When she learns about Blue 55, a real whale who is unable to speak to other whales, Iris understands how he must feel. Then she has an idea: she should invent a way to “sing” to him! But he’s three thousand miles away. How will she play her song for him?

» Spinning Silver by Naomi Novik

Miryem is the daughter and granddaughter of moneylenders, but her father’s inability to collect his debts has left his family on the edge of poverty–until Miryem takes matters into her own hands. Hardening her heart, the young woman sets out to claim what is owed and soon gains a reputation for being able to turn silver into gold.

When an ill-advised boast draws the attention of the king of the Staryk–grim fey creatures who seem more ice than flesh–Miryem’s fate, and that of two kingdoms, will be forever altered. Set an impossible challenge by the nameless king, Miryem unwittingly spins a web that draws in a peasant girl, Wanda, and the unhappy daughter of a local lord who plots to wed his child to the dashing young tsar.

But Tsar Mirnatius is not what he seems. And the secret he hides threatens to consume the lands of humans and Staryk alike. Torn between deadly choices, Miryem and her two unlikely allies embark on a desperate quest that will take them to the limits of sacrifice, power, and love.

Channeling the vibrant heart of myth and fairy tale, Spinning Silver weaves a multilayered, magical tapestry that readers will want to return to again and again.

» Girls Like Us by Randi Pink

Set in the summer of 1972, this moving YA historical novel is narrated by teen girls from different backgrounds with one thing in common: Each girl is dealing with pregnancy. Four teenage girls. Four different stories. What they all have in common is that they’re dealing with unplanned pregnancies.

In rural Georgia, Izella is wise beyond her years, but burdened with the responsibility of her older sister, Ola, who has found out she’s pregnant. Their young neighbor, Missippi, is also pregnant, but doesn’t fully understand the extent of her predicament. When her father sends her to Chicago to give birth, she meets the final narrator, Susan, who is white and the daughter of an anti-choice senator.

Randi Pink masterfully weaves four lives into a larger story – as timely as ever – about a woman’s right to choose her future.

» The Island of the Sea Women by Lisa See

Set on the Korean island of Jeju, The Island of Sea Women follows Mi-ja and Young-sook, two girls from very different backgrounds, as they begin working in the sea with their village’s all-female diving collective. Over many decades—through the Japanese colonialism of the 1930s and 1940s, World War II, the Korean War, and the era of cellphones and wet suits for the women divers—Mi-ja and Young-sook develop the closest of bonds. Nevertheless, their differences are impossible to ignore: Mi-ja is the daughter of a Japanese collaborator, forever marking her, and Young-sook was born into a long line of haenyeo and will inherit her mother’s position leading the divers. After hundreds of dives and years of friendship, forces outside their control will push their relationship to the breaking point.

This beautiful, thoughtful novel illuminates a unique and unforgettable culture, one where the women are in charge, engaging in dangerous physical work, and the men take care of the children. A classic Lisa See story—one of women’s friendships and the larger forces that shape them—The Island of Sea Women introduces readers to the fierce female divers of Jeju Island and the dramatic history that shaped their lives.

» The Weight of Our Sky by Hanna Alkaf

A music-loving teen with OCD does everything she can to find her way back to her mother during the historic race riots in 1969 Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, in this heart-pounding literary debut.

Melati Ahmad looks like your typical moviegoing, Beatles-obsessed sixteen-year-old. Unlike most other sixteen-year-olds though, Mel also believes that she harbors a djinn inside her, one who threatens her with horrific images of her mother’s death unless she adheres to an elaborate ritual of counting and tapping to keep him satisfied.

But there are things that Melati can’t protect her mother from. On the evening of May 13th, 1969, racial tensions in her home city of Kuala Lumpur boil over. The Chinese and Malays are at war, and Mel and her mother become separated by a city in flames.

With a 24-hour curfew in place and all lines of communication down, it will take the help of a Chinese boy named Vincent and all of the courage and grit in Melati’s arsenal to overcome the violence on the streets, her own prejudices, and her djinn’s surging power to make it back to the one person she can’t risk losing.

» Escape from Aleppo by N.H. Senzai

Nadia’s family is forced to flee their home in Aleppo, Syria, when the Arab Spring sparks a civil war in this timely coming-of-age novel from award-winning author N.H. Senzai.

Silver and gold balloons. A birthday cake covered in pink roses. A new dress.

Nadia stands at the center of attention in her parents’ elegant dining room. This is the best day of my life, she thinks. Everyone is about to sing “Happy Birthday,” when her uncle calls from the living room, “Baba, brothers, you need to see this.” Reluctantly, she follows her family into the other room. On TV, a reporter stands near an overturned vegetable cart on a dusty street. Beside it is a mound of smoldering ashes. The reporter explains that a vegetable vendor in the city of Tunis burned himself alive, protesting corrupt government officials who have been harassing his business. Nadia frowns.

It is December 17, 2010: Nadia’s twelfth birthday and the beginning of the Arab Spring. Soon anti-government protests erupt across the Middle East and, one by one, countries are thrown into turmoil. As civil war flares in Syria and bombs fall across Nadia’s home city of Aleppo, her family decides to flee to safety. Inspired by current events, this novel sheds light on the complicated situation in Syria that has led to an international refugee crisis, and tells the story of one girl’s journey to safety.

» The Two Princesses of Bamarre (The Two Princesses of Bamarre #1) by Gail Carson Levine

Twelve-year-old Addie admires her older sister Meryl, who aspires to rid the kingdom of Bamarre of gryphons, specters, and ogres. Addie, on the other hand, is fearful even of spiders and depends on Meryl for courage and protection. Waving her sword Bloodbiter, the older girl declaims in the garden from the heroic epic of Drualt to a thrilled audience of Addie, their governess, and the young sorcerer Rhys.

But when Meryl falls ill with the dreaded Gray Death, Addie must gather her courage and set off alone on a quest to find the cure and save her beloved sister. Addie takes the seven-league boots and magic spyglass left to her by her mother and the enchanted tablecloth and cloak given to her by Rhys – along with a shy declaration of his love. She prevails in encounters with tricky specters (spiders too) and outwits a wickedly personable dragon in adventures touched with romance and a bittersweet ending.

» The Lost Kingdom of Bamarre (The Two Princesses of Bamarre 0.5) by Gail Carson Levine

In this compelling and thought-provoking fantasy set in the world of The Two Princesses of Bamarre, Newbery Honor-winning author Gail Carson Levine introduces a spirited heroine who must overcome deeply rooted prejudice—including her own—to heal her broken country.

Peregrine strives to be the Latki ideal—and to impress her parents: affectionate Lord Tove, who despises only the Bamarre, and stern Lady Klausine. Perry runs the fastest, speaks her mind, and doesn’t give much thought to the castle’s Bamarre servants, who she knows to be weak and cowardly. The Lakti always wage war, and the battlefield will give her the chance to show her valor.

But just as she’s about to join her father on the front lines, she is visited by the fairy Halina, who reveals that Perry isn’t Latki-born. She is a Bamarre. The fairy issues a daunting challenge: against the Lakti might, free her people from tyranny.

