#making them is so fucking annoying though these absolutely should’ve just been side cups not a whole process for us to do

[alwaysf0rev3r]

3 Weeks Waiting

pairing: dbf!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been hooking up with your dad’s best friend for months, but you accidentally ghosted him during finals week. saying he’s desperate is an understatement.

warnings: needy!bucky (he needs a warning), m & f masturbation, face sitting, hand jobs, riding, desperate sex, slight sub/dom dynamic, m in f penetration, dirty talk, absolute filth, hair pulling, slight degrading, praise, creampie, age gap (buckys the age he is in the movies, and reader is in college, maybe in early/mid 20s?)

note: my requests are open!!!!! REQUEST STUFF FOR ME TO WRITEEEEE :)

Tired. Annoyed. Slightly grossed out by all the old dudes around you.

That was the best way to describe how you felt in that moment. Your dad had brought over some friends and coworkers to celebrate the beginning of summer, he always found an excuse to throw a pool party.

Irritation flooded you as you got up from your beach chair, trying to subtly sneak through to go inside. You grabbed your towel to wrap it around yourself before walking through the door and into your home.

Before you could grab the chips from the kitchen island, a familiar frame stopped you. He stood tall on the other side of the kitchen island, a cup of rum in hand, “Hey, Bucky.”

Saying there was tension between the two of you was an understatement. His eyes were dark on you, a certain desperation lingering behind them, and you knew exactly why.

The two of you had been hooking up for months now, it just… Happened. But you hadn’t seen, called, or texted him in over 2 weeks because of college exams, and that was the longest the two of you had ever not spoken. Even when you went out of town, you two texted like preteens entering puberty.

And you had the audacity to sit there in front of him cluelessly.

He had to sit and just give you a small side hug greeting in front of your dad. He had to watch you tan on a beach chair in nothing but a small black bikini.

He was in pain.

“Don’t ‘Hey Bucky’ me,” he shook his head, watching you grab the cool ranch doritos on the counter and grab one.

“What?” You pretended to not know.

“I sent you like— 5 texts and called you a lot.”

“I was studying and taking exams, Buck, I warned you exam week was coming… I wasn’t even on my phone until today,” you giggled at his grump expression, not being able to hold in your own laughter. It was obvious he wasn’t truly mad, more just too stubborn to admit how much he missed you.

“Is it funny?” he scoffed lightly, matching your little giggles as he walked around the kitchen island. He stopped as he stood a foot away from you, and from afar, it’d look like the two of you were just having a normal conversation, “Do you know how hard I am right now? I can’t cum without you anymore.”

Your eyes widened at his words, and it was rare for you to get embarrassed or startled at all, “You can’t say things like that so randomly, Buck.”

“Why? Does it turn you on?” He mocked, walking closer and looking around to make sure no one looked. He slowly let the bulge in his pants touch your thigh as he breathed in relief. He didn’t grind, anxious that someone would walk in and see, even though you two were on the side of the island that covered everything below your waist, “Take the towel off.”

“You’re like a dog in heat, Jesus,” you tried to hold yourself back, wanting to come off as stronger. But when he slowly moved his hips, you swore you’d snap, “Oh my god, don’t do that— People are right th—“

“I don’t care,” he moaned a little louder than he should’ve, groaning in pain as you backed away. He watched the towel slightly open as you stood in front of him, shaking your head in shame. Your chest was revealed only slightly, but the sight was enough to make him feral, “I’m gonna cream my pants, fuck.”

“Bucky,” you scoffed, grabbing your towel and taking it off. You threw it as his chest and watched him catch it blindly, too distracted at the visual of your body, “It’s a bikini, don’t be so desperate.”

You walked past him and towards the stairs, knowing him well enough to know he was most likely staring at the view that was your ass. You turned around while you took a step on the 4th step, your eyebrows going up, “You coming or what?”

He sprinted.

Ran.

Sped.

He was a fucking track star.

He nearly fell over running to the stairs and following you, like a loyal puppy. You made sure to make it torturous and walk slowly, but your heart was telling you to sprint. You wanted this just as much as he did, if not more.

But you wanted him needy.

The minute you entered your room, he slammed the door behind you and lunged at you. Your lips intertwined with his as he gripped all parts of you, from your arms, to your chest, to your ass, to your back… all of you. But he swore he snapped when you pulled his hair just slightly, making him moan into your mouth.

God, did you miss that sound.

You pushed him on the bed, watching him sit and stare at you with lusted eyes, completely at his mercy for you. In that moment, he’d do— say— be anything for you. He needed you.

Which is why he said what he did next

“I want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened at his confession, unsure of where this energy was coming from. He was always a begger, or even when he was in charge, he just asked. He never demanded or told. But there he stood, feet away from you on a bed, telling you what he needed.

You giggled and stepped closer, standing in front of his sitting body. You ran a hand over his face and took a minute to take him in, it had been too long. His sharp cheekbones, his scruff, the way his eyes were wide with needy— Beauty was not a good enough word for him, he was so much more than beautiful.

“Earn it,” you kissed his cheek in response, then moved down to his jaw. You kissed and sucked on every part of his neck while you slowly slipped your hand into his swim trunks, grabbing his bulge. His breath shortened as you gripped it tightly, rubbing up and down.

You were slow to grab the waistband of his swim trunks with your other hand and pull it down, but when you did, shock filled your face. You had never seen him so hard… It was bigger than usual, almost scary, “I haven’t cum in nearly 3 weeks.”

“Do you need me to tell you what masturbation is?” you joked, running your hand on his tip and using his precum to lubricate your hand.

“You can show me,” he joked back, throwing his head back while you started stroking faster, “I tried so hard to but— Fuck— I couldn’t c-cause it wasn’t warm like you.”

“That’s so pathetic it’s hot,” you chuckled, hearing his little laugh as well. You continued jerking him off, hoping you could get him to the edge faster, “I fucked myself a lot the past few weeks.”

“So you had time to jack off but not text me back,” he breathed out, joking with you. The sex with you two was always that— Free. No pressure, just you two.

“I guess you won’t want to hear about me cumming to a photo of you then,” you shrugged, stroking him continuously.

His eyes widened as he looked down at you, sweat covering his head, “Did you really?”

“Yes— That photo with your turtle neck… I was looking through my photos and found it in my favorites album,” you became focused on stroking, trying to ignore how wet you were, “You were so hot in it— I came twice just looking at it. Then the next day I came to that video you sent me of you jerking off a while back.”

“Jesus, you’re gonna kill me,” he moaned, which was motivation for you to slip your hand into your bikini bottoms, and subtly rub yourself while jacking him off. But when he looked down, the world was over for him, “Oh my god, you’re touching yourself.”

“It’s like there’s something wrong with me, Buck,” you moaned, removing your hand and shoving it into his mouth. He sucked all the juices of shamelessly, keeping your fingers in his mouth while he tasted you, “I’m always so wet. I cum, but it isn’t enough… I need you to fill me up, it’s the only thing that works.”

“Use me, take what you want— Fuck— I don’t care, just— Sit on my face or fuck me, please, just do whatever,” he moaned even though your hand was no longer touching him. Your words were enough to send him screaming.

“God, you are desperate,” you stared, straddling him and sitting on his bare dick. Your rubbed your clothed crotch on his exposed one, watching his mouth open, “You’re happy with whatever I give you, it’s sad. I could slap you and you’d probably thank me.”

He stayed quiet and grabbed your hips to encourage you to move more. There was something different about this time… You were in control. You had been very few times, but never so confidently, and it was driving him insane, “I could hump you for hours and you’d be okay with it, huh? You don’t even know what you want.”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he rebelled, ensuring you knew he knew exactly what he wanted.

You scoffed and put your hands on his shoulders. You dug your claws into them before moving them down and scratching hardly, watching red lines form as he moaned. You pressed your hands against his abs and pushed him down onto the bed to lay down.

He stared at you, no longer willing to make jokes. He watched you take your bikini bottoms off before shimming up and onto his abs. You stopped there and straddled his torso, humping his abs slowly, “I’ll let you taste me when I think you deserve it.”

“What did you drink?” He asked, swearing he could cum just watching you grind yourself on his abs, “Drink it more often cause you’re so fucking hot right now.”

“Shut up, I’m busy,” you moaned, grinding yourself on his abs and watching his eyebrows furrow, “I humped the pillow you’re laying on dozens of times while thinking of your cock filling me up— I even fucked myself with a dildo on it. Fuck, nothing makes me cum like you, it pisses me off.”

He moaned at the mere thought of it all, unsure if he could hold back any longer, “You can sit on my face on it too.”

You removed your body from his and moved up more, stopping as your crotch stood right over his face. He stared at your wetness, like a feral dog in training waiting for a treat… Waiting to get animalistic.

You decided to tease him a bit and put a finger inside of yourself, fingering yourself from only an inch above his eyes, “I bet those fingers don’t fill you like I do.”

“I’ll cum in front of your face and you can see how they get the job done, too,” you joked, moaning as you watched his hand go down to his own dick, jerking himself off.

“I can play this game too,” he moaned, stroking himself, “I could cum so fast just watching you… Fuck.”

Jealousy overwhelmed you as you removed your hand and sat down, holding back a bit of weight to let him breathe. He removed his hand from his own dick to push you off, making your eyebrows furrow in concern.

“Don’t do that stupid thing you do,” aggression leaked through his pores, “Sit on me— Like just… Put yourself on me. I want you to just stuff my mouth, not that stupid pussy shit where you pretend to be one pound. I don’t care about air, just sit.”

You chuckled before doing as he asked, sitting with all your weight. You groaned as he moaned right into your pussy, sending your back arching immediately. He moved his tongue so quickly you bent forward, gripping his hair and pulling it slightly. It was all overwhelming as you tested the waters, grinding yourself on his face and waiting to see if he’d ever ask for air.

But he didn’t.

Should you be concerned?

You lifted yourself up for a moment, watching him take a breath before shoving yourself on his face again, nearly coming at the sight of him being at your control. You grinded faster, using his face like a toy, “I can’t believe you want me to hump your face like a pillow— You’re so— Oh fuck.”

You couldn’t finish your sentence as you felt a knot in your stomach, a feeling which made you do the hardest thing you’d done in your entire life.

You lifted yourself up and got off of him.

He looked just as disappointed as his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, “I want to cum when you’re inside me.”

The disappointment faded into desire as he watched you straddle him again, this time putting your bare pussy on his dick, rubbing up and down, but not high enough to his tip, “You’re so wet.”

You kept grinding on the side of his cock, waiting for him to do something to earn him getting what you’ve both been waiting for, “Please let me fuck you— I’ll do anything, fuck— Please. This is so good, but I need to just be inside you, I’ll make you feel good, I promise.”

You took his begging as the final sign, taking it upon yourself to sit on his tip and slowly push down. You took your time, adjusting to what you’d spent too long without. When you were at the base, you moved your hips and circles, ignoring how stiff Bucky was. He was holding back, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white, “Bucky— Fuck me. Please. I can’t take it anymore, it hurts, just fuck me.”

He grabbed your waist and flipped the two of you over so you now stood underneath him, staring at his face. He looked down at himself entering you, knowing with that sight and the feeling of you pulling his hair, he could cum in seconds.

He relentlessly pounded into you, doing what he spent weeks penting up and thinking about doing. He rammed himself into you like a hammer hitting a nail, making your body twitch as you whined loudly. Everyone was outside at the pool, and you had all the freedom to scream.

“You’re so fucking good for me, taking me like a good girl, look at you,” he gripped your waist tighter and fucked you harder, “You’ve corrupted me— I can’t fuck anyone else, not even myself. God, I wish I could fuck you all the time. In public, in private, in cars, in every room and closet I see— Fuck.”

“Bucky, I’m gonna cum,” you yelped, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, “Do it with me.”

“I’m not wearing a condom, not tonight, baby,” he said through grunts.

“I’m on the pill, cum inside me,” you moaned, telling him exactly what he needed to hear. He spent months cumming in a condom, and very occasionally on your stomach after fucking you, “Fill me up.”

“Oh my god, you’re gonna give me a heart attack,” he groaned loudly, meeting your volume as he pounded faster, “You’re milking me so good— I’ll cum inside you, I promise.”

You both moaned as you pulled him closer, the both of you grabbing each other while you felt the other release. It felt like it lasted minutes, taking longer to cool down as he peeled himself off of you to give you space.

You sat up slowly and looked down at the cum leaking out of you, which you felt curious about. You brought a finger to your entrance and picked up all the white cream around your hole and shoved inside of you. Thrusting a few times to ensure it was deep into you. You inhaled sharply at the feeling of both of your liquids mixing to become one.

You brought the finger to your mouth and licked it clean, looking over at Bucky, who’s eyes were wide.

“Bend over, we’re doing Round 2.”

[solarwonux]

Sangyeon x f!reader

W.C: 6.2k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, suggestive themes, arguing, mentions of cheating

For the 12 Months I Loved You Collab by: @sunlightwoo

Note: um...better late than never right?? This was supposed to go up in February but things happen. It’s one of my favorite ones that I’ve written, but I feel like I say that for every single thing I write lmao. I hope you like it plsssss let me know your thoughts. Thank you.xx

A long exasperated sigh left your lips at the sight of Sangyeon in the corner of the reception hall, chatting up a pretty redhead. His arm draped around their waist, clutching their body close to his, their faces close enough to smell the expensive champagne lingering in their breaths. A palm was placed on his chest as he leaned down to whisper something in their ear. Earning a flirtatious giggle from them, along with a sultry nod.

Their delicate fingers wrapped around his black tie as they pulled him close to whisper something against his plump lips. It was your cue to look away, but something inside of you—maybe the five flutes of champagne you had indulged in when the night was still young, prevented you from looking away.

Gripping the body of your sixth flute you prepared for what was to come, though when he smirked and unraveled their fingers from his tie, you let out a sigh of relief. Sangyeon still hasn’t broken rule number three of your friends with benefits arrangement.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstance you are to hook up with other people.

Though when he ran his fingers down the side of their arm teasingly making them shiver at the feather-like feeling. One you had relished in for many nights on end, you knew he would not only be breaking rule number three but rule number four as well.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to hook up with other people, especially when the other party is in the same room.

The anger flourished inside of you like an unwelcome weed. And you knew green was definitely not your color, but you couldn’t help but feel the jealousy take over, running along your veins like bitter poison. Your grip on your champagne flute got tighter. So much so that if you were destined with superhuman strength you would’ve shattered it into pieces, especially when his knowing eyes met yours. A glint of something sinister sparking behind them while his fingers laced with those of the red head.

He turned away before giving them a shy whisper and then tugged them gently towards the door of the reception hall. Leaving you behind in the middle of his best friend’s wedding reception, on your sixth flute of champagne, while you broke rule number six.

Don’t catch feelings for the other party involved.

To be fair when you and Sangyeon had agreed to the terms and conditions of your new no strings attached relationship. You were positive, even overly confident that you weren’t going to be the one to fall for your brother's asshole friend.

You had known him for years, grew up with him. He always made it his mission to make your life a living hell. Whether it was purple food coloring in your hair conditioner back in middle school (you had an odd mixture of purple and red that had somehow turned a nasty shade of burgundy in your hair for almost a year as you grew it out enough to cut off the damage,) or calling you ugly while simultaneously including all the the synonyms. He had made your life a living hell, he had been the reason for your tears whenever your insecurities took over. And he had been the reason for your newfound jealousy now as you sat on your couch a week after your brother's wedding still replaying the scene back in your head like a bad old timely movie.

It had started when two of you got drunk on Christmas Eve, laughing boisterously at your nonexistent love life’s.

“Who knew the reason we would be bonding is because we haven’t gotten laid in months.” He said, throwing his head back, gulping the remnants of his beer.

”For your information, I got laid last week. But I’m not bringing my one night stand to meet my family.” You rolled your eyes, bumping your shoulder against his.

He sets the beer bottle to his side, before leaning his elbows on his knees and gazing over at you. “How many people asked you where your date was tonight?”

“Too many.” You sigh, running your finger along the condensation of your own beer bottle. The memories of yours and Sangyeon’s family coming up to you asking you the million dollar question still prevalent in your mind. “You?”

“Not as many as I expected but still a lot. I just wish maybe they can back off.” He leaned back, placing his elbows behind him. He tore his eyes from your form and focused them on the night sky. “Maybe I should’ve hired a date or something.” He comments.

Your family's holiday party was still bustling behind the front door of your childhood home. Yet, the thought of ever going back in, earning judgmental looks from your single aunts was keeping you away.

He was right, maybe you should’ve hired someone as a date for the night.

Sangyeon bumped his knee against yours gently, “Want to date for the holiday’s?” The question came off as a joke, his sweet and gentle laugh following it. But as you sat there contemplating the idea, you realized that it wasn’t as bad. He was practically family. Your parents and his parents had been trying for years to set the two of you up. If you were to show up on New Year’s with your arm looped in his, no one would bat an eyelash. In fact you were willing to bet money that your mom and his would start crying pure tears of joy.

“Why not?” You shrug, “Our parents have been planning our wedding since we were kids, and as much as we don’t like each other. In some twisted sense of the word I do trust you.” Sangyeon did a double take, sitting up straighter and leaning in just enough to be in your line of sight.

“Are you sure?” Concern washed over his features. His bottom lip found its way in between his teeth as he waited for your response. “Like, you want to date me for the holiday’s?” He asked pleading for reassurance. Despite the relationship between the two of you not making sense to anyone outside your friendship circle, the level of trust and respect for each other’s boundaries was evident. You two pushed each other, got under each other’s skin, but you also knew when to stop. Which is why this plan was perfect. Foolproof.

“Yes.”

And somehow the two of you agreed that from then until further notice you would be each other’s dates for every holiday in the near future. Yet, if you had known the outcome of it you wouldn’t have agreed, especially not when the thin threshold had been crossed on your birthday.

He had showed up with a cheap bottle of vodka, all the romantic comedies he could find at the gas station and a boyish smile. His lips were on yours after five shots of the drinking game you had invented and you were naked underneath him after seven.

“I’m just saying, adding sex into the mix wouldn’t be such a bad idea.” He proposed with a shrug during a very awkward hang over filled coffee talk at the rundown cafe the next day. “We can even add some rules so it wouldn’t be so weird.”

“Adding rules is the weird part, Sangyeon.” You rolled your eyes before taking a sip of your herbal green tea and then cringing at the taste. “But they would help...you know to keep things from getting messy.”

“Then it’s settled.” He smiled widely grabbing the kids menu you had ordered from and a red crayon, scribbling down messily in his almost indescifrable handwriting:

Holi-date No Strings Attached Rule Book

Can I come over tonight.xx

Your eyes roll to the back of your head in annoyance, upon reading the text from Sangyeon. Of course, he hadn’t contacted you for over a week and the only time he decides to do so is when he’s in need of a good fuck. You throw your phone down on the table, resting your forehead against it. An annoyed sound falling out of your lips.

“Hello there negative nancy,” Kevin says, slipping into the seat in front of you. “I got you your favorite.” He sings, placing the iced matcha green tea latte in front of you and flicking the top of your head to get your attention.

You whine, lifting your head up a pout evident on your lips as you break the seal of the plastic lid with your paper straw. A poor attempt to reduce the consumption of plastic. Changing the straw wouldn’t do anything for the Earth when your whole cup is made out of non-biodegradable plastic. Maybe it’s the effort and the thought that counts, either way you take a sip from your drink, savoring the taste as it coats your tastebuds. Letting the false promise of a full six hour surge of energy run down your throat.

“Thank you for buying today.” You nod.

“It’s the least I can do for helping me with the web design project.” He smiles an award winning smile before bringing his hot mug of black coffee up to his lips. Hissing from the heat and cringing at the taste. Just like how he couldn't phantom how you liked the vibrant green liquid, you couldn’t understand how he drank five cups of black coffee daily. Indeed, he was not human, you concluded that a couple years ago.

You shrug, wrapping your fingers around the cup, “I had time to spare, but don’t get too comfortable with my help. It’s rare that I finish my work early.” You point an accusatory finger at him, furrowing your eyebrows before breaking into a wide smile.

“Ehh,” Kevin shrugs, “we’ll see about that when you’re begging me to buy you one of those nasty vomit colored drinks in a week.” He finishes sending you a wink that usually has all the girls and guys weak in the knees. You on the other hand have been so accustomed to his flirty ways after years of working side by side that it did nothing to you but annoy you slightly, yet in some odd way it comforted you.

Since day one everything between you and Kevin was comfortable and easy. He sat next to you in your digital marketing class Sophomore year of college and the two of you had been inseparable ever since. For a while you harbored a fat silent crush on him, his flirting being a point of confusion for you back then. It wasn’t until you experienced first hand what dating Kevin would be like that your crush dissipated into nothing but a platonic kind of love.

It was awful, the two of you had only gone on two dates. Two very disastrous and nightmare inducing dates, that sent shivers up both of your spines when just the mere thought of it entered the front lobe of your brains. It was then, while attempting to wash out a red wine stain out of your white dress in his and Jacob’s kitchen that you both agreed to just being friends. Eventually leading up to being coworkers as well.

It was a shame, you could always see yourself possibly loving Kevin and it would be easy too. And as much as you’d like to imagine it sometimes, he wouldn’t be able to give you what you wanted and vice versa.

“How’s the boyfriend, trouble in paradise yet?” He raises his eyebrow at you, hitting your calf lightly with the tip of his dress shoe.

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “Sangyeon is not my boyfriend, we just hang out sometimes.”

You quirks an eyebrow, smirking, “That’s what I said about Jacob and I, and look at us now.” He raises his left hand wiggling his ring ringer, letting the gold band catch the light of the setting sun. “Till death do us apart or something like that.” He shrugs, taking another sip from his coffee.

“Yeah but you two are perfect for each other, Sangyeon and I are like water and oil we don’t mix unless, well...you know.”

“Unless the two of you are fucking? Yes I am aware, the horror of me walking in on the two of you last month still keeps me up at night.” He shudders, pushing his half empty mug away from him. A disgusted look on his face.

“Ugh,” you put your head in your hands in utter despair, “I thought we agreed to forget about that and move on.”

“Fine I won’t bring it up again,” He rolls his eyes and sits back, crossing his arms in front of him. “But I know there’s trouble in paradise, does it have to do with what happened at the reception?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. It wasn’t just the events that took place at the reception. It was everything before the reception, during the reception and after the reception. You swore to yourself and him the morning after the two of you first accidentally slept together that you would never fall for him. But as it turns out, you had fallen for him long before that, a moment lost in time. A moment you couldn’t pinpoint but you just knew that what you felt for him was more than platonic. It sucked.

“Maybe,” you shrug, stirring the contents of your drink with your paper straw, distracting you and avoiding Kevin’s look of concern. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s just so frustrating. We agreed to have rules to make this whole fucked up situation less of a mess, but he broke two of those rules that night, purposely. I could tell that he was enjoying it.” You let out a defeated sigh and push your drink out of the way, bringing your arms to rest on top of the table, crossing them and hiding your face in them. You couldn’t pinpoint the exact emotion you were feeling, but you just knew it was bad from the way your throat closed up and the tears that were brimming in the corner of your eyes.

Kevin hummed and leaned forward onto the table, ruffling your hair in the process. “And what rule have you broken?” He whispers.

“The one in which I wasn’t supposed to fall for him.” You lift your head, digging your palms into your eyes forcefully. “I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I can’t stop. It’s like he’s casted some kind of love spell on me. Maybe it’s part of his evil plan to destroy me once and for all.” You sigh, grabbing your phone and turning it over. The text sitting there unread, haunting you.

“Don’t answer it.” Kevin covers your screen with his hand. The sadness he held for you is evident behind his soft eyes. “I know you want to but don’t answer it. It’s only going to make you feel worse and frankly I still hate seeing you cry.”

He’s right. Answering him would only make you feel smaller than you already do. You didn’t want to see him, but you longed to have him hold you even if it meant nothing to him. You push Kevin’s hand away, swiping your thumb over the text, hitting reply. You know you should listen to your best friend, but there’s a reason why the two of you would’ve never made it far in a romantic relationship.

You were stubborn and never listened.

8pm, don’t be late. I have to wake up early tomorrow.

Kevin sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, falling back in his chair, scoffing. “Last time, tonight will be the last time and then we break it off.” You say, avoiding his eyes.

“That’s exactly what I said and I ended up having a shotgun wedding.”

Can’t wait, miss you.xx

“My job’s having an event for Valentine’s Day.” Sangyeon broke the silence, his chest still rising rapidly, matching yours. As you came down from your highs.

The second he had walked in through your front door he was pinning you against your poor excuse of a dining room table, without a proper greeting. He barely gave you a second to think before he was peeling your clothes off in a haste and carrying you off to your room.

“And you want me to go with you?” You turn your head to face him. He was laying down on his side, his head resting on his arm, watching you cautiously.

“Mhm,” He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you close. “I need a plus one, I have this annoying coworker that doesn’t leave me alone. I figured if I brought you along they would back off.”

“So I’m not just your date, but also your cockblock?” You tilt your head to the side, raising your eyebrow. “What happens when they find out we aren’t actually dating?” You poke his chest with your index finger. It was smooth and muscular and decorated with the beautiful marks you left behind a few minutes ago.

“They won’t.” He smiled leaving a light kiss against your neck, trailing his lips up and sucking on the spot he knew would have you moaning in seconds. “What do you say?” He bites your earlobe, pulling it before sitting up again.

You sigh and bring your sheets up to your body, sitting up. “I can't, I have plans already.” You lie hugging your knees up to your chest. You wanted to go, pretend once more that you and Sangyeon were more than holiday dates and fuck buddies. But you couldn’t put yourself through that anymore. You were getting used to being by his side, living out a fantasy in your head. When all he wanted was a quick fuck and an easy pass.

“I have a date, Kevin and Jacob’s friend.” You shrug, closing your eyes, mentally apologizing to the couple for dragging them into your problem’s once again. “We’re going out to dinner.” You finish, opening your eyes and looking over at Sangyeon who laid there, messy hair decorating his pillows, stunned. You knew what he was thinking and you were just waiting for him to say it. To get it over with so he’d leave as fast he came in.

He chewed on his bottom lip and then scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh, what about rule number seven or whatever.” He quickly got up from your bed, letting the sheets covering his lower half fall down to your carpeted floor.

As common courtesy for the other party, under absolutely no circumstances you are to date other people, until officially calling the deal off.

“Well, I don’t know. I like him. We’ve been talking for a while now and he’s sweet. He likes me.” You shrug, watching as he walks around your room looking for his discarded clothes. “And I haven’t broken the rule, yet. I was hoping we could talk about it and just call this whole thing off once and for all.”

“No but you broke rule number one or something.” He puts on his boxers fast and digs through your scattered clothes on your floor for the rest of his clothes.

You sat there silently watching him, running through your memory files as you recalled the rules and what rule number one consisted of which had nothing to do with what you had done. Or lied about doing.

As common courtesy for the other party, always use protection.

“That’s not what rule number one is, it’s -”

“Whatever, you broke a rule before calling it quits, you were basically cheating on me.” He yells, leaving his white washed jeans unbuttoned as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair. You were floored, witnessing an angry Sangyeon wasn’t rare for you. In fact, growing up you had been the product of many of his angry outbursts while inducing your revenge, but it was never serious. This was different. This felt different. This was serious, he was accusing you of something you didn’t do. He was accusing you of doing the one thing you saw him do at your brother’s wedding reception. It made your blood boil.

“That’s fucking rich coming from you, when you cheated on me first, but I never brought it up because although you fucking did break a rule. We are not together so who am I to get angry at you?” You threw your hands up in the hair, before pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Who are you to get angry with me?”

“And they were a good fucking lay, much better than you in every single aspect.” He spits out, angrily putting on his shirt. His words hurt. He was hitting you where it hurts the most and he wasn’t even aware of it. You held his gaze, refusing to break down in front of him.

“Why not ask them instead, why didn’t you go to them tonight instead of coming here?”

He shrugs, looking around your room, focusing on the polaroid pictures you kept on your mirror. Anything was better than looking at you, and the tears pooling in yours in which he undoubtedly was the cause of. But he was hurt too, you let him come over, you let him in and he had given you everything. Poured out his unwarranted feelings into every kiss he left on your body and every pattern he painted onto your skin with his delicate fingertips, just like he always did whenever the two of you got together. He knew he had broken rule number six a long time ago. Back when the two of you were still in high school, when the rules didn’t exist and his crush on you was nothing compared to what he felt for you now. But he was scared of telling you, and it had gotten him nowhere.

His heart still broke just like he feared, and even worse he had broken yours too.

“Maybe I should, this was a mistake. Being with you in the first place was a mistake and I knew it was going to bite me in the ass one day.”

“Get out, I never want to see you again.”

“With pleasure.” Sangyeon turns around and walks out the door. It wasn’t until you heard your front door slam shut that you finally let yourself cry.

You should’ve listened to Kevin.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” Jacob pulls his scarf around his neck. Though, it was February it had snowed last night. The winter clothes that you had slowly started putting away, swiftly made their comeback when you woke up shivering that morning.

You shake your head, stuffing the heart shaped cake you had made for both him and Kevin the day before. Be mine inscribed in sparkly purple store bought icing as per request from Jacob, “It’s Valentine’s Day, you should spend it alone together.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively at the two men in front of you.

Kevin leans forward, one hand on his waist while the other one moves up and flicks your forehead, “get that pretty head of yours out of the gutter, Jacob and I are gonna romantically eat our weight in this beautiful cake you’ve made us, while watching the Bring it On series.”

“I’m trying to get him to realize why the third one is the best.” Jacob says pointedly, bumping his shoulder against his husbands. “Solange Knowles steals the show, but he doesn’t want to admit it.”

Kevin scoffs and turns to face him, “I love you and I love your love for the Knowles family but face it babe the best Bring it On movie is the first one, it sets the precedent for all the other movies.” He finishes painting the picture out with his hands in the air before kissing the others cheek.

You shake your head, silently giving Jacob a knowing look. Of course the third Bring it On was the best one, but you won’t ever say that out loud. At least not with Kevin present, he won’t ever let you live it down. Will go on and on about how both you and Jacob were wrong until he was repeating himself.

“It sounds tempting but I’m going to pass, I have my own date with my couch and heart shaped pizza and -”

“Your vibrator.” Kevin interrupts, raising his eyebrows, smiling smugly at you. The embarrassment taking over your body and rising out of your ears. Jacob rolled his eyes, hitting his husband’s upside the head, and a warning look. Kevin pouted, “What? I’m not wrong, that's what she does every Valentine’s day, I’m just stating the truth.” He complains rubbing the back of his head.

“We’re going to go now.” Jacob places both of his arms on top of Kevin’s shoulders, mouthing a sorry in the process. You brush him off, “the offer still stands, if you get bored you can join us.” He opens the door and pushes his husband through the door frame.

“I’m good, have fun and no Kevin you can’t sleep on my couch after Jacob’s kicked you out again.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, last time, I walked in on you and San -”

Jacob covers his mouth with wide eyes as he continues to push him out of your front door, Kevin shrinks at the realization that he almost slipped. It had been three weeks since you last met him, since he last reached out to you. The only thing you knew of him was that your mom had called you to tell you that he had finally gotten the promotion he had been desiring for almost a year. Doting over him like she always did. It had gotten worse when the two of you showed up hand in hand at New Year’s last year. You were proud of him. You wanted to hug him and celebrate his achievement in every which way you could. But you meant it when you told him that you didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t trust yourself or your heart when it came to him.

“We love you, call us if you need anything.” Jacob said, sending you a kiss and shutting your front door. You smiled, listening to their bickering out in the hallway, standing there until they were far away and you couldn’t hear them anymore. They were characters, the two of them and even worse when they were together. It was why they were so perfect for one another, they completed one another in every sense of the word and it made you insanely happy, but also sad.

Sometimes you wished, whenever you were alone at night and staring up at your popcorn ceiling that you could have what they had with someone that loved you to the point in which they couldn’t live without you.

It will come, at least that what you told yourself whenever the tears stopped. You just had to be patient.

You were halfway through an episode of the Vampire Diaries, and your fourth slice of pizza when the knocking on your front door sounded. You rolled your eyes, quickly pausing your show and setting down your half eaten pizza slice in the box, before standing up. You obviously weren’t expecting anyone but you figured it was Kevin after getting kicked out again. It was never serious, this game both he and Jacob played. It was some form of twisted foreplay thing they did to keep things interesting. They had explained it to you once when you shared your concern for their relationship. Sometimes you wished you hadn’t asked. You could’ve gone living your life peacefully without knowing the details of their sex life.

“I’m going!” The knocking became more desperate the closer you got to the door, and it confused you. Maybe this wasn’t part of their roleplay fantasies and something had actually happened. It worried you. You could feel it all over your body as you grabbed hold of your doorknob. “Kevin is something wro-” You stopped mid sentence when you swung your door wide open revealing a very drunk and disheveled Sangyeon.

You brought your hand up to your chest, holding onto the necklace his family had given you back in highschool as a graduation present. You never took it off, it brought a sense of comfort whenever you were caught in situations that had your anxiety spiraling out of control. Situations similar to this one.

“What are you doing here?” You step aside to give him room to enter, inviting him in without a shadow of a doubt. You shouldn’t have done that, but the part of you that will always care for him was stronger than the part of you that wanted nothing to do with him.

“We agreed to be together every single holiday season and it’s Valentine’s Day.” He say, his voice slurring slightly at the end, evident that he had consumed more alcohol than what he could handle. “I can’t leave you alone on Valentine’s Day.” He finishes, his voice turning small at the end. He ran a shaking hand through his hair causing it to stand up in different directions as he paced through your living room.

You pressed your hands up to your cheeks, letting the coldness of your palms relieve the heat that had suddenly overtaken your body. “B-But we broke things off, we don’t have to do this anymore.” You drop your hands down and point at him and then at yourself, swallowing the lump that was forming in the back of your throat. “Don’t you have an event at work? What are you doing here?”

Sangyeon looks down, taking his lips in between his teeth, “I didn’t go.” He whispers before raising his head, his eyes welling up with tears as he stuffed his trembling hands into the pocket of his white washed jeans. You swore he didn’t own another pair. “I couldn’t go without you. I-I want to spend Valentine’s Day with you and the rest of upcoming holidays...But I also want to take you out on dates and binge watch shows with you and make love to you and hold you while you sleep. I want to wake up with you in my arms, and kiss you while you’re complaining about morning breath and make you breakfast.” He takes a shuddering deep breath before sitting down on the armrest of your couch, digging his thumb into the palm of his hands. “I just want to be with you forever.” He says, clearing his throat before letting the few tears he had been keeping fall.

“Sangyeon I-” You looked around your living room frantically. Your heart was beating out of your chest. The words that had fallen out of Sanyeon’s lips with ease were the last thing you had expected to ever hear him say. It was everything you had longed to hear him say for almost a year now and you didn’t know how to react. Should you tell him to leave to give you some space to take everything in? Or should you run up to him and kiss with all the love and passion you harbored for him? You were caught at the crossroads. was overwhelming.

Sangyeon scoffed, shaking his head before raising it again, turning his head to focus on your tv, avoiding your eyes. “You don’t have to say anything. I know you don’t feel the same way, I just couldn’t keep it in anymore. I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I don’t know when you told me that you were seeing someone. I was so angry at myself for never being able to just confess and hurt that I had been too late.”

The air in your lungs caught itself in the back of your throat. You walked towards him quickly crouching down in front of him, taking his hands in yours. “Sangyeon look at me.” You swallowed, placing two of your fingers underneath his chin and guiding his head to face you, finally locking eyes with you. You felt so weak and full of energy, ready to kiss him until the two of you died from lack of air and you wanted to laugh. “We’re so stupid Sangyeon. This entire time I thought you only wanted me for sex while I slowly fell for you and now you’re telling me that you had the hots for me since we were kids...wow.” You smile, swiping your thumb underneath his eyelids wiping away his falling tears. “I’ve loved for a long time. I don’t know when I started to love you. Just that when I realized it I couldn’t stop.”

“‘I’m sorry.” He hiccups, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I’m sorry for what I did at your brother’s reception, but I swear on my grave that nothing happened between us. They were drunk so I called them an uber and walked them to their ride when it arrived.” He confesses, leaning down and circling his arms around your waist, guiding you to stand up.

He rests his forehead against your stomach sighing. “There’s never been anyone else for me other than you. You make me feel so stupid and frustrated sometimes. I know I shouldn’t have said the things I did that night, like you said I had no right to bud into your love life and being angry is no excuse but I was scared of losing you.” He looks up, his bright eyes pleading. “I’m still scared of losing you.”

You sniffle, bringing your hand up to his head, letting your fingers thread through his already messy hair, “I’m sorry too for lying. Clearly I had no plans.” You laugh lightly, pointing around your living room. “I had somehow convinced myself that lying about seeing someone else would be an easier way to end things, but it hurt so much seeing you leave knowing that there was a possibility I would never see you again.”

Sangyeon laughs, his shoulders shaking gently before he leaves a chaste kiss against your clothed stomach. “Honestly, that would be impossible, we’ve been practically married since the minute we entered this world.” He stands up, towering a couple inches over you, “If I hadn’t come tonight our moms would have forced us to talk sooner or later, I just got a little too drunk and beat them to it.” He presses a kiss against your head before pulling you into a tight hug, sighing happily. “I never want to be without you.”

You nod against his chest, “Will you remember this tomorrow?” It was a thought that had been running through your mind since his confession hit you full force knocking the wind out of your body. Though the few times you had a drunk Sangyeon in your presence he remembered every single tiny detail the next day. This was just your fear taking full charge at the thought of him waking up next to you confused, and walking out again.

He hummed, smoothing his hands down your back. “I’ll write everything that happened down and in detail. I’ll even describe the look on your face when I told you that I loved you. Which by the way have I told you that I love you...a lot.” He teased, leaning back and wiggling his brows.

You leave a light kiss on his chin before pulling away, unraveling his arms from your body. “I love you too.” You walked around him and sat on the couch picking up the remote. “Want to join me?” You tilt your head, your thumb hovering over the play button.

Sangyeon pouts slightly, copying your movements and sitting down next to you. “I haven’t asked you to be my official girlfriend yet.”

“Ask me in the morning, I want you to ask me when you’re sober.” You smile, kissing his lips lightly and wrapping your arm around his waist, leaning your head against his chest.

He makes a sound of approval, placing his arm around your shoulder, “Okay but I have another confession before you press play.”

“What is it?” You press your cheek against his chest before looking up at him confused.

“I already watched this episode, Elena and Damon get into a fight.”

“Don’t they always.”

“Yeah but I don’t want to watch it again.”

You shrug and press play, “Unfortunately, you have infiltrated my Valentine’s Day plans so you’re stuck watching.”

“I did it in the name of love.” He groans, shifting and pulling one of your legs over his lap, holding you closer, as the snarky remarks between the two characters start, sounding loudly through the speakers he had helped install when you first moved into your place three years ago. He almost told you he loved you that day, but then you had put an ice cube down his back and his mind instantly started thinking of ways to get his revenge. His confession hiding away again.

But now it was out in the open and finally he could love you the way he knew he could. The way you deserved.

“And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

[i-need-air]

I just read your nsfw Hybrid with Bakugou and it's SOOO PERFECT. So, I was thinking, imagine this: Relationships between hybrids and humans are still frowned upon and one of your co-workers begins to disturb you about dating Katsuki. You are annoyed, but you don't tell Bakugou until one day your co-worker tries to harass you (kiss you, pull your clothes off) saying "you shouldn't be with that damn DOG". You run away and come home crying and sobbing over and over. Giiirl, Bakugou will go FERAL. ❤

I'm so glad you liked it 💗💗💗💗💗 Yes, god, Bakugou would indeed be F E R A L indeed; ok, i started writing it and I somehow progressed this story further. MORE LORE TO HYBRID!BAKU. I also went with the flow, got very carried away and gave it a different ending to what you suggested, so I really hope you don't mind. 😅 It just happened, maybe made it darker than it should've been, oop—, BUT everything works out.

Warnings: mentions of attempted sexual assault;

Word count: 1.8k or so, I just keep adding stuff 💀;

[ Masterlist ] [ Part 1 and Part 2 of General Hybrid!Bakugou HCs. ]

× you weren't really hiding it because it was legal, yet some [ many ] were judgemental about it

× you also weren't publicly proclaiming it but whatever, that didn't stop you from putting a picture of Katsuki playfully biting your cheek as wallpaper on your phone

× one of your co-workers, Albert, was somewhat pushy

× while you got along with everyone and had an okay relationship with them, he wasn't part of your friends group

× yet you always found him near you everywhere, to which you paid no mind

× it was once he looked over your shoulder when you unlocked your phone to see that picture, and Katsuki's sandy ears could be seen

× again, you didn't hide it so when he asked who was that you just said your boyfriend

× "Uhm, your boyfriend is a... hybrid?" he asked making a face; that's when you knew Albert had to stay away for real

× you just smiled and minded your own business

× but throughout the days he kept dropping comments about, his attitude even pushier than before and you realized talking to him about it wouldn't help

× "is he any better than a normal man?"

× "like... I don't get it, [Y/N], he's a dog..." he'd whisper at you while on lunch break, baffled expression on his face

× you gave him a look of disgust, getting up from the table and going somewhere else; why the hell was he following you around?