» A Crack in the Sea by H.M. Bouwman

An enchanting historical fantasy adventure perfect for fans of Thanhha Lai’s Newbery Honor-winning Inside Out and Back Again No one comes to the Second World on purpose. The doorway between worlds opens only when least expected. The Raft King is desperate to change that by finding the doorway that will finally take him and the people of Raftworld back home. To do it, he needs Pip, a young boy with an incredible gift—he can speak to fish; and the Raft King is not above kidnapping to get what he wants. Pip’s sister Kinchen, though, is determined to rescue her brother and foil the Raft King’s plans. This is but the first of three extraordinary stories that collide on the high seas of the Second World. The second story takes us back to the beginning: Venus and Swimmer are twins captured aboard a slave ship bound for Jamaica in 1781. They save themselves and others from a life of enslavement with a risky, magical plan—one that leads them from the shark-infested waters of the first world to the second. Pip and Kinchen will hear all about them before their own story is said and done. So will Thanh and his sister Sang, who we meet in 1976 on a small boat as they try to escape post-war Vietnam. But after a storm and a pirate attack, they’re not sure they’ll ever see shore again. What brings these three sets of siblings together on an adventure of a lifetime is a little magic, helpful sea monsters and that very special portal, A Crack in the Sea.

» The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

A bizarre chain of events begins when sixteen unlikely people gather for the reading of Samuel W. Westing’s will. And though no one knows why the eccentric, game-loving millionaire has chosen a virtual stranger—and a possible murderer—to inherit his vast fortune, one thing’s for sure: Sam Westing may be dead … but that won’t stop him from playing one last game!

» Ballet Shoes (Shoes #1) by Noel Streatfeild

Pauline, Petrova and Posy are orphans determined to help out their new family by joining the Children’s Academy of Dancing and Stage Training. But when they vow to make a name for themselves, they have no idea it’s going to be such hard work! They launch themselves into the world of show business, complete with working papers, the glare of the spotlight, and practice, practice, practice! Pauline is destined for the movies. Posy is a born dancer. But practical Petrova finds she’d rather pilot a plane than perform a pirouette. Each girl must find the courage to follow her dream.

» Wishtree by Katherine Applegate

Trees can’t tell jokes, but they can certainly tell stories. . . .

Red is an oak tree who is many rings old. Red is the neighborhood “wishtree”—people write their wishes on pieces of cloth and tie them to Red’s branches. Along with her crow friend Bongo and other animals who seek refuge in Red’s hollows, this “wishtree” watches over the neighborhood.

You might say Red has seen it all. Until a new family moves in. Not everyone is welcoming, and Red’s experiences as a wishtree are more important than ever.

» The Library of Ever (The Library of Ever #1) by Zeno Alexander

With her parents off traveling the globe, Lenora is bored, bored, bored–until she discovers a secret doorway in the library and becomes its newly appointed Fourth Assistant Apprentice Librarian.

In her new job, Lenora finds herself helping future civilizations figure out the date, relocates lost penguins, uncovers the city with the longest name on Earth, and more in a quest to help patrons. But there are sinister forces at work that want to destroy all knowledge. To save the library, Lenora will have to test her limits and uncover secrets hidden among its shelves.

» Chains (Seeds of America #1) by Laurie Halse Anderson

As the Revolutionary War begins, thirteen-year-old Isabel wages her own fight…for freedom. Promised freedom upon the death of their owner, she and her sister, Ruth, in a cruel twist of fate become the property of a malicious New York City couple, the Locktons, who have no sympathy for the American Revolution and even less for Ruth and Isabel. When Isabel meets Curzon, a slave with ties to the Patriots, he encourages her to spy on her owners, who know details of British plans for invasion. She is reluctant at first, but when the unthinkable happens to Ruth, Isabel realizes her loyalty is available to the bidder who can provide her with freedom.

From acclaimed author Laurie Halse Anderson comes this compelling, impeccably researched novel that shows the lengths we can go to cast off our chains, both physical and spiritual.

» The Girl Who Drank the Moon by Kelly Barnhill

Every year, the people of the Protectorate leave a baby as an offering to the witch who lives in the forest. They hope this sacrifice will keep her from terrorizing their town. But the witch in the forest, Xan, is kind and gentle. She shares her home with a wise Swamp Monster named Glerk and a Perfectly Tiny Dragon, Fyrian. Xan rescues the abandoned children and deliver them to welcoming families on the other side of the forest, nourishing the babies with starlight on the journey.

One year, Xan accidentally feeds a baby moonlight instead of starlight, filling the ordinary child with extraordinary magic. Xan decides she must raise this enmagicked girl, whom she calls Luna, as her own. To keep young Luna safe from her own unwieldy power, Xan locks her magic deep inside her. When Luna approaches her thirteenth birthday, her magic begins to emerge on schedule–but Xan is far away. Meanwhile, a young man from the Protectorate is determined to free his people by killing the witch. Soon, it is up to Luna to protect those who have protected her–even if it means the end of the loving, safe world she’s always known.

The acclaimed author of The Witch’s Boy has created another epic coming-of-age fairy tale destined to become a modern classic.

Which books did you read in April?

Have you read any of the books I read or hauled this month? If so, what did you think?

Did you buy any books? If so, which ones?

Comment below & let me know 🙂

April 2020 Reading & Blogging Wrap-Up + Book Haul #BookBlogger #Bookworm #Bibliophile #BookHaul #Reading #Books #WrapUp Goodbye April & hello May! I can see the light at the end of the tunnel & I'm running toward it...

#Bibliophile #book blog #book blogger #Book Chat #Book Haul #Book Nerd #Book Talk #Book Worm #Bookish #Books #Bookworm #Reading #Wrap Up

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talix18 · 5 years ago

Text

November 8

(There's a lot of padding in there.)

I have no free time today in front of a keyboard so I should be writing. Or working. Or listing all the things I forgot as I was half-heartedly packing. Or listing all the things I need to do before I leave so Mom isn’t disgusted when she comes to take care of the cats (Clean The Toilet). I managed to overpack without buying anything new but predictably, am not happy with any of it. This is one of my least favorite qualities about myself. Mom always hated shopping for jeans with me but I find my resistance to packing is incredibly annoying. I’m good at making sure the laundry is done so all of my options are open, but terrible at knowing what I will want to wear once I’m wherever.

I also managed to completely overlook shampoo and body wash on my first round of packing, which doesn’t bode well.

Is there some kind of rule against contractions I don’t know about? Word keeps putting blue squiggly lines under my contractions as if I don’t know what they are. I understand that writing all the words out will boost my count, but it’s not how people tend to talk.

Among the amenities at the retreat center where I’ll be this weekend is a working farm with baby animals. Yes, please, I would like to play with all of the baby animals. When life is complicated and ugly, baby animals are easy and adorable. My sister will be jealous when she sees the pictures with which I intend to spam her.

My sister is one of my best friends and I’m grateful for her every day. I’m not sure she would have chosen the way our lives have played out this far, but she is also unmarried and child-free (that part I’m pretty sure she’s okay with). If she dates, she doesn’t talk about it much with me, but I haven’t seen her in a relationship in over ten years. It was a brutal one. First love, first boyfriend, first break-up all in her mid-20s. Although my romantical adventures have been largely, um, unsuccessful, I am glad I got used to the idea of heartbreak young. (Even the song that turned me from a pop princess to a rock goddess was “Bringin’ On The Heartbreak” [MTV was born when I was in eighth grade and was my obsession for the next five years.])

Def Leppard is how I met my first boyfriend! We were in ninth grade, he was in my homeroom (both of our last names start with “H”), and he was wearing a tour shirt promoting the band’s second album. I was entranced. “You’ve seen them?” (Wanders off down a Randy Rhoads rabbit-hole.) I remember the conversation included something about Ozzy Osbourne and Randy Rhoads; either he’d seen them or was supposed to right after Randy died. Wikipedia tells me that Def Leppard opened for Ozzy at Merriweather, which is probably where A saw them; Randy Rhoads and all. (Now I am irrationally jealous at missing a show 38 years ago.) That’s probably where he got the shirt that made me talk to him; the shirt I made him leave with me when he moved away.

I should probably blame all my romantic misadventures on Def Leppard. They were a “heavy metal” (The lead singer joked “light alloy”) band that appealed to a slightly rougher crowd than I hand previously hung with. A introduced me to drinking beer in the woods by the elementary school (I was all of 13 or 14). The cops came and we ran to his apartment – his bedroom was on the ground floor and we climbed in through the window. We made out for a while to the Scorpions’ “Lovedrive”. A was a bad boy, and it took me a long time to get the taste for them out of my mouth.

A called every few months and my stomach would do flips at the sound of his voice. Did he ever actually say he was coming back for me or did I just make that part up?

My next boyfriend showed up when I was a senior and wreaked havoc on and off for the next seven years. He was a serial cheater and a pathological liar against which I had absolutely no defenses. I was a goody-goody. Teacher’s pet type. There was a pivotal moment one adolescent summer when the decision I made set the course for the rest of my life. I was hanging out in town with one of the tougher girls and her friends, trying to figure out how to smoke, and noticed it was 9:15. Curfew was 9:30, and I was easily a mile from home. I knew that showing up late would mean trouble. Was I going to say “fuck it” and keep hanging out?

I ran my ass off to make it home on time. Goody-goody. This probably kept me out of a lot of future trouble.

I fell hard for S – he was charming and charismatic and sang “Dixie Chicken” and made me laugh. He went to the Catholic boys’ school and was friends with my friend MB’s older brother. By that time I was solidly British pop new wave with some hard rock on the side (much like MTV itself). For the next absurd amount of years either he cheated on me or with me – he knew I would always be there. Until the night when he told me that he knew I was never going to find anyone who loved him like I did and he was ready to commit, but he had to tell me something first. His ex was pregnant and it was his. That was it for me. Finally. “Dixie Chicken” still gets me, as does the taste of Marlboro Reds and Bazooka bubble gum. (I started smoking when he broke up with me the first time.)

After my first college boyfriend (a good guy who is still married to the woman he dated after we broke up), I decided I wasn’t going to let anyone get close anymore. I was done with love; I was going to be one of those distant women who could never be possessed and never get hurt. I imagined veils and fog. If it was good enough for Stevie, it was good enough for me. At that time the idea of “if you want what someone has, do what they do” didn’t include the caveat of perhaps “asking if it was what they wanted and would they make the same choices again.” (I’m not saying Stevie’s not happy with her life, but 30 years ago she may have gently steered me another way.)

My old team leader just came by to chat and now my roll is slowed. She and I have worked together since I started here 17 years ago. My mind is starting to wander since I’m out of here soon.

I do want a partner – for practical reasons as well as romantic ones. I hate thinking that all the good sex is behind me, for one thing. It would be awesome to have help around the house – to have someone motivated to get something done when I just can’t get it in gear. (Much like this writing day. It was so easy yesterday!) (Five hundred more! Push through!)

I’m already annoyed because I’m not going to get my active minutes in today. It’s hard to be compulsive and unmotivated at the same time. I hate the feeling of being rushed – of not having enough time to get everything done. I want to get on the road before 4:30 because it’s Friday rush hour and I’m going around the beltway but I also want to clean the bathroom, scoop the litterboxes, and collect all of the paraphernalia I’ve forgotten to pack. It will be ridiculous if I have to level up a suitcase to go to a yoga retreat. Which is going to be interrupted by my service commitment, which is my decision, but ugh. I would prefer not to.

I’ve had an absurd amount of coffee today! The ideas should be flying out of me!

But where does a forty-ten-year-old meet people if not at work? There are people in all the meetings I go to but hardly any I’m interested in dating. My current working theory of relationships is that you should to the things that interest you. Whomever you meet along the way will have at least one interest in common. The problem with this theory is that carried to its logical conclusion, I’ve been in the wrong place for the past blah blah years. I must not be doing what I should be doing if I’m not meeting people I’m attracted to.

I mean, I know it’s all a crapshoot and our lives are run just as much by chance as by anything else. I can’t even complain about the cards I’ve been giving because I am way privileged. That’s something it took me way too long to figure out. I am a white woman who has always been housed and clothed and fed. I’m cis, I’m mostly heterosexual, and my body still does almost everything I ask of it. I have very little room to complain. I know that complaining about mental illness is something of a luxury – look at all the things going right that would otherwise take priority.

I have to thank the Internet for introducing me to people I would have never met otherwise. Yes, there are many cons to this big-data-driven lifestyle and I panic when my smart phone stops working. Social media absolutely has its negatives, but the people that I’ve met there are none of them. I met my first collection of Webpeeps thanks to FARK.com, but it was LiveJournal and Tumblr that expanded my world view.

(Does one last sentence complaining about being short on word count count as more words? I feel like it’s been all stops and starts today after the Randy Rhoads rabbit hole.)

(P.S. I’m ready to go - plus one big bag - at 3:50. I am the worst.)

#nanowrimo #f**k fifty

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danfanciesphil · 6 years ago

Text

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Mona looks up from the desk as Dan walks through the door; he’d been hoping to avoid her, but quickly adjusts his expression into the neutral one he’s been subtly practicing on the long walk back to the hotel. Phil is a step behind him, and as they cross the threshold, Dan ensures there is a reasonable distance between them as they make their way over the lobby towards her. Phil must be aiming that disarmingly brilliant smile at her, because she’s wearing a stunned expression like she had earlier.

“You’re back,” she says, standing from her chair. “Was it all…” Her dark eyes flick between the two men. “...okay?”

“Not sure whether Dan has a future career as a navigator, but he did well enough,” Phil replies smoothly. He begins shrugging off his coat, and Mona practically leaps out from behind the desk to take it from him. “Thanks,” he says to her, which again must be a rarity, judging by her startled responding stare. “Think I’m gonna hit the gym,” Phil says, the epitome of cool and casual in contrast to Dan, who is a perpetual rattling bone-bag of nerves. He spins to face Dan, tossing him the briefest of glances. “Thanks for that, Dan,” he says; if there’s a hidden meaning in those words, only Dan could ever know it was there. “See you later.”

He turns away again, as if they’re no more than mere, forced acquaintances. Dan nods wordlessly at Phil’s disappearing back, knowing that if he tried to match Phil’s nonchalance verbally he’d likely end up blurting that they just became the newest Mile High Club members to poor, unsuspecting Mona. Phil heads for the stairs, and Dan forces himself not to watch him go. Instead, he focuses on removing his own jacket.

|Unfortunately, almost the second Phil is out of earshot, Mona pounces on him, eyes wide and curious. “Was that truly awful? I’m so sorry, Dan, when I gave you the day off I’d no idea that he’d ask you to-”

“It’s okay,” Dan assures her, “it, uh, wasn’t that bad.”

Mona’s forehead creases beneath her fringe. “But you’re still not fond of him, I take it?”

Dan clears his throat, avoiding her eye. All he can think about is the sight of Phil on his knees in the cockpit, eyes glazed, lips stretched around him.