× "seriously, tell me, is it the sex?" Albert asked hours later, following you to the exit, unaware of your absolutely uncomfortable responses as you quickened your steps, but he grabbed you by the arm, surprising you with his strength

× "if it's just the sex you better know there are some men, real men out there that can take good care of you, [Y/N]."

× you had to raise your voice for him to let go of you since heads started to turn towards both of you

× "Just drop it, Albert, it's none of your business!" you said before turning to leave

× when you walked through your apartment door you were rattled

× Katsuki walked through the door just as you prepared yourself a tea, shaking slightly, frown on your face

× "Hey, what's up?" he eyed you and sniffed the air, feeling you nervous, cup of tea almost spilling everywhere; "Hey, hey, hey, give me that. [Y/N], seriously, are you ok?"

× "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." you lied and he knew, it was obvious even if you pretended everything was dandy

× on the other side you didn't want to make him worry or anything, Albert was just annoying and hopefully he now understood where he was standing

× but Bakugou Katsuki ain't having it, babe, nuh-huh

× he didn't say anything else about it that day though, just acted as normal but prepared your favorite dinner and a warm bath for you

× the next day he decided to pick you up from work by just arriving there half an hour earlier and see if something is really up, to make sure you're fine and the issue is from there

× he'd have to walk there from his job and then you'd both drive home and it wasn't a problem as he'd do overtime some other day;;

× what he did not expect was to hear your scream of help from the wooden area behind the parking lot in your office building

× let's go back in time for context;

× you walked out of work in a rush, finishing earlier than anyone else, car as your destination just ready to bolt home; Albert was eyeing you funny the whole day but stayed behind, so you didn't know if to feel worried or relieved

× as you walked to your car and pulled your keys, someone smashed you against the door

× "ungrateful bitch" you recognized the voice instantly and froze

× before you could open your mouth he put his palm on it and dragged you somewhere

× you dropped everything on the cement, bag, keys, phone...

× of course you were putting a fight but he was strong

× "I tried to be nice, sweeheart—" he mumbled while struggling to drag you into the wooden area

× "I told you, yeah? You shouldn't be with that damned mutt!" he pushed you unto a tree, making his first and last mistake, because he freed your mouth

× "HELP!" you screamed while he started grabbing your clothes, ripping sounds could be heard

× "I'm gonna have to show you what a real man can give you—"

× and as if planets aligned, in a blurr, Bakugou Katsuki appeared, jumping straight on him and knocking him out instantly, a loud crack deafening your ears

× Katsuki was shaking in anger

× he barely could control his body, his eyes were bloodshot and he had the most feral scowl you'd ever seen on him

× you just trembled in place, grabbing your clothes to cover yourself as you could

× Albert groaned on the floor, twisting his body to turn around and see what attacked him and in a broken speech, blood coming out of his mouth, he attempted to swear, but Bakugou's growl made him freeze in realization

× he was about to pounce again, any self-control leaving his mind when you hugged him tight

× in your arms you could feel his ragged breath, a deep continuous growl still coming from within his chest

× at this point some other people heard your cries too and called the police

× meanwhile you tried to calm him down because you felt he wanted to murder that son of a bitch

× intention was clear in his eyes, even Albert stood there terrified, broken jaw forgotten as he tattered on the floor like a weak animal

× "If you ever fucking dare to look in [Y/N]'s direction again I will find you—" he said and you shivered, holding him even more tightly "—I will kill you." he tried to take a step further but you wouldn't let him "And I'll make sure your body is never found."

× sirens could be heard in the distance and after that everything passed fastly

× they took Albert away, who was muttering scrawled stuff, and took both of your statements

× much to everyone's surprise they didn't cuff Bakugou [ 💖because we live in a society💖 ] so that was a good thing;

× although you did have to go to the station; they found security camera footage of the attempted assault, which Katsuki had to watch and almost erupted in rage yet again

× but it all came to an end when you got home, both absolutely silent

× he was huffing and walking around the place, shoulders tense and hands fisted into balls

× just to distract himself he started cleaning around the house and not looking at you, while you still stood there with his jacket on staring at him

× it wasn't until he finally looked at you when he really took in your state

× until now you behaved exemplary, calming him down, giving a statement, just acting strong

× yet once you reached the comfort of your own home you just couldn't take it any longer

× tears were falling on your face, you were shaking in place at the entrance, hugging his jacket close to your body as if it were your salvation and you just watched him

× it dawned on him how his rage took over him so hard that he couldn't focus on anything else, not even your heartbeat, your scent, your breath

× in an instant he was all over you, hugging you tight and lifting you up

× "I got you, baby, you're safe now." He'd whisper in your ear as you'd pull him closer

× he'd prepare you a warm bath and never leave your side while whispering sweet nothings to you

× "I'm never leaving out of my sight again, do you understand?"

× "I'll kill him if he ever comes close to you."

× "You're safe." he'd say as pulled you into him

× you spent the following days at home as you were granted emergency leave from work and found out the bastard was, of course, fired and prosecuted

× it would've been a lengthy process but from there on some things changed between you

× he'd walk to your job from his, even changed his work hours to fit yours, and you'd go home together, for starters

× his behaviour changed and even if he still gave you the Special Bakugou Attitude, he was gentler and sometimes you'd catch him looking at you like you're the most precious thing ever

× he wouldn't really word it at first but seeing you like that and finding out it was basically because of him really fucked him up

× it would take you to remind him that it's not his fault he's a hybrid, you always want to be with him, you don't care what he is really and the only one to blame was Albert

× [ he'd growl whenever his name would be mentioned ]

× anyway, remember, he needs to be held just as much as you do and that guilt will take some time to wash away; you got each other's back and that's what mattered at the end of the day

× but the weirdest thing was, as you went to the police station some more times, Bakugou somehow impressed the Captain, Tsunadu Hakamada:

× "That dude reeks of cocaine." he'd scowl and point with a sharp glare at this cuffed man sitting in a corner, making you look at him in wonder

× "How do you—"

× "Excuse me, did I hear that correctly?" someone said behind you, making you turn towards a tall blond man in uniform watching your boyfriend curiously

× "Hah?"

× low and behold, he's the captain of the precinct and asked Bakugou to come by any other day noting it would be a pretty great opportunity that would benefit both

× [ and after some attitude and snide comments from Katsuki, he agreed ]

× you went through a lot in a few weeks, like the trauma you'd both have to work through together but one good thing that came out of this situation apart from putting a piece of shit in jail was that Bakugou was offered a position as a special officer in the precinct as long as he went through the academy as anyone else would

× people were starting to see the value of hybrids and the Captain wasn't one to let go of such an opportunity

× things were progressing little by little and it gave you hope for a better tomorrow with Katsuki by your side.

Notes: For those that don't know, Tsunadu Hakamada is Best Jeanist.

[angstyaches]

Hey! Here’s the headache request #2 lol

Charlie or shayne (this feels more like Charlie to me, but whatever you feel like!) with an awful headache that is absolutely killer, and it’s lay-on-the-floor-of-the-bathroom-with-the-lights-out-and-cool-washcloth-over-the-forehead-time, except the other one doesn’t know that quite yet until they find them in pain and puking their absolute guts up, which cues lots of gentle caretaking, soft comforting whispers, and maybe camping out on the floor together until the poor kid is able to get some sleep and wake up feeling a little better.

Again, I'm so sorry for losing your original request! I didn't quite make it to the sleep/feeling better, because I felt it come to a natural end.

Word Count: 1458

CW: headache, emeto, demon possession, character needs help moving.

___

He gasped deeply, swallowing back a howl of pain. His stomach was lurching under his ribs, unable to still itself under the amount of pressure that radiated from his left temple.

It hurt, it hurt, it hurt so much that he couldn’t believe this was real, he couldn’t believe he’d ever known a time when his head hadn’t felt like it was being drilled into.

With clammy hands, Charlie felt around on the floor for the wet cloth that he’d been holding against his head before the vomiting had set in. It’d been his second course of action, after downing some ibuprofen (which were now swimming in the toilet drain), and before killing the bathroom light. He finally found it and dragged it towards himself, pressing it to his head and holding it up with an elbow on the toilet seat. Usually, he’d have shuddered in dread at the thought of putting a cloth on his face if it had just been sitting on the bathroom floor, but there was no room for pickiness now.

Besides, he was sure the floor had been washed that week. Yeah. Maybe.

An unproductive retch made his throat clench and forced his jaw open. He was almost relieved to think that he was nearing empty; once the nausea passed, he could focus on becoming a reclining statue on the floor again. Most annoying was the fact that the puking was a result of the headache, but was also making it worse.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the demon CT mumbled, Human bodies make no sense.

“Charlie, you okay?” That was a voice from the real world, specifically from the other side of the bathroom door. “You’ve been gone ages.”

Before he could even entertain the idea of responding, thick chunks rolled up Charlie’s throat and into the water. He dreaded to even begin to think what those chunks once contained.

“Charlie…?”

Before Charlie could protest, CT’s telekinesis kicked it and unlocked the bathroom door. Shit, he thought, flinching at the sound of the door clicking open. He yanked the cloth down over his eyes, desperate to keep his eyes covered.

“Don’t turn on the light,” Charlie hissed, feeling the demon’s energy kicking in to replace that which he’d already lost from his own body. The effort of talking was so intense, like every word was a kick to the inside of his skull with a steel-toed boot. He barely mumbled out a groan as he pushed himself upwards, his whole body thrusting back and forth lightly with the repeated spasms that went through his tummy.

“You’re sick?” Shayne mumbled, clicking the door shut slowly and cutting off the light from the landing.

“Mmhmm…” Charlie reckoned Shayne had figured it out hours ago, despite his best efforts to appear cheerful during the evening. It wasn’t often that Elliott and Felix made the trip out to Mulberry, and the last thing Charlie had wanted was for anyone to be worried about him. “Headache… bad one.”

As expected, Shayne let out a sigh. “You should’ve said something…”

“Please don’t yell at me,” Charlie gasped, saliva running down his chin as he hovered about the toilet seat.

“This is literally as quiet as I can –” Shayne shut himself up with a soft grunt. He knelt beside Charlie. It was obvious that he intended on rubbing his back while he continued to heave over the toilet, but Charlie had other intentions now that his boyfriend was here.

And by boyfriend, he meant human pillow.

The tiles were freezing as he lowered himself to the ground again. He’d sweat so much more since he’d started throwing up, and his clothes were a little damp and felt disgusting against his skin.

He didn’t really care about the rest of his body, though, as long as he could lay his head in Shayne’s lap. Shivers ran down his back, direct waves of tension that trickled down from his skull.

Charlie whined, low in his throat, as Shayne brushed his hair back from his forehead and laid the cloth across it. His fingers moved slowly and gently as always. It was as though Shayne believed Charlie’s skull was made of eggshell, and that it might have cracked and collapsed inwards if it was put under any serious amount of pressure.

Whereas honestly, it felt more like his head might crack from the pressure coming from the inside.

Even as he was lying still, Charlie felt like his head was being wrenched to the side, as though he was nailed to a turntable that was set spinning slowly. Only the sensation of Shayne playing with his hair kept him somewhat grounded, and even that didn’t feel like nearly enough.

“Just cut it off.” His voice was getting higher as time went on, like he was an old tea kettle slowly coming to the boil. “I want it gone, just – just chop it off.”

Shayne frowned. “Your hair?”

“My fucking head!”

“Sssshhhh…” Shayne’s fingertips glided down the nape of Charlie’s neck. In contrast to the light touch, Charlie could feel his own muscles tensing up, hard as rocks. Every inch of his body was reacting to the pain which, in itself, only really took up about one inch of his skull. "It's okay."

“It's not! I hate this,” he whimpered.

“I know...”

A low groan from the pit of his stomach alerted him to the fact that the convulsions were traveling through his insides again, and he choked on a sob. His head was still in pain after laying it in Shayne’s lap, but it was the most comfortable he’d been in ages. He didn’t want to get on his knees again and lose even more of his dinner.

His chest tightened with a hiccup. Shayne cupped a hand around his shoulder, ready to help him back up.

Charlie tried to hum in protest, but squeezed his lips together upon tasting acid on his tongue. His spine jerked him forward, curling him up even tighter. The cloth dropped off of his forehead again, but this time Shayne grabbed it before it could sit on the tiles for too long.

“Charlie –”

“I c-can’t, I can’t sit up!” He clapped a hand over his lips as his stomach clenched again.

“I’m so sorry, Charlie, just remember I love you.”

“Wh-wha –?” The floor suddenly seemed to tilt in the opposite direction, or maybe it was entire fucking planet, because Charlie suddenly didn’t know which way was up or down. He felt Shayne pulling his arm up around the back of his neck, dragging him to his knees and draping him over the toilet seat. Charlie could barely see for the stars exploding in his vision, but when sickly liquid clawed its way up his throat, he heard it hit another body of liquid at the bottom of the bowl. “Fuck…”

“You’re okay,” Shayne whispered, right next to his face. Charlie’s chin was practically resting on his shoulder. His arm was draped over Shayne’s other shoulder, like he was injured and being dragged off the battlefield.

He felt another wave of nausea bubble up under his ribs, his stomach letting out an uneasy gurgle. Charlie shut his eyes as a mouthful of bile stung his throat before cascading out of him. Needles of white-hot pain shot through his head.

A gentle knock on the door sounded like an elephant being dropped on the landing.

“Fuck – what?” Shayne hissed, turning his head to project his voice away from Charlie’s delicate eardrums.

“Is everything okay?” a voice asked from the other side of the door. Sounded like Felix. “Do you… need anything?”

Part of Charlie wanted to beg for some more ibuprofen to kill the agony in his head, but another wrenching pain in his gut told him it wouldn’t stay down this time either. He heard Shayne hesitate, probably having the same realisation.

“Water might be good,” Shayne said back.

“Blanket,” Charlie choked out softly. He had a horrible feeling he wouldn’t be moving from the tiles for a long time yet.

Shayne sighed again, rubbing a hand along Charlie’s spine. “And the blanket from the sofa, Fee.”

After chucking up another sliver of whatever was still in his stomach, Charlie turned his head and nuzzled into the hollow between Shayne’s shoulder and neck. His body would have crumpled to the ground if it hadn’t been practically tangled up with Shayne’s.

“P-please don’leave me,” he mumbled, realising his was slurring his words.

“Love,” Shayne whispered, sighing in the way he did that let Charlie know he’d just said something mildly infuriating. He wrapped an arm around Charlie’s waist and pulled him even closer, taking even more of his weight now that the sporadic vomiting seemed to have stopped. For now. “I’d never dream of it.”

[queerlykat]

for the bnha prompts, could I ask for bakukami with 27 (did you just say you love me?), 28 (I didn’t know you could be romantic), 29 (you’ve never kissed anyone before?), or 30 (I notice when you stare at my lips) thanks!

Ahhhh yes!!!! Sorry it took so long to get to but holy fuck was this fun to write, though I may have gone a little overboard considering the other ones have all been under 1k words so... oops.

I hope you like it!

Anyway, here it is! And I'll be posting it to AO3 soon as well.

Word Count: 1,703

Genre: Fluff

Prompts: 28. "Wow, I didn't know you could be so romantic." | 29. "You've seriously never kissed anyone before?" | 30. "I notice when you stare at my lips, you know."

"Oi, dunceface, I'm not an idiot, you know - I fuckin' notice when you're just starin' at my lips and not actually paying attention and if you're not gonna take this seriously, I -"

"Sorry!" Denki interrupted in a squeak, a red flush spreading across his face. "I - uh - Fuck, sorry," he repeated when Katsuki set him with a murderous glare.

That glare softened and shifted to something not quite as furious after a moment, more contemplative than anything. A few long seconds passed before Katsuki sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. "You didn't take your Adderall today, did you?"

"Heh - it's that obvious?" Denki asked sheepishly, grimacing as he looked down to stare at the corner of his textbook.

"Well you sure as shit ain't paying attention to the stuff you're supposed to be," Katsuki scoffed, reaching over Denki to slam the book closed. "We'll study tomorrow when you can actually fucking focus."

"Sorry, man, I was trying - really," Denki rushed to say, but only got a disbelieving look in reply as Katsuki grabbed the pen and notebook that belonged to him and stuffed them in his bag. "No, seriously, dude. It's just hard to when my brain won't slow down and let me process shit and then I guess I just kinda... check out? 'Cause I know I won't understand it anyways and then when you were leaning over you got really close and I noticed that you actually have really nice lips which... sounds really creepy now that I've said it out loud. Fuck. I didn't - uh - mean it like that. 'S not like I want to kiss you or anything. Er, well, not that I wouldn't or don't want to but I uh -" Denki swallowed hard as he realized just how deep of a hole he had talked himself into, face burning red as he buried his face in his hands, "I'm shutting up now."

Katsuki huffed wordlessly and Denki heard him zipping up his bag. The lack of response quickly ate away at Denki's nerves and he was lifting his head to start speaking again when Katsuki cut him off.

"So? Which one is it?"

Denki tilted his head at his friend, "What...?"

Red eyes pinned Denki to the spot with the sort of intense shine to them that was usually reserved for extreme challenges; the same faux-confident look Katsuki wore before taking on something he wasn't actually sure he'd succeed at.

Katsuki took in a deep breath, rolling his eyes and glancing away as he let that breath out in an annoyed huff. "You keep givin' mixed fucking signals, dumbass. So I'm asking, do wanna fucking kiss me or not?"

Denki felt his jaw drop open at the sudden blunt question, eyes going wide as his ever-racing thoughts screeched to a halt and all he could think about suddenly was how adorable Katsuki looked in the moment. Anyone else would think he looked pissed, but Denki knew Katsuki well enough to know that the particular scowl on his face was one of uncertainty and not anger. Not to mention the red flush across his cheeks and how he was glaring directly at a spot on the table, refusing to look at Denki.

He was nervous and that was just,

"So cute."

The words tumbled out of Denki's mouth in an awed whisper and he didn't even realize he had said them out loud until those red eyes flicked towards him, going wide for a moment before narrowing back into a seemingly angry glare.

"That's not an answer, you idiot!" Katsuki shouted, that red flush on his cheeks spreading over the rest of his features all the way down his neck and up to his ears. "And I ain't askin' again, so -"

"Yes!" Denki blurted out as his mind caught up to the situation all at once - along with the added urgency that this may be his only chance.

There was a split-second hesitation that seemed to last for hours, freezing Denki to the spot before a hand was grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him forward.

Flailing for balance, Denki barely managed to grab onto Katsuki as their lips collided with bruising force and ow, that actually hurt.

A small whimper came from Denki at the rough treatment, followed closely by a muffled shout of surprise when he felt Katsuki's tongue soothe over the sore spot on his lip. Katsuki took that as an invitation to slip his tongue into Denki's mouth, momentarily sliding over Denki's before pulling away completely.

"Fuck," Denki mumbled in a shaky exhale, still gripping onto Katsuki's biceps and staring dazedly at the spit-slick lips he'd just been kissing. "That was... wow. Um," he cleared his throat, head still spinning, "Didn't - uh - didn't expect my first kiss to be like that. Guess I should've since it's - it was y'know, with you and -"

"Wait," Katsuki interrupted roughly, "You've seriously never kissed anyone before? The fuck?"

Denki felt his face go hot, undoubtedly a bright shade of red, and he couldn't help but drop his forehead against Katsuki's shoulder to hide. "Y-yeah," he mumbled, face burning even hotter when he heard Katsuki laugh. "Shut up!" he whined.

"Nah, don't think I'm gonna," Katsuki teased, though Denki couldn't help but relax a little when he felt a pair of warm hands land on the curve of his waist and pull him closer. "Wish I woulda known, though, wouldn't have done it like that if I knew it was gonna be your first kiss," he snorted.

At first, Denki couldn't help but grumble in protest at the continued teasing before an absolutely genius idea lit up his brain. "Well, uh, what - what would've you done if - if you knew?" he asked, tilting his head to look shyly up at Katsuki even as a small, mischievous smile tugged at his lips. "You could... show me, if you want," he suggested, idly tracing patterns against one of Katsuki's arms.

A soft, albeit amused scoff came from Katsuki as he rolled his eyes. "Well I woulda taken you out first," he said before pausing a moment, glancing off to the side again, "If you - uh - if you'd want that."

There was no way Denki could stop the grin that spread across his face at the implication that Katsuki actually wanted to date him. "Yes!" he gasped excitedly. "I mean - um - yeah. Yeah, I'd... I think I'd like that," he added with a sheepish chuckle when he realized how desperate he must've sounded.

The warm, soft laugh that came from Katsuki flooded Denki's stomach with butterflies, chest swelling with pride at managing to get such a genuine laugh from the other. "Yeah. Well. I'd do that."

"And then?" Denki prodded.

"What'd'ya think, dunceface?" Katsuki snorted, "I'd walk ya to your door 'nd kiss you there. Y'know. All proper and shit."

"Hmm," Denki hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head so he could look at Katsuki better, "Okay, but that still doesn't tell me how you'd kiss me. Just... when and where. And I dunno about you, but I really think a demonstration would be the best way to explain it."

"Of course you do," Katsuki scoffed, but Denki didn't miss the way Katsuki's cheeks flushed a little.

"Well?" Denki asked, lifting his head from Katsuki's shoulder, "Are you gonna or not?"

He got another eyeroll in response, before those red eyes focused on him again all sharp and intense in a way that never failed to make it hard for Denki to breathe. He felt one of Katsuki's hands trail up his side and over his shoulder before the backs of Katsuki's knuckles were lightly brushing over his cheek.

As if Denki wasn't already struggling to breathe, the way those gorgeous red eyes softened their gaze and dropped to stare at his lips made him completely forget how to breathe at all. He found himself leaning in, guided by the hand now cupping his cheek, until he was close enough for their noses to brush.

"Can I kiss you?" Katsuki asked, all soft with only a hint of his usual gruffness.

If it weren't for how hard Denki's heart was pounding, he would've worried that it may have already melted into nothing more than a pile of goo. The same couldn't be said for his brain, though, which Denki was almost certain had long since turned to soup.

Which made it rather difficult for Denki to formulate any coherent words, let alone verbalize them so, instead, he nodded his consent.

A small smile graced Katsuki's lips for a mere second before he was tilting his head and pressing their lips together with a gentleness that Denki didn't think Katsuki was even capable of.

"Wow," Denki breathed shakily when Katsuki pulled away, feeling even more dazed than after the first kiss. "I didn't know you could be so romantic," he mumbled, barely even realizing he had said that out loud.

"Hah?!" Katsuki huffed offendedly, "The fuck is that supposed to mean? Didn't think I'd be a good boyfriend or somethin'?"

"What?" Denki gasped, eyes going wide at Katsuki. "No, I - w-wait. Wait, did - does - are we - boyfriends?" he stammered when he fully realized what Katsuki said.

"You agreed to go on a date with me, dumbass, so yeah," Katsuki scoffed even as he shoved Denki away - much more gently than normal, Denki noticed. "Meet me in front of the dorms Friday night at 6 'nd I'll take you to the carnival or something," Katsuki said, walking to the door. "And don't be late!" he added roughly as he left, slamming the door shut behind him.

Still trying to get his brain to catch up with everything that just happened, Denki found himself staring blankly at the door for several long moments before it finally, fully sunk in.

He had a boyfriend.

And that boyfriend was Katsuki.

"Holy shit," Denki whispered to himself, a grin slowly spreading across his face as giddy excitement bubbled up inside of him and spilled over in the form of incredulous laughter.

For the rest of the day, Denki couldn't stop smiling even when it started to hurt and he's never looked forward to a Friday more in his life.

[hopeamarsu]

Of potions and myths - Chapter 3

William “Ironhead” Miller x f!reader

Word count 3,1k

Warnings: There is a visit to the police station and the officer isn’t the most accommodation but no words are changed. Other than that, I think none

A/N: I realize not a lot happens here, but I’m working my way to reveal more of this world, their connection and adding a dash of magical au in here somewhere.  

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4

Will insists on driving you to the precinct first, to file the complaint about the man from the previous night before heading out to meet his pack. You almost want to protest, the need and itch to solve the riddle of the connection and the pull between you much larger, but one look into his eyes tells you he will not budge. So with a sigh and a kiss, you untangle yourself from his embrace and slip into your bedroom to dress for the day. 

When you come back to the kitchen, Will has already cleaned up your cups and your coffee maker and he takes your hand as you walk outside. The air is warmer now, the morning chill defeated as you step to the curb and back into his truck. The brush against your seatbelt seems almost unconscious as the blond man starts the truck and navigates into the morning traffic. 

The drive is accompanied by shy glances and soft smiles and you speak of unimportant things, getting to know one another. Favorite bands, random titbits about food and restaurants you’ve recently tried, stuff that on the surface level seems shallow but reveal a lot of each of you as you trade questions and stories. As he pulls up behind the police station, Will almost takes your hand into his, remembering the tendrils at the last moment. It might not be best to flaunt them around until you get a better understanding, he thinks, so he guides you inside with his hand hovering beside your elbow. 

You don’t notice it, but as soon as you step in, the man scans the exits and weak spots within the lobby and moves his body to best cover you as you walk to the counter. As you tell the officer manning the desk you want to report a crime, he cages you between him and the counter, one hand on your back and the other leaning over the wooden desk. Will might look relaxed and his posture easy, but he is anything but. The thrum in his chest has changed its tone and he can feel the wolf pace around as it tracks for any potential threats. 

The report is thankfully done quickly, smoothed over by Will’s convenient flip of his wallet and credentials when the officer looks up and down at you with disinterest as you explain your issue. You wrinkle your nose in annoyance when he does it, but let it pass as it gets the officer moving, pulling up documents for you to fill. Your information is jotted down, the account of the date and parties involved and you give a description of the potion (corroborated by Will) and as soon as your signature dries on the paper, the Captain whisks you outside.

“That was fast,” He comments as he guides you back to his truck, his hand radiating heat over your body. There is a non-committal hum from your pursed lips. You do not elaborate it further, but he catches the tone of it anyway. “Sweetheart, what is it?” Will grips your hand, forcing you to stop before you can step inside the car. He gently turns you around so you are face to face again. 

His blue eyes are darker again, though not in arousal. There’s worry, apprehension and something else swimming in the depths and your heart squeezes a little as you catalogue them. Hesitantly Will lets go of your arm and the spot feels cold immediately. From the corner of your eye, you see the tendrils disappear from where he touched you. “Did I do something wrong there?” 

You are quick to shake your head. “No, no! Absolutely not. It’s just… You know I was hesitant to do this in the first place and it’s because I knew this was going to happen. They would not believe me until you showed your credentials from Delta and it annoys me. Not you, the idea that just because I’m a mundane, I’m not to be believed. Like I don’t know a potion when I smell one. Just because I don’t have a neat little ID card that states I’m born into it, but have had to work my way through research to understand the intricacies. Might as well call me hysterical, you know?” 

Will tugs you in immediately, strong arms wrapping around to envelop you in a hug. Hands run up and down your body as he curses under his breath. He should’ve known not to hijack the situation, he should’ve let you handle this particular battle but he didn’t. The need to make it all go away fast got away from him. Something fierce bleeds through from his mind to yours and you gasp involuntary as it shatters your shields. The power of it knocks the wind out of you and your knees buckle. 

“Shit!” The curse is louder this time and Will reaches out behind you to open the door to the truck and he helps you sit down. “What happened, sweetheart?” His hands run across your face, your temple and your shoulders, worry etched into his features. But it's a different type of worry now, not like before when he was worried about what had happened in the precinct. This worry comes from somewhere deeper inside him, something more primal, and it rattles you as it bounces against your feeble shields, breaking them down further. 

“I’m okay, I’m… alright. I promise,” you whisper, your voice hoarse as you gasp for air. “I can just, I can just feel your emotions. And they are loud and powerful.” Will curses again and all of the emotions vanish in a flash as his own shields slam shut. You take a shuddering breath, lifting your eyes to look at him. His eyes flash between beautiful blue and intense red as he tries to get himself under control. 

“We need to go and see the elders now. If you can feel my emotions and they affect you like this, it’s not…” Will struggles for words, trying to piece it all together as he helps you get more settled on the seat. A water bottle is pushed into your hands and he urges you to sip from it. “This connection we feel, it’s growing and changing, becoming more powerful.” He finally finishes, scratching the back of his neck. 

You nod weakly but remain silent, trying to gather your bearings as you grip the bottle tight. He holds your gaze, finding something that eases his worries, and Will jumps behind the wheel. He easily navigates out of the inner city, his hand brushing periodically at yours on the seat between you as he zig-zags the streets until the truck is on the freeway and he can grasp it in his palm. 

You have a million questions running in your mind, trying to make some sort of mental list to ask the elders while building up the shields once more. You feel nervous, untethered and all over the place, wishing you had a better grip at your emotions. The analytical side of your brain is excited for the oncoming flood of information but the rest of you is scared you’ll be turned away once you reach his pack. 

As you feel your shields slowly settle and become a little stable again, you send out a small prayer to whomever is listening that even if you are turned away, Will’s pack won’t turn on him. It’s been less than 24 hours of knowing him but you don’t want to see him hurt, ever. The gnarly feeling twists your gut and you think for a second to ask him to stop and leave you by the side of the road. The second the thought hits, another follows that tells you that he would never agree to it. It calms you a little and you twist on your seat to fully look at him.

He truly looks gorgeous, you muse. His large frame looks at home behind the wheel, the grey Henley accentuating his muscles tantalizingly. As your eyes drift lower, you take in the comfortable-looking jeans hiding powerful thighs and the black watch on his hand before you focus on his tattoos, wanting to trace them closely and learn all their secrets. All of his secrets really and make them yours too. It’s a sobering thought that you will guard whatever secret he lets you in on with your life if needed.  

“We’re almost there. Just a few minutes more.” Will turns to look at you, eyes flashing red again and this time you latch onto it. You remember it happening previously at the precinct and yesterday at the pub. “Will, your eyes…” 

“My inner wolf, he knows we’re close to the pack and wants out.” He offers while turning the truck from asphalt to gravel as he guides it towards a parking place, filled with trucks and bikes and cars of all sizes. He kills the engine and takes both of your hands to his. “I promise I’ll explain them in better detail later, but I need to warn…”

Will doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before the front door of his truck is wretched open and something large crowds it. 

“William Arthur Miller! Where the fuck have you been? You better explain yourself!” A male voice booms and you can only watch as the man is dragged out of the seat by his shirt and a smaller, leaner version of him embraces him tightly. Two other men appear in front of the truck as well, moving closer to the couple and soon you watch all four men embracing together. 

Carefully you step out of the truck too, leaning against it as you witness the men that are oblivious to the world for that moment. It’s endearing, the love that they have for one another, so clear in the gentle touches and noses burrowing into each other's skin to confirm that they are really all here.  

It takes some time for the group hug to disperse, allowing you to study the minute movements and shifts and build up your own strength for what’s to come. But once they do separate, suddenly three pairs of eyes look at you curiously. You see two sets flash yellow and one bright electric blue as the men study you, but the colors are quickly hidden when they realize you are not a wolf yourself. 

“Will, who is this?” The same voice speaks up again, the man looking at you with doubt in his eyes. The electric blue flashes in and out of his eyes and you wonder what it means and curse yourself for focusing more on other things than wolves. You can feel tension rise in the air as the men close ranks, form a sort of a wall in front of you and the truck, blocking all exits.  

“Sweetheart, I would like you to meet my brothers. Ben,” Will feels the tension too and shifts to stand next to you and points at the man who has spoken. Ben’s eyebrows rise at the term of endearment but he only tips his head in acknowledgement as the man beside him nudges his ribs. “Frankie,”  He nods towards the man next to Ben who is wearing a baseball cap and a grey T-shirt. Next to him, a shorter man with inquisitive eyes and salt-and-pepper curly hair steps forward and holds out his hand.

“Santiago, but you may call me Pope. And you are?”  You grasp his hand, the firm and dry handshake, something you expect from a man who holds himself like a soldier. You introduce yourself, nodding to Ben and Frankie before dropping Pope’s hand. Will’s large hand comes to rest at the curve of your hip.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call or text last night, but something came up.” Will looks down at you, softness creeping up his features as he speaks. You answer him with a tiny smile and he squeezes your hip.   

Ben is about to open his mouth, maybe to throw a joke or a barb but a quick grip of his wrist from Frankie stops him. He flashes his eyes at the younger man who snaps his mouth shut immediately. Santiago takes one look at the closeness between your and Will’s bodies and he nods, his eyes flashing yellow as he narrows them before adopting a neutral look quickly. 

“Understandable. Maybe we could take this into a more calm place and we can talk?” It’s phrased as a question but you feel like it's more a command as the others all nod quickly and begin walking along the path leading away from the parking lot. Will guides you in front of him, taking up position right behind you and not letting his hand fall. 

Up the path, you see several houses, most of them built so that the backyard leads into the forest surrounding you. After a few minutes of walking, you stop and turn to face one of the houses. It’s beautiful, full of warm wood tones and a beautiful garden. “Santi’s wife works as our healer, hence the full yard. There’s more in the back,” Will whispers in your ear, chuckling low at your interested look. “I’ll introduce you later, I think you and Yovanna would get along well.” 

The inside of the house smells of herbs, cooking and love and it feels so homey that it makes your chest ache. You wish to soak all the scents and feelings deep into your bones, bask in the glow and allow it to centre you. This feels like everything you’ve ever wanted and you never want to leave the foyer, but that is not in the cards just yet. With a small tug Will guides you to the living room, gesturing you to sit down on the loveseat. Ben takes up the armchair and Frankie plops down on the couch, followed by Pope. 

The energy in the room changes once more, becoming more charged as the men study you again. You brace yourself, upping your shields and unconsciously lean towards Will as you wait for someone to talk.

To your surprise, it’s Will. He speaks calmly, explaining what transpired in the pub and you see the men sit up straighter as they realize what could’ve happened had their brother not interfered. He then tells his brothers about the pull he felt as he took you home and how he was unable to leave the street, his need of protecting you outweighing everything. You watch Pope’s eyebrows raise in surprise as Will describes the warmth and the hunger he felt, still feels, as you are close. 

Frankie rises up from his seat and mumbles something about making a call and you know that the elders will come here, soon. Your hands find Wills and you squeeze it between yours, drawing strength from your connection. As your skin touches his, the tendrils appear, dancing on your skins though they are more muted now and Ben gasps. 

“Holy shit! What the fuck is that?!” 

“That’s what we need to find out, Benny. All we know so far is that we are drawn to one another like magnets, these appear when we touch and as of this morning we can feel each other's emotions. They don’t affect me as much yet, but there is definitely potential for it to incapacitate.”

Pope remains silent, his eyes flitting between yours, your intertwined hands and Will. “What are you?” He questions finally, just as Frankie returns to the living room. Before you can answer, the man slaps Pope’s head. “You can’t go around just asking that, cabrón, you know that.”

“Well, this isn’t anything I’ve ever seen before. Either you are something very powerful and do this on purpose, or something nefarious is at play here,” Pope offers. Dark eyes study you, the tension in the room growing as seconds tick by. Your eyes move from his to Ben’s and to Frankie before you turn your head to look at Will. He gives you the tiniest of nods and you roll your shoulders before looking at Pope again.  

“I was raised as a mundane, but I’ve been studying potions and spells for a long time. I work as a researcher at the museum's antique artefacts and extracts department. I know the basics but I promise you, any power that I possess is tiny compared to practising witches.” 

You speak calmly, wanting to diffuse any malice before it takes root. You glance at Will again, your eyes betraying you as they are filled with worry and fear. He smiles reassuringly and cups the back of your neck, kissing you fast, unafraid. 

It’s a possessive move as he devours your mouth, not caring an inch that his brothers are in the same room as you are. He pulls you in closer so that you are leaning towards his chest, hands on his pectorals and neck as he continues kissing you. You know the tendrils make another appearance as someone, maybe Frankie, gasps softly but you are lost to the kiss and in Will.

A cough finally separates you from one another but his large hand on your cheek doesn’t allow you to move far. “It’s going to be alright, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs to your lips before straightening himself to look at the other occupants of the room. There’s steel in his eyes, challenging any of his brothers to start anything, but none of them do. You watch intently as the men eye one another, the bond they share crackling in the room. Benny is the first to rip his gaze off, followed shortly by Frankie and Pope.   

“Ironhead, we always have your back, you know that.” Frankie finally speaks in a calm tone as he takes the lead and diffuses the situation. “But .. You glow when you kiss. Literally glow in gold and silver. How is this happening?” He glances at Ben and Pope, both nodding in surprised agreement.

A knock on the door shuts up any explanation you want to give and all four men rise to their feet quickly. Following their example, you lift yourself up too and Will tucks you under his arm. 

You can feel his emotions rush in his veins, mixing with yours but you are prepared this time and as they brush you, you embrace them and do not fight. You can feel your shields opening up minutely, the calming effect spreading through both of you as the connection sings in approval. You turn to face the door as Pope opens it. 

The elders are here.

*

Of potions and myths taglist: @mylifeisactuallyamess​ @luxmundee​ @innerpaperexpertcloud​

Everything taglist (I fully understand if you want to skip this one, please let me know and I’ll remove you!) @clydesducktape​ @wayward-rose​ @themuseic​ @miraclesabound​ @clydesfavoritegirl​ @a-true-janian-reply​  @10blurredsmoke10​  @caillea​ @mariesackler​

[when-they-write-stuff]

-

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

That’s what Derek would like to say.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski and his stupid face, his stupid smile, and the stupid way that Derek would always see him in the hallways and that bright look in his eyes always made him stumble. Fucking Stiles Stilinski and the way that Derek couldn’t get him out of his head for some reason.

For some stupid, unbelievable reason.

Cora thought it was hilarious. Derek thought it was the most annoying thing ever.

Stiles was the most annoying thing ever.

“Hale!”

Derek nearly stumbled over his own feet at Coach’s shout, turning around to see a basketball sailing right toward his face. Eyes rounding, he barely had the chance to duck as laughter filled the air and he glared across the gym— where all the cheerleaders stood in their little group, Stiles right splat in the middle.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

“I said, Hale!”

Growling, Derek turned back around as Coach stalked toward him. Derek’s older sister used to tell him that Coach’s bite was worse than his bark, but Derek had come to realize that was utter bull. If there was one thing BHHS’s basketball coach was good at, it was yelling.

“Where the hell is your head, Hale?” Coach shouted, jabbing him on the forehead. Derek swallowed another growl and let the man poke away, knowing better than to ever avidly seek out Coach’s wrath. “You’re living in a daydream today!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Derek mumbled, dropping his gaze. The sound of laughter was still in the air, though, and his eyes snapped back up unconsciously, over Coach’s shoulder as he took in Stiles’s bright and grinning face.

He was always grinning and that bothered Derek like nothing else. The way his eyes would dance, his laughter would make Derek’s heart skip a beat, and— and—

“Hale!”

Derek blinked at the shout right in his ear, feeling like he’d just been dunked into cold water. Coach was scowling now and Derek felt his face turn redder, wishing he could be anywhere else but practice at the moment. “Uh, right. Sorry, Coach.”

“Yeah, kid, you’ve said that already. Are you feeling alright today?”

“I’m fine,” Derek said, forcing himself not to look back over at where Stiles was. “Really.”

“Good,” Coach said. “Because if you miss the game this week, I’m taking you off the starting lineup for the rest of the season.”

Derek looked back at the man in alarm, but Coach just raised his hands, turning away.

“Don’t force my hand, Hale.”

Derek watched him walk away and then despite himself, despite everything, glanced over his shoulder. Most of the cheerleaders had lost interest at this point— except for Stiles. Stiles, who was still staring at him, that crooked smile still hanging on his lips. And the moment his eyes met Derek’s, something in his expression changed. He grinned wider, raised a hand, and Derek quickly turned back around.

He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t… ugh. 

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

-

“I don’t know why, man,” Stiles said, slamming his locker shut. “But the guy hates me. You should’ve seen him at practice yesterday.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Scott said, shrugging on his backpack. Stiles shot him a disbelieving look and the boy shrugged, starting down the hall with Stiles at his side. “I just don’t think he knows you. I mean, you guys never even talk, right?”

Stiles glowered. “I was his chemistry partner last semester and I’ve been on the cheerleading team since I was a freshman. He should know me well enough to at least smile back when I wave hi.”

“He just ignored you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I dunno, dude. He gets all weird, clams up, and then pretends like I don’t exist.”

Scott gave him a curious look, but Stiles wasn’t paying his friend any attention anymore. Speaking of the devil, he eyed Derek as they passed him and a few of his buddies gathered around their lockers. And for a moment— one brief, making Stiles’s stomach clench moment— grey-green eyes met his own. 

But then Hale’s face tightened, his eyes snapped away, and he slammed his locker so hard, all of his buddies jumped.

Stiles rolled his eyes, walking faster past. “See what I mean?”

Scott was still giving him a strange look. But Stiles only half-noticed it, forcing himself not to glance over his shoulder as the sounds of the jocks' voices faded. Glaring down at the floor, he wondered what the hell was so wrong with him. Or maybe what the hell was so wrong with Derek Hale.

So Stiles might have been crushing on him for three years now. So what? It wasn’t like it actually mattered judging by the fact that Hale had never even really acknowledged his existence anyway.

“Whatever,” Stiles said. “Screw Derek Hale.”

“Sure, man,” Scott said, shaking his head. And honestly, Stiles thought he was holding something back. But did he care? Absolutely not. Stiles had no cares in the world.

Especially not about Derek Hale.

-

“I’m just saying,” Erica said, readjusting her uniform and dabbing at her glossed lips. “If you like him so much, you should consider talking to him once in a while.”

Derek pulled a face, making Boyd snort at the girl’s side, one arm wrapped around her waist. The rest of the cafeteria was far too loud around them and he was trying to concentrate on the chemistry homework that he had definitely not done. Back when Stiles had been his partner, Derek had actually been driven to get it done, if only to impress the boy. Not like it’d ever worked, he didn’t think.

He didn’t really know how the hell to impress Stiles Stilinski.

“I don’t like him,” Derek growled, ignoring Isaac’s disbelieving scoff. “I just think he has no right being so loud and what the hell is up with the outfit?”

Erica shot him an obvious look, gesturing down at her own, and Derek rolled his eyes. 

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Isaac asked mildly, attention fixed on the orange he was trying and failing to peel. “Or is it because whenever you catch the sight of Stilinski in a crop top on the court, you trip over your own feet and lose the ball?”

Derek shot him an annoyed look. Isaac wasn’t even paying attention.

“He’s right,” Erica said, smirking wickedly. “But if you’d like, Der, I can put in a good word. Stiles is my Batman and he sure could use his own Clark Kent.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, whatever,” the girl shrugged. “Just tell me if you change your mind.”

Derek glowered even more, gaze still drifting across the cafeteria. Totally not toward the table where Stiles sat surrounded by his friends, Scott’s arm slung over his shoulders in a way that definitely didn’t make Derek frown. 

“Whipped,” Erica snorted across from him. Derek turned the weight of his glare toward her, trying to wipe at least some of that knowing smirk from her lips.

It didn’t work.

-

If Stiles was sure of one thing, it was that Mr. Harris hated him.

It wasn’t like chemistry was his least favorite class or anything— or at least, it didn’t use to be. But he was pretty sure Mr. Harris hated him with all his heart and soul, and that had kind of soured the class for Stiles as the year went on.

Which was why when the man stuck them with some lame-ass book assignment and proceeded to get on his phone, acting like none of his students existed, Stiles shot Scott a grin and held out his hand, making a grabby gesture.

“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

Scott gave him a wide-eyed look, which only made Stiles grin wider. 

“Cause I swear, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t,” Scott said, eyes darting nervously to where Harris sat. “He’ll have you in detention for the rest of the year.��

“It’s almost over anyway,” Stiles said, still grinning. “And he can’t give me detention if I accidentally ‘fall’ now can he? Twenty bucks and I’ll make him forget all about this stupid time filler assignment, easy peasy.”

“Stiles—”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

Stiles turned around, blinking in surprise at Erica Reyes. She smirked, nodding toward Harris.

“But you have to do it so hard, he falls out of his chair.”

Stiles looked at her for a long moment, debating. At the desk beside her, Boyd shifted a little nervously, but didn’t say anything to talk his girlfriend down. Chewing on his lower lip, Stiles thought for one more moment, then grinned brightly, holding out his hand.

“Deal.”

“Money after,” Erica said, eyes glinting. “But he has to be out of his chair, Stilinski.”

Scott was still giving him a pleading look, but Stiles pretended like he didn’t see it as he turned back around. Harris was still fixated on his phone, feet propped up on his desk. Stiles studied the man, tilted his head, and then shoved himself up so fast, his chair went tipping and he caught the underside of the table, taking it with him as everything went spilling to the floor.

There was a shout, a yelp. Stiles watched in absolute glee as Harris jerked so hard, he kicked his coffee cup off his desk and his chair tumbled backward, taking the man and the cord of his laptop, wrapped around his foot, with him.

For a moment, the classroom was silent. Stiles glanced back at Erica, who looked like she was just barely containing a fit of laughter.

Then, “Stilinski!”

Stiles winced, shooting Erica one last look. Her face was bright red now. “Twenty bucks, Reyes.”

“Derek will cover me,” Erica said, jerking her head to the table across the room. Stiles looked over, startled, to see Hale looking at him with wide green eyes, face a little pale.

Stiles offered a weak smile, raising a hand in a small wave. And then the boy was looking sharply away.

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to feel insulted before Harris had grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him from the room. 

-

Stiles did, after all, get Friday afternoon detention for the next month, despite his protests that the whole ‘table flipping accident’ was really an accident. He supposed it was worth it though; twenty bucks was a two or three milkshakes at his favorite diner if he didn’t get fries.

“I can’t believe you, dude,” Scott said, elbowing him in the side. “That was so stupid.”

“That was so genius,” Stiles said, elbowing him back. “Harris completely forgot about the assignment and I’m up twenty bucks.”

The boy just grilled his eyes. “From Derek?”

The grin slipped off of Stiles’s lips. In all of the excitement, he'd completely forgotten about Erica absolutely screwing him over. Catching his expression, Scott barked a laugh, patting him on the back and starting away.

“Best of luck with that, man.”

“Hey, wait! Scotty? Scott!”

The thing about Derek Hale is that Stiles wasn’t really intimidated by him, per-say. Sure, the guy was a year older, constantly gave him the cold shoulder, and was always surrounded by his ‘too cool for school’ jock buddies. But Stiles was also pretty sure Derek was a bit of a nerd. Even if it was just secretly so.

He’d probably been the best chemistry partner Stiles had ever had. Even if he’d pretended like Stiles didn’t exist the entire time.

He sought him out before the game, heart thudding against his chest in a way that Stiles didn’t really understand. It was hard enough separating Derek Hale from his buddies, but his sister also stuck to his side— and she was intimidating. 

Cora was Stiles’s grade and, like him, a few classes ahead. She also scared the crap out of Stiles whenever those eyes lit up with anything close to mischief.

“Good afternoon, Stilinski,” she said as Stiles approached, arms folded across her chest. “Nice top.”

Stiles glanced down at himself and then rolled his eyes, glancing at Derek. For some reason, the boy looked a little constipated and his face was bright red. “Erica owes me twenty bucks.”

Cora raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her brother. Derek just stared.

Stiles sighed. “She said you’d cover her.”

“She— what?”

“Twenty bucks, dude,” Stiles said, sticking out his hand. “Pay up.”

Cora made a scoffing noise and clapped Derek on the shoulder before giving Stiles an amused look. “And that’s my cue to leave. Go easy on him, Stiles. Derek gets a little tongue-tied when he can see skin.”

Stiles blinked, unsure what to do with any part of that sentence. But Derek’s face was red all the way to his ears now and before Stiles could say a word, he was turning away too, starting toward the locker room.

Stiles blinked again, rooted to the spot for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he started after the boy.

“Hey, dude, wait!”

Derek did not, in fact, wait. 

Stiles followed him into the locker room, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to catch up. Derek went straight for his locker and started to tug off his shirt, making Stiles yelp and avert his eyes.

Which was stupid, right? Yeah, that was stupid. It’s not like he’d never seen another dude change in the literal locker room before.

“I don’t have your money,” Derek said, sounding like he was grinding his teeth together. Stiles licked his lips nervously, turning to face the boy again.

He was still shirtless.

“Uh, right,” Stiles said, shaking his head. Silently, he willed Derek to pull on his jersey or maybe just stop stripping altogether. His mind was blank for the entire time that Derek finally pulled his basketball jersey over his head, raising an eyebrow afterward as if he didn’t know why Stiles was still within spitting distance of him.

“Well?”

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, and then frowned. “Okay, dude, what the hell is your problem?”

Derek paused with the jersey half pulled down his torso. Stiles tried not to blush.

“You’ve literally only spoken to me like twice,” Stiles said. “And still hate me for some reason. Have I ever done something to offend you? Are you offended by all that is—” he gestured to himself up and down— “This?”

Hale looked taken aback. Stiles’s throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t…” Derek shook his head and pulled his jersey all the way down. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Stiles stared at him. He couldn’t see much of the boy’s face in the darkness, but he was pretty sure he was still lying about something. Derek grabbed his bag, starting to brush past, but Stiles caught his arm before he could go anywhere.

Derek made a noise of surprise, spinning back around. And Stiles quickly let go, retreating a step back, and promptly got his feet caught in his own bag, a noise of surprise leaving his mouth before he started to topple over.

He definitely wasn’t going to be fine after this, some part of his brain supplied helpfully.

Only, Stiles didn’t brain himself. Suddenly, there was a hand around his forearm and seconds before Stiles hit the lockers, Derek hauled him back up, grunting slightly.

Except, just because Stiles excelled at making bad things even worse, he found himself lurching forward with the momentum, slamming right into his so-called “you’re fine, I guess” savior.

This time, it was Derek’s turn to go toppling. And the only help Stiles provided was him falling right after the boy.

In all the ways he could die, Stiles never thought it would be death by angry-jock-who-just-got-tackled. Underneath him, Derek’s eyes were wide, face pale, and Stiles stared back, pretty sure his heart had stopped beating in his chest.

For a moment, he was almost terrified to breathe. Then, slowly, he realized he wasn’t dead yet.

“Um,” Stiles said, face turning hot. “Sorry.”

He half-expected Derek to shove him off or maybe give him a good punch in the face first. But instead, the boy just stayed there, frozen, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Stiles felt his throat close, carefully starting to push himself up.

“Stiles,” Derek said croakily. Stile abruptly froze.

“Oh my god, dude, I’m so sorry. Did I break something? Please tell me I didn’t break anything.”

Derek was still staring at him. And Stiles didn’t mean to drop his gaze to the other boy’s lips, he really didn’t. It wasn’t like he’d never imagined what it would be like if Derek one day kissed him. Possibly after he realized Stiles actually existed, possibly after he realized how damn hot Stiles was.

Because he was, thank you very much.

“Stiles,” Derek said again. And Stiles realized he’d been staring for much too long.

Shit.

In a second, Stiles was pushing himself up. He half dragged Derek with him, swaying a little as his heart thudded against his chest. The silence in the locker room was almost too loud as Derek stared at him for a long moment, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“So,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. “About that twenty dollars—”

He was cut off by the action of Derek kissing him.

Derek Hale. Derek Hale was kissing him and Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t just hit his head too hard when they both fell or something. For a moment, he was too surprised to do anything but make a startled noise at the back of his throat, and then Derek was crowding him against the lockers, one hand carding through his hair as Stiles came snapping back to himself like a rubber band stretched too far.

Derek Hale was kissing him. And dammit if Stiles didn’t kiss him back the moment Stiles exe. was working again.

If he found out later that he had just hit his head too hard or maybe Derek had actually killed him, Stiles supposed he’d be fine. He’d be fine because yeah, he’d probably thought about this a thousand times, but he’d never actually seen it happening.

He also kinda hadn’t ever done anything like this before, so he really hoped Derek wasn’t about to call him the worst kisser ever or something.

Stiles let Derek take the lead as the boy tightened his grip in Stiles’s hair. And yeah, he was so glad he’d decided to let it grow out Sophomore year. Because this? This was every one of his fantasies.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a buzzer from outside. 

Stiles jerked so hard, he slammed his head against the lockers, groaning in pain as the kiss broke. He felt a little dazed, a lot shocked, and the moment he opened his eyes, Derek was looking at him with that ‘caught in headlights’ expression again.

Buzzer, some part of Stiles’s brain offered. 

The game.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles said, snapping back to reality. If he was the reason that the star player of the basketball team was late to the game, Lydia was totally going to kick him off the cheer squad. Derek was starting to look a little more grounded too, thankfully, and even in the dim light, Stiles could tell his face was bright red.

“Um…”

“Yeah.”

“That was—”

“Mm-hm.”

Derek snapped his mouth shut, eyes flitting from Stiles’s face, to his lips, and then back up. And that was Stiles’s move, wasn’t it? “Was that bad?”

Stiles blinked. Once more, Stiles exe. logged off for a second and then he shook his head, staring. “No? No, definitely not. No.”

“I, uh, don’t hate you,” Derek said. A small, almost shocked laugh built up in Stiles’s throat.

“I could tell.”

Derek looked down at himself, his uniform, and then toward the door. When he looked back, his expression was almost hesitant, and Stiles was almost surprised he’d never seen a look like that before. “I have a game.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, finally cracking a small smile. Because his heart had stopped thudding against his chest now and he just felt a little warm. A little tingly. Which, if this was all real, was actually quite pleasant. “Yeah, dude, I’m usually there too.”

Derek’s ears turned red. “Oh, yeah.”

Stiles looked at the boy, hesitated for a moment, and then leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek. Derek immediately went statue-still again and Stiles snorted despite himself, patting the boy on the shoulder as he slipped by. “That’s for good luck, Hale. I’ll see you out there?”

Derek was still wide-eyes and speechless when he turned around. Still grinning, Stiles offered him a wink and salute, before all but stumbling toward the door.

He could feel Derek staring after him. But the boy didn’t say another word.

Stiles had never seen himself the one to break Derek Hale.

-

Derek stayed after the brown-haired, amber-eyed boy in silence, his thoughts moving slowly. For a moment, he felt dazed. Then winded. Like he’d already played the game, won, and had maybe been declared MVP or something.

But then Stiles was gone, Derek was left in the silence, and he finally snapped out of his trance.

A trance, yeah. That’s what he could call it.

Because he had just kissed Stiles. He had just kissed Stiles Stilinski.

Derek blinked, then reached up, touching his lips. And fuck, Stiles had tasted like cinnamon and spices. And somehow, it had all been better than Derek might have ever always wondered.

He had just kissed Stiles.

“Oh,” Derek said, as the sound of the scoreboard buzzer went off outside the locker room again. Game— starting— right.

Oh. 

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

-

Oh gosh, so I've never actually written a Sterek High School fic, so I apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges. I couldn’t figure out to work the jumper part in, but I hope crop-tops were a okay substitute @wolfile​! Thank you so much for the prompt <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[ateezmakemeweep]

richboy!yeosang (part 3)

word count: 6k

fluff, smut

(part 2) (miniseries masterlist)

except that. 

that was probably the one thing you could’ve said to him that’d be really bad and panic-inducing; because out of all the things he was thinking, he would’ve never suspected that.

he thought maybe you wanted to change your major or quit your job, stressors that the average college student had and went through during their time as a young adult.

but you getting pregnant after years of being on birth control? he never would’ve guessed that.

and he supposes right now, as he gets his ass handed to him by seonghwa, he’s seeing that neither did you.

“no, no, let me get this right,” the man begins. 

“she tells you after a month of being terrified that she’s carrying your child. you guys scream and yell at each other for a little bit, in typical yeosang fashion. she cries, tells you to fuck off and then you... actually do fuck off and come here?” seonghwa asks, leant against the doorframe as he watches yeosang’s unmoving body plopped face down on his couch.

“does that sound about right?”

he had figured yeosang was the late night food he ordered, ignoring the way his face was gonna puff in the morning and excitedly opening the door. 

but then his best friend of over ten years came barreling in, lowly growling expletive after expletive before adding that, “oh and by the way, you’re gonna be an uncle.”

seonghwa thought he was kidding at first, staring at the boy sitting with his head in his hands before he looked up and saw all the tension and stress and... sadness, he thinks, in his friend’s eyes.

“what happened?” seonghwa asked, his voice soft and kind even though yeosang came tearing in there like a storm; it’s one of the reasons the boy came here, honestly, knowing that his friend would help him through any crisis. 

and right now, he felt like he didn’t know what the fuck to do.

“i’m pregnant.”

he didn’t even register the words at first, distracted by your tear-stained face and watery, scared eyes, wanting to do anything in his power to stop them.

but then after a few seconds, it’s like his brain finally woke up and registered the two simple words that just left your mouth.

“what?”

“i’m pregnant, yeosang,” you mumble quietly, not being able to bask in the relief that comes over you because you’re still so scared.

you’re relieved that you told him and happy it’s not a dirty little secret anymore but you’re still terrified of what’s to come; especially when, after you say it, silence fills the apartment.

you can’t tell if it’s a good silence or a bad silence, you just know you could hear a fucking pin drop and that scares you even more.

“how are you.... when did you...” he stutters out, not being able to get his thoughts together.

you daringly peek your head up to see him shaking his and staring down at the floor with furrowed brows, finally meeting your gaze with confusion and utter shock in his eyes.

“you’re on the pill,” yeosang states obviously, like it wasn’t the first thing you, mingi and yunho said too. “how did that even happen?”

“i don’t know, that’s what i said,” you tell him, shaking your own head because it really is hard to believe this is happening to you, of all people; you’ve heard of this happening before but no one ever thinks it could happen to them, that they’d be the 1% (or 9%, as mingi suggested) that birth control fails on.

“did you forget to take it or something?” he asks, no malice in his tone but the words making you raise an eyebrow at him; he’s not seriously about to blame you for this?

“no, yeosang, i didn’t forget to take it,” you snap. “you know i’m careful and set an alarm. i’ve been on it for years.”

“babe, i didn’t mean it like that,” yeosang says, hearing the snippy tone in your voice and wincing at the look on your face.

he makes his way over from his spot on the couch to crouch below you, his hands resting on your kneecaps as you sit stiffly with your feet under you. the soft apologetic look on his face should soothe you but instead you find yourself slightly irritable. 

“i’m just confused as to how this happened,” he says softly, his eyes roaming your face in a way that makes tears continue to sting yours. you don’t know if you’re mad or upset, you just feel like you wanna cry.

“well then that makes two of us,” you mumble, a sigh leaving yeosang’s mouth as he rests his head on your legs. his forehead is warm against your cold skin as you let out a sigh of your own, not wanting to snap at him during a moment like this. 

you lace your fingers in his hair as the two of you just come to terms with everything, yeosang’s breathing a little more calm and even against your skin.

“so that’s why you were puking,” he realizes aloud, a humorless laugh leaving you as you nod your head in confirmation.

“yup. not a virus but morning sickness.”

your boyfriend has the slightest pout on his lips as he recalls how sick you felt those first few days, running his thumbs along your knee gently.

but then he remembers you started puking nearly a month ago, which was then followed by all your weird behavior he chopped up to you still feeling sick and stressed over work.

your abnormal distance, your lack of interest in sex, a far away look in your eye any time he was trying to talk to you; he feels a slight sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach before he even asks the question.

“when did you find this out?”

he doesn’t mean to blurt the question out so forcefully but he can tell he does, hears it in his own voice and sees your face snap down to him with a look of guilt.

that was the one thing he noticed about you right away, you weren’t able to lie. you were always such an easy read and it’s one of the reasons he took such an interest in you.

he knew what pissed you off and he knew what made you flustered; but in turn, he also always knows when you lie or when you feel uncomfortable and annoyed.

when he’s met with silence, he moves away from your lap and stands in front of you. he pulls you up and over to the couch so you can both sit side by side, his body turned to look at you carefully.

his gaze is intense and scrutinizing and it only makes you that more nervous to answer.

you’ll never forget when yunho said that’s what made him so intimidating. the way he could have the softest, sweetest eyes but then also pierce through your very soul and make you nearly fall to his feet.

“baby...” he tries again, bringing his hand to your face gently.

he turns so you can look at him and you see his eyes flash when he notices more tears have welled up, stomach sinking as fear and shame build.  

“answer me, please,” he begs softly, trying to keep his emotions at bay but also hating to see you like this.

you press your lips together so you don’t let out a pathetic sob, your eyes roaming his face before you bite the bullet and begin telling him.

“when yunho came over that first week i was sick,” you start, remembering the boy only insisted on visiting because yeosang went back to school and work and didn’t want you being alone. 

“then mingi came over and was the one who said it. i-i didn’t think it was possible but we went and got tests anyway and... they were all positive, yeosang. all fucking five of them and i didn’t know what to do. i was a wreck on this couch until you got home.”

“you should’ve told me right away, baby, what the fuck,” yeosang says, his voice strangely soft despite the louder volume and curses leaving him. 

you feel comforted by the fact that even as you tell him this, he pulls you closer into his warm body and wraps his arms around you.

he hates thinking that for a month, you were terrified and dealing with this alone. keeping it from him when he thinks he could’ve made you feel better about this whole scary moment - it’d be better if you guys were afraid together.

“i was so scared and i didn’t know how you’d take it,” you mutter to him, not wanting to make him feel bad but also wanting to be honest. “i didn’t know if you’d be mad or surprised and you just seemed so stressed with work and stuff... i didn’t wanna make it worse.”

his heart sinks as he listens to your words, allowing yourself to be full of anxiety and stress just to spare him.

“my love...” his deep voice mumbles lowly, your stomach flipping at the warm affection in his tone. his hand cupping your face immediately makes your body relax against him, finally gaining the courage to look him in the eyes.

his gaze is less intense and scrutinizing, now full of love and affection and warmth that already makes you feel just a little bit better. 

maybe keeping this a secret wasn’t that big of a deal, maybe he understands because he’s going through the same fears and anxieties you were at first.

“now, why would i be mad about you being pregnant?” he asks, a small smile on his face as he looks over you questioningly. “surprised? sure. but we just talked about it, baby.... i want a family with you. i mean... i was thinking a little bit later in life but if you’re so eager now...” 

you narrow your eyes at his teasing and smack his arm lightly, almost wanting to whine about how calm and nonchalant he’s being about this. 

how is he not absolutely terrified right now? how is he teasing and smiling and talking as if a tiny person isn’t gonna pop out in nine months and change your entire life?

“how could you possibly be this calm about it?” you ask him with an annoyed groan, leaning back on the couch to rest your pounding head on the armrest. “i spent weeks crying and sick to my stomach about it.”

“maybe because you were keeping it from me,” he mutters sarcastically, his hands resting next to your head as he looms above you. 

you can only respond with your lips in the smallest of pouts, a smirk crossing his mouth before he meets yours in a chaste kiss.

it’s the most real and intense a kiss has felt between you two in weeks, his hand creeping over to hold your jaw tightly. you welcome his tongue eagerly, your own lapping against his before you two smile into the kiss.

“for real, though,” he mutters when he eventually pulls back, chests heaving from lack of air and a need to reconnect lips. “i know you’re scared and so i am. but it’ll be okay. i’m... kind of excited, actually.”

you smile softly at him, a tiny “really?” leaving your mouth that has him nodding and smiling proudly. you reach up to peck his cheek sweetly, the calmness that evaded you for weeks finally coming back to ground you.

“but don’t keep anything else from me, okay? i wanna be part of these things and know about this, babe.”

“okay,” you say breathily, his eyes so thoughtful and loving you can feel your heart swelling in your chest. 

and it doesn’t even occur to you in that moment to mention the doctor visit you already had; you’re just so distracted by his positive reaction and the need to kiss him, finally allowing yourself to deepen it and give yourself over to him.

you missed him and his touch and his lips on you, straddling his lap as you giggle into the kiss.

it’s after a few minutes of silence, you both laying there with heaving chests and your clothes littered on the floor from nearly an hour of making up for lost time, that yeosang starts tracing shapes on your stomach. 

lines and circles and even a heart that makes you bite back a smile. his own deep chuckle rings through the air a few seconds later, your head craning to the side to look at him.

“why are you laughing?” you ask, a smile pulling at your lips.

“i just... can’t believe this,” he says happily, his warm hands on your skin making your heart jump. 

“and i think it’s pretty funny that fucking mingi was the one who came to this conclusion,” yeosang laughs out, his long, gentle fingers pressing down mindlessly. “like how’d he even know about...morning sickness and shit?”

“i don’t know to be honest,” you giggle out, thinking back to the boy’s meltdown in the doctor’s office.

and maybe because you were so happy and giddy about his reaction, his warm hands on you and the soft smile on his face and the bliss from multiple orgasms, you didn’t even think about your next words.

you were just so excited to share these things with him now, let him in on the past few weeks of what you were going through and wanted to be going through with him. 

“you should’ve seen his face at the doctor, though, he looked horrified when he saw the sonogram machine. and then when they presumed he was the father, oh, my god, he nearly-”

“wait, wait, wait, what? the doctor?”

your face falls when you hear the immediate change in his voice, something mixed of hurt and disbelief as he sits up and looks at you in confusion. 

“when did you go there?”

“i... well, two days after i took the tests. we just wanted to make sure the results were right,” you say quietly, voice small and soft as your stomach starts to churn. “a-and i wanted to make sure i was, you know, healthy and stuff.”

you remember the horror stories and scary incidences of ectopic pregnancies, aware and terrified of just how many things could go wrong - and mingi was quick to remind you himself as well.

“i mean i get that,” yeosang says, surprised by how hurt and upset he’s feeling now. “but like... when were you gonna tell me you already went? the first appointment seems kind of like a big deal, y/n. i wish you would’ve told me then.”

“i was scared, yeosang,” you attempt to justify again, knowing it was wrong to keep it from him but also feeling as if you have the right to be a little nervous and scared shitless. “i didn’t know how to handle it and you were stressed, like, that whole time, i didn’t wanna-”

“i’ll never be too stressed for you, what don’t you get by now, y/n?” he snaps, “have i not proved that to you?” 

“of course you have but this is different, yeosang,” you tell him, joining as you sit up and look at him with wide eyes. he was fine about it a few seconds ago, why is this so different? 

“this is me being pregnant and possibly changing our life forever. you said you wanted to be married first. you said not for a while. so i didn’t know how you were gonna-”

“i love you, y/n,” he laughs out, shaking his head half in disbelief. 

how did you think he was gonna react? go crazy and tell you he didn’t want to be with you anymore? have a mental breakdown because he was a little stressed over his stupid boss and mundane work?

“do you not get how much i actually fucking love you? how could you think i was gonna react in any way but happy?”

“because i wasn’t happy,” you blurt out, his eyes widening and face dropping. 

“i mean i wasn’t upset or angry about it but i was so fucking scared, yeosang,” you quickly correct. you want this baby and you want this life with him, you’re just... how did this go so wrong so fast? 

“my body’s gonna change and our life is gonna change. i’ll probably have to take some time off from school and all of that scared me. and i thought it would scare you, too.”

“it does scare me but i know we’ll get through it, y/n. especially if we’re on the same page. the same way we’ve been on the same page for these past few years. we’ll be okay but you can’t keep shit from me. that’s how we got this far.”

“i didn’t mean it in a bad way,” you whisper, hearing that edge in his voice he always gets when he starts to get mad or dwell on something. 

he was hurt by you keeping it from him but he’s even more hurt you did such a big first step without him.

“i didn’t know you’d wanna come to the appointment with me.”

“how could you think i’d not wanna be there, y/n?” he asks before his face darkens and a tick begins to form in his jaw. “and then you take another man, no less? mingi looked like the baby’s father.”

and it’s like once he says that, you can’t control the outburst of emotions that erupt out of you. him being upset, you understand, but being upset that mingi, your gay best friend who has a fiancé, went with you? when you were scared and freaking out and felt like you didn’t know what to do without him?

“are you fucking kidding me?” 

his eyebrows shoot up at the bite in your words, his eyes flaring as they watch you stare him down.

“i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i really am, yeosang, and that was wrong of me. but i went with mingi. my best friend, who was there for me when i was terrified.”

“you didn’t let me be there for you,” he bites back, hating that a fight is starting but both of you feeling far too angry and hurt right now. “why are you making it seem like i didn’t wanna be a part of it when you didn’t fucking tell me?” 

“are you gonna keep throwing that in my face? i’ve told you over and over again i was scared, yeosang. i’m still fucking scared and i’m sorry i can’t be as calm as you about this but i didn’t know what to do.”

“it’s not about being calm, y/n, it’s about telling me things. were you not even gonna tell me you went? pretend as if our first time going together was your first check up?” 

he feels like he’s being a little bit of a bitch about it at this point but he’s truthfully too hurt to care. 

he thought he made it clear he wanted a life and a family with you. he was ready to go out and buy you a ring if you said you wanted to get married right now; so why didn’t you get he wanted to be there for you, no matter what? 

he wants to be there during every step of the way, not just when things are easy and fun.

“i didn’t even think about it,” you snap, hurt and upset by his accusations. “i didn’t think you’d be this upset, yeosang. you weren’t upset five seconds ago when i told you i kept it from you for a month so why are you upset about this?” 

he can’t hear how small and sad your voice is, only focused on your words and the way they make him feel even more upset and frustrated. 

“because... that’s different, y/n. that’s something a father should be there for and that’s something that makes it real.’

“that’s exactly why it scared me,” you tell him, tears burning your eyes and your voice barely above a whisper. “and that’s why i needed someone there with me.”

“it should’ve been me there with you,” he growls lowly, possessiveness and anger creeping up on him before he can even think. 

but he can only picture you scared and vulnerable as you hear the news about your baby, listening to the doctor congratulate you and holding mingi’s hand tightly because you’re scared to hear it from a real, human source. 

“do you not think i know that?” you snap, voice raising as you jump up from your spot on the couch. “i already told you i’m sorry, yeosang. i don’t know why you’re not hearing that i’m fucking scared.”

you wanted him from the second you started taking the pregnancy tests, since the second the words pregnancy were even said. but you wanted him to be content and stress-free more, you wanted him to be okay hearing this news and not potentially destroy your relationship. 

“and if you’re just gonna keep making me feel bad about it then how about you just fuck off. because i really don’t need this right now.”

he doesn’t have anything nice to say so he doesn’t say anything, watching as you attempt to wipe at your face discretely and take off toward your shared bedroom. 

the sound of the door slamming echoes through the apartment, the knot in yeosang’s stomach only growing more as he gets up and stomps over to throw his shoes on, a similar sound echoing from the entrance of the apartment before silence fills the darkness. 

seonghwa waits until yeosang looks up at him to walk over to the boy, plopping down on the chair across from him to shrug his shoulders. 

“so... why’d you come here then?” 

“i didn’t know where else to go.”

a smirk crosses the boy’s face as he shakes his head, letting out a sigh as he watches his friend carefully.

long gone were those high school feelings of envy and suppressed anger over the situation, able to see now, three years later, that yeosang was the one meant for you. 

getting away from you two proved to work for him, distracting himself in a foreign country with foreign friends and foreign girls until he came back and saw how happy you two still were.

and all he really ever wanted was for you two to be happy - and he’s positive you two are gonna get past this by tomorrow morning. because he’s never seen a couple more perfect for each other, even despite your blowout fights. 

“well, do you wanna know what i think?” 

yeosang rolls his eyes up to look at his friend, the cocky grin and glint in his eyes already not sitting well with him.

“not really. i came here to vent and lay on your expensive couch.”

“you got me that couch, asshole.”

“exactly,” yeosang says, resting his head back on the cushion and almost regretting purchasing this for seonghwa’s housewarming present and not his own. 

“anyway you dick,” seonghwa says, suppressing the chuckle threatening to leave him. “i think you’re a fucking idiot for leaving her and have to go back home.” 

and just as yeosang opens his mouth to speak, unsure of what he’s gonna say but feeling the need to say something, seonghwa raises his pointer finger and cuts the boy off.

“you have to remember it’s gonna be her body and her life being impacted the most by this. i get why you’re upset that she went without you, i’d probably be hurt too, but it’s how she felt most comfortable at the time. you can’t get mad at her for that. it’s fucking scary, yeosang, and i’m surprised you’re not more terrified about it.”

yeosang listens to seonghwa’s words, letting them soak in his pounding head that’s now screaming at him for leaving you home alone in the first place.

he knows his friend is right and he knows he might’ve overreacted a little. 

but he also thinks he’s a little more scared than he’s letting on, wanting to be strong and secure for you but also knowing firsthand how important being a good father is.

it took him long enough to figure out how to be a good boyfriend, he would hate if it took him that long to become a good father and mess up his child along the way. 

but he thinks because he has you, the whole journey will be a lot easier. 

“i’m scared but i love her,” yeosang says, the words so sweet and honest and soft, seonghwa’s surprised to hear them leave his friend so easily. “i’ve had every intention of marrying her and becoming the father of her kids. so it doesn’t seem that scary, i guess.” 

seonghwa feels his heart pull in his chest at the mere fact this is the same friend who used to never let anyone in, would purposely isolate himself and self sabotage and thought being an asshole was easy because it pushed people away. 

but he tried to push you away and it only seemed to bring you two together, a smile pulling on seonghwa’s lips before he bites down on them quickly. 

“you fucking sap.”

yeosang’s head snaps up at his friend, an annoyed expression crossing his face before he grabs the pillow next to him and promptly whips it at his friend. 

“shut up. that’s you and will always be you. little bitch.”

seonghwa snorts as he cranes his neck to the side, eyes roaming the dark night sky and high rises of the city. silence falls between the two boys as they sit with their thoughts, yeosang about you and wondering what you’re doing and seonghwa wondering where the fuck his food-

a knock on the door causes him to spring up, rushing over and sighing in relief when he’s greeted with his late night pancake order. yeosang nosily peeks his head over the couch, his interest heightening when he sees his friend carrying a to-go box of food. 

“what’d you get?”

“none of your business,” seonghwa responds, placing the box on the table before disappearing into the kitchen. 

yeosang rolls his eyes before making his way over to the table, his eyebrows knitting together before he lets out a humorless laugh. almost one of disbelief.

"of course, why wouldn't you be stealing the last free muffin," yeosang hums sarcastically, a smirk on his lips that has you snatching your hand away.

"you're mean," you whine, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at him, "they were out of chocolate chip pancakes and i'll have you know i was willing to spend the $10."

"wow, $10," he says, tone dripping with sarcasm as he picks up the muffin and resists the urge to smile when a pout covers your face.

he remembers that day at the ski lodge feeling like it was longest one of his life, the night quickly falling before the power outage landed you in his room.

it’s when he confessed all of his tragic tales to you, something he hid from everyone and told you simply because a part of him was overwhelmed to. 

it didn’t excuse how he treated you but he’d hoped you’d understand after hearing that why you should stay away from him.

why trying to see any good in him at that point in his life was ridiculous. 

but you never stopped and he remembers to this day that’s when he allowed himself to fall for you, blew all his trauma and caution and doubts to the wind and tried to be worthy for someone like you. 

but he also remembers seonghwa coming in and looking at him like he was about to beat the shit out of him that night, whisking you away before they started to fight over you in dramatic, movie night fashion. 

it’s why he didn’t even hesitate to think back to that morning with you, the pout on your face and sad look in your eye about not being able to eat those $10 chocolate chip pancakes ingrained in his mind.

“can i still order room service?” he asked the front desk, the flustered voices on the other end of the phone letting out a frustrated groan before telling him yes; it probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do after an unexpected power outage shocked the staff, but he needed a one up on seonghwa at the time. 

“can i have an order of chocolate chips pancakes then?”

“don’t even try it,” seonghwa growled at the boy, pushing him away before plopping down on the dining room chair. 

yeosang let out a snort as he raised an eyebrow at the boy, looking from him to the food then back to him. without a second thought, and only a little bit of a distasteful sigh, seonghwa plopped a pancake on the lid for his friend and pushed it away from him. 

“only because i’m gonna be an uncle.”

“maybe a godfather, who knows,” yeosang mutters, a smile breaking out across seonghwa’s face before he promptly shovels a pancake in his mouth. 

the two sit in silence for a few moments, sounds of chewing and disgusted looks being thrown back and forth before seonghwa swallows and begins to speak. 

“for real, though, it’s cool you guys are gonna be parents. you’ll be a good dad, yeosang.”

the boy looks up at his friend and sees nothing but honesty in his eyes, stabbing his fork through another piece of pancake before popping one in his mouth. 

“you think?” 

he thinks this is why he came here, too; because without even him verbalizing it directly, his friend somehow knew one of the silent worries he was having. 

“i do,” seonghwa nods, a small smile on his face as he looks at his friend. “kind of early and surprising but i don’t think that matters. you and y/n are good for each other. you’ll figure it out.”

yeosang smiles at his friend warmly, popping another piece of food into his mouth and swallowing.

“and if you somehow fuck up again with her,” seonghwa adds, yeosang looking back up to see a shit eating smirk across his friends face. “i could always step in for old times sake. raise the baby as my own. i think that’d be pretty-”

“shut the fuck up.”

a deep chuckle bubbles out of seonghwa at his friend’s words, covering his face and shouting the boy’s name when a few seconds later, utensils are hurled right across the table.

the apartment is as dark and quiet as it was when he left, kicking his shoes off to the side before quickly making his way toward the bedroom.

he pushes the door open quietly, met with the sounds your breathing as you lie asleep in bed. he leans his head against the doorframe as he watches your sleeping form got a moment, his stomach sinking the whole time he walked back home. 

he felt bad about the fight and it’s hitting him even more at this very moment, walking over to crouch beside you and move a messy piece of hair out of your face. 

he frowns upon seeing your pouted lips and puffy face, his finger swiping under your cheek where dried tears are; he can tell you probably cried yourself to sleep. 

leaning forward, he presses a feather light kiss to your skin, licking over his dry lips as his stinging eyes roam your face.

he doesn’t know how long he just kneels there and watches you, his hand running through your hair as regret and shame bubble in the pit of his stomach. 

it’s a strange contrast to the overwhelming feeling of warmth in his chest, heart soaring at the fact you both have gotten this far together. that you’ll now be expecting a child, half you and half him, and start a little family that he only began to picture when he met you.

he wasn’t even sure if he wanted kids until you came along, the idea of you and only you carrying his child; watching you with them and making him love you even more.

“yeosang?” you mumble sleepily, your eyes blinking open slowly in a daze. 

you felt a presence next to you and hands in your hair, waking up panicked for less than a second before you saw your boyfriend’s familiar outline in the darkness. 

“hi, baby.” 

his voice is deep and thick with emotion, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sit up to look at him. 

you don’t know if you’re more alarmed by the tone of his voice or the look on his face, still dazed from sleep so you’re not exactly remembering what happened hours ago. 

you recall laying down with your face in the pillow, quiet cries wracking your body, before promptly passing out into a dreamless sleep.

but now you’re blinking at him with such confusion and such a soft, sleepy look, messy hair and sleep marks on your puffy face, that it make tears sting the back of his eyes. 

he can’t believe he left you here alone. 

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry and i know you’re scared.” 

your eyes widen slightly as he sits up and pulls you into him despretely, your face in his chest before his arms wrap around you and hold you tight; it’s almost too tight, making it hard to breathe in his warm body, but you wouldn’t dare a say a word. 

because the more aware you become of your surroundings, the more you remember from earlier in the night. you cursing at him and not being sensitive enough, finding his concerns ridiculous but also realizing, he just wanted to be there for you. 

he wanted to be there for you every step of the way and you can’t blame him for being a little hurt.  

but he also can’t be mad for you being scared and not knowing how to react right away, dealing with more than just the simple fact of telling him. 

“i know you’re scared and i know it’ll be hard for you but we’ll do it together... okay? we’ll get through it, baby, and i’ll be there for you the whole time. i just don’t wanna fight with you.”

“me either,” you mumble against his chest, tears swarming in your own eyes when you pull back and see his eyes are glossy, too. “it wasn’t fair to you and i should’ve told you sooner. i... i shouldn’t have been scared to tell you.”

“i get why you didn’t though,” he hums lowly, remembering how much he complained to you those few weeks about being stressed from work. “i get your life is gonna change more than mine and i’m sorry i didn’t-”

you interrupt his words by pressing your lips to his, worming your way into his lap as he meets your kiss with a fervor. your mouths part and his tongue teases at your mouth, just passing that line of sweet and chaste. 

“it’s okay,” you mumble when you pull back, a small smile on your face as you look at him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “we’re okay now.” 

a smile crosses yeosang’s face as he nods, pulling you into him again as he presses his lips against your forehead. 

he closes his eyes as he takes in a few calming breaths, feeling your warm skin under his lips and your body close to his; you guys are okay and he didn’t mess anything up. 

you’ll still have to take it day by day but he knows you guys are gonna be okay.

you hear him mumble a quiet “i love you,” against your head and you smile softly as you pull back, responding with a softly spoken “i love you,” before you lean back and plop yourself back down on the warm space you previously occupied.

it didn’t feel right sleeping here without him. the bed felt far too big and far too cold and far too empty. 

“can you sleep with me now?” you whine softly, a pout on your face as you stretch your arms out to him. “i missed you.” 

and it’s the fact that you missed him even though he made you cry that makes him hold back tears again, throwing himself down on bed and pulling you over so you can rest on his chest.

you cuddle yourself closer to him with a content sigh, intertwining your arms and legs as you lay your head over his chest. 

“i don’t know how we used to fight all the time,” yeosang mumbles after a few seconds of silence, his hand in yours as his thumb softly caresses your skin. “i fucking hated it.” 

“i know,” you chuckle out lightly, your eyes closed as you bury your face in his chest. “you’re soft now, though. i thought you were gonna cry or something.”

a deep chuckle leaves him before he lets out something between a growl and scoff, your loud giggles filling the room when he reaches over and grabs at your ticklish waist.

it’s the same giggles that fill the living room the next day when all the boys come over, san, jongho, and wooyoung nearly falling over in shock when you tell them the news. 

“you’re....pregnant? like... with a baby?” wooyoung asks, poking at your stomach roughly like it’s some foreign object.

“no, with a chicken,” yeosang snaps, pushing his friend back to halt him from touching you. “what kind of stupid fucking question is that?”

“i don’t know! i’m just shocked, okay!” 

a smile crosses your face as you hear the front door open, your eyes shifting to see seonghwa, mingi and yunho walking into the apartment. your smile widens upon seeing the boys, the two tallest ones bouncing over happily. 

mingi catches yeosang’s eyes and raises an eyebrow when he sees the boy throw him a dirty look, the dark-haired boy scoffing as they stare each other down.