“Oh no,” Dan croaks in the least convincing voice he’s ever heard leave his throat, “he’s still a wanker.”

Mona, mercifully, doesn’t seem to notice the false note in Dan’s voice. Her mind’s probably still on other things. It occurs to Dan that he hasn’t properly asked about her time away, and feels guilty.

“Might want to avoid slating the guests quite so loudly,” Mona replies, trit-trotting across the lobby to hang up Phil’s coat. “As it’s your day off I suppose I can let it slide. You’re a free citizen today.”

“Mona,” Dan starts, ferreting about for the right words to say, “I just wanted to say - I’m really sorry. About your grandmother.”

She stops, hands still on the coat as she hangs it on the rack. She turns to face him slowly, a sad smile trickling across her face. “Thank you, Dan.”

An awkwardness descends upon the empty lobby; Dan has never known what to say in situations like these, and if the silence stretches on much longer, he’ll likely just shove his foot right in the middle of it. Luckily, Mona is much better at this kind of thing than him. She smooths down her skirt, then heads back for the desk in a clear ‘time to move on’ action.

“Off you go, then,” she says briskly, at once the manager again. “Plenty of the day left to spend without forced quality time with your nemesis.”

Dan's responding smile is both grateful and likely reeking of admiration for her professionalism; he hopes she can see that. He nods at her, and heads for the mezzanine stairs.

It’s just after one o’clock, and Dan’s lurking outside the gym, trying to make a mental list of reasons not to go inside. So far he’s got:

1. Phil might accidentally hit him again.

2. Phil might not-accidentally hit him again. (Sure, he didn’t seem pissed off with Dan when he had his mouth around his cock, but Phil’s got the temperament of a bitch on heat - who knows if something or someone has triggered another bout of moodiness).

3. Someone else might be in there. (As Dan is quite obviously the least likely person to go into a gym willingly, it might be a bit difficult to explain what he’s doing there to anyone else).

And that’s it. He’s spent the last half hour in the kitchen, receiving a grilling so thorough from Louise that he feels a bit like the toast she’d made for him. She’d pelted questions at him about the flight, so invasive that Dan almost felt like she’d somehow been there, watching through a camera in the cockpit, and was subsequently trying to catch him out.

“How many engines did it have?”

“Did you land smoothly?”

“What colour were the seats?”

“How fast did you go?”

“Was there turbulence?”

“What did you talk about?”

On and on and on. Dan never had to lie to her exactly, but in omitting the most significant part of the trip, he created an air of secrecy, he’s sure. So, he’d wolfed the toast and tea down as fast as possible, then scarpered. Of course, there aren’t many places to scarper to in this small hotel, so Dan had gone up to his room for a while. This turned out to be a bad idea, as being on his own meant that he was free to loop the sensation of Phil’s mouth on him over and over, until he was so horny he could barely think straight.

To make it worse, he’s all too aware of that ‘debt’ he owes Phil. It presses deeply into the walls of his brain, whispering insistently into his eardrum, detailing all the many ways he might repay that debt, and urging him to do it sooner rather than later.

So now, riled up from being isolated for a few hours with his own randy brain, Dan has - probably ill-advisedly - come downstairs to find the person who put him in this position, in the hopes of… well. He’s not going in with any pre-existing expectations. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that Phil will have flipped into dick-mode again and will sock Dan in the jaw before he can so much as lay a finger on him.

With a sigh at his own weak-will, Dan mentally flushes his list of reasons not to, and pushes open the gym door; he’s sort of been willing Mona or a guest to round the corner and discover him, force him to turn tail and relax into a non-incriminating activity elsewhere. But no such luck.

Phil is lifting weights, sat on a bench, one arm curling upwards as he pulls the barbell towards him. He’s got headphones in, and his forehead is furrowed in concentration. He finishes his set and places the barbell down carefully, flexing his fingers. He gets up, oblivious to Dan watching from the doorway, and goes to retrieve his towel, slung over a chair near the mirrors.

His back is to Dan now, but his front is visible in the mirror, allowing Dan to surreptitiously study every inch of him. His white shirt is practically sopping, clinging to his spine and chest. He’s been raking fingers through his hair, perhaps to keep it out of his eyes, and it’s so damp it’s stayed in position, slicked back like he’s one of the T-Birds.

He passes the towel over his face, murmuring along to whatever song he’s listening to. Heat crawls over Dan’s skin as if he’d been working out right alongside Phil, though of course that thought is laughable. He knows he should make a sound, alert Phil to the fact he’s here, watching, but he wants a few moments longer to just…. look. So often Phil will make some sarcastic, wanky remark that cuts through the atmosphere and ruins everything. When he’s quiet, he’s gorgeous, and nothing spoils it.

Before Dan can make a decision about whether to intrude, Phil reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, and lifts it off completely. His torso is shiny with perspiration, lean and toned. It’s not a six-pack reveal, just delicious, firm muscle coating every inch of his chest and back. Dan lets out a breathy noise, feeling a zip of pure lust whip through him. Luckily, Phil is still ignorant to his presence, airpods in.

But Dan is unable to remain still any longer. He treads further into the gym, letting the door swing shut behind him. It makes enough of a sound to have Phil looking up, catching Dan’s eye in the mirror. He throws the towel to the floor, the hint of a smile gracing his lips. He pulls one airpod out of his ear, then the other, putting them in his shorts pocket.

“Spying on me?”

Dan can feel his heart picking up speed as the tense, sharp atmosphere settles around them. The air smells like sweat and rubber; Dan imagines he can taste Phil on his tongue, rushing into his lungs with every breath he takes. He inches closer, not really aware of telling his feet to move.

“Maybe I wanna work out,” Dan replies shyly. He notes that despite the fact Phil clearly has a change of clothes in his gym bag in the corner, he’s making no move to re-dress.

Phil’s mouth twitches. “Need a spotter?” He reaches for his water bottle, the fluorescent light rippling over his damp shoulders. “Someone to stretch you out, maybe?”

He lifts the water bottle to his lips and drinks; Dan’s never thought of Adams apples being particularly attractive, but realises now, watching Phil’s bob up and down the length of his long, bristled throat, how mistaken he’s been. He licks his lips, suddenly parched.

“You know you said, earlier,” Dan says, the sight of Phil this way already loosening his tongue. He imagines his pupils are dilated, blown into black holes by the pheromones he can feel misting from Phil’s skin. “That you’d let me decide when to…” he’s inched his way into Phil’s personal bubble now, which he’d never normally do so boldly, but he can’t seem to make his feet behave. “When to repay you?”

He can feel his own flush, creeping across his cheeks, down his neck, but he ignores it, hoping Phil doesn’t mistake it for nerves. His hand reaches up without permission, pressing the pads of his fingers to Phil’s bare chest. Amusedly, Phil’s gaze drops to the place their skin meets, then lifts it back to Dan’s.

“I think I vaguely recall,” Phil says; if Dan’s not mistaken, there’s a faint blush skimming his cheeks as well, though there’s no way to know if that’s from exercise. “You want to… go upstairs? I can meet you in your room-”

“No,” Dan interrupts, a bit too loudly. His hand slides up Phil’s chest, over his shoulder. It’s damp and unnaturally warm. “Too far away. Too many obstacles.”