“you still mad the doctor thought i was the daddy?” mingi growls lowly, a snort leaving you and yunho’s mouth as yeosang pushes at the taller boy and throws you a blank look.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to,” you tell him, accidentally letting it slip on your daily morning phone call with the boy. 

but it doesn’t stop mingi and yeosang from bickering further, your own form sauntering over to seonghwa and greeting him with a smile.

“hi.”

“hey,” seonghwa smiles, handsome as ever as he congratulates you softly. 

you weren’t surprised when yeosang told you he went there last night, the friendship between the boys something you’ve watched blossom into something remarkable.

it took you a while to get over the guilt of almost destroying it but now it all seemed like a distant memory. you and seonghwa had an unspoken love for one another but it wasn’t like the teenage, puppy type love you once had for one another.

it was more so one of a mutual respect. a genuine friendship where neither you, seonghwa or yeosang felt awkward or threatened by. 

but it’s upon listening to seonghwa talk softly to you that you notice a red mark on his face, your eyes squinting and hand reaching up to poke at a deep scratch across his face.

“seonghwa, oh my god,” you interrupt, yeosang’s head snapping to you before a guilty (but unapologetic) expression overcomes him. “what happened to your face?”

part 4

tag list: @mirror-juliet​ @toffee-hwa​ @valhoez​ @miatsubaki23​ @mydaintydaisy​ @treasure-hwa​ @khjssss [couldn’t tag :( ]

[phantasticworks]

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)

so. here i am again (soz) but I really just couldn't wait a second longer to post this fic. So this is just part one, and there will be a part two posted soon(ish). and yes i did in fact decide the phandom needed yet another photography fic (although, tbf i started writing this back when those were still cool and popular)

read on ao3

Words: 21.6k

Summary: Dan and Phil meet at 2 a.m. in a coffee shop. Phil is a photographer looking for a model, and Dan can't say no to pretty boys.

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, light angst

It was a weird situation.

Scratch that. It was an insane, very unlikely, but somehow still copacetic situation. See, Dan didn’t have anything better to do with his time (aside from the time he spent facedown on the floor dreading his very existence, he was pretty much a free agent) and Phil had been rather... convincing.

Not in that way.

Well.

No, no, not in that way. Not really, at least.

They met in the way most caffeine-driven, insomniac uni students do when they’re struggling through assignments at two am and would absolutely kill for some caffeine; they met at a coffee shop. Dan’s favorite coffee shop, actually, although by the end of the evening that fact would be used against him in order for one particularly passionate and newly inspired photographer to get his way.

“A caramel macchiato, please. And, uh... pistachio muffin?” Dan pulls his wallet out of his pocket, digging inside until he finds a tenner. The change she hands him back is deposited into the tip jar, and she offers him a small smile.

“Thank you, I’ll be right back with your drink.”

Dan nods, stepping to the side and very nearly bumping into someone else. “Whoops, sorry, mate.” Unconsciously, he reaches a hand out to steady the other person. Dan’s eyes flick up and meet pale skin, blue eyes, and a very disheveled looking quiff.

“No, it’s my bad, really. I wasn’t even paying attention,” the man replies, quiet embarrassment covering his tone.

Stepping back a respectable distance, Dan tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans, taking in the appearance of the man in front of him. He’s wearing a red and black plaid shirt with the top button undone, and over that is a stonewashed denim jacket. His legs, miles of them it seems, are painted with the black skinnies that his hands are awkwardly tucked into, in sort of a weird backward claw. He’s got a bag slung over his left shoulder, a kind of boxy looking one that almost looks like a lunchbox. Dan is faintly aware of the fact that this stranger is watching Dan check him out, but if he has a problem with this, the man doesn’t say so. After an assessing gaze, Dan’s eyes flick back up to blue ones hidden behind simple black framed glasses.

“Caramel macchiato,” the chipper voice behind the counter says, interrupting whatever silent conversation Dan is having with this stranger.

“That’s me,” Dan says with a small smile, stepping to the side to grab his drink and muffin.

“Funny, that’s me as well,” the stranger jokes, stepping up to the counter, closer to Dan than is probably strictly necessary. Dan doesn’t find that he minds. “I’ll have what he’s having.” He tilts his head, squinting at the hand Dan is holding his muffin in. “What kind of muffin is that?”

“Pistachio,” Dan responds.

“Hm,” he considers. To the girl behind the till, he says, “Scratch that, same drink but I’d prefer a raspberry almond cream scone.”

The girl nods, ringing him up and telling him the total. It occurs to Dan, while they’re having this interaction, that he has no reason to stay there. He’s already gotten his food, and he doesn’t know this man. There’s really no reason to stand there and wait on him. And yet, Dan sees no reason to go rushing off back to his shitty little flat with his annoying roommates who hate him. He shifts from foot to foot, contemplating on how creepy it is for him to stand there waiting for a stranger.

Before he has the chance to properly freak out about it, the man turns his head, smiling when he sees Dan still stood there. “Are you waiting for someone?” he asks politely.

This feels like it’s a challenge in some way, but Dan can’t decide how. He’s even less sure about how he would handle it even if it was. Two seconds away from lying, he stutters out a fumbled, “I- no.”

The smile grows into a full blown grin, and Dan can’t help but focus on the little bit of pink tongue poking between his teeth. “Perfect! I could use the company.”

Dan doesn’t have time to argue against that. As soon as the man is handed his order, he thanks the cashier and turns to look at Dan, gesturing to the sofas in the corner. Nodding, Dan follows him over and takes an awkward seat on one end of the ugly, green crushed velvet sofa closest to the window. The man has already laid out his scone and drink, and he hands Dan a napkin as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

“Thanks,” Dan says, holding the napkin in his hand like an idiot. When the guy smiles at him, Dan tries to copy it, but he knows it’s awkward. “I’m Dan,” he says dumbly, moving to hold his hand out for a handshake. He realizes a second too late that he still has his drink in his hand. His face floods with color, and he’s quick to set it down and try again.

Blue eyes crinkle on the edges of a smile, and the man reciprocates the handshake in a much less awkward fashion. “I’m Phil.”

Dan nods, tugging his hand away when it feels appropriate to do so. It hasn’t set in until then, but the true awkwardness of this situation, of having a two am coffee and snack with a stranger, really sets in. “So, um... caramel macchiato?” His voice is stilted, awkward, even to his own ears.

Phil quirks a brow and bites his lip as if to hide a smile. “Yeah, reckon it’s my favorite.”

“Good favorite to have,” Dan replies. He reaches for his drink and takes a large sip. It’s sweet, sweeter than he’d usually like at this time of day (or night, depending on how you looked at it) but it was still nice. His hands shake a bit as he goes to set it down, so he tucks his hands under his thighs to hide it. Glancing up at Phil, he frowns, surprised to find him already looking back.

Phil has an easy smile on his lips, and he leans back on the sofa, pulling his legs up to sit in a criss-cross fashion as he regards Dan. “I’m guessing you’re a student?” Phil asks.

Dan’s lips twist but he forces a nod. “Yeah,” he replies, shifting uncomfortably.

Despite Dan’s awkwardness, Phil appears intrigued, leaning in with a smile. “What are you studying?”

“Law.” The word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and his nose scrunches at the thought.

Phil smiles, his lips curling as he takes a sip of his drink. His eyes sparkle above the cup, as if they’re sharing some sort of secret. Dan kind of likes the way that feels. “What did you want to study?” Phil asks, as if that’s something you just ask someone you’ve only just met.

Dan can’t help but bristle. “I... what makes you think I don’t want to do law?” He crosses his arms, defiant.

The look Phil sends him implies that the question is a stupid one. “Your face kinda gave it away, mate.” He does that smile again, the one with his tongue between his teeth, and Dan nearly swoons.

“Okay, well, no, it’s not exactly my dream career.” Dan can’t believe he’s admitting this to a complete stranger. He hasn’t even admitted this to his parents yet. Not to mention the other, more personal thing he hasn’t admitted to them yet. He won’t be sharing that today, though. At least, he doesn’t plan on it.

Phil leans in again, hovering close like they’re sharing secrets. “What is your dream career?” he asks in a quiet voice.

Dan stares at him instead of responding. Something clicks in his head, and he recognizes this as some form of flirting. He can’t, or rather doesn’t want to, deal with that. So he doesn’t. Instead, he laughs. Loudly and awkwardly. “Don’t think we know each other well enough for me to share all my hopes and dreams, mate.”

There’s a flash of a grin but then Phil settles back, his mouth forming a vague smirk as he tucks into his scone. Watching him eat serves as a reminder that Dan has his own food, a reminder he’s grateful for as soon as Phil catches his gaze. Cheeks warm, Dan quickly reaches for his pistachio muffin, tearing it apart and eating it in little bits.

He hears a laugh from beside him, but at this point he pays no mind to it. His whole reason for leaving his shitty little flat at two in the morning was to get one of these delightful muffins, and despite the distraction, he was actually very hungry, and after the first bite he can’t help but snarf the rest of it up. He’s mid-chew, barely holding in a noise of pure joy at how fluffy the pastry is, when he hears a camera shutter.

Dan startles. His muffin very nearly faces an untimely death, but with the secret muffin-saving ninja powers he didn’t know he had, he manages to save it before it hits the floor. Choking down the bite in his mouth, Dan turns his head, staring past the rather impressive looking camera lens and glaring daggers into Phil’s eyes.

“Um... What the fuck?”

Phil at least has the decency to look sheepish. He lowers the camera, his gaze locked on what Dan assumes is the screen, which is probably displaying the likely incredibly unflattering photo of Dan.

“Sorry,” Phil apologizes, half-heartedly. “You just... I don’t know, sorry. I should’ve asked.”

Dan clears his throat, sitting forward to place his muffin down. He dusts the crumbs off his lap, his gaze flicking from Phil to the camera. “Well? Let me see it.”

“Oh.” Phil looks surprised. Dan hates that he thinks that’s endearing. “Well, it’s not very good, I wasn’t going for something perfect, and the lighting is off, so-“

“If I’m modeling without my knowledge or consent, I’m seeing the result,” Dan deadpans.

Phil actually looks proper embarrassed now. “I am sorry about that. I wasn’t thinking.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “Clearly. Hand it over.” He reaches for the camera, but doesn’t snatch it. He was raised better than that, obviously.

With another sheepish look, Phil gently sets the camera down in Dan’s awaiting palm. He handles the camera carefully, but with steady, sure hands. Belatedly, Dan realizes that the camera must have been in the bag he’d mistaken for a lunchbox earlier. The camera is heavier than he’d been expecting, but then again Dan’s never really had much reason to hold a camera before, especially not one of this caliber.

He has to click the center button to wake the screen back up, and when he does he squints to see the picture better. His breath catches. The picture isn’t fantastic, from a subjective point of view. Although maybe that’s just his bias, as he’s the subject of it and it’s not exactly a flattering pose. He’s got a pleased look on his face, his index finger between his lips, clearly stuffing food in his mouth. There are crinkles by his eyes and regardless of the fact that no one looks good shoving food down their throat, it’s actually... not a bad picture.

“I’m sorry, I know, it’s not like... great. The lighting isn’t perfect, and the angle is awkward, but you were just so... well, anyway. Sorry, again.” Phil’s rambling at this point, and Dan can’t be bothered to reply to any of it.

“It’s... it’s actually really good, Phil.” Dan’s eyes don’t leave the camera. Maybe that’s narcissistic, but he doesn’t actively hate the way he looks, not from Phil’s perspective. Glancing up at who is apparently a good photographer, Dan offers a cheeky grin. “You’re not half bad for a guy who takes creep shots of strangers in cafes in the middle of the night.”

Phil’s face falls, a pinkish tint crawling up his cheeks. “I-“

“I’m joking,” Dan assures him with an easy smile. He hands the camera back, a twisting feeling in his stomach when he realizes that this stranger has a piece of him he can’t get back. He doesn’t like that part of this, he realizes. Clearing his throat, he gestures at the camera. “What’re you gonna do with that photo?”

Phil gives him a small, knowing smile. This makes Dan’s gut twist in a different way. He’s not sure how to interpret this one. “I can delete it, if you’d like,” he says, shrugging. His gaze drops to the photo and his lips twist. A silent conjunction lies stagnant in the air between them.

“Okay... is that what you’re going to do with it?” Dan asks, because he can’t not ask. He hates to tell this man, who is clearly a good photographer, that he can’t keep the picture, but the part of him that cringes at the idea of someone else seeing it refuses to be silent.

“Well, I mean obviously I will if you want me to, but...” he trails off, his gaze flicking between Dan and the photo on the camera as if he can’t reconcile the two versions of him. Or maybe it’s something else. “I’m actually looking for a model.”

Dan can’t help it. He laughs.

It’s not even anywhere in the realm of an attractive laugh, as he fully snorts, and that sound in itself just makes him laugh harder. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you’re going to have to keep looking. I’m not a model.” He shakes his head at the very notion.

Phil quirks an eyebrow and looks pointedly at his camera, as if that proves literally anything.

“Oh come on!” Dan groans. “That? Seriously? I look like, like a troll! Or a- a hobbit!”

The exasperated look on Phil’s face says that he isn’t buying it. “No, you really don’t. But even if you did, given the right lighting, angle, and some time, I think you’d be surprised at how not-hobbit-like I could make you appear.”

There’s something hopeful behind Phil’s eyes, and Dan watches as his fingers skate almost nervously over the buttons on the camera. Dan’s almost inclined to agree just on the off-chance he might get a shot at seeing what else those fingers do. He immediately berates himself for the idea; he barely knows this guy, but from all indications he’s lovely and deserves more than Dan’s gutter thoughts.

“I don’t know the first thing about modeling,” he says instead of going anywhere near the mental path his brain is suggesting.

“You don’t have to. As long as you’re good at keeping still and following directions, all you need is a good photographer,” Phil insists. He’s got a cheeky look on his face. “And being pretty doesn’t hurt.”

Dan stares that flirty remark in the face and says, “Let me repeat myself, keep looking.”

Phil’s face crumples into something unsatisfied before eventually shifting into something resigned. “If you actually don’t know that you’re attractive, then you’re very daft.”

The remark, as blunt as it was, sends a rush of something warm through his chest and up his neck. Ducking his head to hide his reaction, he mumbles, “I barely know you.”

“I promise I’m not a murderer.”

Dan’s head immediately snaps back up and he squints at the man beside him. “Funny, that sounds exactly like what a murderer would say.”

Phil grins. “Would a murderer offer to do a background check to prove it?” Those blue eyes are sparkling with mischief, and Dan is about two seconds away from agreeing to something both dangerous and stupid.

Reaching for his forgotten drink to distract himself, Dan hums. “Dunno. Don’t reckon I’ve ever met a murderer.”

“Yet,” Phil says, his voice filled with unabashed glee.

Dan levels him with a thoughtful stare. “Yet,” he agrees, slowly.

They sit in silence for a few minutes, finishing their pastries and drinks as Phil’s offer hangs above their heads. On the one hand, Dan really has nothing to lose. He’s bored of his life and his so-called friends who don’t seem to like spending time with him anyways, so it’s not like he’s losing out on precious social time if he agrees to it. On the other, he seriously doesn’t actually know Phil. He knows he’s a photographer who likes caramel macchiatos and that’s basically it. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know the bloke’s last name.

“What’s your name?” Dan asks, breaking the silence so suddenly that Phil actually startles in his seat. “Sorry,” Dan offers a sheepish grin. “I’m just curious. What’s your full name?”

Phil smiles. “Philip Michael Lester.”

Dan nods. He sips. Then, “I reckon that sounds like the name of someone who isn’t a murderer.”

When he glances over, Phil is hiding a grin behind his hand. “You reckon so?”

“Yeah,” Dan shrugs. He thinks for a moment. “What kind of... like, modeling, do you want me to do? Like, I don’t know if I’m down to be naked for photos.”

Phil’s got an adorable flush crawling up his neck, likely at the blunt way Dan had phrased it, but he somehow still manages to meet Dan’s stare with something serious. “Just for photos?”

Now it’s Dan’s turn to flush. “Shut up. Is this how you’re going to kill me? Lure me in with jokes and flirting and then cut off my willy when I’ve let my guard down?”

If Dan thought Phil’s face was red before, it’s literally nothing compared to the beautiful flush that paints his cheeks now. “No!” He hisses, looking over to the counter with panic in his eyes. Considering they’re the only customers and the cashier has retired to sitting on the counter playing with their phone, Dan thinks it probably safe to say that no one heard.

“Hey, I’m just asking! You can never be too careful. Lot of creeps out there,” Dan grins.

Phil shakes his head, hiding his horror behind his cup. “I’m starting to think you might be the murderer.”

Dan smiles, but it’s a bitter thing. “The only thing I kill is anyone’s desire to be around me for any length of time ever.”

It’s funny how quickly Phil’s expression changes. He lowers his cup, his gaze soft as it lands on Dan’s. For however long those moments are, they share some silent understanding. Even if Dan doesn’t know him, he recognizes that Phil gets it; maybe not on some deep psychological level, but Dan sees in the lack of pity or discomfort that Phil just... knows.

“If you promise not to kill me and I promise not to kill you, do you think you could maybe consider it?” Phil asks.

Dan’s grateful for the subject change, even though it forces him to focus on the topic at hand. He considers it for a moment, but really he already knew what his answer would be the moment Phil said he was attractive. If that makes him shallow, then so be it.

“I’ll do it.”

~~~

After exchanging numbers and schedules that night, Dan agreed to meet Phil at his flat two weeks later for his first shoot. It made him vaguely uncomfortable to think of it like that but in the end that’s pretty much what it was, at least if Phil had anything to say about it. The man in question had yet to give Dan any explanation for why he was taking the photos to begin with, but Dan just assumed it was for a project. He did learn that Phil was finishing up his second degree, something Dan was immensely jealous of, considering he felt like dropping out half the time.

The days before they’re meant to meet seem to fly by, and when Dan shows up at the address he’d been given on Friday night, he’s practically vibrating with nerves. Despite the fact that they’d spent much of that time apart texting and getting to know one another, he still felt a little out of his depth stood at Phil’s door, especially knowing what awaited him on the other side.

Still, it’s not like he could easily get out of it now. So instead he texts Phil to let him know he’s there, waiting awkwardly on the steps in front of the building. Phil replies to let him know that he’d be down in a moment, so Dan stands, shifting from foot to foot, as he waits.

He’d been completely clueless as to how he needed to dress for this, and Phil had been no help at all. He’d instructed Dan to just wear something comfortable, that he was less concerned about costuming than he was the picture itself. Dan didn’t know much about photography, so he decided to listen. He’d chosen a pair of black jeans, not ripped for once, and a plain black jumper. His hair was a controlled mess, and after an hour of forcing straighteners over it, he managed to get it into something presentable.

The door in front of him swings open while he’s contemplating his choice of shoes, and he nearly falls over in surprise. He catches himself before he can, but the embarrassment of almost falling nearly has him turning around to leave until he catches sight of Phil’s pleased grin. “You made it!” He cheers, ushering Dan inside.

Dan quirks a brow at him. “Did you think I just texted you from my flat just to get a laugh when you realized I wasn’t here?”

Phil’s grin doesn’t falter in the slightest. “Hey, I don’t know what you’re like, maybe you never planned on showing up at all and it’s all just a big prank.”

If Phil wasn’t already leading the way upstairs, he’d see the incredulous look on Dan’s face. “That’s ridiculous. I’m right here.”

He watches Phil’s shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “I don’t know that. Maybe you’re a figment of my imagination. Maybe you’re a figment of your own imagination. Who knows?” They stop at a door just off the staircase on the second floor, much to Dan’s relief. He wasn’t much for exercise and he wasn’t aware that today he’d be doing cardio, or he’d have worn a thinner shirt. “Maybe existence in itself is just a social construct,” Phil says conspiratorially, opening the door to his flat and sending Dan a mischievous grin.

“Stop, you’re gonna send me into an existential crisis,” Dan complains.

Phil is good-natured enough to laugh, which is refreshing compared to the usual groans and bitchiness Dan would hear from his friends for a similar comment. It’s nice.

Phil leads the way into his flat, and Dan distracts himself from his nerves by looking around, taking in all of the little knick knacks and decor. It’s not messy, per se, but it differs from Dan’s own flat in the way that it’s comfortably lived in. There’s not a whole lot of space, but somehow it doesn’t feel crowded or small. Dan wonders if that has anything to do with the bright colors, which, he notes, don’t seem to follow any sort of pattern or color scheme.

“Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess, I rarely have company.” Phil sounds apologetic as he moves further into the flat, bypassing the lounge and leading Dan into the kitchen. “Would you like a drink?”

Dan nods, moving to settle on one of the barstools by the counter. “As long as it’s not of the alcoholic variety.”

Phil smiles as he moves around the kitchen, reaching into a cupboard for two glasses. Dan watches as the hem of his shirt rides up, showing just a little bit of skin before it settles back down. “You don’t drink?”

Shrugging, Dan leans forward on the counter, his arms folded. “Not with people I barely know,” he replies dryly.

There’s a flicker of something like hurt on Phil’s face, but it’s not there for long. “Ribena okay?”

“Sure.”

It’s a little bit awkward as Phil prepares their drinks in silence, which Dan attributes to the fact that they don’t really know each other that well. It’s hard to start a conversation with a stranger, especially when you’re in said stranger’s house. All things considered, though, Dan could be a lot more worried about that. Phil just seems to have this calming sort of energy to him, and it’s hard for Dan to reject that, even with his brain as messed up as it is.

“Here you go,” Phil says with a smile as he hands Dan a drink.

“Thanks,” Dan replies with a smile. He takes a sip, averting his eyes from Phil’s curious gaze. It’s a bit less watered down than he prefers, but he doesn’t actually mind it all that much. The sweetness is less of a whisper and more of a shout, and he smiles to himself when he thinks about Phil’s obvious sweet tooth.

“Alright?” Phil asks, sounding a little nervous.

Dan nods. “It’s good.” Clearing his throat, he gestures vaguely to Phil. “So, Mr. Photographer. What kind of photoshoot have you got in mind for me?”

At the mention of the reason for Dan’s presence, Phil grins. “Well, I’m glad you asked. Follow me.”

Dan spares a confused glance at his drink but does as instructed, standing up to follow after him. Now that he’s being led into the lounge he’s got a chance to look around a little more and is surprised to see a bookshelf filled with familiar things, mostly video games and movies. There’s a couple odd knick knacks here and there that he recognizes from a game or anime. The thought that they actually have things in common startles Dan, but it isn’t unwelcome.

“So, for the portrait series I’m doing, I’m focusing more on a lifestyle, candid kind of photography. I’m still working on the basic theme but I’ve got some ideas for a couple of shots to get started.” Phil is explaining this as he’s moving around, grabbing his camera off the desk and moving to the glass door which Dan has just realized opens onto a balcony. Dan’s nodding along, pretending he gets it, while still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this man looked at him and felt he was worth capturing. “If you have any ideas or questions or anything, feel free to let me know. I’m usually pretty open-minded about things like that,” Phil says with a smile.

Dan nods again. “Alright. Well, uh... where do you want me?”

Phil grins, and Dan flushes when he realizes what it sounds like. Luckily, Phil doesn’t tease him for it. “I thought we’d start with the balcony. I’ve got some ideas that I wanna go ahead and do while the lighting is nice.”

With another nod, Dan moves towards the door. Then he comes to a halt, turning back around to face him. “Is what I’m wearing alright? I wasn’t sure what to wear.”

There’s a twitch of a smile on Phil’s lips at that. “What you’re wearing is perfect. You can take your shoes off though, if you want. Might be here a while.” There’s no hint of innuendo in his voice, but Dan can’t help but think about it anyway.

He toes his shoes off, glad for the brief distraction to calm himself down. After tucking his shoes out of the way near the door, he turns around, tugging on his sleeves as he waits for instruction. Phil isn’t looking at him right now, his focus on the balcony door. He pushes it open, steps back, and then tugs it in just a little bit. After staring at it for a moment he closes it, then nods to himself. If Dan wasn’t so confused, he’d probably laugh at him.

A few minutes of this go by and then Phil’s turning back around with a bright smile. “Alright, so for this to look candid and what not, I need you to like walk out onto the balcony as naturally as you can. We’ve got time to do it more than once, so it’s fine if the first couple of times feel awkward.”

“Okay,” Dan shrugs. He’s struggling to pretend he’s not nervous at this point but really, how can he not be? He doesn’t even know Phil but he wants this to work for him.

Dan moves towards the door, hyper aware of every movement of his feet as they drag across the floor. He doesn’t hear any other instruction, so he continues, pushing open the glass door and stepping onto the balcony. He also doesn’t hear the camera shutter, so with an embarrassed feeling in his chest, he turns to look at Phil.

Click.

“Um.” Dan blinks. “I thought...”

“Just checking that the camera is good to go,” Phil says, his lips twitching like he wants to smile. Dan can tell he’s lying, but doesn’t know how he’d feel about being called out for it.

“So... want me to go again?” Dan asks dumbly.

Phil nods, gesturing for him to come closer. “Here, just...” as soon as Dan is closer, he reaches out for him. Dan’s heart thumps out of beat, and Phil hesitates, smiling gently. “Can I?” He asks, gesturing to Dan’s shirt.

Dan can only nod, and Phil takes that as permission. He steps just a bit closer, and a wonderful scent of something fruity and sweet floods Dan’s senses. He’s trying to decide if it’s kiwi or something else when Phil’s gaze meets his, making Dan flush and drop his eyes. Phil’s camera is resting against his chest, the strap around his neck, and Dan tries to focus on that as Phil takes Dan’s sleeve and rolls it up almost to his elbow. He takes the other and copies the look, glancing over the rest of Dan before clearing his throat and stepping back.

“Am I ready for the camera?” Dan jokes, trying to ignore the racing of his heart and the way he can still smell faint traces of Phil’s cologne in the air between their bodies.

Phil’s suddenly heavy gaze drags from Dan’s hair down to his jeans, and he tilts his head, considering. “Depends. How comfortable would you be without your jeans?”

~~~

Dan cannot believe this. He simply cannot believe he agreed to this. Even an hour and a half later, it feels a bit like some weird fever dream. But no, there he is, in Phil’s flat, clad in nothing but a black jumper and black Calvins, modeling. If it could even be called that, because at this point Phil is mostly just engaging him in conversation, getting Dan distracted, and then snapping a photo. He very rarely asks for a specific pose, and Dan’s starting to wonder if he’s actually getting any good shots out of this or not.

Still, he won’t complain because so far he’s learned a lot about Phil. He’s 28, which surprised Dan at first, until he explained that he’d finished school with a degree in video post-production only to realize a couple years later that he was interested in photography. He’s not a full time student, but he’s enrolled in the photography course and loving it, apparently. Dan feels all sorts of out of place when Phil talks about school with such passion. It’s something he wishes he had, something he’d wanted for himself for years and never found.

Dan actually shares things about himself, as well. He offers up his own situation with school, admitting that he’d dropped out of uni a few years ago, only to get stuck with no job and no future until his parents made him agree to go back. He’s in his second year of law this time, which as a 24 year old, feels very embarrassing. Phil is all kind words and encouragement about this; Dan tries not to feel surprised that Phil is not only attractive and clever but also deeply empathetic.

“That’s really brave, you know,” Phil tells him. He’s sat on the only chair on the balcony, looking up at Dan with soft eyes. Dan shrugs, glancing away from him. He can’t handle the caring behind those eyes, he can’t let himself feel something more for this stranger other than vague appreciation and friendship. There’s the sound of the shutter clicking, and he levels Phil with an unimpressed stare. Phil grins and snaps another photo.

“It doesn’t feel brave,” Dan tells him, continuing their verbal conversation as he turns away, looking out on the city around them rather than stand facing Phil. He realizes belatedly that the height of the balcony and the way he’s leaning against it probably just look like he’s presenting his ass, but he’s already lost whatever self-consciousness he had about being nearly naked in front of someone he hardly knows.

“How does it feel, then?” Phil asks. Dan likes that. He likes that he doesn’t argue with Dan’s feelings, he asks him to explain them. Dan likes that a lot.

“Well, it feels like... I dunno. Like a waste of time.” He glances over when he hears the chair squeak to find Phil standing beside him. He’s got this open, welcoming expression on his face. Dan suddenly feels like he could tell him anything and Phil would just... know. “I feel like I’m wasting my time, or potential, or whatever.”

Phil nods. “I get that. I started out with English Language and Linguistics at uni. I didn’t hate it, but it wasn’t something I was like, super passionate about. Not enough to stick with it, and like, what the hell do you do with that kind of degree, you know?”

Dan shrugs. He doesn’t know, honestly, but it feels good to talk to someone who gets it, in some way. “Right.” It’s quiet for a moment, both of them lost in their thoughts as they look out into the street below. They’re not very high up, but there’s not a whole lot of tall buildings around, so it feels like they are. Dan hears the camera shutter but this time he doesn’t look. Instead he allows himself a small smile, something warm fluttering in his chest. Another click, and then he hears Phil sigh.

“These are really good,” Phil says softly. “I mean... not like I’m bragging, just...” He meets Dan’s gaze with a sheepish smile. “You look really good.”

Dan’s not sure he can handle that. He ducks his head, avoiding even looking in Phil’s direction until he feels less embarrassed and charmed and pleased. “I’m sure they’re alright,” he says noncommittally.

Phil laughs at that. “I’m not sure if you’re insulting me or yourself, but either way, I’m not sure I appreciate it.”

He can’t help it, Dan snorts at hearing this. “Sorry. Self-deprecation and all.”

There’s a very serious expression on Phil’s face when he looks at Dan then. It nearly chills Dan to his bones, but he finds he can’t look away. “I wish you could see what I see when I look at you.” He sounds perfectly serious.

Dan swallows. He wonders if he’s imagining the lack of space between them. “What do you see when you look at me?”

Phil studies him for a moment. He moves slowly, pulling the camera strap over his head and setting the camera carefully in the chair. Dan’s definitely not imagining it when Phil steps closer, making Dan turn as Phil crowds him back against the balcony. “All sorts of things,” Phil murmurs. Speaking any louder in the space between them would sound like yelling. “I see someone who’s sad.” Dan makes a soft noise of protest, but Phil shushes him gently. “But someone who’s doing what they can not to feel that way.”

They’re stood less than a foot apart now, and Dan studies the swirl of colors in Phil’s eyes. His breath is caught in his throat. He doesn’t know how Phil just knows these things, but somehow he’s managed to understand more about Dan than he’s understood about himself in years. More than that, Phil sees these things about Dan and doesn’t shy away from them. He looks at him like it’s okay to feel that way, like he maybe understands what it’s like. Dan loves it.

“What else?” He whispers, as if they’re sharing secrets.

Phil smiles. “I see those beautiful brown eyes.”

Dan blushes. “Shut up.”

“No,” Phil grins. He reaches forward, and Dan expects a soft touch and hopes for maybe more than that. He’s surprised when instead Phil pokes his side.

“Hey!” Dan yelps, squirming from his hand. “That’s rude.”

Phil giggles. “Sorry. I wanted to see that cute little pout.”

Dan’s face is likely blood red by now, but he tries to force his lips out of the pout he feels them in. “Alright, if you don’t stop flirting you might actually have to do something about it, you know.” He crosses his arms, quirking an eyebrow at Phil in challenge.

The challenge is apparently accepted, as Phil grins back, crossing his own arms. He’s an inch or two shorter than Dan, but with that stance, he appears taller. “Like what?”

And well, Dan wasn’t really expecting Phil to play along. He can only stare at him, blinking in confusion. “Um... well...”

It seems Phil expected this because he starts laughing as if it was a joke. Dan has no choice but to join in, pretending right along with him. “C’mon, you must be getting cold out here.” Phil turns to walk inside, gesturing for Dan to follow. Dan hadn’t really thought about it until now, but his legs are rather chilly.

After closing the door and walking into the lounge, he finds Phil stood there holding his jeans out to him. Dan tries not to let it bother him that this evening isn’t going in the direction he originally thought that it might go in. He shouldn’t be surprised about that. Phil is seemingly a very nice person, one who probably doesn’t hook up with emotionally unstable uni students he met at two am in a cafe. So really, Dan just needs to calm down with his expectations there.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking the jeans. He figures propriety is probably already out the window, so he goes ahead and pulls them on, trying not to think about the fact that Phil is watching him. “So, um...” He wants to ask if he’ll see Phil again, but he’s not sure how to.

Phil seems to understand anyway. He smiles and moves to the desk in the corner. Above it is a wall calendar, filled with lots of colorful sticky notes and scribbled handwriting. Even squinting, Dan can’t really make any of it out. Somehow, that, too, is endearing. Phil mumbles to himself as he scans the calendar, his finger moving along the dates as if he’s looking for something.

“I’m free next Saturday if you’re willing to do this again,” he says, turning around to glance at Dan.

A little startled by the suddenness of the request, it takes Dan a moment to nod. “Alright, uh, sure. What time?”

“Hm,” Phil hums to himself, considering it. He bends over to look through a notebook on the desk, and Dan is definitely not looking at his ass. Okay, maybe he takes a peek. Or two. Or maybe he just stares. “I have a list of ideas, give me a second,” he says, offering Dan a smile over his shoulder.

Dan nods, clearing his throat and pretending he’s examining the furniture. “I meant to tell you earlier, but I really like your flat. It’s cozy,” he says. His voice sounds awkward, even to himself. He’s genuine in his compliment, though. The decor is a lot brighter than he’d go for, and there doesn’t seem to be any cohesive theme, but he appreciates the bursts of personality he sees in every item.

“Thanks,” Phil says, turning to face him with a grin. “It’s taken me a while to accumulate all this junk, but it’s mostly sentimental.”

Dan cracks a smile at that. “That’s sweet. I’m not very sentimental myself, actually.”

Phil’s smile cracks a little at that. He recovers well, and manages to laugh. “My mum says I’m a hoarder, but I actually think I got it from her.”

“Maybe don’t tell her that.”

“Yeah, maybe not.” Phil grins genuinely. “So, I’ve got some… er… well, some other shots I want to get.” He bites his lips as if he’s embarrassed.

Dan can’t help it. His mind takes a sharp turn for the gutter. “What kind of shots?”

Phil raises a hand and scratches the back of his neck. Dan stares at the way the tendons in his arms flex. It’s unacceptably attractive. “Well… Please don’t think I’m creepy for this, I swear I was going to get someone else to do it, but if you’re willing… My series would look more cohesive with the same model in every shot.”

Dan rolls his eyes now. The beating around the bush thing isn’t cute anymore. “Spit it out, bub. What do you want me to do? Pose nude?”

“No!” Something panicked arises in Phil’s eyes, but it’s replaced by something like consideration, clouded with something akin to guilt. “Er… Well, not entirely.” He bites his lip at this, staring at Dan like he’s waiting for him to run.

Crossing his arms, Dan quirks a brow, waiting. “So?”

“Well, it’s like… The theme I’m trying to work with is intimacy, but like from different angles. We, uh… For the assignment we were told to pick a sort of abstract or misunderstood concept, and research what we can to come up with a photo series that shows the deeper understanding of it. And uh, I went with intimacy.” His face is pink, and his gaze darts around the room in a nervous way Dan hasn’t witnessed yet.

Dan considers what this means for himself for a moment. He knows what he considers intimacy to be, which is basically sex and the things that go with being intimate before and after that. He can’t pretend he isn’t interested in what Phil wants to do with this concept, and honestly, after today, he feels comfortable enough that maybe he wouldn’t mind a little nude shoot. That might change due to his ever changing self-consciousness but he’s not totally opposed to it right now.

Phil must misunderstand his silence to mean he’s considering saying no. That thought’s laughable to Dan, at this point. “If you’re not comfortable, or if it’s something else, that’s totally fine! I mean, if you just don’t want to waste your time, I can pay you? But if you’re uncomfortable then-”

“I’ll do it.”

Phil stops talking. He blinks. Then, “What?”

Dan shrugs, an almost giddy feeling seeping into his chest. He tucks his hands into his pockets. “I said I’ll do it. I mean I reckon if you were gonna murder me, you would’ve done it by now. And I’m not too fussed about posing nude, but…” He’s not sure if what he’s about to say is obvious or not, but… “I’m… homosexually inclined, if you will.”

There’s a heavy silence. Phil blinks at him, twice. Then, he promptly bursts into giggles. Dan’s not impressed by that.

“Sorry, I’m not- homosexually inclined? Is that what we’re calling it these days? God, I’m getting old.” Phil laughs again, clutching his belly and tossing his head back with the force of it.

Dan’s fight-or-flight response is hovering on the edge of a knife, waiting to see if he’s going to have to protect himself from this situation somehow. He’s never actually had anyone start laughing in his face when he told them he was gay, but he reckons maybe he did say it in an odd way. Still, it was almost unsettling to see the soft look on Phil’s face once his giggles have subsided.

“I am too, by the way. Homosexually inclined,” Phil repeats the phrasing and smirks. Dan immediately relaxes. “That’s the only way I’ll ever come out to anyone ever again, so thank you for that.”

Dan rolls his eyes but pantomimes tipping a hat. “Happy to be of service.” Now that their truths are out in the open, he’s more relaxed, but also just that much more uneasy. Before, Phil was just this fit guy taking photos of him that Dan could quietly pine after and assume about. Now… now he knows for sure. And that scares the hell out of him. “So, Saturday?” Dan asks, clearing his throat to clear some of the tension in the room.

Phil nods, a familiar excited glint reappearing in his eyes. “Yeah, say… five-ish? The lighting is better when the sun’s going down.”

“Sure.” Dan takes this as his invitation to leave and heads back to the front door. Phil follows after him and stands by while Dan tugs his shoes back on. “Anything particular you’d like me to wear?” He doesn’t mean to flirt, but he can’t help but put on a certain tone of voice. He’s only human.

If Phil’s bothered by the obvious flirtation, he has a funny way of showing it. Smirking, he crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside him, his eyes raking over Dan’s body in a way that nearly makes him shiver. “If you’ve got a light colored sweater or something, that would work.” He tilts his head, considering for a moment. “And the Calvins are a nice touch, as well.”

Dan can’t help but smirk back, as if he knows what they’re doing here. He doesn’t, not really. “Why, reckon I’m gonna be back down to my pants for you?”

Phil stares him straight in the eyes as he nods. “Yeah, I reckon so.”

This does make Dan shiver. He can’t help it. His skin is suddenly feeling a little tacky, his clothes clinging a little too closely to his skin. “Right,” he mumbles, clearing his throat after. “See you Saturday?”

The grin on Phil’s face takes any of the previous heat away, but it leaves Dan warm in an entirely different way. “Saturday. I’ll see you then, Dan. Be safe.”

Dan offers a little wave as he steps out the door. He forces himself to take a deep breath before getting any further, processing what he’d just agreed to. Spending an evening with a very attractive, also gay man, taking perhaps racy photos.