He pushes insistently against Phil’s chest, making him take a step backwards, until he’s against the mirror. “Dan,” Phil says, chuckling, “I’m all sweaty, let me at least-”

But Dan can’t take a second more of waiting. He leans in to push his lips against the acres of exposed skin in front of him, right above where Phil’s heart pounds. He can feel the reverberations of its rhythm beneath Phil’s sinew and bone; it’s electrifying.

“Oh, I see,” Phil purrs, much lower, hands coming up to skim over Dan’s arms, “you like it.”

Dan pauses, looking up at him. He feels caught out, exposed, like Phil’s suddenly revealed he’s a furry or something. He tries to look like the idea is absurd, that he’s completely in control of himself, but Phil’s smile has turned wolfish, poised to pounce on the vulnerable area he’s revealed.

“D’you like it when I’m all hot and sweaty, Dan?”

Dan’s stomach tightens, and he feels his erection stiffening beneath his jeans. He wishes he weren’t so easily affected by this wanker and his precision-bladed words, but it’s useless to pretend.

“Maybe,” he allows himself to say, the admission rippling a wave of heat over his body, deepening the blush no doubt. To distract himself from his own embarrassment, Dan smooths his hands down through Phil’s thin pelt of chest hair, then leans in again, this time to bury his face in the crook of Phil’s neck. It makes Phil jump ever so slightly, evidently not expecting it. “You just smell so good,” Dan whispers, eyelids fluttering in pleasure as he breathes in - it smells like sex, if he’s honest, but a headier, sweeter, richer kind. He’s never felt so affected by scent before, like it’s dispersed in the air around him, like it’s on his tongue, filling his lungs. He imagines clouds of it permeating his brain, puffing up wild thoughts, making him want to shove his hand into Phil’s shorts and drive him to ecstasy. “Let me-”

He cuts himself off, licking up Phil’s neck, one hand reaching up to burrow into Phil’s hair. He’d been right, it’s almost wet from perspiration, staying in whatever position Dan scrunches it into. Phil’s neck tastes of salt, and something sweetly-sour but delicious, so Dan licks again, from collarbone to ear, and Phil groans.

It’s the best sound Dan has ever heard. Phil’s hands are on Dan’s hips, pulling him closer, allowing Dan to feel how hard he is through the thin material of his shorts. Dan pushes into it, lets their groins align and skim against each other, sparks of pleasure firing through him. Dan drags his mouth over Phil’s throat, letting the faint stubble scratch over his chin, and then he bites down, right where shoulder meets neck, into a thick squeeze of tight muscle. Phil moans again, a hand bracing the back of Dan’s head.

“Dan, wait, don’t- ah fuck-”

Not listening, Dan continues to bite, to suck, to lave his tongue over the spot he’s chosen, imagining the bruise he’ll leave there, and how it will remain, violet and crimson, on display for everyone. Phil whimpers, his other hand slipping round to grab at Dan’s ass, to pull their crotches together even more.

It’s then that the unmistakable sound of voices are audible, getting closer, and Phil pushes Dan backwards, perhaps with a little more force than necessary, Dan can’t help but think. He stumbles, steadying himself on the punching bag, breathing hard. Both of them look towards the door, terrified, and Phil grabs for his gym bag, pulling out a clean t-shirt. Dan only has time to wipe his mouth, then stick a hand in his pocket to try and hide his erection, before the door swings open, and in walks Mona with three strangers.

“And this is our gym as you can see- oh! Mr Novokoric, I’m sorry I-” She stops, catching sight of Dan, bright red and breathing hard, trying and probably failing to act nonchalant as he leans against the wall. “Dan. What are you doing here?”

“Oh, um, j-just, um-”

The end of his sentence avoids his grasp, so Dan is more than grateful when Phil jumps in to save him. “I asked Dan to help me train,” Phil says - thankfully, the breathlessness of his voice could easily be attributed to strenuous physical activity. “To time me, and check my technique and, uh, that kind of thing. Had him do a few exercises too, as you can see.”

He laughs, slightly off-kilter; Dan tries not to look at Phil, sure that if he did, Mona would see the lust in his eyes. Mona seems to buy the excuse anyway, as she turns back to the three strangers at her rear, smiling. “Dan is our concierge, and Mr Novokoric is one of our guests.” She turns to Dan and Phil. “The Fitzgerald family arrived just a moment ago. They won a three-night stay here through a competition arranged by our British booking agency, isn’t that lovely?”

Something about the way she says it seems tense, as if it’s the least lovely thing she could imagine. In another circumstance, Dan might find this amusing.

“Nice to meet you,” Dan manages to blurt, lifting his hand in a wave.

“Yeah,” Phil agrees, “pleasure.”

“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” asks the middle-aged ginger woman, presumably Mrs Fitzgerald, who is dressed in pink floral thermals.

Phil swallows, ducking his head. “Uh, not that I know of-”

“Oh my God, you’re that Prince’s feller, aren’t you?”

Nausea creeps up Dan’s throat, sensing Phil’s discomfort. To his credit, Phil sends the woman a charming smile, then nods. “I suppose I am.”

“Blimey, mate,” huffs the balding, crooked-toothed man beside her, stepping closer towards Phil as if he’s after a better look, “bloody mad what you did the other day, weren’t it? Bet that didn’t go down too well with your hubby!”

Phil’s cheeks redden, and he looks to Mona for help. She jumps to attention, obviously incensed at the audacity of these people. Dan has half a mind to yell at them himself for daring to bring up such an obviously touchy subject with someone they’ve only just met - luckily, Mona gets there first.

“Excuse me Mr Fitzgerald, but I rather think we should leave Mr Novokoric to his training now, if you’ll just follow me…” she begins ushering them gently but firmly back through the door. The third stranger, a girl of about sixteen with fading blue streaks in her hair, stares wide-eyed at Phil as she’s hurried back out of the gym. Mona, the last one to leave, mouths ‘sorry’ at Phil, guiltily, and then pulls the door shut behind her.

Phil’s hand falls from his neck, where he’d been covering what Dan now sees is a bright, and extremely obvious hickey. “Shit,” Dan says, stepping closer to look. Phil takes a hasty step backwards then, so Dan pauses, unsure. “Are you okay?”

Phil shakes his head, contrasting with his quick answer of, “fine.”

“I’m sure Mona will have a word with them about not bothering you-”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Phil interrupts tersely. He starts packing things into his gym bag, then pulls his phone out of one of the zipper pockets. “Fuck’s sake,” he mutters. “Can’t I ever get a break?”

Dan doesn’t need to ask who’s been texting and calling him. “I shouldn’t have, like, tried to- y’know.” Dan blushes, once again an animé schoolgirl, flustered in front of her Senpai. “With you, in here of all places. I’m only making things worse for you. More stressful. If we’d been caught-”

“Hm?” Dan notices belatedly that Phil is barely listening, too engrossed in his phone. He glances up, catching Dan’s eye briefly. “Forget it. My fault too.” He pockets the phone with a deep sigh, then hitches his gym bag onto his shoulder. “I’ve gotta go shower. I’ll catch you later.”

For the fourth time in under five minutes, Dan switches the channel, landing on something resembling a soap, in Swiss French. A couple are fighting, pummelling each other with gentle fists, which quickly descends into a furious, passionate make out session. Irritable, Dan changes the channel again.

In the next moment, Mona is snatching the remote out of his hand. “I want you to have an enjoyable day off, Dan, but there is a limit. Other people tend to prefer watching more than a few snatched seconds of a programme at a time.”

Guiltily, Dan turns to see that he’s not the only one in the lounge; he’s somehow blocked out the sight of the three Fitzgeralds sat crossly behind him at a table. Dan sighs, struggling out of the beanbag chair.

“Sorry,” he says, smiling sheepishly at the Fitzgerald family. “Didn’t think anyone else was here.”

“What’s the matter?” Mona asks quietly, walking beside him as he ambles towards the kitchen, hoping to beg some snacks off Louise. “Are you in a mood because Mr Novokoric made you help him with his training?”

More like because that ‘training’ came to an abrupt and frustrating end, Dan thinks privately, but nods anyway at Mona. He can’t think of a different excuse. “Yeah. It’s okay though, I’m just grumpy. I’ll go wallow in my room so I don’t disturb the other guests.”

He leans through the serving hatch to peer about for Louise. She’s knelt on the floor in front of the freezer, rifling through the drawer for something.

Mona thumps Dan on the back and calls out, “Lou, get this boy something fruity and alcoholic, please.”

Dan turns to her, surprised. “It’s five-thirty.”

“And, for the hundredth time, it’s your day off. Relax. Go read a book. Listen to loud music. Heck, go in the hot tub. And for God’s sake, have a drink so you’ll stop moping about.”

She gives him one last warning look before bustling off, leaving Dan alone at the serving hatch to watch Louise prepare some sort of cocktail. “Oooh, what about a tequila sunrise?” she asks, sounding so excited by the prospect that Dan hasn’t the heart to refuse her.

“Sure,” he replies, surrendering.

“Sounds good,” a second voice says from somewhere behind Dan, and then Phil is next to him, still tapping at his phone, “I’ll take one of those too, please Lou.”

Dan’s eyes bore into the side of Phil’s face, but he doesn’t look up from his phone screen. He flicks a glance at Lou, who has her back turned to both of them, pouring measures of various liquids into a cocktail shaker.

“Good shower?” Dan asks; it comes out a bit more spiky than he means it to.

Phil’s mouth twitches, but he still doesn’t look up from his phone, the asshole. “Something wrong?”

“Nope,” Dan replies tightly, fingers drumming on the counter of the serving hatch. “You just focus on texting your doting husband back.”

Phil lowers his phone, turning to face Dan. He’s wearing that irritating, amused little smile again, the one that Dan could honestly punch him in the nose for. “You’re mad at me.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “When am I not?”

“Funny, considering I’m the one who’s been blue-balled twice today,” Phil points out, quite rightly. Dan pinkens, eyes darting to Louise, who mercifully is still way across the kitchen, out of earshot. “What exactly do you have to be annoyed about?”

“I- I’m just- we were in the middle of…” Dan watches Louise carefully, lowering his voice even further. “Stuff. And you just…”

Louise begins walking over, two tall glasses in her hands, each containing a gradient of liquid in orange and red. She’s given them a paper straw each, a slice of orange, and even one of those little paper umbrellas.

“There we are boys, two tequila-” she breaks off, smile slipping. Her eyes are trained on Phil, who doesn’t seem to have noticed, too busy taking the drink from her, looking pleased.

He plucks out his umbrella so he doesn’t poke himself in the eye, then takes a long sip through the straw. “Unngh, delicious Lou. I didn’t know you could make cocktails.”

Dan watches Louise worriedly as he takes his own drink, heart pumping harder as her lips purse, her eyes harden. She’s seen something, Dan’s sure of it, and he dreads to think what kind of incriminating thing Phil has done to make her so-

And then, in an instant, Dan remembers. “Shit,” he whispers, without meaning to, and Louise turns the full force of her glare onto him.

Phil, totally oblivious beside him, turns back to his phone screen, beginning to back away. “Thanks. See you later, then.”

Before he leaves, he aims a final smirk at Dan, then tucks the little lime green umbrella behind Dan’s ear, winking. Honestly, he could not have picked a worse moment to do something so uncharacteristically flirtatious. Dan winces, trying desperately to think of some excuse that Louise might buy, but the words evade him, as they always do.

Nevertheless, he tries: “Before you say anything-”

“What was the purpling monstrosity on that married man’s neck, Daniel?!”

Dan cringes from her anger. “Um, he fell?”

“Neck-first? Onto your mouth?”

Dan blushes, sipping the drink just for some way to avoid her eye. “It’s not that bad,” he tries, shrugging as if he truly believes it, “it’s just a little hickey.”

“You really think I’m dumb, don’t you,” Louise scoffs, then leans through the serving hatch to smack him on the back of the head.

“Ow!” Dan shrieks, spluttering on a mouthful of tequila sunrise. “Lou, for Christ’s sake, I don’t think you’re dumb!”

“Then stop lying to me.”

“Okay, okay, jeez!”

Louise’s attention is momentarily pulled away, to somewhere beyond Dan, so he turns, meeting the shocked expressions of the Fitzgerald party, intently watching their squabble. Louise gives them a gap-toothed grin, then says, under her breath, “get in here now, Casanova.”

Reluctantly, Dan does as he’s told. He makes sure to take a large mouthful of the drink before stepping through the kitchen door, to prepare himself for Louise’s telling off. He stays near the door even so, poised to escape if she starts threatening violence.

“I don’t know what to tell you, okay?” Dan says in a quieter voice, “I don’t even understand what’s going on between us-”

“So there is something going on?” Louise presses, arms crossed over her chest.

Dan hesitates, sipping more drink, then nods. There’s no point in trying to hide it any longer, she’s too suspicious, and besides Dan’s going mad not being able to talk about it with anyone. Phil is utterly infuriating, and confusing, and so hot that Dan can’t think straight. He needs a confidante, and with his limited options, he’s happy to have Louise over Mona or Kaspar.

“Jesus, Dan,” Louise says, falling against a nearby counter. She removes her chef hat, fanning herself with it. “I’ll give you this - things have never been so exciting up here, and that’s entirely thanks to you.”

“You’re not mad?” Dan asks timidly, sucking delicious juicy tequila through his straw.

Louise turns to him, wide-eyed. “Oh, I’m furious. This is completely reckless, and incredibly dangerous - you’d be better off snogging a mountain lion, honestly. What are you thinking?”

“I don’t think I am,” Dan admits, sipping, “thinking, that is. He makes me so… mad. We whip each other up into a frenzy and then it’s like all sense flies out the window.”

“Sounds... hot,” Louise says reluctantly, which makes Dan laugh.

“Well, yeah. But not very practical.”

Louise blows air upwards, seeming to actually consider Dan’s problem, for which he’s grateful. Perhaps honesty is all she needed to quell her fury over the subject. In an abrupt move, she pushes off the counter and goes to where she’d been preparing the cocktails, starting to pour more measures of ingredients.

“I need one of those, don’t judge me,” Louise says, not turning around, “and for God’s sake don’t tell Mona.”

“If I swear not to, can I have another one too?”

She laughs. “I’ll make a pitcher.”

Dan slurps the rest of his tequila sunrise down a bit too easily, and feels the rush of sugar and alcohol make him light-headed. He swirls the ice in the bottom of the glass with his straw, sighing. “God, I’m a dumbass, aren’t I?”

“Well yes,” Louise replies, then shakes the concoction for a bit in her extra large cocktail shaker, leaving Dan to chew on her concurrence, “but I mean, your actions aren’t completely incomprehensible, I suppose, given your position. I mean, there’s no denying he’s gorgeous. And rich. And he has that whole ‘I hate everyone - but not you!’ thing going on.”