God, Dan was so fucked.

~~~

Dan has counted down the days until Saturday, unashamedly. There’s no one but himself to shame him for his weird crush, and for now, he’s not going to beat himself up about it. That’s probably most definitely subject to change, he realizes once he’s standing at Phil’s door on Saturday evening, wearing black ripped jeans and a light tannish Yeezy sweater he’d spent way too much money on. He’s a little early, since they’d agreed on five, but Dan doesn’t actually think Phil will be all that bothered about it, honestly. At least, he sincerely hopes he isn’t.

Dan: im outside let me in

Phil: you should’ve sent the meme

Dan: ?

Dan hears the door click the same time his phone buzzes in his hand. He opens the door with one hand while his other clicks on the meme. He snorts when he sees it, having forgotten all about the Eric Andre meme, but this was certainly an appropriate moment to use it. Since he’s literally in the same building as Phil, Dan doesn’t bother typing out a response, pocketing his phone and making his way up to Phil’s flat.

Phil’s quick to open the door after Dan’s knocked, and Dan smiles automatically upon seeing his face. He’s not wearing glasses this time, and his hair is in an almost perfect quiff. Dan very much wants to touch it, but he knows that’s definitely not appropriate. Phil looks incredibly cozy right now, wearing a grey sweater and black skinny jeans.

“Hi,” Phil says, his voice sweet.

Dan can’t help the stupid grin on his face, stretching at his cheeks and probably caving his dimple. “Hi, yourself.”

He doesn’t have a chance to ask to come inside, as Phil’s suddenly shifting closer, his hand coming up to Dan’s face. Dan sucks in a sharp breath, heart beating out of rhythm. Whatever he’s expecting to happen isn’t Phil’s intention, apparently, as Dan’s surprised when he feels Phil’s finger sink into his dimple. “Hello to this part of you, specifically.”

It takes him a moment to process the disappointment he feels that Phil didn’t do something else, but then he’s just thrilled that Phil is touching his face so casually. Then, he hears what he said. Laughing, Dan swats his hand away. “Oh, fuck off.”

Phil grins at him. “What? It’s cute. Hello, there… Derek!”

Dan blinks. “Derek?”

Phil’s finger comes back up to gently dip into the concave space on Dan’s face. “Derek the dimple.”

“You’re really odd,” Dan muses. Phil’s face twists at this, and Dan smiles before stepping through the door beside him. “It’s cute, don’t worry.”

He doesn’t wait for a reaction, walking over to where Phil keeps his shoes and toeing his trainers off. He tugs his coat off as well, looking around for somewhere to put it that doesn’t clutter some of Phil’s space.

“I’ll get it,” Phil says, coming to the rescue. He grabs the coat from Dan and leads the way into the lounge, the sound of the front door shutting behind them echoing into the room. “Have you eaten?” Phil asks, his back turned to Dan as he goes to hang Dan’s coat genty over a chair.

“No, I figured I’d eat later when I leave.” Dan goes to sit on the sofa, glancing around the room casually to see if anything’s changed since he was here last week.

Phil nods, but chews his bottom lip hesitantly. “Do you like pizza?”

Dan quirks a brow at this and tries not to smirk. “Are you trying to buy me dinner, Phil Lester?”

To his credit, Phil doesn’t seem very embarrassed by this. His eyes dart away but ultimately come back to Dan’s face, searching. “I guess so. If you’ll let me.”

Clearing his throat to hide the way he’s actually very pleased by this, Dan nods, following it with a noncommittal shrug. “Well, if you insist.”

Phil laughs, moving to his desk and grabbing his laptop. He returns to the sofa, dropping beside Dan and opening his laptop. “Domino’s okay?”

Dan nods and shifts on the sofa, tucking his feet up and leaning over to watch Phil order their food. “Have you tried the Sizzler?”

He realizes how close they are now when Phil turns his head and their eyes meet, mere inches apart. Phil has a lovely, surprised smile on his face. “The Sizzler is literally my favorite.”

This draws a pleased smile on Dan’s lips. “Yeah? You’ve got good taste, then.”

Phil nods. “It’s got just enough toppings to mask the flavor of the cheese, it’s great.”

Dan blinks. “Sorry, why would you actually want to mask the cheese? The cheese is the best part!”

Phil’s nose crinkles adorably as he turns back to the screen, clicking around on the order page. “I’m lactose intolerant, cheese just doesn’t really suit me.”

“Huh,” Dan hums. “I guess it’s good that mozzarella cheese basically just tastes of air, then.”

A dainty white hand comes up to rest over Phil’s chest as he mock-swoons. “You understand me,” he sighs.

Dan grins. He’s got the inexplicable urge to rest his head on Phil’s shoulder, but he refrains. Phil finishes up their order and closes his laptop, setting it on the coffee table in front of them before leaning back. His head rolls to the side and he blinks up at Dan adorably. Dan takes this moment to reach forward and poke Phil’s cheek, much like he did earlier to Dan’s dimple.

“So, pizza then photoshoot?” Dan inquires, the soft silence overwhelming him.

Phil nods. Then shrugs, which is a very mixed-signal sort of gesture, Dan thinks. “Well, probably pizza and photoshoot, really.”

“What?”

Without answering, Phil stands, going over to his desk and grabbing a notebook. He glances around until he finds a pen, then rejoins Dan on the sofa. “Right, so, the photo series has four parts to it, representing the four types of intimacy. So I figured today we could work on the first part.”

Dan nods, as if he completely understands this. He doesn’t. “Alright. So what’s the first part?”

Phil flips some pages in the notebook until he reaches one with “Experiential” at the top. Dan glances at this word, then back to Phil, then back to the page. Phil must notice his confusion, as he laughs under his breath before handing the notebook over. “I tried to write a short explanation, but basically it’s like intimacy in doing mundane activities. Like… I don’t know, playing video games together, or doing an art project, or something.”

“Right…” Dan nods slowly. “So, are we going to do an art project together?” He’s half-kidding. Half, because he’s not very artistic but he actually likes the idea of doing something creative and fun with Phil, who seems to be the human embodiment of those ideas.

“No, although that probably would’ve been a good idea,” Phil says, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I actually thought we could play some video games or play a board game or something?”

Dan nods. “Sure, I’m always down to play video games. I should warn you though, I didn’t have any friends until uni, so I’ve had lots of time to get really good at pretty much every video game.”

There’s something fleetingly sad in Phil’s gaze, but he recovers with a laugh that warms Dan’s heart and has him smiling. “We’ll see about that.”

~~~

“Fucking fuck fuck!” Dan screams, his thumb aching from how tightly he’s holding the button to steer. “Get out of my ass!” he screeches at Phil.

Phil cackles from beside him, his kart closing in on Dan’s. “Stop shouting that! I have neighbors, you idiot!”

Dan makes a frustrated grunting noise when Phil somehow manages to pass him and cross the finish line first, a string of curses leaving his mouth as Phil squeals with joy beside him. Ever the petulant child, Dan throws the switch joy-con towards Phil, who yelps. Dan pitches to the side, letting out a frustrated noise against the sofa cushion. “You’re the worst,” he mumbles, his voice muffled by the fabric.

“What was that? I can’t hear you over the sound of me winning,” Phil taunts smugly.

Sitting up with a huff, Dan sends Phil a glare, only to startle when the camera flashes. He wants to be annoyed, but he can’t, not when he agreed to this impromptu shoot. And Phil’s been doing this for the past two hours since they finished their pizza and started playing Mario Kart, so if Dan was going to have a problem with it, he probably should have said so before now. He doesn’t actually, really. It’s always a little surprising, and it usually catches him off-guard since he’s rarely expecting it when it happens, but seeing Phil smile down at the camera every time he takes a photo makes it worth it.

“Rematch?” Phil asks, prodding Dan’s thigh with his joy-con, setting the camera down on the coffee table where it’s been residing for the majority of the evening. There’d been a couple times when Phil had gone to the kitchen under the pretense of getting something, only to surprise Dan by taking photos of him from behind the sofa. Dan doubts that those are any good, considering there’s probably nothing in shot but his unruly hair and the tv, but this is Phil’s project, so who is he to judge?

Dan rolls over so he’s on his back and drops his legs onto Phil’s lap, smiling when Phil begins rubbing his calves over his jeans. Whatever concept of personal space that existed hours ago is completely gone now, as both of them have taken to casual touches at almost any opportunity. Dan’s drowning in the feeling of this casual, friendly intimacy, and he idly wonders if that might be one of the themes for what Phil’s working on. “Depends, what time is it?”

Phil leans over to wake his phone up. “It’s a few minutes till eight,” he replies. He’s got an odd look on his face as he looks away from Dan before speaking again. “Why, got a hot date?”

This is one of those incredibly laughable things that Phil has said, and Dan treats it accordingly, dropping his head back to let out a cackle. “Bub, tonight you were the hot date.” He’s pleased by the surprised smile on Phil’s face. Dan’s cheeky for a moment and lifts his leg up to rub his foot against Phil’s thigh. “But no, I’ve just got revising to do. Exams coming up soon and the like.”

Phil doesn’t look particularly pleased by this, but nods in understanding. “Okay. Do you need to go home now?” His voice sounds just on the edge of disappointed, and Dan almost hates the way that makes him feel like he’s flying.

“I mean… I probably should. Why? Got other plans for me?” He smirks as he says it, obviously flirting.

Phil’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes this time. He shrugs, looking down at where his hands rest on Dan’s legs. “No, not really. I just like having you around.”

The naked honesty startles Dan into silence. He knows very few people who can tolerate him, let alone who actually enjoy his company, so this coming from Phil… Well, it’s a lot for Dan’s emotionally damaged brain to take in. After taking a moment to collect himself, he knocks his knee against Phil’s chest to prompt eye contact. Phil’s eyes are pools of blue and flecks of gold and Dan just knows he’s got a stupidly soft smile on his face as he speaks.

“I like being around you too, spork.”

Phil grins at this. He leans closer, just enough to sink his finger into Dan’s dimple. “I guess I’ll see you later?”

Dan nods, making no move to get off the sofa. “When do you want to work on the rest of the photos?”

There’s a shadow of something hurt on Phil’s face, but it’s gone so quickly Dan figures he imagined it. “You know, I’d like to hang out sometimes… Like, we don’t have to just work on that everytime we see each other, yeah?” He sounds nervous.

“Right,” Dan says slowly. It’s not that he hadn’t considered this, but he hadn’t gone so far as to assume Phil would actually want to do that. “Well, when’s the project due?”

“It’s not due until the end of December, so yeah… we’ve got time to work on that. I just…” Phil clears his throat as he looks away. He’s absentmindedly tugging on a thread on Dan’s jeans, and Dan wonders if he’s going to manage to pull it off completely. “We’re friends, yeah?”

An awkward laugh escapes Dan at that. He’s positive he doesn’t miss the flash of hurt on Phil’s face this time, but he doesn’t know what to make of it. “Yeah, Phil, of course we are. And sure, we can hangout whenever you want. In fact, what about tomorrow? I need to get some homework done, but we can meet up at the cafe for lunch?”

Phil smiles at this, a proper one with his tongue poking through his teeth. Dan melts at the sight. “Sure, okay, yeah. I’d like that.”

“It’s a date, then,” Dan says, his voice mostly teasing. He leaves his words hanging in the air between them, open to whatever interpretation that Phil might want to give them.

“A date,” Phil echoes, nodding and looking down at where his hand is resting on Dan’s leg. “I guess I’ll let you get home, then.”

Even though Dan knows he needs to go, he doesn’t like the idea of actually doing it. Still, he can’t overstay his welcome, even if Phil does enjoy having him around. Besides, he needs to get home and take his meds before he goes to bed anyway. He drags his legs off Phil’s lap and stands, stretching his arms up above his head to give them some relief. They’d been lounging on the sofa for hours now, and he desperately needed to get his blood circulating again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Dan says on a yawn, dropping his hand to ruffle Phil’s hair. If Phil’s bothered by the gesture, he doesn’t show it.

“Yeah.” He stands and follows Dan to the door, watching him as he gets ready to leave. “Oh, here,” Phil says suddenly, spinning around and stepping back into the lounge, returning with Dan’s coat in his hand. He holds it out and gestures for Dan to turn around. Dan does so, but he rolls his eyes as if he’s not secretly pleased by the gesture.

When Dan turns around, there’s a soft, fond look on Phil’s face. Dan wants to kiss him. He wants to so, so badly, but there’s still that voice in his head, reminding him that Phil isn’t interested in him in that way. So instead, he lifts his hand in a little two-fingered salute, cringing at himself as soon as he does it. “See you tomorrow, then, Philly.”

“Goodnight, Dan. Be safe going home.” The repeated sentiment stirs something warm in Dan’s chest.

“Goodnight,” Dan echoes softly as the door closes behind him.

~~~

Dan sits in the cafe, his laptop open on the table in front of him. He’s a few paragraphs into an essay about a topic he doesn’t care about and hardly remembers, his cursor blinking at him condescendingly. If the other two or three customers weren’t present, he’d thump his head on the table in anger, barista be damned. It’s the same barista that served him and Phil that night a couple weeks ago, Dan realizes, so they probably wouldn’t be surprised if Dan just started acting off his rocker.

He’s mid-thought about all the situations this barista has probably had to see, wondering to himself if she’s ever had to handle a mental breakdown, which then steers him onto the thought path of wondering if that’s what’s actually happening to him right now or if he’s overreacting. His train of thought is completely thrown off the track when he hears a voice as someone settles on the seat in front of him.

“Are you okay? You’re looking a little pale,” Phil says, his face morphed into one of concern. He pushes a hand through his slightly disheveled quiff, helping it a little bit but mostly just giving it a more purposefully tousled look.

Dan blinks at him. “What would you do if I said I was having a mental breakdown?” he blurts unthinkingly.

Phil raises an eyebrow at him, looking surprised but not as confused as Dan expected him to. He leans forward, folding his arms on the table and resting his weight against them. It’s a good look, Dan thinks to himself idly. He’s wearing a pink and purple hoodie, and his black-framed glasses. He looks like a snack, if Dan’s completely honest. “Are you?” He asks, breaking Dan out of his cycle of inappropriate thoughts.

Sighing, Dan leans over and rests his head against the table, staring blearily up at Phil. “No? I mean… I don’t know, honestly. I don’t guess so.” He punctuates it with a shrug, which just results in him bumping his shoulder into the table. It stings.

Phil smiles down at him like he’s not bothered at all by Dan’s odd mood. It’s nice. “Do you wanna talk about it?” he asks, sweet and considerate as ever.

Dan shrugs again. His shoulder aches now. He sits up with an exasperated groan. “I just feel like I’m wasting what’s left of my stupid life sat here working on a paper I don’t give two fucks about, but I can’t drop out because my parents would kill me. Not that I care what they think, but they’re helping me pay for a flat and stuff, so I can’t exactly do what I want, can I? I just… I want a different life. This one sucks.” He hadn’t realized how worked up he was until he’s finished, but now that he’s done with his rant, he’s left panting and maybe there’s a wetness in his voice that wasn’t there before. He clenches his eyes shut tightly. He’s not going to cry in front of his new friend, in the middle of a goddamn coffee shop. He isn’t.

The feeling of a hand brushing against his own has his eyes snapping open, staring at Phil with wide eyes. Phil offers him a sympathetic smile. Dan hates pity, but he doesn’t feel like this is Phil’s intention, somehow. “Do you want to do something to take your mind off of all that?” Phil asks him sweetly.

Dan’s inclined to say yes. He’d love a break, even if it’s not for long, but he knows he needs to finish this godforsaken essay if he has a chance in hell of passing this class. “I can’t. I need to finish this essay.” His voice is bitter.

“Okay. Do you want me to leave so you can focus?” Phil doesn’t sound thrilled at the idea, but Dan appreciates the gesture.

“No, I can work with you here. If you don’t, you know, mind that I’m not going to be very entertaining.”

Phil laughs, his tongue poking out in Dan’s favorite smile. “I think I can entertain myself. I’ve got some things I can work on while you’re doing that. I’m a little behind some of my projects for work, so this would probably be a good time to finish them.”

Dan really needs to focus on his assignment, but the mention of Phil’s job piques his interest. He hadn’t really mentioned that before, although Dan had already deduced that he probably had some kind of job, considering he’s a part-time student living in a flat by himself. Unable to quell his curiosity, Dan props his head in his hand, watching Phil pull out a laptop and a notebook from his backpack. “What kind of projects?” He asks.

“Some videos to edit. Mostly ads and things like that. I think I’ve got a motivational video and a music video, too.” Phil makes a grimace at that, but Dan’s only about a thousand times more curious now.

Feigning nonchalance, Dan nods and glances at his own laptop. He’s got a little over a thousand words and he’s got to have twenty-five hundred to meet the assignment requirements. But, it’s not due for another week, so surely he can spare a few moments of watching Phil work, right?

Whether he can or not, he decides he’s going to.

“Can I watch you edit?” he asks, his voice unintentionally small.

Phil looks surprised when he glances up, but he’s quick to nod. “Yeah, of course. Um…” He points vaguely to the space on Dan’s side of the booth. “Mind if I move over there?”

Dan grins and moves his own backpack out of the way, clearing a spot for Phil to put his own things. “Be my guest,” he says, mocking a terrible French accent.

After moving his things over, Phil seems to remember that they were originally only meeting to have lunch, and yet neither of them have any food. “Do you want me to go grab us something to eat?”

“Oh, yeah. Sure.” Dan reaches into his pocket for his wallet, but Phil’s hand on his wrist stops him.

“I’ll pay, I asked you out, remember?” Phil’s got a cheeky grin on his face as he stands from the table. “What do you want?”

Dan is very nearly blushing at how chivalrous Phil is being, but he clears his throat in an effort to control himself. “A strawberry lemonade, please.”

Phil quirks an eyebrow. “Okay, what else? What do you want to eat?”

It’s probably just the usual bout of nerves, but the idea of food is not very appealing to Dan in this moment. His stomach turns at the idea of eating something, and he’s pretty sure that it’s written all over his face. “I’m actually not very hungry right now,” he says awkwardly.

There’s a flash of confusion on Phil’s face, but he manages a slow nod. “Okay. So just the strawberry lemonade?”

Dan nods. “Yeah.”

“Alright,” Phil says, flashing a smile. “Be right back, then.”

Dan tries not to watch Phil as he makes his way to the counter to order, but his attempt is probably mediocre at best. His eyes stray from him for a few seconds at a time, but generally his gaze is casually sweeping over Phil’s body, appreciating the way Phil’s jeans fit around his ass. As soon as that thought catches up with him, he looks away, embarrassed. He’s not about to sit here ogling his friend while they're out for lunch, even if they have held up a rather flirtatious banter since meeting.

“Here you go,” Phil says a few moments later, setting a fairly large pink drink in front of Dan. He’s got something pink as well, but it’s a deeper, more magenta shade than Dan’s. “I also got you a pistachio muffin, for later, if you decide you’re hungry.” Phil places a paper bag down, and Dan stares at him in surprise.

“Oh… Thank you,” Dan stutters out.

Phil shrugs, moving to sit down back beside Dan. He situates his drink on the right side of his laptop before reaching for the paper bag. He takes out a bagel, sitting it on a napkin and closing the bag back up, scooting it towards Dan. He glances at him, appearing a little startled to find Dan already staring back at him. Before Dan can apologize for being creepy, Phil smiles and points to the bag. “Take it home, if you don’t want it now. You’ll be hungry eventually.”

Dan can’t say no to that, obviously, so he just nods mutely. “Alright, sure.”

Looking pleased with himself, Phil opens up his laptop and clicks around until he’s got a video editing program loading up, switching back to his email to click on the file attached. “So, usually clients just email me and after we agree on rates and such, I put the things I’m sent in folders that are in order of due date. I’m a little behind, so I haven’t organized these yet, but I don’t have that many to work on, so it’s not that big of a deal,” Phil explains as he opens his files and renames the thing he’s downloading.

Nodding along, Dan reaches blindly for his drink, his nose wrinkling when he takes a sip. Glancing down, he realizes he’d picked up Phil’s by mistake. “Mate, what is this?” he asks teasingly, gesturing to the cup when Phil looks at him in confusion.

“It’s dragon fruit lemonade,” Phil says defensively.

“It’s terrible,” Dan decides, setting it down and reaching for his own instead.

“It is not! It’s really tasty,” Phil argues, snatching his drink and taking a long, exaggerated sip as if to prove his point.

Dan scrunches his nose, definitely not agreeing with that assessment. “Try mine,” he offers, holding his cup out for Phil to take a sip from.

Phil rolls his eyes but leans forward, wrapping his lips around the straw and taking a little sip. Dan gives him a look, and he rolls his eyes again before sucking a little more into his mouth. Swallowing and leaning back, Phil narrows his eyes, looking to be seriously contemplating the taste. “Well, it’s not terrible, but mine’s just more exotic and fancy.”

“You should stick to editing and photography, bub. You’d make a terrible lemonade critic,” Dan says solemnly.

There’s an adorable pout on Phil’s lips as he jokingly digs his elbow into Dan’s side. “Rude,” he mumbles, focusing on his laptop again.

Dan grins, and leans closer, tentatively dropping his chin onto Phil’s shoulder to watch him work. Phil’s eyes dart to meet his, and Dan offers him a saccharine-sweet smile. Phil makes a big show out of rolling his eyes at this, but ultimately he focuses on his work, quietly talking Dan through the process as he edits clips and adds sound when appropriate.

Eventually, Dan goes back to working on his essay, but they stay close, talking when there’s a lull in creativity or when Dan just cannot take a moment more of affidavits and case files. Phil sometimes prods him and asks him to watch a section of the video he’s working on, asking if the transitions are smooth to an untrained eye, and Dan likes helping when he can. It’s nice, he realizes, working beside someone even when they’re both working on their own separate projects. It’s copacetic.

“I’m so tired of this,” Dan groans, thumping his head back against the booth. It makes a cracking sound and he winces, a sharp pain spreading across his skull. “Ow,” he whines.

Phil glances at him, concerned. “You alright?”

Dan nods, rubbing the back of his head. He gets a cheeky idea and pouts at Phil. “Kiss it better?” he simpers.

Phil doesn’t even blink. He rolls his eyes but nods, gesturing for Dan to get closer. “Turn your head, you little troll.”

Surprised that Phil’s actually catering to this whim, it takes Dan a moment to do as he’s told. He does, though, turn his head to look away, his hand still covering the spot he’d injured. He feels Phil take his hand and move it out of the way, and then he feels a gentle kiss pressed to the tender spot. His veins flood with warmth, so suddenly it causes a shiver down his spine. There’s no way Phil doesn’t notice it.

Luckily, he doesn’t comment on it. “Does it hurt badly?” Phil asks sweetly, his dainty fingers coming up to gently skim Dan’s scalp.

“No,” Dan says faintly. “Just tender.”

Phil hums. “Poor thing,” he mocks. He’s still stroking Dan’s hair, but Dan turns his head anyway, pouting when he sees the smirk on Phil’s face.

“I’m injured, and here you are, taking the piss.”

“Sorry. Maybe next time you’ll tone down the theatrics,” Phil suggests.

Dan huffs. “I was a theatre kid, it’s in my blood.”

Whatever he said seems to strike Phil as interesting, as he tilts his head and considers Dan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Why don’t you do theatre anymore?” Phil asks, completely out of left field.

Dan lets out a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t know. I just… Don’t?”

Phil nods. He shrugs, then, turning back to his laptop. “I think you should do some auditions. You’ve got an actual talent for it, I think you’d do really well.”

This throws Dan for a loop. He wasn’t expecting Phil to say anything like that, not at all. He knew he was usually dramatic, but it was mainly in a funny kind of way, he never thought about getting seriously involved with theatre now that he was an adult. It’s… not a bad idea, though. He’s not entirely opposed, at least.

“Maybe,” he says noncommittally. He actually really likes the idea of getting involved in it, now that it’s been presented to him as an option. He doesn’t plan on telling Phil that yet, though, no matter how much he genuinely likes him. “Can you read over this paragraph and tell me what you think?”

~~~

The days and weeks pass by in a flurry after that day in the cafe. Dan wasn’t aware how much free time he really had until he started spending it with Phil. There was hardly a single day that passed when he didn’t spend time with Phil, either at Phil’s flat, the cafe, or even the library, which is where they found themselves now. Dan had a research project due in two days, and in true Dan fashion, he’d procrastinated it until the last possible moment. Phil had wanted to work on his photo series some more today, and when Dan said he had to finish this project, Phil said that it was perfect for what he needed.

So there they were, sat across from each other in the library, Dan hard at work on his stupid research project while Phil scribbled in a notebook and occasionally took photos of Dan. Sometimes Phil would stand up without saying a word, only to walk around and take shots from different angles. Dan was genuinely trying to submerge himself in his project, so most of the time he wasn’t even aware of what Phil was doing, too caught up in his own head to pay too much attention.

If Phil had any complaints about Dan’s focus being on his own work, he didn’t say. Sometimes he would say Dan’s name, snapping a photo as soon as Dan looked up at him, but mostly he just stayed quiet, working on his own things while Dan did the same. They’d done this a lot, when Dan or Phil had work they needed to get done but they wanted to spend time together. It was nice, working in a shared space on their own things, although sometimes if they were at Phil’s flat they’d get distracted by food or anime or video games. Still, even that was nice, as Phil was lovely to be around regardless of what they were doing.

They’d been at the library for probably close to three hours now, and Dan was reaching his limit. He had actually gotten a lot done, but his vision was starting to go fuzzy and he couldn’t concentrate on what he was reading. It didn’t help that he was basically starving, and his head felt like it was full of cotton. Quietly, so as not to disturb anyone else, he closes his laptop and folds his arms over it, resting his head on his forearms and closing his eyes. He hears a shift in front of him and a few moments later he feels a body in the seat next to his, a hand coming to stroke his back in soft sweeps.

“You okay?” Phil’s soft voice whispers.

Dan nods, not opening his eyes. “Just tired. Can we be done for today?”

Phil laughs quietly. “Yeah, bub, we can be done. Do you want to come back to mine?”

Wordlessly, Dan nods again. Phil hums a confirming noise before going to gather up his things. It takes Dan a moment, but eventually he sits up and does the same, shoving his laptop in his bag along with one of his law textbooks. Phil takes one of the books he’d been using and disappears to put it back for him, and just the thought of the gesture warms Dan up from the inside.

It’d been a little over a month since they met and nothing had happened between them yet. Not that he didn’t love just being Phil’s best friend; he did, so much. But… He wouldn’t keep lying to himself, he was interested in Phil romantically. He didn’t know how to bridge the gap between friendship and more, though, not when he had no solid proof that Phil felt the same. Other than some assumptions that Phil liked him due to some of his behaviors, Dan had nothing to go on. And, he reasoned, someone can be nice to you without wanting to date you, and he can’t fault Phil for being a good person, even if it threw his emotions for a loop every time.

“Ready to go?” Phil asks, suddenly standing beside the table, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

Dan nods, dragging himself out of his melancholy thoughts in order to stand and grab his own backpack. He follows Phil outside, sending the librarian a polite smile as they pass her. He’s not really paying attention to where he’s going, trusting Phil to lead them safely, so when his body collides into something solid, a squeak falls out of his mouth without his permission.

Phil glances over his shoulder at Dan, a smile on his face. “Sorry,” he apologizes for his abrupt stop that caused Dan to run into him. He gestures outside. “It’s pouring,” he informs him.

Fuck. Dan could honestly cry right now, in a totally not dramatic way. He’s just had a mentally draining day, and to see that on top of that it’s pouring down rain, well, it’s not his favorite thing ever, that’s for sure. He’s highly aware of the fact that his hair is tediously straightened and pushed up into a sort-of fluffy quiff that could never look anywhere near as good as Phil’s does. But he knows that this rain will very much ruin that illusion, and he’s hyper aware of the fact that Phil has yet to see his curly hair.

So, yeah, he could cry.

“Are you okay?” Phil asks, that same soft voice he always uses when he thinks Dan’s upset about something. “It probably won’t rain for long, we can wait it out, if you want,” he offers.

Dan’s inclined to say yes just so Phil doesn’t see his natural hair, but his growling stomach and borderline exhaustion demands that he find a soft sofa, preferably Phil’s, as soon as possible. “No, it’s fine,” Dan mumbles. “The sooner we leave, the sooner we can get to yours and order some food, right?”

Phil is definitely aware that Dan is not feeling right, but he graciously doesn’t call him out on it now. Dan knows that will not last, but he’s grateful for it nevertheless. “Of course. Come on, watch your step, it’s probably slippery.” Phil reaches for Dan’s hand probably without thinking, and Dan lets him take it. Phil’s hand is cool to the touch, despite the fact that it wasn’t all that cold inside the library, and Dan absently remembers something he’d said about a week ago when they were watching Bake Off at Phil’s flat.

“Dan, c’mere!” Phil whined, reaching for Dan’s shirt and tugging him into a sort-of-but-not-quite cuddle on the sofa. Dan went easily, allowing Phil to pull him in, completely unbothered. If anything, he was thrilled. Phil was a little tipsy, but Dan was more than happy to oblige this whim, and he’d make sure Phil’s inebriation didn’t lead to anything they wouldn’t allow themselves to do sober. “You’re so warm,” Phil sighed, tucking his head into the crook of Dan’s neck. “Like a little space heater.”

The memory of that moment flashes back into Dan’s mind now, and he can’t help but squeeze Phil’s hand, trying to transfer some of his warmth to the other man’s chilled fingers. Phil glances back at Dan, but doesn’t pull his hand away. He squeezes back and turns to watch where they’re going, leading the way sure-footedly. Dan’s happy to let him.

~~~

The rain is relentless the whole way back to Phil’s flat, and both of them are shivering by the time they get inside. Phil’s all mumbled apologies as he heads to his bedroom, going to retrieve some dry clothes for them to change into. Dan waves him off as he goes, tugging his sopping shoes off and depositing them next to the door. He peels off his hoodie, leaving his t-shirt practically plastered to his chest. It’s a bad day for a white t-shirt, he realizes, seeing the way it’s practically transparent with water.

“I got you a hoodie and some pants. Do you want-” Phil stops, and Dan looks up at him, holding his dripping hoodie out sheepishly.

“Sorry, I don’t know where you want me to put this,” Dan apologizes, gesturing with the wet fabric.

Phil is very obviously checking him out right now, but Dan is very much pretending not to be affected by it in the least. “Uh… I’ll throw it in the wash for you,” he answers, his voice a little strained. He shakes his head, perhaps to clear it, then reaches out to hand Dan the little bundle of clothes in his hand. “I left a couple pairs of sweatpants out on the bed, you can just pick whatever you want to wear. I know you’re picky about your matching outfits or whatever,” Phil sounds a little bit more himself, punctuating his words with a teasing roll of his eyes.

Dan sticks his tongue out childishly, trading his hoodie for the dry clothes. “If I don’t care about my look, I’ll end up with fashion catastrophes like this!” He complains, gesturing wildly to Phil’s bright yellow emoji bottoms, which he’s paired with an old Friends t-shirt.

Huffing, Phil pushes him gently into the direction of his bedroom. “Go get changed, you absolute menace. I’ll order chinese.”

“Ooh, get me some egg rolls,” Dan calls back. He hears an exasperated sigh, but he grins, knowing Phil will order him all the egg rolls he wants. He loves that about him, among other things. He finds several pairs of sweatpants on the bed, and after a moment of consideration he chooses a pair of plain grey ones. Not that it matters, he reasons with himself, even as he double checks that the grey doesn’t clash with the offensive highlighter green of the hoodie he’s been given.

After changing into Phil’s clothes, Dan takes his wet clothes down the hall and deposits them in Phil’s washer. He hasn’t started it running yet, so Dan goes ahead and does it himself, humming quietly as he tosses a tide pod in and sets the water temperature. When he’s finished, he turns around, nearly having a heart attack when he sees Phil standing there, watching him with a small smile.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell, you made me jump!” Dan nearly gasps, his hand flying up to clutch at his heart. “Why’re you creeping?” he asks, his voice bordering on whiny as he steps past him and goes to the lounge.

Phil giggles, like properly giggles, at that. “I wasn’t. You just didn’t hear me over your concert.”

Dan sends him a glare. “Don’t mock me, Lester.”

“I would never,” Phil promises, batting his eyelashes playfully. Dan doesn’t believe it for a second, but he rolls his eyes and drops onto the sofa, choosing to ignore him. “Your hair’s all wet,” he observes.

The reminder has Dan biting his lip and bringing his hands up to flatten it as much as he can. “I know,” he says sadly.

“Want me to get you a towel?” Phil offers.

When Dan shrugs, Phil takes this as permission and hauls himself off the sofa and disappears down the hall to the bathroom. Left alone, Dan takes a moment to look down at the hoodie he’s wearing now. It’s bright, bright green, a shade he normally wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, and it’s got the York University emblem on it. Dan vaguely remembers Phil saying he’d gone there, but it had been awhile since they’d talked about it, and Dan honestly didn’t have much reason to remember it. But, being wrapped in something so personal to Phil, who seemingly loved his university days, has Dan feeling warm and fuzzy and full of something that’s just a bit too close to something.

“Here,” Phil’s voice comes from beside him, and Dan looks up to see him holding a towel out for Dan as he sits down. The weight of the realization Dan’s just had, or what feels like a realization, leaves him immobile, staring dumbly at the towel like he doesn’t know what to do with it. “Want me to do it?” Phil offers, his voice dripping in sugar sweetness.

All Dan can do is nod numbly, but that’s all the permission Phil needs. He shifts to sit up on his knees, giving him a height advantage that normally Dan has between the two of them. He’s gentle as he rubs the towel over Dan’s hair, and Dan’s eyes are glued onto every shift in Phil’s expression. Phil seems to notice, his eyes dropping to study Dan’s face with a tender gaze. Carefully, slow enough that Dan could stop him if he wanted to, Phil shifts, moving one of his legs to the other side of Dan’s, properly straddling his lap when he settles.

“Dan,” Phil breathes out. The word sends shivers through Dan’s whole body. He’s warm all over, his chest a furnace of heat where his heart is frantically pumping to the whisper of his name leaving Phil’s lips. “Is this okay?”

Dan can’t breathe, he definitely can’t speak, so all he manages is a weak nod. Phil’s eyes search Dan’s, and there’s something cautious, unsure in his gaze. Dan hopes, he fucking prays that the same look isn’t mirrored in his own gaze, because god, he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. His hands, shaky as they are, come to rest gently at Phil’s hips. The touch startles Phil into shifting on his lap and Dan can’t help but drop his forehead to Phil’s shoulder with a soft groan.

“Sorry,” Phil laughs. His hand comes up to card through Dan’s curling hair, apparently dropping the pretense of drying it. “Your hair’s curly,” he notices, sounding surprised. This is not where Dan thought this was going at all. “I didn’t know your hair was curly.” He almost sounds offended.

Choking out a laugh at the ridiculous turn in conversation, Dan rolls his head to the side and stares incredulously up at Phil. “I know. That was intentional, believe me.”

Phil frowns at him. “It’s cute,” he says, his tone defensive.

Dan snorts. “For a hobbit, maybe.” He closes his eyes, relaxed in the way Phil pets his head gently.

“A very cute hobbit,” Phil insists. Dan feels his lips drag across his temple and he shivers again.

Pulling away, Dan looks up into Phil’s face and smiles at the adorable pout on his lips. And looking at that, Dan really doesn’t know that a stronger man could resist it. He leans in, but he remembers something important at the last second. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his lips a breath away from Phil’s.

There’s an audible gulp, and Dan readies himself for rejection. Phil’s lips part, and he knows, already, that it’s going to be a no, he could never be lucky to meet a guy who is both attractive and sweet and also gay and-

Two things happen at once.

Phil, for all his hesitation, breathes out a quiet, but certain, “yes.”

At the exact moment, there’s a jarring buzz, signalling the takeaway has arrived.

Dan has quite literally never been so full of disappointment.

They sit, frozen in the moment for just that- a moment. And then Phil’s sending him an apologetic smile, shifting to rise from Dan’s lap. Dan’s foolish hands latch onto his shirt, and Phil gently tugs them loose, a fleeting expression of sadness on his features. He hesitates, but then gestures to the door, backing away from the sofa. Dan’s certain his devastation is palpable.

“I’ll be right back.”

Dan can only watch him go. Whatever invisible wall was holding the waves of disappointment from crashing against the shore of Dan’s heart comes crumbling down the moment Phil disappears from view and Dan allows himself a moment to hurt for this missed opportunity. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly, he allows it to wash over him. It was in the moment, he’s certain. That was his specific moment, maybe the only moment he’ll get to act on his feelings. Fuck. Fuck it all, if that’s how this dissipates between them. It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair and-

“Dan.” Phil’s voice is firm, assured. Dan barely has the energy to look at him, but when he does something passes over Phil’s face, a clear understanding of what Dan’s feeling in this moment. He doesn’t give Dan a chance to respond, setting the takeaway bag on the coffee table and immediately resuming his position on Dan’s lap.

Confused but not opposed, Dan wraps his arms around Phil’s waist, clutching the t-shirt in his fingers. Phil smiles down at him. It’s a sweet, affectionate thing. His hand comes up to rest on Dan’s cheek, his thumb brushing down and dipping into the dimple Phil’s got such an affinity for. “Can I kiss you?” he whispers, repeating Dan’s own words.

Swallowing hard, Dan nods. “Yeah. Yeah, please.”

That’s all the permission Phil needs to lean in, framing Dan’s lips with his own. Dan’s hand comes up and rests on Phil’s wrist, his other still scrabbling for purchase against Phil’s side. He leans into the feeling of Phil’s lips on his, a soft give and take as they part and come back together several times, really just working out what the other likes. Phil’s not taking it further than the soft almost-open-mouth kisses that they’re sharing now, and Dan’s definitely okay with that.

After what probably isn’t more than five minutes, Phil gently presses a hand to Dan’s chest and slowly pulls away. His gaze is soft as he looks at Dan, his tongue absentmindedly swiping across his lips in a way that Dan thinks should be illegal. “Food, then… more of that?” Phil questions hopefully.

Dan nearly laughs. As if he wants literally anything else. “Absolutely more of that. The food can honestly go fuck itself right now, though, if I’m being honest.” Of course, his stomach decides that it’s an appropriate time to remind them how long it’s been since they’ve eaten, and they both glance down in surprise as it growls. Dan’s cheeks flush, while Phil cackles maniacally.

“Sorry, that was just- you tried- and then-” Phil is practically gasping for air, covering his mouth as he giggles. “Right. Let’s get some food in you, before you turn into the hulk or something.”

Dan pouts when Phil climbs off his lap and begins sorting out their food. “Rude, honestly.”

Phil hums, shrugging. “I bought your dinner, I reckon I can insist that you eat it,” he teases, grinning over his shoulder at Dan.

“Whatever, fine,” Dan says. He stands, gesturing to the kitchen. “Ribena?” He asks. He’s familiar enough with Phil’s kitchen that it doesn’t feel weird offering to go make their drinks.

“Wine, actually. There should be a bottle in the fridge from last time.” He doesn’t meet Dan’s eyes when he says this, but Dan’s secretly thrilled. They’d had a disagreement about whether or not you should chill wine before drinking it. Dan was pro-chill, and Phil was indifferent but insisted he didn’t have space in his refrigerator to keep a full bottle of wine. Much maneuvering later, Dan managed to fit in a smaller bottle of rose, much to his own delight.

“Right, some wine coming right up,” Dan says, affecting a heavily posh accent as he disappears into the kitchen.

As he’s pouring their drinks, the events of the last half hour finally hit him. He actually has to lower the bottle of wine to take a moment to process the fact that he’d just kissed his best friend. They’d fully made out, right there on Phil’s sofa. Dan manages to stifle his shocked laugh, because as thrilled as he is by this turn of events, he really doesn’t want Phil to hear him laughing to himself in his kitchen like some kind of idiot.

“A glass of rose, for you,” Dan announces as he comes back into the lounge.

Phil grins up at him, taking the drink with his nose raised up in the air. “Thank you, waiter,” he says, affecting a terrible posh accent.

Dan settles onto the sofa beside him, giving him a sideways glance. “Are you trying to mock me?”

There’s a sipping noise, and Phil offers a shrug as he smirks into his glass of wine. “Perhaps.”

“I do not talk like that.” He does.

Phil shrugs, setting his glass down. He looks back at Dan, tilting his head in a considering sort of way. “I reckon you kind of have some sort of Christopher Robin kinda vibe.”

Dan can’t help but dimple at him. “Winnie the Pooh was literally my favorite thing in the world when I was, like, six.”

“Really?” Phil asks. He sounds endeared. “That’s cute. You kinda look like Christopher Robin, too, actually.”

“I mean, right now I definitely look like a hobbit, not a cute animated character from a loveable children’s franchise, but thanks, I guess?”

Phil rolls his eyes at this, stuffing his mouth full of rice. He chews quickly, and as soon as he swallows he looks at Dan, his eyebrows furrowed in what looks like disappointment. “I really don’t like you talking trash about yourself. I think your hair is really cute.” Dan starts to protest and Phil raises a hand to stop him. “I know, but I’m just saying. You may not agree, but I just wanted you to know, that like, it’s a good look.”

Dan looks down at his food, his heart swooping as the words sink into his skin. He clears his throat, glancing over at Phil and nodding. “Right, well… thanks.”

There’s a smile on Phil’s face as he shrugs. He catches Dan off-guard, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek. Dan’s face feels like it’s burning at the touch. “Netflix?”

~~~

It’s several hours later and the sun has set over the horizon, leaving a dusky light streaming in through the balcony door. Not that Dan is paying attention to the lighting right now. That’s the last thing on his mind, actually. Right now he’s sat in Phil’s lap, his mouth working fervently against Phil’s. Phil’s got his hands on Dan’s ass, and every now and then he squeezes gently, sending a shock of shivers down Dan’s spine. It’s so good, Dan is actually wondering why the hell they hadn’t tried this before.

Taking a breath, Dan pulls away, blinking blearily down at Phil. His hair is a mess from Dan’s hands running through it, and his lips are pink and slick with a mixture of their spit. He’s so goddamn perfect, Dan really wishes he had a camera.

With a laugh, he realizes he has access to a very nice camera right now. He twists his torso and reaches over to the coffee table, grabbing the very expensive and professional camera of Phil’s. He tinkers with it until he figures out how to turn it on, then he looks at Phil, raising his eyebrows in question. Phil studies him for a second but nods. Dan grins, lifting the camera up and taking what is probably a really clumsy and terrible shot of Phil’s face. He takes two more, and on the third, Phil reaches for Dan, sliding his hands up underneath his borrowed shirt.

“Oh!” Dan squeaks when Phil rubs his thumb over a nipple. Dan drops the camera, carefully, onto the cushion beside them. He sighs, dropping his head back as Phil leans in and latches his lips onto Dan’s neck.

He only kisses at first, then small nibbles follow. After a few moments, he tilts his head back and looks up at Dan with a smile. “Do you like this?” Phil asks, his voice incredibly sweet.

Dan laughs and nods, dropping a hand to run through Phil’s hair again. “God, yes. You can keep going. I really like it a lot.”

“Teeth?” Phil asks, scraping them gently across a patch of Dan’s skin as he says it.

A shiver runs over Dan’s spine, and his hand tightens in Phil’s hair. “Yes,” he breathes, barely holding in a moan.

Phil goes back to lavishing his neck in kisses, and now gentle bites that increase in intensity until Dan is a whining, throbbing mess, rocking his hips against Phil’s desperately. One of Phil’s hands comes down to squeeze his ass, and Dan just needs a little bit more, just a little, and he’ll get there.

“Fuck, Phil. I’m so close,” he pants, dropping his forehead against Phil’s shoulder. It makes it harder for Phil to access his neck, but Dan can’t take anymore of the torture. It’s too much.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” Phil whispers in his ear.

Dan doesn’t even consider saying no. “Yes,” he breathes.

Phil gently guides him off his lap, leaving Dan standing in front of him as he makes quick work of pulling down Dan’s sweatpants. His blue eyes dance with mischief behind wisps of fallen hair as he takes Dan in the palm of his hand, pressing a gentle kiss to the weeping head of his cock. “Is it weird to tell you that you’re just as beautiful here as you are everywhere else?” Phil whispers, his words dancing into the air between them.

Carefully, Dan drops a hand to Phil’s hair, brushing it back to see his eyes, unobstructed. “No. Not weird at all,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly strangled with emotion. Phil smiles up at him, and Dan’s so fucking gone.

The blowjob is one of the best he’s ever received. The awkwardness of being with a new person that way doesn’t claw through his ribs the way it normally does, he doesn’t try to hide from the way Phil holds his gaze as his cheeks hollow around Dan’s cock. He’s so… content, in Phil’s care, so unafraid of the way Phil handles him, sucking and wanking him with enthusiasm, as if they’ve done this a hundred times before. Dan’s whole body is on fire, and for every minute Phil works his mouth, he’s just that little bit closer to falling apart.

He tugs on Phil’s hair when he’s close. Phil blinks at him, maybe attempting a wink, but doesn’t stop his ministrations. Dan shivers. Pulling away for just a moment, Phil smacks his lips together and gazes up at Dan with something so heart-wrenchingly warm, Dan nearly looks away. “You can go in my mouth, if you want. I don’t mind the taste.”

Dan pets his hair. It’s ridiculously soft and smooth, just a bit greasy from going a little too long unwashed. Dan loves it. “Okay,” he murmurs. He gently guides Phil back to where he was, and Phil goes eagerly. Dan isn’t sure if it’s his enthusiastic approach to the task, or the way Phil’s eyes look, but when he falls over the edge, filling Phil’s throat with release, he feels the relief deep in his bones.

Phil neatly tucks Dan back into his pants before pulling his sweatpants up his legs, while Dan’s arms remain useless at his sides. He watches as Phil leans in, nuzzling his stomach before pressing a kiss to the waistband of the sweats, and Dan’s dizzy with the fresh wave of heat that courses through his body.

Rather than acting on his own sudden desire, Dan drops to his knees before the sofa, staring up at Phil and running his hands over his thighs. He’s impressed with Phil’s stamina, because despite being very obviously hard, he’s not touched himself this whole time. Phil stares down at Dan with such a sweet, easy grin, that Dan knows, he just knows that he can never go back from this. This feeling, the way Phil looks at him like he’s just put every star in the sky- Dan’s already addicted to it.

“Phil,” Dan breathes. He brings his hand that much closer to where Phil so desperately needs him. “Let me touch you.”

Phil kisses him. The angle should be awkward, with Dan knelt on the floor the way he is, but it’s nothing more than perfect. When they part, Phil sinks the pad of his thumb into Dan’s dimple. “Touch me,” he encourages.

The flutter of excitement in his stomach propels Dan forward, pushing gently on Phil’s shoulders so he’ll lean back, giving Dan space to work. Phil’s pajama bottoms, as disgustingly bright yellow as they might be, are loose and easy to work down Phil’s thighs. Dan’s patience expires there, however, and he makes no further move to remove them completely, instead shifting forward and tugging at the red Calvins that are so useless in concealing the shape of Phil.

“Fuck,” Dan whines as soon as they’re out of the way.

“Hm?” Phil inquires. His eyes are hooded when Dan looks up, and if he didn’t know any better, he might think Phil was drunk.

Dan swallows hard before leaning forward, giving a few little kitten licks to the head of Phil’s cock. “You’ve got a lovely cock. I thought you would.”

Phil groans. His hand catches in the mess of Dan’s drying hair. “How often have you thought about it?”

Dan pretends to consider this. “Enough,” he decides. Every day, his subconscious adds. He doesn’t give Phil a chance to respond, getting right down to business, stretching his lips around Phil and relishing in the weight on his tongue, the taste of him, the texture. All these things he loves about sucking cock, but attached to a person he loves even more.

The thought shocks him enough that he manages to accidentally gag himself.

“You alright?” Phil whispers, ever the considerate one. His hands are carding through Dan’s curls, and he’s got an awed look about him, as if he likes Dan’s hair like this, likes Dan like this.

Dan nods mutely. He has to pause, though, just so the thought bouncing around his head doesn’t do something reckless, like take a step out of his mouth. He presses a fleet of kisses to Phil’s thighs, counting them so that both thighs will get an equal amount of affection. When his head finally quiets, Phil’s growing soft.

“I’m sorry,” Dan murmurs. He presses his lips to the side of Phil’s cock and suckles. “My head was being loud. I needed a minute.”

Phil’s eyes could be screaming, the affection in them is that loud. “Take your time. If you’re uncomfortable, we can stop.”

Shaking his head, Dan offers him a grin. “Don’t get greedy, Lester. You’ve already shown me your willy, you might as well share it.”

Phil squeaks, his cheeks tinting with pink. He covers his face with his hands, peeking through the forest of fingers to blink at Dan. “Well, go on, then. You can… you know. As a treat.”

Dan giggles. He kisses Phil’s left thigh, then his right. Then he takes him back into his mouth, wrapping a hand around the base. One of Phil’s hands slips into Dan’s hair, but the other tangles with the fingers of Dan’s free hand. For every swirl of his tongue through Phil’s slit, Dan squeezes Phil’s fingers, and every time Dan drops to take him deeper, Phil tugs on his hair, a whispered apology falling from his lips every time.

“Close, Dan.” Phil sounds breathless, and Dan glances up at him, shivering at the sight of Phil already staring back, his full bottom lip captured between his teeth as he gazes down at him.

Dan doesn’t like the taste, normally. He usually only swallows to be polite, or if it’s convenient.

When Phil releases into his mouth, Dan swallows for neither of those reasons. He’s curious, and he wants to know how he tastes. Some part of him probably also just wants to impress Phil, but that part is secondary to the way his tongue cleans Phil off when he’s finished, greedy for a closeness that such an intimate part of sex provides.

When he pulls away, he blinks up at Phil, a little blearily. Phil sighs contently before swiping his thumb across Dan’s lips, no doubt cleaning him up. Dan doesn’t realize he’s crying until Phil swipes at his cheeks. “Come here,” he murmurs, tugging Dan up.

His legs are tv static beneath him, and will certainly be sore tomorrow, but Dan allows Phil to tug him into a sort of cradle in his lap. He doesn’t speak, he only pets Dan’s hair, peppering his face with sweet kisses while Dan thinks. It was only a couple tears, really, he justifies himself. Probably from allowing Phil as far down his throat as he did. There’s no other reason he would be emotional enough to cry while giving a blowjob, that’s for sure.

Dan’s not sure how long they sit there like that, but eventually he realizes it’s dark and panics. “I need to go.”

Phil’s eyes flash with hurt. “You can stay,” he argues gently.

He could. “I can’t,” Dan whispers.

Phil presses his forehead to Dan’s temple and takes a deep breath. “Tell me I don’t have anything I need to apologize for.”

Dan sinks his hand into Phil’s ruffled hair. “Of course you don’t. I wanted this.”

At that, Phil flinches away like he’s been burned. “As in, past tense? Like you don’t anymore?” His voice is panicked, and Dan would do, or will do, anything to calm him.

He gently cups Phil’s cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his cherry lips. “I want it. I want you.”

“Then stay,” Phil breathes.

Phil won’t make him. Dan knows he won’t. But he feels chained to this sofa, to Phil, as if he can feel the metal carving into his wrists.

“I’ll stay,” Dan promises.

~~~

When Dan wakes up, the first thing he notices is a weight against his back. It takes him a second to remember the night before, but when he does, his lips twitch into a smile. Carefully, so he doesn’t wake Phil, he shifts, rolling over until he comes face to face with the other man. Phil’s mouth is dropped open in sleep, and Dan leans closer, admiring his beautiful eyelashes. He feels a little creepy staring at Phil while he’s sleeping, but Dan can’t tear his eyes away. There’s just something so soft about Phil deep in sleep, something that has Dan completely captivated.

Until Phil begins to wake up, that is.

Dan quickly scoots back, pretending he just woke up to save himself the embarrassment. He watches Phil wake up through half-lidded eyes, smirking to himself when Phil smacks his lips loudly, only to groan when he realizes how bad his morning breath is, probably. His blue eyes flicker over to Dan and suddenly that gorgeous grin is taking over his features again, filling Dan with this bubbly sort of happiness that he doesn’t even try to hide.

“Good morning,” Phil mumbles, his voice scratchy from sleep. Dan feels his face flood with heat at the way that sound affects his still-sleepy body.

“Hi,” Dan squeaks, turning over to hide his growing problem in his pants. “Sleep well?”

“Mhm. But the waking is better by far,” Phil says with a cheeky grin. Dan returns it, right up until Phil leans in, planning to kiss him no doubt.

Dan makes quick work of covering Phil’s mouth. “Not so fast there, Casanova,” he tuts.

He feels Phil frown against the palm of his hand. “Why not? I had your willy in my mouth last night, and now I don’t get a good morning kiss?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “First of all, you need some lessons on consent. I can consent to something one day and not want it the next, you turnip.”

Phil presses a gentle kiss to the palm of Dan’s hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He pauses for a beat. “Could I please have a morning kiss?” he asks sweetly.

“Pft,” Dan snorts. He pats Phil’s mouth softly. “You didn’t brush your teeth last night, so that’s a hard no, bub.”

“Okay. How about if I go brush and use mouthwash? Then can I have a tiny kiss?” Phil requests, his eyes lighting up with joy. Dan wants to laugh at him- he’s like a little kid begging for a new toy.

“I’ll consider it,” he teases.

No sooner are the words out of his mouth before Phil is stumbling his way off the bed and making his way to the bathroom. “Be right back!” he sing-songs.

Dan snorts but watches him go. Left alone, the creeping doubts and worries begin weighing on him. They haven’t defined this, whatever it is, and Dan doesn’t want to be the one to ask. Phil’s older, he reasons, so he should be the one to ask Dan out or whatever. Just the thought of actually seriously dating Phil at all is enough to make him want to throw up with happy nerves, the best possible kind of lovesick butterflies inhabiting his stomach.

Still, as excited as it makes him, Dan doesn’t want to be the one to initiate the awkward “what are we” talk. He’s had his heart broken far too many times over that talk, or at the very least his pride. Another, smaller voice, argues that maybe he shouldn’t consider dating Phil at all. Their friendship is, after all, founded on Phil needing Dan for his photography project. Sure they have lots in common, but Phil has a whole other adult life outside of depressed, failing-law-school little Dan. And as much as Dan wants to believe Phil might actually like him beyond the circumstances of their friendship, he just very seriously doubts it. He might just be in this for the free model and the sex, now that they’ve evidently added that to the mix as well.

He’s thinking that this just reaffirms his reluctance to bring up the status of their relationship to Phil when his thoughts are derailed by Phil barrelling back into the room, hopping up onto the bed and immediately going to straddle Dan’s lap. “My mouth is minty fresh for you now,” he announces proudly.

Dan grins. “Just for me?”

Phil nods, mirroring the smile. “A little kiss?” he asks, holding his hand out and indicating a tiny amount with his fingers.

Rolling his eyes, Dan brings a hand up to massage at Phil’s side. “Don’t you want me to go brush my teeth too?”

To Dan’s surprise, Phil shrugs carelessly. “I honestly don’t mind it, but if you want to, I’ll wait.”

Dan blinks up at him. Phil stares right back, not caving. After several moments pass in their weird staring contest, Dan shrugs. “Alright, come here, then.”

Phil goes eagerly, pressing his lips to Dan’s with an intensity and passion that Dan wasn’t prepared for considering how early it probably is. Processing the time is a mistake, apparently, because as soon as that part of Dan’s brain is functioning, so is the part that reminds him that today is a Wednesday, which means he has class.

Pulling away with a sharp gasp, Dan reaches frantically to the side, searching for his phone in a panic.

“Dan?” Phil asks, his voice concerned.

“My phone- what time is it?” He asks, fumbling around on his- well, Phil’s- nightstand.

Phil shuffles off his lap, giving Dan space to sit up and finally grab his phone. He presses the power button and feels a fresh surge of panic realizing he’s only got half an hour, at best, to get up, change, and make it halfway across town back to campus for his nine o’clock property law lecture.

“I’m so late, fuck, I’m so fucked, god-” Dan rants, climbing out of bed and searching for clothes; his, Phil’s, right now he doesn’t care, he just needs to be dressed and out this door like now. “Fuck! Where are my- jeans, I need jeans. Did I wear jeans? What am I- pajamas, fuck,” Dan’s mumbling to himself under his breath.

“Dan?” Phil asks from where Dan left him on the bed. When Dan glances at him, he looks a little hurt. “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, fuck, sorry, Phil. I’ve got class, and I really shouldn’t skip it, but later? We can-” he forces himself to stop there with the reminder that the ball is in Phil’s court right now. Dan clears his throat, glancing away. “Just let me know when you want to work on the photo series again, and we can sort out a time, yeah?”

“Er… Sure, okay,” Phil says slowly, like he doesn’t quite get it. “I think your clothes are still in my washer,” he says, his voice apologetic. “I forgot to switch the load out last night when we… er…” He trails off, and when Dan glances at him, his face is dusted with pink. It’s beautiful- he’s beautiful.

Dan shrugs the thought away. He makes the split-second decision to ignore what transpired the night before, at least until Phil confirms that the feelings Dan’s got are mutual. “Do you think I could borrow something of yours?” he asks, timid.

Phil smiles, a soft twitch of his lips, before nodding and moving to the dresser. “I’ll find you some jeans, but you can pick whatever from my closet,” he instructs, waving Dan towards the open closet door. Dan vaguely remembers whispering complaints to Phil about it the night before, whining about how creepy it was to sleep with the closet door open. Phil had ignored him, obviously.

After barely a minute of searching, Dan pulls out a sort of atrocious sweater, mostly black but with some purple and orange stripes that reminds him vaguely of the nineties. He doesn’t think before he shrugs out of his borrowed shirt, tugging the sweater over his head in its place. By the time he turns around, Phil’s stood there gazing at him with something adoring in his eyes.

“Here you go,” he says, holding out a pair of black jeans. “They’re ripped, just like you like them,” he teases.

Dan grins at him as he pushes his borrowed sweatpants off his legs. “Thanks, mate,” he replies. He tugs the jeans on, surprised that they fit him. Phil gives him a strange look when Dan makes a surprised noise and Dan shrugs. “Your ass is bigger than mine, so I’m just surprised these actually fit me. Flat ass problems,” he says, grinning at the way Phil blushes.

“I- you- I do not,” Phil argues pathetically. “My ass is-”

“Perfect,” Dan grins, unable to help himself, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around Phil’s waist. He kisses him deeply, convincing himself he’s got the time to do so. He doesn’t, not really.

“Shut up,” Phil mumbles against his mouth.

“‘S true,” Dan argues. “You’ve got a great ass. Mine isn’t nearly as mouth-watering as yours.” He’s taking the piss, a little, but mostly to cover the fact that he’s had many a wet dream about that plump ass on those long legs of Phil’s.

“Your… Yours is… perfectly adequate, Daniel,” Phil argues between kisses.

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, not even listening. He swipes his tongue across Phil’s lips before forcing himself to step away. “I really need to go.” He can’t keep the guilt out of his voice.

Phil’s face drops, and Dan nearly cries at how disappointed he looks. “Yeah… Okay. I’ll text you later?” He sounds unsure.

Dan nods hurriedly, almost to spite the voice that’s telling him to shut up and not jeopardize their friendship. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you later?”

Phil nods. “Alright.” He walks Dan to the door, where he pulls on his shoes hurriedly. Just before Dan turns to leave, Phil darts forward and kisses him again. “Be safe. Learn something new!”

“Alright, Dad,” Dan jokes, rolling his eyes. Phil’s nose crinkles adorably at the endearment. “Bye, Phil.”

“Bye, Dan,” Phil echoes, holding the door as Dan leaves.

Dan doesn’t hear it close until he’s at the end of the hall.

~~~

There’s a subtle shift in Dan’s life after that, or at least the part of his life that’s intertwined with Phil’s. It’s not so obvious at first, just hanging out a bit more often without the constant excuse of Phil’s photo series hanging over their heads.

And then, of course, there’s the sex. That’s rather new, Dan thinks to himself as he goes to let Phil into the flat he shares with three other blokes. They’re busy, out-going types, which is something that Dan is super disgusted by and can in no way relate to. But their frequent absence does have its perks, like now, when Phil wanted to see him and wanted to get out of his own flat. Up until now Dan hasn’t invited him over due to his roommates, but upon Phil’s insistence, he’d caved.

“Hi,” Dan greets when he opens up the front door.

Phil grins, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek. “Hello there,” he says happily. He’s got a backpack slung over his shoulder, which Dan notices as Phil steps past him and further into the flat. “Will there be a grand tour?” He asks with a joking tone.

Dan snorts. He waves Phil ahead of him, into the lounge, which connects to a kitchen. There’s a hallway that cuts between the two common areas, and each of the four bedrooms, plus the shared bathroom, are that way. “This is it,” Dan says with a vague gesture around the room.

Phil takes it all in, as if there’s actually anything to see. “It’s cozy,” he says mildly.

He’s not sure if it’s just the sort of weird mood he’s been in or if that actually bothers Dan, but either way, he frowns. “I mean, I told you it wasn’t much, I don’t know what you expected.” He doesn’t mean to be harsh, but the tone flavors his words without his permission.

There’s a quirk to Phil’s left eyebrow when he looks at Dan. He definitely picked up on Dan’s attitude. “It just doesn’t look like you,” Phil says with a shrug. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Dan.”

Dan nods, looking away. He doesn’t want to fight with him. “RIght.” He nods to the hall. “Bedroom’s this way.”

He’s fully expecting a joke, so when it doesn’t come, he tenses. Something angry and red is poking at his anxiety demon, causing it to stir. He hates that feeling, he really, really does. Trying not to show it, he leads Phil into his room and promptly goes to sit on the bed, leaning back and watching as Phil surveys the new space. If Dan thought he was being observant in the lounge, his attention to detail in this room is tenfold. He studies every poster, every trinket, every key on Dan’s keyboard, as he slowly moves around the room.

They don’t speak for what feels like hours, but eventually, Phil drops his backpack on the floor by the bed and settles in front of Dan with a smile. “This is better,” he announces in a pleased voice.

Dan blinks at him. “What is?” He asks dumbly.

Phil reaches out and tucks his pinky underneath the rip of Dan’s jeans, stroking the skin there softly. “This room. It’s more you.”

“You think?” Dan asks, tilting his head as he considers it.

Phil nods with a smile. “It is, yeah. It’s full of little Dan things. I like it a lot.”

Dan tries, very hard, not to let that go to his head. “Thanks,” he says, unsure of what else to say.

There’s another silence as Phil tucks two more fingers into the rip of Dan’s jeans. It’s not really any sort of sexual searching, just patient, calming touches that go straight to Dan’s heart. Dan’s staring at his leg and Phil’s staring at him, always watching him when he’s at his most vulnerable.

Without a word, Phil pulls his hand away and kicks his shoes off, crawling up the bed to curl himself around Dan’s side. He hums a questioning noise, and Dan just nods mutely, allowing himself to be maneuvered into a cuddle. Dan can breathe easier then, avoiding Phil’s eyes but feeling the comfort of his body wrapped around Dan’s. There’s a warm kiss pressed to the spot just behind Dan’s ear and he lets out a breath.

“How about a nap?” Phil asks on a whisper.

“Are you staying the night?” Dan asks, glancing over at Phil’s backpack.

“I was going to, but if you’d rather I didn’t-” Phil begins.

Dan interrupts him with a shake of his head. “I want you to stay,” he says, voice small. He rolls over in Phil’s arms so they’re facing each other, clutching the front of Phil’s shirt in his hand. “I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Dan apologizes.

Phil smiles, ducking forward and pressing a soft kiss to Dan’s lips. “It’s alright,” he whispers when he pulls away. He lifts a hand to Dan’s hair, stroking the chocolate waves gently. “Do you actually wanna nap?”

Dan shrugs, feeling a flush on his cheeks at what he thinks is the sound of a suggestion. “I’m not really in the mood for like, sex, if that’s what you’re asking.”

There’s a look of panicked surprise on Phil’s face at this, and he’s quick to shake his head. “No, no, that’s not what I meant. I just meant, like, we can watch a movie? If you want to do that instead of sleep.”

Chewing his lip, Dan considers this. “I probably won’t be paying a whole lot of attention,” he admits, almost ashamed of his lack of attention span.

Phil smiles. “That’s alright.” He sits up and reaches for his backpack, pulling his laptop out and setting it on the bed. Before opening it, he turns to Dan with a quirked brow. “Are we going anywhere tonight?” he asks.

Dan shakes his head with a snort. “I’m not,” he says, disgusted at the very idea of leaving his warm bed.

“Good,” Phil says with a grin. He stands, immediately tugging his jeans down his legs. Dan isn’t sure if he’s meant to look away, but he doesn’t. He isn’t even particularly interested in a sexual sense, he’s just curious about how Phil looks when he’s getting undressed for bed. Phil looks up at him after tossing his jeans to the floor, and he has a light dusting of pink across his cheekbones when he sees Dan watching. “Quit looking at me,” he whines, climbing back into bed.

Dan turns his head pointedly to stare at Phil. “You’re nice to look at,” he says with a shrug.

Phil rolls his eyes. “You should take yours off too,” he says, poking Dan’s side.

Pulling the cover up, Dan gestures to his sweatpant-clad legs. “I’m already in my pjs, bub.”

“I know that,” Phil says with a sneaky little smirk as he opens his laptop and goes to Netflix. “But I think we ought to match.”

Dan huffs. “What if I get cold, huh?” He asks, quite theoretically, considering his body temperature almost always runs high.

Phil kisses his cheek. “I’ll keep you warm, baby,” he says sweetly.

Dan, embarrassingly, blushes at that. They still hadn’t defined this… whatever it was, so for now Dan only knew that he was quickly catching feelings for Phil. That was dangerous enough without the complication of their involvement for Phil’s photography project, so Dan’s decided that the easiest way to handle this is to ignore it. They can be friends, they can have casual sex, but he can’t even consider what would happen if those feelings turned into something more. His friendship with Phil had become one of the most important parts of his life, and he’d be beyond devastated if he did something, intentional or not, to jeopardize that.

Instead of acting on his instinct to move closer, emotionally and physically, Dan snorts, covering up the racing of his heart. “Shut up,” he says, struggling to keep the fond out of his voice. “Can we watch Avengers?” he asks, changing the subject as quickly as possible.

Phil smiles at him. He types for a moment before turning the screen around, where, sure enough, he’s pulled up the first Avengers movie. He fiddles with the settings on the volume and screen size for a moment before pressing play, snuggling back on the bed. He very unsubtly moves his arm to wrap it around Dan’s shoulders, ignoring Dan’s faux-annoyed huff at the cliche gesture.

“Are you hungry?” Phil asks him in a quiet voice only a few minutes into the film. “I may have brought some popcorn with me,” he admits, shameless.

Dan can’t help but roll his eyes. “Did you bring the kind I like?” he asks, mostly kidding. He’d only mentioned it once or twice, that a certain brand of popcorn tasted better to him, but ever since then he’s noticed that particular brand taking up more space in Phil’s cupboards.

To his surprise, Phil nods. “I did. I even brought that candy you like to pour into the popcorn.”

Hiding a pleased smile against Phil’s chest, Dan huffs. “Will you make the popcorn if I get the drinks sorted?”

Phil kisses his forehead. The gesture warms Dan’s entire face. “Sure,” Phil says easily. He goes to climb out of the bed, then stops suddenly, staring down at his bare legs. “Would your roommates be particularly offended by a half-naked man in your kitchen?” He sounds only partially concerned.

Dan grins, pulling Phil towards the door. “They’ll get over it if they are.”

~~~

They don’t have sex that time. Looking back on it, Dan thinks that’s an important thing to remember about the first time he invited Phil into his home. Whether it was because he could just tell that Dan was having a bad day, or maybe just not in the mood himself, Phil doesn’t initiate anything sexual, not even when they’re curled around each other watching stupid YouTube videos at two in the morning. Instead, he just holds Dan, and allows him to be.

Dan thinks about that a lot, later, after everything falls apart.

~~~

[buckyjamess-archive]

okay last one with sam wilson again with the number 16 from misc ones in this list again 💞

a/n: i don't know how to feel about this or if I like it but here it is.

pairing: sam x reader

warnings: a shit ton of fluff, mentions of smut, nothing too bad but hey, you're warned.

words: 1.5k

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!"

"You want to join me in the gym?" 

Looking up from your phone, you catch your boyfriend, clad in his sport attire, towel thrown over his shoulder as he nonchalantly walks into the kitchen and picks up an apple from the fruit bowl next to you.

Bringing the cup of coffee to your lips and you take  a sip, shaking your head. Feeling every muscle in your body ache after Nat bullied you during your weekly session yesterday. Tired just at the thought of getting back in the ring once again.

"No, I do not want to join you in the gym."  

Tossing the apple from one hand to another, Sam looks at you curiously, finally takes a bit out of the red orb in his hands and leans his body against the kitchen island.

"C'mon babe, it's been a while since we worked out together," he mumbles with a mouth full "sex doesn't count." 

That well known smirk creeps up on his face and you roll your eyes, turning that smirk into a warm laugh, the one that would make you weak on the knees, he knows.

"Ask Nat." 

"Working out with Steve," Sam starts and quickly says "and Bucky is still asleep." before you can even get a word in

"Go alone then."  

a man with a plan, a plan he's had on his mind for months now, a plan he wants to work out today and usually that smile of his and those wrinkles by his eyes get him where he wants to but today proves harder than usual. 

Though, Sam can read you like a book. Knows every corner of your mind, every beautiful dream and every dark nightmare, all fears and little secrets. Can count the freckles on your body without having to look, tracing them like a familiar path taken a million times, knows every sweet spot and wrinkle- he knows you.

He tries effortlessly, with promised dates, offers to do the cooking, dishes, laundry, even let you pick the movies for the upcoming nightly movie marathons. 

"Well make a game out of it." 

That's what did it. God, he should've known it was that easy. Game fanatic, flipping boards and a sore loser, sure you'd like a game.

"Sam." You groan "I don't want to work out right now."

"Quick fire, questions we can't dodge." 

the smirk on Sam's lips returns when you lock your phone, stand up from your bar stool and place the now empty cup in the dishwasher and walk straight past him without even looking up.

"Oh, you're dead wilson." 

Sam grunts when your right fist meets his side, sweat dripping down his temples, trying to keep up with his girlfriend. He misses your left punch, another groan coming from deep within his chest. Sam takes a step back and holds his hands up in surrender, reaching for the towel and bottle of water in his corner of the ring.

"Your turn to ask a question." 

You nod, nostrils flaring as you breath in deeply, trying to think of something while all you could hear was the beating of your own heart. 

"What do you think our lives will look like in ten years?" You ask and like Sam, you reach for your water bottle.

"Married, nice place for our own, a kid, a dog or two." Sam breathes out. 

"You want to quit?" 

Sam chuckles, takes a last sip of his water and puts it back in place "my turn." 

You simply nod, take a sip of your water and wipe your face with the towel and walk to the middle of the ring where Sam stands. Ready to throw a few more punches, you're caught of guard when Sam block your punch

 "Have you ever faked an orgasm?" 

"Really?" You ask annoyed. 

You lower your arm and take a step back, undoing the tape around your hands-- annoyed and done with today's work out and honestly, sam. 

"Absolutely," sam states with a smile "waiting for an answer here babe." 

That damned smile. That damned man.

"Yes-" you say, hands waving in the air to whimper it off, hoping he wouldn't catch it but the look on Sam's tells you he did "sometimes it's just not it for me and I feel bad because clearly you're enjoying it so I fake it." 

Sam's eyes roam the gym, every nook and cranny, a pout on his lips, nodding his hands but avoiding..you. like a little kid who was denied his candy or favorite toy.

"Okay, sorry for hurting your ego." You chuckle softly. 

Sam scatters off to his corner, undoing the tape around his own hands, back facing you.

You know he's joking though somewhere deep inside you wonder if you've hurt him in any way "If it lessens the pain, you're the best I've ever had." 

"It's pretty amazing, right?" 

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head when Sam speaks up again, that smirk clearly visible even with his back turned to you.

"Okay, my turn again," crossing your arms infront of your chest, you take a few steps towards Sam "is there anybody from our team or stark industries you'd have sex with if you could. Be honest with me, wilson." 

"Molly from med bay." Sam says, barely letting you finish your sentence. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" 

The fist that punches his bicep burns but it makes him laugh non the less, the look on your face priceless, a look he's seen way to many times before "YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!"

"You answered that one so fast!" you whine, hitting him one more time.

"She's hot!" Sam chuckles, rubbing his hand across the burnin skin "Which of the guys would you have sex with if you had the chance?" 

"Steve." you say without hesitation, eyes still glued to the man in front of you "He's cute!" 

"Steve lives in the same building!" Sam whispered back shocked "Molly doesn't!" 

"I would never and you know that." You whisper back. 

Copying his smirk, you press a kiss to his lips and back away from him. Turning around on your heels and continue to unwrap the white tape from your hands.

With your back turned to Sam, his heart beating becomes faster and his hands clammy. Sam's breath hitches as he thinks his plans once more. 

Now or never. You and him. A future.

Sam pushes his hand in the pockets of his pants, fingers playing with the silver band, skin grazing against the small stone. 

"Okay, last question and you need to be honest with me." 

You don't miss the sudden crack of his voice but blame it on the intense workout. Throwing you head back, your groan and say "Sam, I'm tired," 

Wiping your face with the towel one last time, you toss it into your bag and slowly turn back around "I'm feeling muscles I didn't know I had." You chuckle but it dies as quick as it came

Sam's no longer in your vision, instead he's keeled down on a knee, a ring between his thumb and finger and a big toothy smile on his face. 

"y/n, love o- what was that for!" Sam hisses when your hand meets his bicep, the slap echoing through the gym. 

"Your jokes are getting out of hand, wilson." You hiss back. 

"Baby, this isn't a joke," Sam chuckles nervously, "I know I play too much but this isn't a joke." 

Raising himself back on his feet, his feet drag his closer to you. He raises the ring up and his other hand intertwines with yours "y/n l/n, the craziest, funniest, prettiest, sexiest girl on earth, do you want to marry me and make me the happiest man?" 

The silence is killing and Sam can hear the gears in your head, tears swelling in your eyes, grasping for words you can't form just yet. 

"I'd like to be warned before you hit me again." 

Your eyes flicker between the ring in his fingers, your intertwined hands and the man and his damned smile in front of you. 

"No matter what you say, at least I got to be bucky's pain in the ass when he helped me pick a ring-" Sam chuckles nervously "but babe, this is not a joke. I love you and I'll die a happy man knowing you get to beat me up everyday, so what do you say, Mrs wilson?"

relief washes down his shoulders when you finally crack a small smile and the faintest of chuckles leaves your lips "do you want to marry me, like, this is my last offer." 

You breathe out another chuckle and dry the tears rolling down your cheeks with the back of your free hand before grasping the hem of Sam's shirt and pull him closer, lips meeting each other in a long breathless kiss. 

"I guess that's a yes." 

And this time, Sam doesn't mind the sting that's left on his bicep. 

[twokinkybeans]

Fic prompt: Tony gets turned on when peter wears his clothes which is a problem when peter shows up to a avengers meeting in Tony’s mit hoodie ;)

I took a tiiiiiiny bit of liberty with this prompt, but I hope you like it! Also, I somehow can’t keep these prompts short so y’all get to enjoy a whopping 1673 words whoops <3 -Lien Warnings: Adult Peter Parker, mutual pining, voyeurism, exhibitionism, daddy kink, masturbation, mentions of sex and cock sucking ... The first time Tony saw Peter in his clothes was when the young man had spilled motor oil all over his nerdy pun T-shirt. Tony had led him to his bedroom. He opened the door to his walk in closet and browsed around, though when it hit him that whatever he picked out was exactly what Peter would be putting on his body, the room turned a little warmer than it was before. He licked his dry lips as his hand glided over the many shirts on their hangers. Did Tony mean to pick one of his most expensive pieces of casual wear? No. But he did. And damn, it looked good on Peter. Maybe next time Tony wouldn’t turn away as Peter delicately slid the fabric over his toned chest. If there even will be a next time… There was a next time. Many of them, even. And Tony didn’t mind it one single bit. He was fairly certain Peter was ruining his own clothes on purpose, just so he could wear Tony’s wardrobe again. At one point Tony started letting Peter into his closet and had him pick something himself. It didn’t matter how many times Peter left the tower with Tony’s fabrics caressing his skin, Tony always had to rub one out afterwards. He wanted to be the one touching Peter, not his stupid priceless clothes. He was aware he’d never have Peter. Not in the way he wanted to have the younger man. The age difference was too big. It didn’t matter how many stares Peter stole at him. How often Tony caught him cupping his hard on through his ripped jeans, swallowing up the compliments Tony gave him. It was nothing. He was just a twink with a praise kink. He didn’t actually want Tony. He couldn’t want Tony. He- “Mister Stark?” Peter called out from the other side of the lab, breaking Tony away from his train of thought and his already growing hard-on. Damnit. “I’m a little cold, is it okay if I grab something from upstairs?” “Sure, kid,” Tony turned a circle in his desk chair and stood up, waving his hand. “You know the way to the closet. I’m gonna go ahead and set up the meeting downstairs.” The plan was to quickly get off in the toilet before actually heading to the meeting room, but unfortunately for Tony, he ran into Steve on the way down, who wanted to discuss everything beforehand. The Captain wouldn’t allow Tony any time by himself in the bathroom and kept talking to him, ensuring Tony’s erection fell flaccid.  Splendid. Twenty minutes into the meeting, Tony wondered where the heck Peter was. He knew the young man was in the building; they were literally tinkering on the Iron Man suit barely an hour ago. None of the other Avengers questioned it, Peter was usually late. Never this late, though. Tony tapped his glasses twice, guiding the AI to show Peter’s location with his eyes. Tony nearly spit out his drink at what he saw next. Peter. On Tony’s bed. Wearing nothing but Tony’s old MIT hoodie. The faded colour of the fabric contrasted perfectly with Peter’s pale skin. With one hand he clutched the hoodie around his chest and with the other he was pumping his shaft at a rapid pace. Tony tightened his jaw at the sight only he could see right in front of him. None of the Avengers were any wiser. Tony should’ve looked away, turned off the footage, he knew he should’ve. But he couldn’t. Part of him wanted to stand up and rush to his room to rail Peter. But he was still young. Peter probably just had to quickly get off and got lost in the pleasure. He’s not doing this for Tony. “Tony-“ The lack of audio might still convince Tony that whatever word he just read on Peter’s lips wasn’t his name. But there was no denying it. Especially not with E.D.I.T.H. captioning Peter’s moans and whispers. It hit him like a brick. Peter did want him. And fuck, Tony wanted Peter. More than anything. “E.D.I.T.H.?” Tony asked out of the blue, interrupting Rhodey, who had just started giving his part of the presentation. “Could you ask Peter whether or not he’s going to come?” “Yes, boss,” E.D.I.T.H.’s voice echoed through the meeting room. Rhodey cocked an annoyed eyebrow, but he’s used to Tony’s mind doing four, if not fifty, things at once. So he shook his head and continued. Tony wasn’t paying him any mind, though. He was looking straight ahead at the live footage in front of him. Peter’s eyes opened wide at the question. A breathless “Yes” fell from his lips as he came. He caught himself just in time, angling his cock toward the tiled floor to prevent spilling on Tony’s sheets. Or the MIT hoodie. Tony’s tongue pushed into the inside of his cheek and he took a slow breath in. He then made the resolute decision to make Peter stain that hoodie. He simply had to. Tony swore under his breath when Peter had the audacity to walk into the meeting still wearing the hoodie. It certainly had Rhodey, whom Tony was roommates with at MIT, double take. “Hey, kid,” Tony greeted casually. “Nice hoodie.” Peter’s entire face turned red when the entire room turned their heads to have a look at the hoodie Tony mentioned. It was common knowledge to everyone in the tower that Peter’s clumsiness resulted in him wearing Tony’s clothes, so no one was surprised by that fact. However, Tony had heard the whispers in the hallway. How good Peter’s ass looked in Tony’s pantalons. How much more well defined his abs showed through Tony’s shirts… Everyone loved it when Peter wore Stark’s wardrobe. As did Tony. Obviously. It was only natural everyone wanted to see what Peter was wearing this time. In the meantime, Tony turned in his chair slightly and crossed his legs to conceal his crotch. “I should’ve picked something else, shouldn’t I?” Peter scratched the back of his head apologetically and quickly moved to sit down into the last free chair. Right next to Tony. “Nah, I haven’t worn that old thing in ages. It looks good on you.” Tony paired the compliment with a wink and Peter visibly contained a shudder. A wide grin appeared on Tony’s face and Natasha erupted into laughter. “Is that your way of telling Peter he picked the wrong college?” “Oh, come on,” Tony leans forward and rests his elbows on the table. “We all know MIT reigns supreme.” “Hey, don’t come at me, I wanted to stay in New York.” “Y’know, that’s fair. I wouldn’t want to leave me either.” “Bu-“ “Or your auntie.” “Can we get back to the numbers?” Rhodey sighed audibly and gestured at the holograms in front of them on the table. “Of course.” Tony leaned back again and folded his hands together, unable to take the shit-eating off his face. Peter went quiet, but Tony didn’t feel like easing up to him just yet. He was too hard, too horny, to hide his flirtatious behaviour. He couldn’t help it Peter looked like a whole meal in that hoodie. Tony wanted to turn Peter into a desperate mess below him, wearing nothing but the hoodie, just like he did earlier when touching himself. He wanted the young man to rut himself against Tony’s thigh, maybe make him suck Tony’s cock. God, the kid would look so lovely on his knees, staring up into Tony’s eyes, whining for his Daddy to fuck his mouth. And Tony would. Oh, he would. Tony’s hand slowly slid over the back of Peter’s chair, upwards to the young man’s neck. He didn’t even bother looking to the side, he could literally feel the hairs on Peter’s skin standing upright at the attention. Tony gently pressed his index and middle fingers on Peter’s skin, right where the neck hole started and Peter sucked in a breath. When he quickly turned his head to find answers for Tony’s touchiness, Tony leaned in, one corner of his mouth curled up, not looking away from Rhodey. Meanwhile, he slowly pressed his fingers down over Peter’s skin until they disappeared under the hoodie’s fabric for a second, before pulling his hand back again. “Tag.” Tony could see the look of disbelief on Peter’s face. And it was absolutely priceless. There was no tag in that hoodie. Tony ripped it out the second he got it. Peter bit his lip and released the air that had been stuck in his lungs. Tony noticed him glancing down at Tony’s crotch and the man, bold as he is, decided to manspread in his chair to show Peter what exactly he was doing to Tony. His tight pants left nothing to the imagination. Peter looked up again and made eye contact. Whatever was happening in that room, whatever Rhodey was talking about, it didn’t matter anymore. Peter cocked his head a little and took a breath, finding the courage to speak. “Thanks,” he whispered back. Peter’s words immediately shot through Tony’s entire being and when Peter made himself smaller, bringing up his arms to hide his upper body behind them, Tony had to hold himself back. If he truly had no shame he would’ve thrown himself on top of Peter right that moment. Bend the college student over the hologram table and thrust his cock against Peter’s prostate over and over to make him wail in front of everybody. Peter ignited something in Tony that he hadn’t felt since, well, his MIT days. And here Peter was, looking utterly and absolutely innocent in his hoodie. He wanted nothing more than to taint that innocence. Bring back the man Tony had seen on his bed only moments before. And so, when the meeting ended, Tony guided Peter back to his bedroom and pushed him into the walk in closet to give him what both of them had been dreaming about.

[star-spangledstud]

Better Than Me (2/2)

Part one is here!

Summary: You really are better than them. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)Reader.

Word Count: 3000-ish.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that it bordered near downright insane. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Impractical, stupid and completely, utterly ridiculous. Beautiful, sparkly and downright amazing, but ridiculous. You fucking loved it.

The baby pink, bejeweled handgun sat inside a pink velvet box on your lap. The bow, which was also pink, of course, was lying at your feet, which were clad in bedazzled silver Louboutins. Gems of all colors on the rainbow covered it on all sides, from the barrel to the handgrip and along the safety pin.

You gazed up at Tony, who wore an amused expression on his face, before glancing over at Pepper. She had her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, clearly horrified by Tony’s gift choice. The card read that it was from both of them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Happy birthday, kid.” He said with a smirk that nearly extended from ear to ear.

“I don’t even want to know how much you spent on that,” Pepper muttered, shaking her head while you took the thing out of the pink and white polka-dotted tissue paper.

The others sighed audibly when you smiled, annoyed that Tony’s gift overshadowed theirs yet again. To be fair, they’d all expected it, but all of them secretly hoped any one of their gifts would be your favorite. 

“I love it,” you said, twirling the weapon around in your hand, “and I agree with Pepper, I can’t even imagine how much you spent on this thing...”