Dan nods miserably, holding his glass out when Louise reaches for it. “He seduced me,” Dan whines.

“Oh, no, don’t try playing the victim with me,” Louise admonishes, pouring out a vat of cocktail into a glass jug. “You’re not playing innocent in this, I’d imagine, or he’d have the sense to resist your skinny little bum.”

Dan frowns, mildly embarrassed, though the alcohol is working very well to combat it. “I don’t know what I’m, like, doing though.”

Louise’s expression turns sympathetic, and she pours more tequila sunrise into Dan’s empty glass, bringing it to him. She puts an arm around his shoulder for a brief moment, squeezing tight.

“Dan, if he were a single man, I’d be all for this,” she says, her voice gentle. “I know he’s a bitch sometimes, but I love that man like a son.” She pinches his cheek, a bit too roughly. “And you’re alright too, when you’re not moping.” This makes Dan smile, but it’s sad and half-hearted. He slurps his drink. “The two of you’d drive each other nuts, that’s pretty clear,” Louise says, “but it’d be exciting and passionate. And that can be the foundation of a good relationship.”

“Y’know, he’s prob’ly gonna divorce Nikolai,” Dan tries, though it sounds pathetic even as he sounds it out.

Louise sighs, then goes to pour herself a drink. She only fills the glass halfway, presumably because she’s still got to make the guest’s dinner, and Mona’s likely buzzing about.

“If you believe that, Dan, I’m happy for you,” Louise says. “But really, if you’re completely honest with yourself, do you actually think it’ll happen?”

“It’s not because of me,” Dan insists, feeling petulant. “He was unhappy anyway.”

Louise downs her half-glass of cocktail in one go, then quickly rinses out the evidence. “True, but Nikolai’s kept him this long, hasn’t he? I don’t know all the incentives of being married to a billionaire, but I’d imagine there’s a few reasons Phil hasn’t tried to break it off before.”

Dan wants to argue, to insist that Phil isn’t materialistic like that, that he wouldn’t stay with someone that makes him miserable for money or security. But honestly, Dan doesn’t know if that’s true. He barely knows Phil, even now, which just makes reflecting on their actions over the past few days even scarier. He’s gambling so much - his anonymity, his safety, Phil’s marriage, Phil’s reputation - on someone he doesn’t truly understand. Someone that half the time seems to not even want him around.

More tequila sunrise sucks up through the straw, blurring Dan’s anxious brain.

Louise brings him the jug of cocktail then, handing it to him with a sad smile. “I think you need to have an evening to yourself. Think about everything. This likely won’t help,” she says, gesturing to the jug, “but it might prompt some self-reflection. Just don’t tell-”

“Mona, I know,” Dan mumbles, already headed for the kitchen door.

“Actually,” Louise says, making him pause, “I was gonna say Phil.”

Three-quarters of a pitcher of tequila sunrise and an indeterminable amount of time later, Dan is laid flat on his bed, feeling quite drunk and very sorry for himself. His phone is doing a lousy job at providing a soundtrack with its crappy speaker; he wishes he had whatever Phil has going on in his room - some sort of fancy phone-controlled surround-sound contraption - to blast the new Li’l Peep & Fall Out Boy song that seems suspiciously appropriate for his situation, but he’ll just have to make do with what he’s got.

He picks up his phone to find he’s been called twice by his mother, and it only makes him feel even worse. He can’t phone her back now, drunk and miserable about the situation he’s so foolishly gotten himself into. How could he ever explain, to her, that he’s not only run away and fucked up his life, but also potentially now someone else’s? His mother should forget all about him really; she should just adopt Beth as a replacement daughter. Dan always had the strange impression that his mum liked her more somehow, found it easier to make polite smalltalk with her about the dinner and the sales at clothing stores than she found it to have a single conversation with Dan.

He rolls over onto his side, heart squeezing. There’s a knock at his door then, but he ignores it. He wants to be alone, to fall further into this black hole of melancholy and curl up there, possibly until he slips into blissful unconsciousness.

“Dan?”

The voice is coming from the other side of the door. Dan thinks he could probably place the voice if he concentrated, but he’s not interested in anything but his Twitter timeline right now. Even that isn’t loading properly due to the terrible hotel WiFi, which he guesses is his punishment for behaving like such a twit. Really, what has he been thinking, of late? Louise is so right to have called him out on his idiocy today.

Sleeping with a married man - it’s something he never dreamed he’d do, and here he is, willingly discarding all conscience with the excuse that Nikolai is ‘a bit of a dick’.

Suddenly, a message pings at the top of his phone. He manages to press it, blurry though it seems, and the chat box pops up.

Unknown Number Why aren’t you answering the door?

Dan frowns, mind whirring.

Dan Whoo is this s?

Unknown Number Seriously? Who else would it be?

Dan Phill?

There’s no reply for a few seconds, and then Dan’s phone starts to buzz. His eyes widen, alarmed, and then he realises he’s being rung. He manages, somehow, to answer, and jabs at the loudspeaker button because lifting the device to his ear requires a touch too much effort.

“What?” he says aloud.

“Dan, answer the door,” Phil’s voice says; if he listens hard, Dan can also hear him speaking out in the hall.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“How’d’you get my n’mber?”

“Front desk,” Phil replies, like it’s perfectly acceptable to just steal someone’s contact information from a database.

Dan snorts. “Stalker.”

“Why won’t you open the door?”

“B’cause,” Dan stresses, frustrated. He rolls over, and the ceiling tilts, like a see-saw.

“Because…?”

“Can’t see you,” Dan sighs. “Dang’rous.”

There’s a quiet from the other end of the line. “Are you still mad at me?”

“Always,” Dan replies. “You can’t come in. We can’t see each’ther.”

“Are you... drunk?”

“Very.”

“Right, I’m coming in.”

“Nooo,” Dan protests weakly, letting the phone drop to the bed. He hears, in the background, a noise like a door opening, and sighs, admitting defeat. He should have had the sense to lock it before he drank so much delicious cocktail. “Dick-face.”

“Ah,” Phil says; Dan rolls over very slowly, trying not to churn the contents of his stomach. Phil is stood at his chest of drawers, on top of which is the nearly empty jug of cocktail. There’s about a glass-full left inside. “Well, mystery of Dan’s inebriation solved.”

“There’s some left,” Dan says aloud, reaching out a hand for the jug, “gimme.”

Phil is smiling in an upside-down way. He lifts the jug to his mouth and drinks some, but somehow it doesn’t tip all over the floor. “God, that’s too nice. Tastes like fruit juice. Louise is a lethal barmaid, I need to remember that.”

Belatedly, Dan realises that the reason everything looks topsy-turvy, including the shape of Phil’s usually visually pleasing mouth, is because he’s laid on his back, staring at Phil the wrong way round. He sits up, too quickly, and squeezes his eyes shut as the room lurches with him, somersaulting forwards.

Seconds later, there’s a dip in the mattress to his left, and then a cool hand slides down his back. “Noo,” Dan says, swatting in the direction he knows Phil must be, eyes still closed. “You have t’go.”

“Why? Are you feeling sick?”

Dan heaves a dramatic sigh, letting his eyes flutter open at last. The room has gone from spinning to a gentle rocking, but oh no- Phil is way, way too close. He’s right here on the bed, thigh pressed against Dan’s, in those stupid silky pyjamas, and his glasses are on, and-

“Dan?”