“You’ll make it work,” he mused, “Two million dollars, by the way, and you could just thank me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment, you were sure Pepper was going to faint. Natasha shook her head, watching the scene unfold in horror. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Wanda, who seemed to share none of her feelings, had created a monster out of you.

“Thanks, Tony,” you blew him a kiss, unable to get up from your seat at the dinner table that was covered in white roses in silver vases and wine that came from expensive bottles.

“It’s very pretty,” the witch said, “Can I hold it?” 

“Please,” you shoved it into her hands, “by all means.” 

“You’re insane, Tony,” you said as you took the gift Bruce had gotten for you from his outstretched hands with a smile, “Absolutely fucking nuts, but I love you for it.”

Your eyes went around the room, finding Steve at the end of the table of which you sat at the head. You were the birthday girl, after all, the pink satin sash draped around you said so in large, cursive letters and so it was your turn to have the most important seat of the house. It was a ridiculous ordeal, he thought so anyway, but you were smiling and chatting and enjoying the company of your friends and it was good to see. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened and knew very well he was to blame. 

He was the one who pushed you away, even though it was for your own good.

You took Thor’s gift just as the waiter began to serve your first course, and since he was seated closest to you, you thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s gift came last. You didn’t expect anything from him given the circumstances.

Four hours, six courses and many glasses of wine and Asgardian mead later, you found yourself back in your room. Gifts given to you by your fellow team members were sprawled out on your bed, ranging from a pair of silk pajamas with glittery Ugg slippers to match from Wanda to Starbucks and Sephora gift cards from Sam and everything in between. Chocolate covered strawberries in a glittery box, two romance novels, a bottle of beautifully aged red wine from Asgard and a peach-toned Dior lipstick, all tokens of appreciation given to you by the people you cared about the most. 

Despite the hardships that you faced the previous year and the social distancing that occurred during that time, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be with the team again. You’d changed a lot in a year, grown to be a different person than the one you were before. It wasn’t necessarily a good or a bad thing in your mind, it just happened naturally.  

You sat down beside the velvet box, eyes automatically flying towards the item on your far left. A drawing of you, sitting on a terrace, staring out into the sunny skyline with a cup of coffee in your hand. It was an old drawing by the looks of it because your hair was much shorter and a different shade and your clothing was far plainer than it was now; black jeans and a white t-shirt. A signature that read SR sat in the bottom right corner in messy, doctor-like handwriting. It made your toes curl. 

Of course, he was the one with the overly personal gift. You didn’t know whether it was because he simply had no fucking clue what 21st-century women liked to receive for their birthdays or whether he’d purposely done it to make you remember the day it was drawn, but the latter happened and now, you were sitting on your bed with prickling eyes and goosebumps that lined your skin.

You remembered that day very vividly. You’d only been an Avenger for three months and were struggling to adjust to the fact that you had to suddenly follow orders. Before joining the team, you’d worked alone, hired by people with deep pockets and dark intentions. You made your own rules. 

The first time Steve had taken you out for coffee he kind to offer you advice. At first, you thought it felt a little like he was trying to be the human resource manager with the way he talked to you, you continued to meet up every Saturday afternoon and as the weeks passed, something in the dynamic changed.  He loosened up, got rid of his Captain America persona and instead became Steve. You didn’t know what caused the change, but it was good, allowed you to actually get to know the man behind the suit and vice versa. 

That particular day was a good one, It was a sunny day in spring, not too hot and not too cold, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh flowers across the terrace. You’d ordered a latte, Steve liked it black. You weren’t talking, but instead, a comfortable silence hung between you. You’d brought a book just like you always did and read it while occasionally eyeing the people that passed you by. Steve, whose cheeks had become fiery red out of the blue, pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook and began to draw.

You never asked him what he was drawing, even when he stored away his pencils and shoved the book back inside his tote did you not bother to pry. Not even when you became so close you’d sometimes fall asleep together on the couch, did you not ask. 

You knew now, but they didn’t say ignorance is bliss without reason.

You began to mindlessly pick at three layers of lavender toned sparkling nail polish, pulling at it as it came off your fingers with far too much ease. You’d paid the lady $60 for your manicure three days prior and now, you were ripping it off. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, gripping the back of your heels so you could slip them off with ease. You’d probably never wear them again. 

You slowly began to clean up the mess, discarded packaging, boxes, and gift bags and placing them in the corner of your room near the door. You put everything away except for the drawing, which you couldn’t decide what to do with. Why was it such a big deal to you, anyway? You hardly spoke to Steve anymore and if you did, it was during pre- and post-mission briefings. Maybe that’s why it made you feel so strange. it didn’t feel right, such a personal, intimate gift after how far the two of you had drifted apart. 

He hadn’t asked you about Netflix in four months and you hadn’t offered your expertise on which shows and movies were the best. You didn’t bring him coffee anymore but instead, he made his own, never leaving enough in the pot for you to make a cup as well. The message he sent you was loud and clear and in return, you were an open book. 

He’d grumble when a stranger was seated at the breakfast table on Sundays courtesy of your hospitality, avert his eyes when they tried to kiss you openly (which you refused). The pang in his chest would hit him when he saw Ubers out front whose engines were running to carry you to your dates in high-end restaurants and fancy bars. He wasn’t jealous, he kept telling himself. He was just worried about your safety when you disappeared into the night with strange men. Men that weren’t him, ironically. 

He should’ve seen you when you were right in front of him. When you were there, literally waiting for him to make a move on you, begging him with your mannerisms and your looks, your glances, and smiles even when his jokes weren’t funny. He knew damn well you would make an amazing couple, that you could take on the entire fucking world as a duo, but he was too scared to put it on the line, too scared of what might happen once the bad guys caught a whiff of your relationship. They’d already tried to destroy Bucky and Jesus Christ, they nearly succeeded. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing you to an organization like HYDRA, or worse. He never told you this. You had no idea. You were convinced he didn’t want you because of your flaws. Because of who you were. 

You got over it, shut out the thought of ever holding hands with Steve in public, the thoughts of ever feeling his lips softly pressing against your plump cheeks and his body weighing down on top of you while his voice vibrated against your ear and neck. You managed to forget about him, managed to exchange the memories and fantasies of him for diamond necklaces, silk blazers, and expensive shoes. You traded him in for strangers with big bank accounts driving nice cars wearing expensive suits. They managed to fill the void he created by pushing you away. 

So yeah, the gift bothered you. It was too nice, too sweet, so sweet you had to struggle to stay stoic when thanking him earlier. You literally had to stop yourself from smiling too big, from allowing tears of gratitude and happiness to completely ruin your make-up. if things had been different, you would have done those things. They weren’t. He didn’t want you and now he was being nice. It didn’t make sense. 

Just as you were about to change into a different outfit for the evening, your phone vibrated. You picked it up off your nightstand and opened it. It was a text message, but not from the guy who would be knocking on the front door in the coming hour.

I didn’t get a chance to personally wish you a happy birthday. Can we talk? -S

You gripped the device so hard you nearly crushed the screen. Six months ago, a message like this would’ve had you crying on your bathroom floor for four hours. Now, it just made you angry. So angry, that you picked your studded Louboutin off the floor and chucked it at the wall. The heel broke off against the concrete, but you didn’t notice. You weren’t going to wear them again anyway.  

Your fingers typed furiously, breathing coming out in shallow huffs. Images of the girls he’d brought back to Tony’s party’s flashed before your eyes while your fingers went faster than your brain could keep up with. 

Roof. Omw. 

Whether he understood the abbreviation ‘omw’ or not, you didn’t take the time to guess. You left your room without changing into the other dress or putting on new shoes. The elevator went up agonizingly slowly, but it was too late to go back and take the stairs. The buttons were pushed and the door closed. 

He was standing by the edge, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to you, he had changed his attire, leaving the light blue button-down he was wearing earlier for a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked down at your feet, noticed how your polished toes were bare and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he caught the expression on your face. You weren’t surprised to find him there first. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come up there running. Apparently, though, he did know what ‘omw’ meant.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, waving your phone in front of his face, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice wavering. 

“What do I mean? What...,” you snorted, “What do you mean?! The gift, the talking? We shouldn’t be here.” 

“But why?” He knew why but chose to ignore the sensical part of his brain that told him he shouldn’t be doing this.

You lifted your arms, a deep breath leaving you while you considered what to say. You wanted to come up with an excuse, tell him you were busy or that you’d lost sight of not just him, but the entire team, but fuck it, lying wouldn’t get you anywhere. It had never gotten you anywhere before.  

“Because I have to get over you.” 

He was silent, taking in your words. They stung, even though he already knew the truth they carried. 

“I couldn’t have you constantly hanging around me anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing those girls hanging off your arm at those stupid parties and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear how fun they were and how great and wonderful and how amazing, and-”

He stepped forward, gripping your arms. The sudden contact made blood rush to your head, making you nauseous and dizzy simultaneously. 

 “I spent so much time wondering why they were better than me,” you mumbled, “I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“They aren’t better than you,” he replied softly, “they don’t even compare to you.” 

You looked up, eyes large and glossy and so goddamn pretty with that champagne eyeshadow and winged liner and Steve thought he was going to lose his mind then and there.

“I had to let you go because I’m afraid,” he admitted, “terrified of what might happen if anyone tries to get to you because of me.” 

“Steve,” you tried, but couldn’t find words. 

All this time, you thought he didn’t like you. That he wasn’t interested in you, didn’t want anything from you but a friendship at most. You’d taught yourself to ignore your constant desire for him because it would never be reciprocated.

“When you distanced yourself from me, I knew I’d messed up, but it was too late. I’d dug a hole for myself and there was nothing I could do to get back out,” he snorted, “I needed those girls as a distraction, but none of them are as good as you.” 

He smiled sadly, taking your hands in his larger, calloused palms and began to rub circles on your knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’ve been stupid and an ass and I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. I fucked up, Y/N.”

The skin on the back of his neck was soft when you clasped your fingers around it, muscles tensing up when you began to pull him down to meet you. Without heels on, you’d lost a significant amount of height on him, causing him to tower over you. On a hot day, he could be your personal parasol, shielding you from the sun with his entire body.

“Idiot,” you mumbled before his mouth found yours. 

He kissed you, hands gripping your waist out of fear that if he were to let go, he’d wake up in his bed alone. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew it because the soft feeling of your glossy lips against his own was unlike anything he’d ever felt. 

“Idiot,” you said again when you took a moment to breathe. 

“I am,” he kissed you again, the sweet taste of Chardonnay and that night’s dessert - creme brulee and vanilla ice cream - still lingering on your tongue, sending his senses in complete overdrive. 

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore,” he said finally, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.” 

You smiled, heart ready to explode from the sudden burst of happiness you experienced for the first time in a long time. Maybe Wanda was right all along. 

“Steve, I can defend myself. You know that, right?” You mused.

“I’ll kill them if they try.” 

He captured your lips with his again. The scent of his cologne, oud, and pine, nearly caused your knees to buckle from under you. You didn’t even realize the goosebumps that lined your skin, or the fact that the date you were supposed to meet up with had already bailed on you. It didn’t matter, because you finally had Steve where you wanted him. It only took for the two of you to drift apart almost completely for you to realize that you could never truly get away from one another. 

You placed your head on top of his chest, allowing his body heat to warm you up in a hug that engulfed you. It was nice, the feeling of his chest rising and falling slowly while you watched the city’s skyline in the dark. The want for it had been suppressed for so long you almost forgot what it felt like. 

“Steve?” You asked, peeking up at him through false eyelashes and three layers of waterproof mascara. 

“Hmm?”

“Your gift was my favorite.”

Yeah, all of those bitches definitely weren’t better than you. 

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Two (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 4.5k

Warnings; swearing

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

It’s a small lurch when the train starts moving. You hardly notice it anymore. With how fast it’s going, you guys should be in the Capitol in less than a day. You practically have no time to do anything.

You turn a bit, going to face everyone that’s standing by. Brutus, Theo, a couple of peacekeepers, and the two mentors, Shaye and Areti.

The peacekeepers move to their respected position, since they’re not needed at the moment. With the way that Theo is eyeing you though, they might as well have stayed where they were originally. If Theo bothers to pick a fight, then he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that any of the bystanding victors will bother to help him.

“Well?” You prompt, “What are you staring at?”

Theo puffs out his chest for a moment, like he’s gaining confidence. But with one look from the mentors, he must realize that he’s not needed here. The confidence drains, his shoulders slump slightly, and without a single word, he leaves the train cart.

It isn’t until he’s gone, when any of you actually consider talking.

“Alliance?” You give a small glance to Brutus, before moving to the refreshment table.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“It’s better than assuming.” you say, grabbing the whisky and pouring plenty of it into a glass.

“Not too much,” Neysa, the female mentor objects.

“I’m going to get drunk if I want to.” you tell her, taking a whole mouthful of the alcohol, “It’s one of my last chances.”

“The problem is--” Edmond plucks the glass from your hand, “You’re going to make a fool out of yourself.”

“Have you ever actually seen me drunk before?” you counter, he doesn’t answer, “You should’ve said no. Which then would lead me to my next point; I’m an adult, not a teenager. Hand over the glass.”

You hold out your hand diagonally, fingers spread and ready for the expensive crystal glass. Edmond doesn’t want to budge, so you push yourself off of the fancy table and move to get in his face.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but you’re not my parent. If you think I’m insane for wanting to volunteer, spit it the fuck out.”

With you standing eye to eye to him, straight faced, clearly radiating off the energy that you’re pissed, he takes a moment to assess the air. Picking his next words wisely, he speaks slowly, “I don’t think you’re in the most stable mindset.”

“Brutus volunteered.” You motion to him, “If he went to grab a drink, would you have objected?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe isn’t good enough,” you say, “It was a yes or no question.”

“(Y/n)--” Neysa tries.

You hold up your finger, “Unless you’re going to side with me, shut up.”

“No.” Edmond says.

“Then you’re being biased.” you reach over for the glass, and he moves it out of grasp again.

“Edmond.” Brutus’ voice is booming, clearly tired of this, “Give the woman her glass.”

“I think one sip is enough.” Edmond still is unmoving.

If you can’t have the glass, then you’ll settle for the bottle. As you laugh in his face, turning around and facing the table, you pick up the full bottle of whiskey. You wave it in his face teasingly like a child, “Your mistake. Now instead of one drink, I can have twenty.”

Not knowing what to say, they let you leave the room. You take the entire bottle with you, as you move to your room Inside, you unzip the back of the heels and leave them by the bedroom door. After that, you take a seat in the far right corner from the door. The chair is white, soft, and very cushioned.

Next to it is a table where you set the whiskey onto. Every now and then, you’ll reach over for a small, measured sip. You may be an asshole, but you’re smart. There’s no way you’re going to show up to the Capitol absolutely wrecked. Although, it could be a day or so before the other tributes even come in, so being drunk wouldn’t even be that bad.

It would be the morning after that you’d have to worry about. Being hungover and a complete bitch to the people around you. Unlikely, the people in the Capitol you can handle, it’s when the victors like Edmond--who has been around for years--thinks they know you well enough to police you.

You’re not a kid. You’re not a teenager. You can handle yourself.

You knew that they thought you were crazy for jumping at the opportunity so quickly. Some of the people in that little competition for the right to volunteer had thought it was a ‘leave it to the adults’ sort of thing. That you, and a few of the other younger people shouldn’t be allowed to participate at all.

You spat in their ‘respect the elders’ bit and told them that if they can take part, then you can too. Of course, you know how that turned out. All the older people got dropped off quickly, and like you said, Enobaria was the only one that was particularly difficult. 

You’d like to say that you’ve never liked Edmond, but you’re not too fond of people in general. They wouldn’t even have to do anything wrong, and you’d be able to pick apart every single reason why you could pass on their company. May it’s the way they speak, or walk. Maybe it’s the way they treat people.

Could be because of their publicity, the way they won their games, or if you see them as a copycat. A rumor you heard, if they’re too on top of fashion trends and bandwagons. If they don’t like something you like, showing too much enthusiasm for something they like.

Possibilities are endless, you’re just an irritable person. A good reason, a bad reason, whatever it is, you’ll find it. Sorcha is mean. Enobaria sharpened her teeth for attention. Edmond is controlling. Tanith is clingy. Zavian is a plain asshole. Daleka is too power-driven. Neysa takes everything on as her responsibility. Theo is annoying, no need to expand there. And Brutus is… beefy, he tries too hard.

The whole entirety of District Two is full of a bunch of ‘mean girls’ anyway. It’s not really a surprise that all those irritabilities were easy to pick out. You hate each year of volunteer tributes because they think they know what they’re doing and they don’t need help, even if you have more knowledge.

Hell, even interacting with the mentors of one and four to connect alliances is a bit too much at times. It’s always assumed that the main careers will stick together, so it’s not hard getting you guys together. It’s the whole sponsor gifts and how it can benefit everyone, rather than the one tribute that it was actually targeted for.

You don’t mind being selfish, but sometimes they want to be generous and they’ll insist on you doing the same. Partially because the sponsors that you receive are filthy fucking rich, which makes it more than easy to send big gifts if you felt like it. But you never did, and you think that you never will.

As for District Four, there’s five victors, only four of which actually participate in the mentoring, since one is practically insane. You don’t mind working with Mags, communicating is difficult, and you worked with her once. The year after that was Finnick, and you turned your back entirely.

You never actually got to work with the other victors, an older man and woman. You don’t care to know why. You’ve never met them in your life, you just know that they exist because of your tour nine freaking years ago. Simple as that.

There’s a knock at the door, “Come in.”

Door slides open, and there stands Brutus, not a surprise, “Done drinking yet?”

“Have at it.” you pick up the bottle, holding it out for him, “The reapings done yet?”

“Don’t think so.” Brutus takes the bottle, “We’ll be in the Capitol in an hour, it’ll be done by then.”

You look at the clock by the bed. Sure enough, it’s just about time to get yourself ready to stand at the train doors to great the Capitol citizens. You wish you had at least a little more time to sit on the train, since this will probably be the last time you get a real sense of peace and quiet for a while.

But all good things have to come to an end, right?

“Alright.” you push yourself out of the chair, stretching, “I guess I should talk to Neysa.”

“She’s going to tell you to apologize to Edmond.” There’s a little smile on Brutus’ face that you catch just before he turns his back to you, heading for the door.

“You’re a bad liar.” you inform him.

“Who says I’m lying?” Brutus has a straight face now.

“The smile you had before you turned away from me. You’re not slick.”

“Worth a shot.” 

He leaves after that with the whiskey, likely heading to the room where Neysa will be. Edmond is probably sulking in the last train car since you’ve outsmarted him yet again. Another thing about District Two: babies, all of them.

You grab your shoes, not pulling them on. You follow the path that you assume Brutus has taken to the first train car. In there, there will be seating and refreshments. You’ll probably eat something and then spend the rest of the time talking to Neysa and Brutus without Edmond being there.

Fingers crossed.

“How much did you drink?” Neysa asks as soon as you step in.

“Not that much, look at the bottle. Good portion of it was taken out because of the glass.” you jab your thumb towards the cup, “A sip here and there, I’m not even buzzed.”

You take a seat, watching as Brutus goes ahead and loads up a white glass plate with all the food you can imagine. You feel yourself grow a bit sick watching him. He’s a big dude, but if you ate nearly as much as he does, you’d find yourself with a stomach ache and the urge to puke it all out.

“What’s the plan?” you ask, leaning back, crossing your legs, “For when we land in the Capitol, I mean.”

“You won’t be groomed until tomorrow, if that’s what you mean. They’re going to save it for tomorrow, for the tribute parade so it’s more fresh.” Neysa says.

“Anyone there already?”

“One and nine.” Brutus says, taking a bite out of a sample sponge cake. 

Ugh, District Nine. Probably the most suffocating mentors you’ve ever met. Since Districts one, five, two and nine surround the Capitol, it obviously lets you guys get there quicker. As opposed to districts like seven, twelve, six and ten who are so incredibly spread out it takes an entire day and a half to even get to the Capitol.

Other districts in the middle of you and the farther districts take about a full day, it depends on what time they leave their own train station. Later in the afternoon, they’re arriving the next day. Early in the morning, they can find themselves arriving at midnight.

It makes it a whole lot worse because the reapings are staggered throughout the day to make sure that the Capitol will be able to watch them live and in order. They have the commentary of Caesar Flickerman and the other dude--haven’t cared to learn his name, since he’s not very important in the first place. And then they take their time between each reaping to pick apart certain things. Make their bets early on.

They have the time to do that, because while one district ends their reaping, another is just beginning with the dark days speech. When the speech is over, then they start picking things apart, and they get to watch the reaping. Rinse and repeat.

You have a feeling that tonight isn’t going to be the best when it comes to reviewing the way other victors won. You know how most won already, but like you said, it’s review. Like you’re preparing for some test. If you can memorize the way that people fight and move, then you’ll have a better chance inside of the arena.

“You guys should try to expand your alliances beyond just the careers.” Neysa says, and then her eyes land on you, “Which means, that if there’s anyone valuable, like Finnick Odair--”

“Fuck Finnick Odair.” you spit at her, “I’m not teaming up with him.”

“He would be a good ally.” Brutus mutters.

“Good or not, he’s an asshole.”

Brutus chuckles, lowering his plate from his chest from a moment, “Have you seen yourself lately?”

“I never said I wasn’t an ass.” you tell him, “And if I’m going to be working with Brutus, and the tributes from one anyway, then does it really matter? Honestly, you think anyone will be able to kill us?”

Neysa raises her eyebrows, “You do realize that Katniss Everdeen will be inside of that arena, right?”

“I can take her.”

“You know how to fight distance?”

“That’s what the training center is for.” you say, “And do you remember what weapon I specialize in at all?”

“Sai’s are not long distance, they’re basically swords.” Neysa tells you.

You roll your eyes, “Right.”

“I’m serious, (Y/n). Make allies with some other people too. You think someone like Katniss or Finnick wouldn’t help you in the long run?”

“You think either of them wouldn’t backstab?” you challenge, “You think I won’t?”

“I expect you to.” Neysa says, “But they’ll help wipe out the competition in the meantime.”

You lean forward, “Neysa, there will be enough morons to run to the middle, which will take out more or less, half of the tributes. There have been times in the past where four working together has been good enough.”

Neysa slams her glass cup onto the table, shattering it. The drink that was inside, spreads over the clear table, running off of the edges and dripping onto the carpet. Neysa, fed up with your argument, pays no attention to the mess she’s just made, and leans forward too.

“We are talking about victors here. Four people will not be good enough.”

“I know what we’re talking about, Neysa!” you yell, “I’m the one going inside of the fucking arena! I know exactly what I just signed myself up for. Leave the alliance making to the people that are making them.”

Neysa laughs, shaking her head, “You really are impossible to work with.”

“You’re not working with me. You’re working for me.” you correct her, which makes Brutus stop in the middle of his chewing, and Neysa whips her head in your direction, “You’re working in my favor. You’re working with the stylists for me. You’re working with sponsors for me. You’re going to be working with the other mentors of the tributes I choose to make alliances with for me.

“You’re not working with me. You’re working for me to keep me alive, and there’s a very big difference. Because I can’t work with you when I’m inside of the arena, because I won’t be able to connect the dots. You have to do the shit for me.” you’re straight-faced, trying to get her to understand, while he looks like she’s finally putting the pieces together herself, “The only thing I won’t allow you to do for me, is set alliances on track. That is my job, I have to deal with them in the arena.

“And if I say I can’t work with Finnick Odair or Katniss Everdeen or whoever else I deem unreliable, then that means I can’t work with them. Period.” 

Brutus slowly resumes eating his food, he’s probably just glad he won’t have to pull you off of Neysa or the other way around. He knows you won’t fight fair either, so stepping between you guys would have been a nightmare.

You’re not a difficult person, whether they want to believe that or not. You know what will happen when you get into that arena. You’ll be back to the first square, surviving and making sure that the people you did pick out for the alliances, aren’t going to turn on you.

Finnick will never be what you consider a good ally. He’s too perfect, too many people like him in the Capitol for you to enjoy him. His company isn’t nice to be around. He’s too full of himself, too confident in what he does. It makes you uncomfortable, and it makes it worse when he pretends that certain things haven’t actually happened to him. That where he is now, wasn’t given to him.

Plus all the histories he has with the games too. Certain titles that you can’t stand to see on him. He was the youngest ever victor to come out of the hunger games--fourteen. He’s absolutely adored by the Capitol, everyone fucking loves him. People not being able to see him as a threat inside of the arena, only for him to suddenly come out on top. And so much more.

It seems too whimsical for you. Too far-fetched.

With all the titles he already has--if he did get reaped for the Quarter Quell--the two-timing winner will just be another one added onto it. And even if you don’t know him pretty well, you know that will definitely inflate his ego. If there’s one person you wouldn’t mind strangling to death, it’s Finnick.

Just the thought of leaving your life in his hands for times when you’re fighting with other people inside of the arena, makes you want to puke. You’ll have to rely on him to keep you alive. And it’s not like he can’t make other alliances behind your back, because that has happened before in the arena.

Maybe those plans don’t always work out, but a tribute will maybe pair with the careers, but get a band of outsider districts to work with them to kill the careers. Even if the careers aren’t super good, they’ll take out a good portion of people while they can. Especially starting with the person who made that plan.

Finnick would definitely be a backstabbing bitch, you can just feel it.

“Okay, I’ll leave the alliances to you two.” Neysa says, “Promise me that you’ll try, though.”

“If I find even one person that I deem important enough, I’ll head your way for a request.” you say.

Brutus is loading up on a second plate, “Well, Katniss doesn’t really have any allies anyway, right?”

“What?” Neysa looks over her shoulder, and then turns her body to open it up for him to join the conversation.

“No one knows her, besides whoever she’s coming in with. We can twist her whatever way we want.” Brutus has a smirk on his face, you can see the way his cheek moves.

“Think she’s fond of careers?” you can feel yourself smiling too.

“She’s seventeen, she doesn’t know what to think.” Neysa says, nodding to herself as she begins towards the window, “We’re just getting in.”

“Time flies when you’re scheming.” you look at Brutus to see that he’s eating another piece of sponge cake, “Better clean up and brush your teeth.”

“Says the one with alcohol breath.” Brutus shoots back.

You give him a toothy smile, “All part of the charm.”

--

“Get out of my face.” You tell Theo for the third time.

“Tomorrow--”

“Neysa told me what happens tomorrow.” you say, “I get groomed early in the morning, I’m supposed be out of bed by six and in the living room half past. After that, I get waxed, showered, shaved--whatever. Then, the tribute parade.” you give Theo a bored look, “Let me know if I’ve missed anything.”

He opens his mouth, thinking. Then, a mischievous smile comes over his face, “Brutus doesn’t know.”

“Actually, I do.” Brutus says, he comes down the stairs to the living room, “Neysa and Edmond are very good at their jobs.”

“More like just Neysa is.” you mutter, reaching over for the remote so you can turn on the hologram.

As you get the entire program started, Theo finally leaves you be. Brutus takes a seat at the other end of the couch, slouched slightly.

The program starts with Caesar, introducing it all, like he does every year. He basically says that it’s a very special year, and that it should be interesting. He’s excited to see what will happen, yadda yadda. And then it begins with District One.

Girls go first, and you watch enthusiastically as Cashmere volunteers over the girl. Following her, is her brother, Gloss who also volunteers. They hold hands, smiling their white smiles and shaking her hands a little bit. Cashmere is preppy, nice and deadly. Nowhere near naive but she might run into things without thinking about it first.

Gloss is basically the same way, all you can say is that he lands somewhere on the himbo scale. He’s dumb, you don’t know in what way just yet, but he has that look about him. And he’s basically just a pretty face. However, since he is related to Cashmere, they’re definitely sharing fighting techniques.

Wherever one goes, the other will likely follow. They’ll agree on ideas and such. If you take votes, then that means they’ll keep together. You know deep down that they’ll be difficult to deal with, but probably worth it. They won their games for a reason, just like everyone else.

Caesar makes a small comment on how he’s surprised that the both of them have decided to go in together. It’ll make up a change if both of them make it to the end of the games. Having to kill your brother or sister--yeah, that’ll be hard to do. Unless they’re planning on making it back home together, somehow. That’ll never happen.

Next up is you and Brutus. The look on Theo’s face is hilarious both times around when you and Brutus interrupt him. Like Gloss and Cashmere, you and Brutus join hands, but there’s a difference. The siblings were obviously trying to look cute in some way, having their elbows bent with nice smiles, and the way they held onto each other.

With you and Brutus, it’s elbows extended, yelling into the crowd. There’s big smiles on both of your faces as you give the cameras a show. You’re proud, he’s proud. Two volunteers that are more than just excited to get into the arena. Even your soulmate couldn’t keep you from feeling what you did in that moment.

Caesar looks just as enthusiastic as you felt. The way he sits up in his chair, pointing his finger towards the screen, saying that’s the type of reaction they were hoping to get out of the tributes, the pride in all of this. Not some moping around bullshit. He compliments the two of you plentifully, before moving on.

District Three, Wiress and Beetee, two total nutcases. Beetee won his games by electrocuting the rest of the competition, which was a total of six people. He was crowned victor because of that, and since he’s older than Wiress, he might have even mentored her. They’re going to have around the same mindset.

“Wiress looks like she’s not all there.” Neysa says, standing behind the couch, leaning forward, “Look at her.”

“The both of them look scared shitless, what do you expect?” you laugh, “Beetee’s trying to keep a straight face, but there’s really no point. They’re like sheep in a pack of wolves.”

Nothing important comes from the commentators this time, so it rolls right into District Four.

This is when Finnick is pulled, followed by Annie who gets volunteered over by Mags.

Brutus laughs, “Look who it is!”

“I fucking jinxed it,” you shake your head, crossing your arms as you lean back against the couch, “Great.”

There’s a smile on Finnick’s face, like he’s proud that he’s going back inside of the arena. Just by the look of it, you can feel your blood begin to boil. He’s a prick, and he’s too much of a threat. If you want to win, he has to be one of the people that go first.

He goes over to Mags, pressing his head against her while he says something.

“How sweet.” you say through clenched teeth, before skipping to the next district.

District Five, nothing important. Six is the morphlings, another pain in the ass to deal with. They can hide all they want though, because they barely hold enough skills to live with in the first place. They’ll be gone before you know it.

Next is Johanna Mason and Blight, District Seven.

“Someone I can get behind.” you smile, leaning forward.

“Blight?” Brutus asks.

“Johanna.” you say, “Girl has got some power on her.”

“Is that a formal request?” Neysa asks.

“Write her down at least, I don’t think she’ll agree.” you say, “She despises the games entirely, I paid attention to her even after she won to see what would happen. She played the act up good.”

District Eight is some girl named Cecelia that has three kids holding onto her. You know immediately that she’s not going to survive just by the look of her. And then it proceeds to get worse when an old man named Woof is called up too. Brutus laughs like it’s a joke, and suddenly you’re skipping through the next two districts.

Nine and ten aren’t special, and neither is eleven with Seeder and Chaff. What you want to see is District Twelve. You watch as the district rep gets a little emotional when it comes to calling Katniss’ name. The camera picks up the tear on Katniss’ face, as the rep goes to call boys.

Haymitch gets pulled, and you’re about to call it, but Peeta volunteers over him.

“Look at that.” your voice is monotone, you’re not surprised. He’s in love with her, of course he’s going to volunteer to go in with her, “Deadweight is tagging along.”

“Deadweight?” Neysa asks, eyes following you when you stand from the couch.

“That’s what you call someone when they’re no use.” you say, “He can’t do anything for shit, and I dare you to try and change my mind on that.”

“No point when you’re right.” Brutus says.

“I guess I should call Cashmere and Gloss’ mentors.” Neysa pushes herself off of the couch, “And maybe call Johanna’s too.”

“Not Johanna.” you tell her, “Not just yet, she’s a maybe.”

“At least you’re making an effort.” Neysa says, disappearing around a corner.

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Never Really Over 

(a Gabriel O’Malley x Reader Insert Multichapter Fic, Rated M)

Chapter One

There’s a knock on your door around 7pm on Friday night. You’re not expecting anyone and you freeze on the couch, knowing the episode of Wonder Woman is loud and clear. You grab your gun from the table and shove it in the back of your shorts, the metal cold against your skin. It might be nothing, but better to be safe than sorry. Los Angeles in 1978 was a seedy place and you weren’t an idiot. It’s also interesting to note because you live in a gated apartment complex; no one can get in without you letting them in first. So whoever’s at your door means business.

You unbolt and open the door, see who it is, and immediately slam the door in their face.

 “Hey! Fuck (Y/N), let me in! I gotta talk to you. Open the damn door!” He yells through the wood, not doubt alerting your neighbors. Unfortunately it was now that you regretted living with so many secretive people; they knew not to call the cops. While most of the time that was a good thing, now you wish they would. He deserved a long stay in some holding cell after what he put you through. But you also knew he was stubborn and would probably stay there all night yelling if you let him. So with a sigh, you open the door and let him in.

Gabriel O’Malley steps over the threshold and back into your life like nothing ever happened. Like you’d never told him you loved him, and like he never left you without a word. Like a year hadn’t passed without so much as a phone call. You were a little surprised by how much it hurt to see him, how much you still weren’t over him. It was embarrassing.

He sits down at your kitchen table, quiet and waiting. There is a brief standoff where you just stare at each other. Throwing up your hands, you turn on the stove to boil water for tea. You grab mugs from the cabinet, unthinkingly taking his favorite- blue and green swirled porcelain- without even realizing. 

“You know, you got a lotta of nerve coming back here. Everyone knows what you did to me, you’re not going to find many sympathetic friends.” You say as the tea brews. He doesn’t say anything, content to watch you. You’re annoyed that he caught you in your pajamas. It’s a cute set, a pink satin tank and shorts your sister gave you, but he doesn’t deserve to see it. You should plug him full of lead right now, the absolute nerve!

“Yeah well, I couldn’t stay in New York. Shit happened.” He finally says, as you give him his tea. You could doctor it up just the way he likes, you still remember, but instead you place milk and sugar on the table between you. He doesn’t look bad if you’re being truthful. He looks like he gained a little bit of weight, which was good since he was such a beanpole, but he’d lost a lot of the beautiful color he’d gotten working in LA. Everything else is the same. His hair, his stubble, his clothes, the mole on his cheek you used to kiss for luck. It’s all there and you can feel your heart shriveling in your chest.

“Oh I know. We all know what went down in New York. It’s a fucking mess, is what happened. I mean, I’m all for girl power but you completely dismantled Hell’s Kitchen. Apparently the broads you backed couldn’t even keep themselves together. You stole the Hasidim from the Italians, which was a risky move, and you’re gonna hear about it for sure. But then, the girls start to split; one of ‘em died and the other is trying for Harlem? Yeah, good luck with that.” You snort into your tea. He looks pained at the mention of Claire’s death but it’s true. If she were smart, she wouldn’t have died.

“And now you’ve come crawling back to us. You backed the wrong horse and you know if you show your face in Midtown, they’ll cut your throat. I don’t know what’s more stupid; that you came back at all, or that you thought this would work? Did you expect me to open the door and fall into your arms with gratitude? Think you could just walk into Zayde’s office and get your job back? Are you outta your fucking mind? They’ll kill you when they find out you’re back.” You promise, trying to keep your voice down. The walls between apartments were insulated and people minded their own business, but this was still a touchy subject.

“Look I know I messed up! I was trying to help. They’re my people, some of them family and they needed help. The guys in charge were running it into the ground. You should’ve seen the way they treated their wives, it was disgusting! Believe me, even with all the bullshit, the Kitchen is better with the women in charge. But I got too invested and Cathy told me to leave, so here I am. They’re not gonna kill me, I’m no rat. I just, you know, abandoned the family and broke your heart. Sorry by the way.” He shrugs, looking sheepish but not worried. You see red and stand up from the table.

“Sorry by the way? Sorry by the way! You fucking schmuck! You broke my heart! You left without a word, without a reason. I didn’t know what happened to you or where you were. I thought you’d been taken or killed! And then I hear that you’re in New York, helping the Irish and screwing some married bitch! The same one I’ve been in the shadow of since we met! You expect me to be okay with a sorry?” You accuse, the anger practically steaming off your body. 

He sips his tea and you almost lunge across the table. Your cat tinkles in from the other room and meows at Gabriel, who peers down with a very soft look. Your heart cracks again.

“Since when do you have a cat? She’s cute.” He asks, picking up Magenta and letting her snuggle against his chest. You glare at the traitor, as if you didn’t cry into her fur about the man holding her. 

“I got her about 6 months ago. It helped to have someone around, even if she couldn’t really talk back. I just got really lonely here.” You admit, finger running along the lip of your mug.

“What? You haven’t dated anyone since I left?” He asks, looking genuinely confused. Which surprises you considering he’s here to apologize and possibly worm his way into your heart. But his surprise that you weren’t seeing anyone didn’t add up with the other stuff. Why would he want you to date other people? Maybe to make him feel less guilty?

“No I did, but it was never that serious. I just didn’t feel like getting involved with anyone like that. It felt like I was betraying you, even though you would’ve deserved it.” You can hear the faint sounds of Lynda Carter stopping bullets from the other room. Then a beer commercial starts and you bite your lip to stop yourself from crying. With him in the apartment, it’s like everything is reminding you of before. Before he left for New York and took your heart with him.

“Yeah well, looks like we’re both back to square fucking one.” Gabe scoffs, draining his cup and letting Magenta jump down from his lap. He glances around your apartment, though it hasn’t changed much in a year, before leaning back in his chair.

“So, where am I sleeping?” He asks and you pull the gun from your shorts and point it in his face. You’ve reached your tipping point with him, clearly.

“Un-fucking-believable. If you think you can just come back here and everything will go back to the way it was, you’ve got another thing coming. Now get outta my house.” Your gaze is deadly and your hand doesn’t shake. Gabe gets up slowly and walks towards the door, hands up in a placating gesture. The barrel follows him. He opens the door and steps out of your apartment and into the warm night air.