“No!” Dan exclaims, shifting away from Phil. He almost falls off the bed entirely, but Phil catches hold of his arm. “Not sick. ‘m’fine. But we have t’stop.”

Phil’s amused expression creeps over his face. “Stop?”

“Stop… foolin’ around.”

The amusement melts away, leaving a guarded stare in its place. Phil lets go of his arm. “Oh. Why?”

Dan splutters; how can he even ask that question? “Because i’s wrong! You’re married.”

“Yeah, I know that, Dan.”

“We’re cheating! We’re adulter-er-ers,” Dan wrinkles his nose - that didn’t come out quite right, but he thinks the point still came through. “Don’t you feel bad?”

Phil reaches up and removes his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Do you wanna get into bed, maybe?”

“Are you listenin’ t’me?!” Dan finds the nearest object he can - a stray pillow - and whacks Phil with it, feebly because his arms have gone noodly. “I’m sayin’ we can’t do th’t anymore-”

Phil wrestles the pillow off him, then whacks him right back. “I mean get into bed because you’re wasted, Dan. I’m not trying to seduce you.”

“Oh,” Dan mumbles, feeling his rapid breathing slow. A traitorous part of him aches in disappointment, but he squashes it down.

Phil places the pillow back in its position at the top of the bed, neatly. He’s silent for a minute, and Dan wonders if he’s actually pissed him off. Then Phil says, “if I wanted to seduce you I’d just have to get on the floor and do a few push ups, work up a sweat-”

And Dan lunges for the pillow, but Phil is too quick for him, and tackles him to the mattress before he can get to it. Dan groans - the force of Phil’s bodyweight barrelling into him when he’s already verging on queasy is not conducive to his slowly receding inebriation. The room spins again, and Phil leans up, propped on one elbow, laughing.

“Asshole,” Dan mutters, eyes slipping closed.

The darkness of his lids helps a little, mostly because seeing Phil so smiley and loose and happy is both disconcerting and totally wonderful. It’s best to just avoid looking altogether, so neither of the feelings can win out. Phil prods him in the stomach, disturbing what feels like a whirlpool of tequila and grenadine, and Dan tries to blindly smack him in the face - he’s unsuccessful.

“So, what happened?”

Dan frowns at the question. “What?”

“Between the last time I saw you and you drinking your bodyweight in hen-party special?”

He feels Phil moving around, rustling and jostling in a most irritating manner; when he opens an eye to see what the hell he’s doing, Phil is peeling back the covers of the bed, and plumping up the pillow. Something is stuck in Dan’s throat.

“Louise,” he sighs, giving in. He tosses an arm over his face so he won’t be able to see Phil’s reaction. “She saw your neck.”

“My neck? Oh.” He stops plumping. “Shit. I didn’t even think about it-”

“Yeah, well. She prob’ly would’ve found out anyway. She’s been like a bloodhound.”

Phil doesn’t say anything, so Dan lifts his arm, opens his eyes, then props himself up onto his elbows, studying Phil’s expression. He looks troubled but not angry, as Dan thought he might be.

“Would you get in, please?”

Unsure and anxious in the aftermath of what he’s just said, Dan does as he’s told. He’s still in his jeans, so he unbuttons them quickly and shucks them off, throwing them aside without looking Phil in the eye. Then, he climbs into the space Phil has peeled back for him, and lets Phil pull the covers over his body.

“What did she say?” Phil asks once Dan’s tucked in. He dithers at the bedside, clearly not too sure of what to do himself.

“Said I was an idiot, basic’lly,” Dan admits. “That I’m in over my head with you and your sitch-ation, and I should stop b’fore I get in trouble.”

Phil lifts his head to meet Dan’s eye, something strange and curious caught in the dip of his inner eye. “And what did you say?”

The question seems to come out of nowhere, flicking Dan in the forehead. He blinks, trying to remember. “Uh. Not sure. Think I babbled a lot. I was kinda terrified.”

Phil’s mouth twitches. “She’s a scary lady when she wants to be.”

Dan lets the silence blanket them - he wants the attempt Phil made at light-heartedness to recede, because his next question is serious, and he needs a real answer. So, he waits, and then opens his mouth for the tequila to push the words out of his throat.

“Do you really not feel bad about wh’t we’re doing?”

Phil sighs, mussing up his hair with both hands. He walks around to the other side of the bed, and then - rather pointedly, Dan thinks - flops down onto it. His head turns, staring straight into Dan’s eyes. “No, I don’t.”

There’s such raw honesty in the glaze of Phil’s eyes; even through his drunken haze, Dan can tell he’s not lying. “How come?”

“Do you know how many reports there have been of Nikolai cheating on me in the last three months?”

Dan grimaces, tearing his eyes away. “So you’re gettin’ back at him? I di’n’t sign up t’be your ammu-nish-on in some emotional battle-”

“That’s not what you are,” Phil interrupts, suddenly stern. He takes a breath, catching himself, but the outburst is already hanging, pointed and tense, in the air between them. “I’m not in a battle with Nikolai. Nothing about what I’m doing with you feels like fighting. It feels like giving in.”

Dan turns, sluggish heart pumping faster. “Giving in t’what?”

A silence stretches, and Dan half wishes Phil wouldn’t answer at all. He shivers, suddenly feeling the cold of this room - he doesn’t think the radiator is on. Phil should get under the covers, he’s probably even colder.

“I’m not sure yet,” Phil says eventually, seeming to choose his words with care. “Does it feel… wrong to you, then?”

Dan hesitates, thinking of the ways Phil touches him, firm and desperate, but gentle too - reverent, even. Phil handles his body in a way nobody has ever dared to, taking note of the ‘fragile’ labels, but not being deterred by them, not afraid to peel them back to get at what’s underneath. He unfurls Dan methodically, without hesitation, seeming to know every place he wishes would be kissed, caressed, before Dan can show him. It’s utterly seductive, impossible not to crave. In a sense it feels wicked, to want something so selfish, so pleasurable, but that’s nothing to do with Phil. It’s more about Dan’s insecurity, the way he’s been taught not to indulge himself, or want things out of his reach.

“No,” Dan decides, the word leaving his lips shakily. “It feels like…” his eyes fall closed, picturing Phil’s kiss against his jaw. Without meaning to, his head droops towards his shoulder, then further, until it’s resting on Phil’s. He yawns, suddenly exhausted.

“What does it feel like, Dan?” Phil whispers, sounding desperate again. “Tell me.”

“It feels like... I’ve found something… hidden. A secret thing, all fluttery and impossible. An’ I don’t want anyone else t’see.” Dan can feel, somehow, through the shifting of his muscles, that Phil is smiling, laughing at him - he’s not making enough sense. It’s not coming out how it should, his words aren’t doing a good enough job at describing. Dan huffs in frustration. “When you touch me,” he perseveres, fumbling in the dark, cobwebbed corners of his brain’s romance sector for appropriate adjectives, knowing they’ll never quite fit. “It feels like… for a moment, you’re all mine.”

Phil’s breath hitches, Dan can feel the stutter of his lungs. He’s still for a while, and then draws a deep breath, shifting Dan until they’re both under the covers, Phil’s arm across him, Dan’s back to his chest.

“Hey,” Dan says, seconds away from slipping under. “Thought we said no spooning.”

Phil laughs, lightly, breath tickling Dan’s ear. “I don’t think either of us are very good at keeping to our word.”

(Chapter Fifteen!)

#phanfic #phan #too high #enemies to lovers au

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