“You look real beautiful (Y/N), fuck it’s good to see you.” He says wistfully before you slam the door in his face again. What an asshole. Still, you can’t help but smile at his boldness. Gabriel O’Malley wasn’t a loud man, didn’t care about being in the spotlight, but he was always bold. It was nice to see some things hadn’t changed.

  ~~~~~~~~

  He ends up taking a bus to Tony’s house, happy to still remember where everything is. The house looks the same, pale green siding with blooming flower boxes under the window. It looks like the hydrangeas finally grew, that was nice.

Taking a deep breath, Gabe knocks on the door as the fireflies buzz around him. Shit, it was late, wasn’t it? He should’ve come at a different time. But before he could flee, the door opens.

“Gabey! Oh Gabey, it’s so good to see you! Come inside and eat something, I made stuffed shells. Here, I’ll get you a plate.” Mrs. Petrillo says, ushering him into the house. Even if he wanted to argue, he wouldn’t. You didn’t argue with Mrs. Petrillo. She was 5 feet of pure Italian dynamite and he loved the old broad to pieces.

A huge plate of food is set in front of him, along with wine and bread, and he eats happily as Mrs Petrillo putters around her kitchen. Her house slippers make scuffing noises on the laminate floor and the sound is comforting to him.

“Gabey patatino, how are you? What are you doing back? How was New York?” She asks, sitting next to him at the old diner style table and patting his hand. 

“I’m good Mrs. P, I’m good. New York was… well some good things happened and some bad things happened but I’m doing okay.” He explains in between bites. She makes a sympathetic noise and gives him another slice of bread.

“Hey Ma, who was at the door? Was it… Gabriel O’Malley, you sonuvabitch! You know, you gotta lot of nerve coming back here.” Tony says, entering the kitchen with a grimace. Gabe gives a tight smile in response.

“Anthony Michael, is that any way to talk to your friend? Let him eat before you start yelling in my kitchen.” Mrs. P shoots back. Her son looks abashed for all of a moment before rounding back to Gabe, his gold cornicello swinging on his neck.

“Friend? This chooch fucks off for New York without a word and breaks (Y/N)’s heart with it and we’re supposed to let him back like it’s nothing? Ma, he doesn’t deserve the stuffed shells.” He yells, rightfully so; Gabe thinks as he wipes his mouth. 

Tony’s mother starts yelling about language and hospitality but the sound of Gabe pushing his chair back makes them quiet.

“He’s right Mrs. Petrillo. I’m a real jerk. I did a lot of things wrong. I was trying to help who I thought was my family and I ended up hurting the real one I had here. I made a lotta mistakes, the biggest one being how I treated her. But that’s why I’m back. I want to say I’m sorry, sorry to everyone, and fix things with her. I know it’s a mess, I don’t even have a place to stay or money.” Gabe sighs, rubbing at his forehead.

Mrs. P makes a soft sound of commiseration and hugs him. 

“Don’t worry patatino, everything’s gonna be fine. You can stay here until you get back on your feet. Right Anthony?” She offers, shooting a glare at her son. He glares at Gabe before nodding in concession. 

“I can’t stay mad at you, you leprechaun. Stay here and work on getting your life together.” Tony says, joining his mother to wrap Gabe in a hug. 

For the first time in months, Gabriel feels safe, he feels comforted. In New York, despite the power he had and Claire in his bed, he always felt so antsy. Like he was just waiting for everything to fall out from under him. When it did, well, it was probably a good thing that no one was in the train compartment with him on his way back to California.

“So what do I do Tony? Got any jobs for me? You know I’m good for it.” He finally says when he sits back down at the table to eat and his throat doesn’t feel so tight.

“Well, there is a wedding next week.” Tony says and he grins over his wine glass and Gabriel can’t help but laugh and raise his own glass in agreement.

Chapter Two Coming Soon...

Tagging: @babbushka​, @theold-ultraviolence

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

[blakemetothemoon]

Your Love’s My Ritual

Summary: “I don’t want to break up with you! I want to fuck you!” or: Zon wants to top. Predictably, he sucks at bringing it up.

Pairing: SaifahZon / ZonSaifah

Rating: Explicit for smut. First time topping, blow jobs, fingering, angst, oh my.

Notes: Request: “Would you be okay writing another SaifahZon where maybe Zon is actually afraid to ask Saifah if he can top because he wants to try but now he’s so used to their dynamic that he is nervous about asking Saifah ? Maybe a little bit of angst where Saifah knows something is up but Zon avoids the question so much that he thinks he did something wrong?”

Did my best to touch on all of that D: I hope you all enjoy! Please let me know if you notice any typos or anything like that! This has only been seen by myself and eye, so it’s definitely possible I missed something LOL

This can be read as either a sequel to Smiling Stupid or on its own! Read here or on ao3.

Thank you for reading!

“Do you want to be on top tonight?”

Zon shoots off the pillow so fast he gets whiplash and his shoulder barely misses breaking Saifah’s nose. “Really?!”

Saifah crinkles his brow, confused by the outburst. And Zon doesn’t blame him. He gets on top of Saifah all the time. Riding Saifah, they’ve discovered together, is one of Zon’s favorite things. Saifah’s fingers have already made their way into the back of Zon’s boxers and are sliding over the curve of his ass. Normally, the way his hand perfectly cups Zon’s cheek and can still tease him melts Zon like ice cream left in the sun.

But “normally” isn’t “lately”.

Because here’s the thing: Zon does want to be on top.

He just…means it in a different way than Saifah does.

And Zon has brought it up no more than absolutely zero times.

To say he plans to bring it up is a lie. What if Saifah makes fun of him because Zon has never actually put his dick in someone’s ass before? What if Saifah gets weirded out? Sure, he offered the first time they had sex but now they’ve only done it with Zon on bottom, so changing at this point would be wrong, right? And what if Saifah gets upset or offended? Zon loves sex with Saifah. He doesn’t want Saifah to think differently. Like he isn’t pleasing Zon— with all those explosive orgasms and his throat going hoarse from moaning so much, god, Saifah is most definitely pleasing every inch of him.  

Still, none of that changes how much Zon thinks about giving it to Saifah like Saifah gives it to him. About long legs around his waist and his cock inside hitting that bundle of nerves to drive Saifah crazy. Sometimes he thinks about how he pinned Saifah to a wall once already; he could do it again. Except they could both be naked and—

Zon doesn’t know why he wants it so bad. Somewhere between imagining fucking Saifah and the anxiety of bringing it up, his brain kind of stales.

It’s fine, though. Zon’s got this. He can hide his dirty little fantasy away and be so chill about it that Saifah will never know anything is amiss.

“Um,” Zon replies, “I’m actually pretty tired.”

Immediately, Saifah’s fingers stop. For a brief second, Zon’s legs open slightly on their own, waiting for Saifah to continue, press in and make Zon moan, and he hates part of himself for making the excuse but he would have to explain if he took it back.

“It’s only 9 PM,” Saifah says.

“Uh, yeah. Headache.” 

Eyes search his face. Saifah’s hand retretes. It slides out of Zon’s boxers to trace his thumb over Zon’s hip, soothing. “Do you need to go to the doctor? You’ve been getting those a lot lately.”

Shit, Zon should’ve thought of a better excuse. He’s used the headache one five times already, and there’s definite annoyance in Saifah’s tone.

Not getting laid isn’t what Saifah’s annoyed about. It’s obvious Zon is hiding something and Saifah isn’t big on Zon refusing to talk to him. The last time that happened, Zon was convinced the novel was real and his feelings for Saifah weren’t. Back when he would throw them into that stupid cat and mouse game, flinching away from each of Saifah’s advances and kicking Saifah right in the heart.

Zon knows he’s probably kicking again as he rolls away to avoid any further conversation. There’s a moment of silence. Then a kiss is pressed into the spot where Zon’s neck meets his shoulder. It is the same spot Saifah always nips, either because he wants to give Zon reassurance or he wants Zon to arch his back and shudder. It almost works for both, but Zon freezes when Saifah winds his arms around his waist because being the little spoon makes Zon think about wanting to not be the little spoon, and his anxiety skyrockets.

Saifah mistakes it for outright rejection; he is quick to withdraw his arms. Zon isn’t sure how to reassure him without bringing up the whole “I-wanna-top-you” thing, so he lets Saifah shuffle away to the other side of the bed. 

Zon barely sleeps. 

* 

Contrary to what Tutor is currently saying, Zon is not ignoring Saifah. Frantically sprinting off whenever he sees that sexy, tall giraffe walking his way is not ignoring—it’s self-preservation. It’s driving him crazier and crazier whenever he’s in close vicinity to Saifah to keep his hands off him.

“Zon, Saifah said you haven’t talked to him all week,” Tutor says, “and now he’s all mopey like a kicked puppy.”

“He’s mopey?”

“Wouldn’t you be if you thought Saifah was planning to break up with you?”

The thought of him and Saifah not being together instantly makes Zon want to puke. “I’m not going to break up with him!” Zon grabs onto Tutor’s biceps, making him jump, but he quickly resigns himself to the oncoming rant. “Tutor, listen to me! I want to fuck Saifah so bad, I can’t stop thinking about it. Like, all the time! Any time I see him! And it’s wrong because we’ve always done it the other way, and we both really like it, and Saifah is taller, and I think he’ll hate me if I bring it up, and I don’t want him to hate me when I’m in love with him!”

Zon is used to long pauses after he talks, so he’s a little shocked when Tutor immediately replies, “Are you a moron?” Tutor shakes his head and wiggles his way out of Zon’s death grip. “Who do you think tops—Fighter or me?”

“Uh,” Zon crinkles his brow. “I’m not sure. You’re scary when you’re mad, but Fighter is scary all the time. You can both be intimidating. You’re both pretty equal height, so—”

A rolled up notebook smacks him across the head.

“What the hell kind of logic—” Tutor remembers who he’s talking to, so he bites off with a sigh. “We both like it both ways, so we do it both ways. We switch.”

Zon’s eyes go impossibly wider. “You switch? You can do that? That’s allowed—ow!”

The notebook remains rolled, like Tutor is convinced he’s not done using it. “The things allowed in a relationship are what’s consented between the people in it. Have you talked to Saifah about…Zon!”

Zon throws up his hands before Tutor can smack him again. “I don’t know how to bring it up!”

Tutor briefly glances over Zon’s shoulder, then back to Zon’s face. “Try this: ‘Saifah, I need to talk to you about something.’ Now, you say it.”

Zon pouts and shuffles back and forth on his feet. “‘Saifah, I need to talk to you about something.’”

“That’ll involve actually talking to me.”

It’s that deep voice Zon hasn’t heard all week. Saifah drapes his arm over Zon’s shoulders and begins steering him away.

“Tor,” Zon yells, drawing the attention of everyone in the canteen, “how could you!”

Tutor throws him a cute little wave like he hasn’t just sentenced Zon to death.

*

Saifah is mad. Saifah is really mad.

“So you’ll talk to Tutor about whatever’s bothering you, but not me?”

Zon is usually quick to rise to Saifah’s anger with his own, but this time he knows it would be unwarranted. “He cornered me—”

“Now I’m the one cornering you. What the hell’s going on with you?”

And when Saifah says he’s corning Zon, he’s very much cornering him. Saifah has dragged them to an empty stairwell and he’s got Zon back up against the wall. The coldness of it does little to stop the heat pooling in the bottom of Zon’s stomach reminding him they haven’t even kissed in five days. But Saifah doesn’t seem like he would appreciate Zon trying to make out with him right now.

Saifah takes Zon’s distracted silence as another rejection. “I thought we were past this, Zon. If you’re gonna break up with me then—”

Hearing the words from Saifah’s mouth is worse than hearing them from Tutor’s. “I’m not!”

“You expect me to believe that when you’ve been running away from me—”

“I don’t want to break up with you! I want to fuck you!”

The words bounce off the walls in an embarrassing echo. 

“What?” Saifah replies.

“I want… tofuckyou.” Zon says, timid and quick. He starts doing that jaw working, bouncing from one foot to the other thing. His hands are cold and his chest is tight. He wants to puke. He shouldn’t have said anything, not even to Tutor. “All the time. It’s all I think about when we’re together and I don’t want you to think I don’t like doing the other way because I still do. It’s just—”

“That’s why you’ve been ignoring me?” If anything, Saifah is angrier now that Zon has started explaining himself. “I’ve already offered to do that.”

“Yeah, but that was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before you started doing me!” Zon wipes his clammy hands on his pant legs. “You really like doing it that way.”

“Obviously!” Saifah shakes his head and steps away, giving Zon space to breathe. “It feels amazing, but that’s not why I like it so much. I like it because it’s you, Zon. I like being with you. It’s not about whose dick is where.”

“It’s…not?”

Saifah’s face softens. It barely takes him two steps to close the distance again. He wraps Zon up in a big bear hug. Zon likes that he’s small enough for Saifah’s arms to envelope him. To pull him into his chest where it’s warm and he can hear the rhythm of Saifah’s steady heartbeat. 

“I know I’m usually good at reading you,” says Saifah softly, “but when it comes to things like this, you have to say it clearly, okay?”

“Okay,” Zon replies, soft and muffled. He clings to the back of Saifah’s shirt like it’s a lifeline. “I’m sorry for making you think I wanted to break up.”

“Hmm, you’ll have to make it up to me,” Saifah says. Zon can hear his smirk. “You’re staying over on Friday, right?”

Zon tilts his head up to look at him. “Y-Yeah?”

Saifah doesn’t explain because he doesn’t need to. He waggles his eyebrows. Red stains Zon’s cheeks to his ears, and he buries his face into Saifah’s chest again, shy and trying to hide his smile.

Friday. Two days. Zon has never been more ready for anything in this life. 

*

Zon is not ready. 

Saifah is in the shower when Zon gets in. Most likely getting himself ready. Zon thinks about how often he’s done that himself, then he pictures Saifah doing it—

Zon drops his bag somewhere random and sits down, heavy, onto the edge of the bed. He wrings his hands between his legs. They’re already sweating. Is he allowed to finger Saifah if his hands are sweaty? Saifah is always so in control when he’s topping and takes care of everything—Zon should do the same, right? Should he pull out the lube and condom to have it ready? Maybe he should make this extra special since it is the first time they’re doing it this way. He didn’t bring candles or rose petals, though. He did bring some popcorn and candies he knows are Saifah’s favorites, but those were for later. At least he figures they should be for later—

Hands warm from the shower wrap around his.

“Don’t you dare say anything about being in a K-drama,” Zon pouts. He’s so out of it, he didn’t hear Saifah getting out of the shower or kneeling in front of him.

Saifah raises an eyebrow. “You don’t think you can do it?” he asks instead.

Zon glares and clenches his teeth. “Of course I can do it, asshole.”

“Agreed,” says Saifah, smiling, hands still massaging Zon’s even though Zon is considerably calmer now. “You don’t need to be so worried.”

“But what if I mess up, or you don’t like it, or—”

“You won’t and I will.” Saifah kisses Zon’s knuckles. “It’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

Zon’s mouth drops open. “You have?!”

“To myself.” Saifah’s grin is downright dirty.

Zon pictures it and his mind goes white for a second, then he blushes. "You’re so shameless.”

That devious smile grows. “Which I know you appreciate.”

Saifah presses against Zon’s shoulders and together they fall backwards onto the mattress. Usually Zon is the one on his back with Saifah staring down over him, always equal parts hungry and adoring. But this time, Saifah rolls them; with a grip on Zon’s hips, he pulls Zon on top of him, and, suddenly, it’s Zon’s turn to loom.

Drying hair frames Saifah’s face, bangs slightly matted to his forehead. Water drops are scattered over his neck and collarbones. Zon wants to drag his tongue over every inch and leave marks behind.

Saifah smirks when he feels Zon grow hard. He uses the hold he still has on Zon’s waist to pull him down at the same time he grinds up, showing Zon he isn’t alone in being excited about what they are about to do.

Weirdly, it makes Zon more confident.

Unlike the first time they had sex, they don’t take time removing each other’s clothes because dragging this part out gives Zon too many opportunities to think. Saifah nearly rips off the buttons of Zon’s shirt and has him naked in record time. Zon pulls Saifah’s towel loose and tosses it somewhere they can find later. He’s seen Saifah naked tons of times now, but never like this: spread out across the navy blue sheets beneath him, legs open and inviting Zon to make his move.

It takes Zon a moment to figure out what ‘his move’ is. He knows he’s spoiled. Saifah has always been the giver between them, both in the bedroom and out. Not that Zon doesn’t…do things when he’s on the bottom. Once he does something for the first time and finds out he likes it, he kind of becomes insatiable afterwards. He’s gotten pretty good at giving blowjobs like they’re going out of style. Saifah shows off those scratches Zon leaves on his back like they are battle scars he’s proud of, and Saifah comes every time which is always the ultimate end goal for Zon.

But this is different. Now that he’s here between Saifah’s thighs instead of wrapped around his hips, there’s so much more…access. He can trace each line of Saifah’s abs and see them jump beneath his fingertips. Saifah’s neck is long so Zon has plenty of space to experiment with slow, dragging kisses, sucking when Saifah’s breathing stutters. Saifah has porcelain skin; Zon enjoys how it instantly reddens beneath his lips. With each new mark, Saifah rubs himself harder up against Zon’s stomach, encouraging him to keep going. He sighs when Zon pulls back to look down to where their bodies are touching.

The first time Zon saw Saifah’s dick, he was fascinated. Apparently switching roles makes him fascinated again. His eyes linger on how hard Saifah is and it’s slowly dawning on him, Saifah really likes this.

Zon lines up their cocks perfectly, spurred on by knowing he is the one controlling every slide and grind, holding Saifah’s hips steady because Zon’s shorter, but he’s still strong. Zon almost apologizes for the red blossoming beneath his fingers. Starts to ask if he’s pressing too hard. But then Saifah desperately tries to rut up against him—

Because I like being with you, Zon.

And maybe that’s it. Maybe that’s why Zon wants to be inside Saifah so badly, it’s surreal he finally will be. Zon wants to make Saifah feel as amazing as Saifah makes him feel. Give him the same attention he covers Zon with. Take care of the technicalities so all Saifah needs to do is feel good and sated and spent. 

Saifah makes an amused, startled noise when Zon surges up to kiss him. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good you can’t talk,” Zon says in a rush of words against Saifah’s lips. The enthusiasm takes away any attempt at sexiness.

Still, Saifah laughs. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and barely has to stretch up to kiss Zon’s forehead. He does it three more times, then flops back down on the pillow and says, “You can do it, my Zon.”

Breathing gets harder once Zon has the lube on his fingers. He drags his other hand down over Saifah’s ribcage to his stomach to his cock. He tries to think of how Saifah takes care of him, so he bends forward and takes Saifah into his mouth at the same time he pushes his finger in.

The first thing Zon notices isn’t how tight Saifah is or how hot (though those are very fast to follow). What he notices is how Saifah’s entire body reacts. He bites his bottom lip and his stomach flexes and he thrusts into Zon’s mouth like he can’t help it. For a moment, Zon’s gag reflex activates but he doesn’t care—all his focus is on making Saifah lose control bit by bit.

Zon may not have experience in fingering someone else yet but he’s fucking determined, so he adds a second finger when Saifah tells him to, then immediately spreads them and searches. Saifah’s resounding, deep moan when Zon finds that spot has Zon grinding himself against the sheets for minor relief.

Saifah really is shameless. He has never been shy about his moans when he’s fucking Zon, never holds them back. Zon should have known Saifah would be responsive this way, too. And since Zon secretly loves hearing Saifah come undone as much as he likes coming himself, all of Saifah’s noises are loosening Zon’s remaining nerves. 

Zon pulls his mouth off a minute later when he feels Saifah’s entire body shivering, a sign Zon knows means he’s close. But Saifah tightens around Zon’s fingers, warning him not to stop, and Zon can’t help but groan and give Saifah what he’s asking for.

"Does it feel good? Sai?” He can’t decide what is sexier: his fingers disappearing into Saifah’s heat or the microshifts in Saifah’s expression when Zon goes from teasing him to actually pressing repeatedly against his prostate.

“Yeah,” Saifah says, breathless. “Yeah, feels so good. You’re doing amazing.”

The nerves return once Zon has the condom on and is lining up, but Saifah knows when Zon needs encouragement. And, honestly, there’s something incredibly hot about how Saifah grips Zon’s cock and guides him forward. About how Saifah wraps his legs around Zon’s waist like a vice and tugs. Zon has nowhere to go except in and in and in.

‘Tight’ and ‘hot’ are the first thoughts this time. He’s pretty sure he blacks out for a second once his hips meet Saifah’s ass, and then again when Saifah digs his nails into Zon’s neck and forces him down so he can bite at his lips.

Somehow Saifah manages a smirk. "Try not to come right away, virgin.”

Zon groans into Saifah’s shoulder. “Shut up, jerk.”

Saifah has to be uncomfortable, but he’s running his fingers through Zon’s hair, soothing and grounding. Zon returns it with a soft kiss to Saifah’s throat and a shallow thrust, enjoying the way Saifah’s hand tightens around the strands. Enjoys it even more when he thrusts again and Saifah tightens around him everywhere and starts whispering, “Zon, c’mon. Zon, my Zon.”

And, well, Zon doesn’t mind Saifah pleading his name like this.

In novels, shyness is a common theme. “Don’t look!” and “It’s embarrassing!” And Zon gets it—he’s still the embodiment of that kind of bashfulness sometimes.

But Saifah seems to like the complete attention, and Zon doesn’t want to miss a single thing, so he sits back on his knees. Their movements are a bit awkward at first, but Saifah drags one leg over Zons shoulder. Zon grabs the other, digging his fingers into the back of Saifah’s knee and pressing it forward. Saifah has to bend further than Zon ever does in this position but he does it with a gasp instead of a complaint. Zon kisses Saifah’s inner thigh like he’s passing on a reward. 

Zon refuses to come first. He always comes first. Not this time. This time it will be Saifah and Zon will even drive himself crazy to make sure that happens. He keeps the pace slow to start, pulling out then sinking deep and grinding to make sure Saifah gasps each time. When it’s time to go harder, his body does it on its own, like Zon was made to make Saifah throw his head back and moan.

Then they’re moving together, thrusting and meeting and moaning. Saifah runs his hands anywhere he can, leaving fire with each glide. They’re so long he can grab Zon’s ass and sink him deeper still. Zon bends Saifah even more. The changed angle makes Saifah’s eyes go from half-lidded to full blown with desire and Zon hits it again and again. Saifah is muttering nothing but Zon’s name. He cradles Zon’s face between his big hands and draws him into a desperate kiss.

Soon, they are just panting into each other’s mouths. Zon kisses Saifah’s nose like he did the first time they kissed and he couldn’t speak from the overwhelming happiness.

Now, it’s Saifah who is unable to find words; his nod is as subtle as Zon’s had been. I’m ready, please, I want you to.

Zon grabs onto Saifah’s cock and strokes him in time to their thrusts, pulling, pulling, pulling until Saifah is shaking and coming all over his stomach and Zon’s fingers. Between whimpers he sings Zon’s name, and he looks blissed out, and is so perfectly tight around Zon’s cock—

HIs orgasm hits him suddenly and sends lightning from his head to his toes. He can’t stop his hips from moving, thrusting deep into Saifah, but Saifah doesn’t care; he hoarsely gasps and still has his legs wrapped around Zon, ankles crossed and thighs keeping Zon in place until he’s done shivering through his high.

They’re panting when Zon collapses next to Saifah, both covered in come and sweat, and not caring at all. For once Saifah doesn’t have the energy after sex to continue doting affection on Zon. Zon does it instead. He reaches over and brushes Saifah’s bangs off his forehead. Traces mindless shapes onto his chest. Nuzzles Saifah’s neck so he can feel Zon’s smile. 

“You’re amazing,” Zon says, “How are you always so amazing?”

“I think you’re the amazing one here, My. Best. Zon,” Saifah says, accentuating each word with a playful tap to Zon’s nose.

Zon preens. “It felt good?”

“You know it did. How about for you?”

“Yeah, yeah, definitely.” Zon licks his lips and he doesn’t mean for his voice to go so high when he asks, “So, you would want to do it like this again?”

Saifah drags a hand slowly up and down Zon’s arm and smiles. “I think we can do it however we want.”

Zon smiles back. “I think so too. Wait, where are you going?”

Slowly shuffling out of bed, Saifah raises an eyebrow. “To grab the towel—hey!”

Before Saifah can process it, Zon rolls over him and leaps out of bed. Still naked, he races to the bathroom for a wet towel. Along the way back, he grabs some muscle relief cream and the snacks he brought for Saifah.

“My towel from earlier is right here,” says Saifah, amused as Zon cleans them with the fresh towel. “Should I expect this service every time?”

Zon gives him a cheeky grin in reply, then sees how happy Saifah is, and he can’t help kissing him again.

They spend the rest of the night laughing, eating the snacks Zon brought, and singing stupid songs. Eventually, Zon rolls onto his side, burying his face into his pillow and snuggling deeper into the mattress. Saifah’s arm wraps around Zon’s stomach and holds tight. He kisses the spot where Zon’s neck meets his shoulder, then pulls him back until they’re practically plastered together. Their legs become a tangled mess. Soon, Zon can hear Saifah’s gentle, even breathing.

That night, Zon doesn’t mind being the little spoon.

[felix-sullivan]

HOMECOMING 2020

Tammi // "I can't believe it. Look at them," Tammi exclaimed, looking over at Paddy and Mina who were currently at the bar getting something to drink. "How ridiculous." She rolled her eyes and took a sip of her drink.

.: Aly //Aly, who was watching Charlie and Dani from across the room, was snapped out of her day dreaming at Tammi's voice. She turned to look at the two at the bar and rolled her eyes at Tammi as well, though her annoyance was minimal in comparison to Tammi's. "Honestly? Her whole appearance just looks a little try hard." She scrunched her nose up so Tammi would see. "Why do boys fall for that so easily?"

.: Cari // "Don't you look so uncomfortable, Mister!" She elbowed Roman in the side, grinning from ear to ear. Her face got a conspiratorial expression. "I got some Vodka in my purse. Really takes you back to senior year, doesn't it? You ready for a shot?"

....: Roman // "Hello, I'm not uncomfortable at all. Maybe a little, alright, but it's weird being back here. Also seeing Mr. Garrison again, after all this time.." Roman laughed and shrugged. He eyed her at her second comment, once again feeling a sense of nostalgia as he grinned. "Have you? You really haven't changed a bit. If tonight doesn't call for a shot, what does."

.: Freya // She finished pouring them both a drink, handing Chris a cup when she as done. "They really did play a good game today. Really felt on the edge of my seat for the last bit. I just hope they behave now and we don't have to intervene much tonight, they deserve a bit of a party after that."

....: Trevor // "Alright, Lucas and I put a little bit of vodka into the punch. A small amount. Barely noticeable. Mostly me, but he helped," Trevor admitted to the group that was still at their table with a shrug, "I'm simply helping everyone to have a good time. No harm done."

.: Cari // "It is weird, isn't it? I talked to Garrison earlier and he barely seemed to remember me.. I feel a little offended? I thought we caused enough trouble back in the day." She was still grinning at him, already fishing for the flask in her purse. "And neither have you, it seems. Still as easily swayed.." She cocked her head at Roman, standing closer to him as she held the flask between their bodies. "I'm thinking so, too. You first?" She asked, as she looked around her shoulder once, as if they were actually students again. "I don't want any of my younger siblings seeing this." She explained.

....: Chris // "Cheers," Chris said, clinking their cups together once Freya's finished pouring them both their drinks. He looked into her eye as he did and then took a big sip, if not even two. "I felt the same way. What a good game. I don't know much about football, so I was surprised how invested I was. They really did good. Especially Benji; I had no idea he could play that way. It was my first time actually watching," he admitted, not shameful but as a matter of fact. "Let's hope so, yeah. I feel like it's going well so far, though."

.: Andy // "Yeah, boys!" He exclaimed enthusiastically, going for a high five with both Trevor and Lucas. "But do you think we should tell people who are gonna get any? Maybe they don't wanna drink.." He added, a little thoughtfully.

....: Tammi // "I really don't know? Especially Paddy. I thought he was better than that. Right? We both thought so but they're all the same," Tammi complained annoyed, "Her dress is terrible. It doesn't even fit the theme. Ugh. Anyway. We shall not let that ruin our night. Speaking of, know who keeps looking your way?"

.: Freya // " I never thought I'd be into American football, either. I had to watch a couple Rugby championships in my time, but this is feels actually exciting. Maybe because they're our students. Yeah, he was good!" She gave him an amused smile, swaying in her place a little. "It did only just start. So for now, I'd be inclined to agree. I'm always so scared about parents here, is that the same for you? Or is that because I'm secretly afraid of Americans?"

....: Roman // "Talk for yourself, because he definitely remembered me," he said, grin still in place as he watched her fish for the flask. "You're an adult, you know, you're allowed to drink alcohol," he said, looking down at her as he took the flask into his hands. He took notice of their height difference; it was still the same as back in the day. He put it to his mouth and took three sips, his face grimacing after. "Uff. God." He hands her the flask.

....: Trevor // "No, what the fuck, of course not," Trevor said to Andy, as if it was the most obvious thing. "We'd get in trouble if someone snitched on us. And also, like said, no harm done, it's not like we put a whole bottle of vodka in it. Just a small amount. Don't worry, Ands." he said, leaning forward to ruffle through Andy's hair.

.: Aly // "Yeah, I guess they are all the same.. Kind of." She was fixing Charlie with a longing stare again, daydreaming about how she would act as his date to Homecoming and wondering whether she could compare to any of his friends.. or his actual date.. At Tammi's comment, she looked over at Mina again. "Honestly, I know. She's one of the ones who wouldn't get dressed up for Halloween because she's too cool. It also doesn't really fit her? It's so short." She joined in on Tammi's rant, looking back at them and scrunching up her nose. "What? Who?" She asked, genuienly stumped.

.: Cari // "Well, I'm not the slightest bit surprised he'd remember you. I think you and Brandon were in his office every two weeks at one point during senior year." She coyly shoved him again. " I do know that!" She excalimed, looking around once again. "Once again, my siblings are here. They're /babies/. Also, I weirdly feel like I'm gonna get in trouble again being here." She grinned as he took his sips, making a little face as he handed the flask back to her. "You really still haven't got used to these?" She took a swig and another one with ease, suppressing the need to scrunch her face up in disgust. "What have you been doing all these years?"

....: Chris // "That's right. I probably wouldn't have cared as much if it wasn't for our students." Chris smiled at that realisation and looked across the room, his eyes falling on Felix for a second, before looking back at Freya. "The parents?" Chris had to laugh, "It is the same for me still, yeah. I like to think it's gotten better, but it's still a thing. I don't think it's an American thing. It's a parents thing. They can be ruthless and will also blame for absolutely everything."

.: Paddy // "You got something on your face," he said reaching to wipe at Mina's cheek. He didn't realise it was glitter she had put on earlier. "Right there."

....: Chelsea // Chelsea's eyebrows were raised at the conversation between Andy and Trevor, but her expression was light and she was fighting a smile These boys. She sat next to Toby, her hand intertwined with his, both of theirs resting on his lap. She started playing with his fingers and leaned forward to rest her head on his shoulder. "Hey, do you feel like dancing?"

....: Mina // "Oh," Mina giggled, watching Paddy remove whatever she had on her face. "Thank you," she smiled at him in a bitter-sweet manner and grabbed his hand to look at whatever was on her face.

.: Andy // He ducked Trevor's ruffle through his hair, laughing a little. "Yeah, but like. I just think, like, if someone's not wanting to drink, you know." He eyed the punch again before getting distracted by Trevor's attempt to assure him. "Imma worry about whatever I want to, Trevor. If you only put a bit, have you got any tp spare?"

....: Tammi // "She also didn't? If you remember? She simply straightened her hair and put on black eyeliner and said she's going as emo. There was nothing emo about her," Tammi rolled her eyes again. She watched as Paddy, from her point of view anyway, reached to caress Mina's cheek. Her blood started to uncontrollably boil, so she had to take another aggressive sip from her punch, and another, and another until the cup was actually empty. She took a deep breath and put the cup down on the table. "Nolan Kellerman. He's over there with Finn, and he keeps staring." Tammi nods over to where they are stood.

....: Nancy // "Hi boys!" Nancy sing sang as she approached the table with a cup, quickly letting herself down on Andy's lap. "I was just on the dancefloor, and let me tell you, I'm feeling this punch a lot," she said as she smiled widely and took a sip.

....: Chelsea // Chelsea watched as Nancy let herself down on Andy's lap, eyeing them for a second before averting her eyes back on Toby.

....: Roman // "If you genuinely believe they haven't done any of this, then high school must be farther away for you than I thought," Roman joked with a smirk, thinking back to their High School days. It stayed plastered on his face this entire time as he watched her drinking from the flask. "I'm not that much of a drinker these days," he admitted with a laugh. "Work usually takes up most of my time, so I barely get to drink, or attend school dances. You still seem like a natural though," he teased with a laugh.

////: Freya // She weighed it for a moment before shaking her head. "I think I have to disagree. I think it's an /American/ parents thing." Her voice got a little quieter towards the end, though she smirked jokingly at him. "In the least offensive way, because it's great! I feel like barely anyone cares in the UK."

//// joined the chat 13 hours ago

....: Chris // "Maybe I should've been a teacher in the UK, then." He said with a smile. "Are you going to go home over the holidays?"

////: Toby // He was idly holding Chelsea's hand, not really participating in or even really listening on the conversation going on around them. His eyes were lost at nothing particular in the crowd and his mind elsewhere. Perhaps he was keeping an eye out for someone in particular, perhaps he wasn't at all. When Chelsea spoke up, he turned to look at her, craning his neck a little awkwardly, but giving her a toothy smile. "Yeah, we can dance." He brought their hands up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. "But.. let's wait for the next song? This one's kinda.. he's not amazing in my opinion."

////: Paddy // "No, wait, it's still there." Only then, upon looking more closely between her face and his finger did the realisation dawn on him. He laughed. "Oh, I think it's actually.. supposed to be there. Whoops. Here. I'll put it back," he joked, teasingly pushing his thumb on her cheek again.

....: Chelsea // Chelsea smiled at Toby when he kissed her hand, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Sure. We can wait for the next song. Are you feeling okay? You seem to be zoning out a lot."

////: Aly // She laughed into her cup a little as Tammi recounted last year's Halloween. She noticed the annoyance on her face multiply, following her line of sight and seeing Paddy and Mina having a seemingly flirty interaction. She looked back at Tammi, who was throwing back her drink now. She thought of what to say, but came up short, so she was glad when Tammi pointed out Nolan and Finn in the other direction. "Oh god, I know.." she said, her cheeks getting a little hot but not being able to suppress a smile. "Oh, he's looking again! Tammi." She pushed her in the side a little to prevent Nolan from noticing they were looking back at them.

....: Mina // "Paddy, you're going to destroy the make up if you keep that up," she giggled and moved out of his touch, momentarily turning to the beverages in front of them. She put a strand behind her ear and reached for an empty cup. "Would you pour me a punch, please?" She handed it to him, her eyes glistening.

////: Andy // He laughed good naturedly as Nancy sat down on his lap, momentarily fidgeting with his hands, unsure where to place them. He ended up with one arm around her middle, the other one resting on his own leg. "Yeah, we saw you! You looked so good, you have to teach us. Girl's got those moves." He looked over to Chelsea for a second out of the corner of his eye, but quickly averted his attention back to Nancy when he noticed her and Toby having a moment. "Yeah!" He exclaimed with a laugh. "Got our boys Trev and Lucas to thank for that." He leaned over her shoulder and stole a sip from her cup while she was still holding it.

////: Cari // She looked at him with furrowed eyebrows but an amused expression. "Oh, please. I don't believe that for a second. I know for a fact that's not the case.." She said, raising her eyebrows with an expression that meant to say there was a lot of moments she remember that she wouldn't mention. "I just mean, I'm like the responible sister, you know. I don't wanna be the bum that crashes their dance and then gets fucked up. But.. that's what we're gonna do, so." She eyed him with a glimmer in her eye, teasing but friendly. "Yeah, I can tell. You're really out of practice, aren't you. So responsible. Need to get you back in shape now." She shrugged at his last statement, neither confirming nor denying it, but pointedly taking another swig from the flask. "Okay, two more for you, Sullivan. Let's go." She held out the flask to him.

////: Freya // "You can definitely be a little more creative with your teaching over there." She said with a nostalgic smile, though she wouldn't change being in the US right now for anything. "Oh, most likely, yeah. I was talking to Kian and we've been talking about New Year's as well, which he said he might enjoy spending that across the pond." She told him with a happy smile, swaying in her place for a moment. "What are your plans? You have any yet?"

....: Lucas // "Hey, hey. First of all," Lucas started, leaning forward. "I had no idea Trevor was going to put vodka in the punch until it was too late. I'm not an accomplice by choice," Lucas corrected, raising his cup as if to drink a toast to something before drinking.

////: Toby // "Huh? Oh yeah, sorry, totally, yeah." He gave her a reassuring smile and went to kiss her cheek. "I'm not really zoning out, I'm just.. yeah, I don't know." He grinned when he blanked for a a good excuse, hoping his smile was glossing over it enough. Alright. Wanna dance?" He got up, still holding her hand and looking at her expectantly.

....: Trevor // Trevor let out a laugh and flipped Lucas off, followed by a slight shove with the elbow from their seats, almost making Lucas' drink spill over. "Fuck off, I thought we were brothers and shit?" He shook his head, but the playfulness evident in both their features. He turned his attention to Andy and Nancy, "I put a little bit of Russian water to the punch." He raised his eyebrow for a moment and then winked. "Glad you're enjoying it, Nance."

////: Paddy // "You don't need the make up anyway." He said rather matter of factly. "But it looks nice. The colour dusty thing on your eye is really cool," he said with a grin, holding his hand up for a second to show he was stopping and pointing at her eyeshadow without touching her again. "Yeah, sure." He grabbed another empty cup for himself, holding it between his teeth while he fixed up Mina's drink.

////: Dani // "I know! This boy has a kick." She scrunched her nose up at Charlie and momentarily took his chin into her hand. She was standing with Charlie, Alex and a couple other people talking about the game. "So proud of him. Of ALL of them," she added importantly, looking around at everyone and slipping an arm around Charlie's waist to lean into him a little bit. "Alex, you played, didn't you? Do you still?"

....: Tammi // Tammi bit back a giggle. She looked past Aly, but there he was, looking over again. "He's still looking! Can he make it any more obvious?" she screamed at her best friend in a whisper. "Oh God, I think... he's coming over," Tammi warned, again in the same whispering manner. "Aly.. he's coming. He's. He's coming." Tammi watched as Nolan approached. "He's here." Tammi said to Aly and then proceeded to put on a smile. "Hi, Nolan!"

////: Aly // Her eyes widened at Tammi and she looked at her best friend imploringly, shaking her head the slightest bit but not being able to suppress the giggles. "Oh Tammi.." She stayed focused on Tammi until the last second, her cheeks still growing a little hotter, when Tammi greeted Nolan behind her. She turned around as well, smiling. "Heyyy. How are you doing, Nolan?"

....: Nancy // "I try," Nancy thanked, throwing her blonde hair behind her shoulder in a swift motion at Andy hyping her up. "Practice, Andy, practice. It really does make perfect," she winked at him and then looked over to the three boys on the other side of the table, Benji, Lucas and Trevor. "Oh," she exclaimed a little dumbfounded, looking down at the cup in her hand to examine it. She shrugged and downed the drink in one quick go. "That explains it." She grinned and leaned forward to poke Trevor's nose. "At least someone wants everyone to have a good time." She got off Andy. "I'm getting some more. Anyone else?"

....: Chris // Chris smiled. "I guess it'd be a complete culture shock," Chris said as he thought about it. However, the thought was also interesting. "Oh, really? That's great, I had no idea. He hasn't told me. Then again, we've only been texting back and forth these days. He's quite busy with the club. But, wow! That's huge. Meeting your family?"

////: Finn // He gave Nolan a friendly push to his shoulder when the other had already turned to approach the two girls. "Go." He stayed behind, watching Nolan for a moment and tapping his foot to the music. He eyed his cup's contents, then back up to look around the room. He felt a little awkward standing around by himself now, so he started wandering aimlessly, taking a sip from his drink every now and then. He saw a girl standing off to the side also by herself, transfixed by her phone. He recognised her as Hazel Caldwell, a senior and from what he could tell, pretty cool. Nice and not quite as intimidating as some other people. He wandered over, trying to seem casual and came to a stop next to her, still keeping a good distance between them. He swayed on his feet for a moment, trying to think of something to say. "Hey." He blurted out after a moment. "Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to.. Hi. I just wanted to say hi because you were on your phone and I was thinking.. that.. I would just say hi." He said all this very quickly, closing his eyes for a second when he realised how everything just came out of his mouth.

....: Noah // "Felix and I!" Noah announced loudly as he swung his arm around Felix's shoulder, "We'll be getting drinks. Anyone else feeling anything?" He asked into the group, already pushing Felix towards the buffet. He didn't really wait for an answer as he continued, "No? Alright, we'll be right back!" He smiled big at his friends, gave Liam a a quick kiss. "Love you," he professed before walking away with Felix. Once far away enough, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Okay. You're ruining the whole night."

////: Benji // He watched his friends' interaction with a grin, leaned back into his seat and sipping his spiked drink happily. "You're never an accomplice /by choice/, and you still always let this guy rope you into shit, man," he joined in on the joke, shoving Trevor back when he'd shoved Lucas prior. "Stop picking on people smaller than you." He laughed loudly when Trevor also almost spilled his drink. He looked over at Nancy, holding his cup up at her with a shake of the head. "I'm good, Nance, thanks."

////: Andy // "Yeah, can do with a refill." He hopped up with her, smiling at her. "M'going with you. Who else then? Trevooor, yes. Finish that, we'll get you another one."

////: Freya // "Yeah, he's so busy recently." She agreed with a slightly disgruntled look on her face, though she shrugged a few moments after. "Yeah. Yeah, possibly." The grin was back on her face at the thought of Kian coming for New Year's. "We've only talked about it, nothing's actually set. But he might.. Like you said, he's super busy with the club and he's not sure he can just not be on site yet, but we'll see. It'd be nice, that's for sure."

////: Felix // Felix let Noah push him towards the drinks a little reluctantly, looking at him with a slightly confused expression. Once his intentions became clear, he rolled his eyes at him. "Uh, you're ascribing me a bit much power here. I don't think I'm ruining an entire night. And also, I'm just not?"

....: Charlie // "Thanks man," Charlie thanked the person complimenting him on the game. As Dani spoke up, he turned to look at her and he couldn't fight a smile when he felt her arms around his waist. He reciprocated the affection by slinging his arm around her middle as he planted a kiss to the side of her head. "You played?" He asked, turning his attention to Alex, genuinely surprised by the information. "I had no idea, I didn't take you as a player," He mused with a grin.

....: Nolan // Nolan turned around to his friend when he pushed him, giving him a 'what the fuck was that for' face. "Okay. I'm already on it." Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair and made his way over to Tammi and Aly. Definitely feeling more nervous than he'd admit. "Hi, you two," he said, his voice friendly. "You look beautiful tonight." He looked at Aly with sincerity but his gaze momentarily dropped to his feet. "Uh. Your brother's DJing, right? Do you know if he takes song requests?"

....: Hazel // Hazel was so focused on her text conversation with Nick, she barely took notice of her surroundings. She bit on her nail as she watched Nick typing, an habit she's unsuccessfully trying to get rid of for years now. It wasn't until she saw someone from the corner of her stop next to her that she looked up. She only looked up for a split second and then returned her attention to her text conversation. Nick had stopped typing, but no new message. She eyed the person who's came to a halt next to her again when they started to sway. Who was he? Hazel had never seen the guy. "Hey." She said a little confused, but her features were soft and warm as she locked her phone and put it away. One second later, she felt it vibrate in her pocket, but this time she ignored it. "You're fine. Don't worry. I also don't like being the girl who's on the phone. I'm just. Trying to make a friend come." With a nod, she looked over the dance floor and then back at the guy. "Why are you by yourself?"

////: Aly // "Oh, thanks," she replied coyly, dropping her gaze and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. She looked at Tammi for a second out of the corner of her eye before smiling at Nolan again. "Oh yeah," She nodded at him, momentarily looking at Tammi again like she was entirely sure how to navigate this by herself. "Yeah, he is. Uhm.." She looked at Tammi once more. She knew Caleb was quite uptight about his music sometimes. "Yeah, I'm sure he would. Yeah, definitely. You can just ask him. What song do you want?"