#see this? this is why I say threads never expire for me

[talesfantastic]

Unexpected Reunion (cont'd)

@magicalxgirlsxrp Hearing him chuckle made her forget about how tired she actually was, he never fails to put a smile on her lips. "Yeah, Im at work.. i'm taking a break now and thought i should give you a call to ask how the conversation with the others went." she said and wondered if the other men agreed to meet up tonight or if they totally hated the idea. She stared at the vending machine and watched as hot coffee poured into the cup. The little beeping sound telling her she could take the cup out now and enjoy her steamy energy boost. Minako had thought about the craziest kind of scenarios for how the reunion could go. Some had good endings, some had bad endings.. but one they all had in common was her and Kain trying to bring their friends to talk to each other in private and to get to know one another again. Especially Rei.. she was still worried about Rei and Jaden. "And? please don't tease me any longer.. i need to know if they are okay with meeting us tonight." it almost sounded like she was pleading to be released from this pain of not knowing what would happen tonight.

Kain sighed quietly, thinking back. "It's... it's a lot. They're willing to come, but they're not expecting forgiveness. They're not overly surprised the-- Usagi and Mamoru are willing to let things go for a second chance. None of us feel we deserve it.

"But the important part is they'll be there," he hurried to cover over, lest it cause her undue distress. It was what it was, really, and what it was was a lot of trauma rearing its ugly head in the face of those they'd betrayed most deeply.

Those they'd loved most deeply.

"Zane is being practical about it. Ironically, I think having the numbers to crunch, to work on figuring out how to get the rest of your team having powers again, to be able to finally help, helps him." Kunzite hummed. "Jaden's expecting to at least be slapped and I wouldn't stop her if she did. I don't condone that sort of thing in general but it might help him a bit to get that over with."

He stared out the window for a long moment before saying slowly, "the one problem, if there's going to be any, is Nathan. I can't get a read on him."

And that worried him, because even in rebirth they had all been in sync, been open to him if not each other because they desperately needed someone who understood. For Nathan, easily rivaling Jaden in emotion, to suddenly be closed off to his leader, his confidante?

No, Kain didn't like that.

[jewishvitya]

hei. i enjoy your blogs, i hope you could clear something up for me., i just saw someone claim to be "zionist as in i believe jewish people have the right to self determination in their indigenous homeland",, ive actually seen the claim that jewish ppl are indigenous to israel and are somehow denied that identity as a form of anti semitism and erasure of jewish experience multiple times.. and it always confused me so much cuz like israel was set up as this nationalist project in 1948, before the region was a mess mostly under the rule of the ottomans, but the palestinian culture and ppl were always there. how can someone be indigenous to a region if they werent there before? is there any truth to the claim or is it just co-opting leftist language again?

its so evil how the state of israel could jist completely legitimize itself by co-opting jewish culture and pretending like being in support of it is a fundamental part of jewishness :(

Thank you!! I'm glad you do.

I can try, but I'm not sure how good I'll be at explaining this. Maybe someone else can add to this. If I repeat things I said before, I apologize.

That is a definition of zionism used by many zionists who lean politically to the left. I don't subscribe to these softer definitions of zionism because saying it's just "the right to Jewish self determination in our ancestral homeland" ignores that in practice over the last century the next words are "to the exclusion of others." I define zionism through its practical outcome - which is what we did to Palestinians.

Jewish people originate here. Our religious laws and practices (many of which are regularly disregarded by Israel and by settlers when they do things like destroying olive trees and water sources) are tied to this specific land. There are holidays and religious rituals that are either fundamentally changed or can't be practiced at all if we're anywhere else in the world. Culturally most branches of Judaism maintained this connection throughout our history. And we didn't leave willingly. An empire expelled us from the place that was our land. When the point of indigeniety comes up, this is why. You'll see arguments like - when does indigeniety expire? How many generations until you no longer have a claim to the ancestral homeland you were driven away from?

So this is the cultural context for Judaism. This is something that I also can't really ignore. I can't pretend I don't care about this land and the connection we always had to it.

That said, I still see this as using leftist terminology inappropriately.

To talk about Israel, a lot of us talk about colonialism, and specifically settler colonialism. I lived in the West Bank settlements so to me this really resonates. The argument I get at that point is that an indigenous group can't colonize their own land.

And this is why I'm saying it's a misuse of terminology. We're using that label to absolve ourselves. As if the word "indigenous" is a stamp of approval we get to apply to our actions while we repeat the violence of colonizing forces in history.

Ethnic cleansing, occupation, building settlements - and now also genocide. The tools we use resonate with indigenous people all over the world, because they suffered through similar kinds of oppression. Always with differences and different contexts, these things are never 1:1, but there's a reason indigenous groups around the world are in solidarity with Palestinians. I shared about a video from a Korean person talking about how colonialism by Japan broke the thread of their history - old buildings that had to be rebuilt instead of being preserved, historical cultural practices and art forms being lost or changed due to the loss of artisans. These are things Israel is doing now.

So to me, this is using the word "landback" and "liberation" for a violent takeover of land from an indigenous group. You mentioned the Ottomans - Palestine has been conquered over and over throughout history. Those regimes, sure, fighting them off can be liberatory, if the intent isn't to become the conquerors in their place. But there's nothing to liberate from Palestinians, because they're not colonizing anything. They belong in this land.

I'm really angry that so many of us try to deny the Palestinians their own connection. They have roots here, a long and rich history shaped by life in the land. While we destroy so much and say our claim is so strong we get to kill or drive them away for it.

[searchingforgravity]

Graceland Experience - PART 7

Fandom: Elvis/Elvis (2022)

Prompt: You have a conversation with Elvis which leads to something he doesn't expect.

TW: kissing, vomiting

Word Count: 1999

A/N: Ah the cliffhanger, there will be more in the next one though! It will be out soon!

You take a deep breath as you prepare to knock on his door. You waited until Sonny had to leave to go on an errand so you could talk to him alone. You raise your hand in a fist reaching to knock.

You can't do it.

Turning to go back to your room, the door to his bedroom opens. You spin back around and he stands there with his arms crossed, his eyebrow raised in inquiry.

"You need somethin' honey? Why are you lingering?"

"Um yes, I do."

There is a long beat as you just stand there looking at him. You feel completely paralyzed. Leaning against his door frame, he takes in your state, sensing your anxiety.

"Is something the matter?"

You swallow.

"Yes."

The palm of his hand travels to his face as he rubs his cheek. He hums, and you see a quick flicker of fear cross his face before he masks it. Another moment goes by as you two look at each other. He clears his throat.

"Well, I can't help you if you don't say anything, can I?" he sighs, feigning irritation but his voice is strained.

Tense.

You release a breath. It's now or never.

"You have my things," you try to say firmly, but it comes out in a whisper.

His face drains of color.

"Ah," he mutters softly.

It seems like he's been waiting for you to confront him about this.

"Yes, I do."

Oh God. Your stomach sinks and it takes all your strength to stay upright. You become light-headed as you try to swallow, but you can't.

"Come here, honey. Sit down," he sighs as he opens his door motioning over to a pair of chairs in the corner of his room.

You enter his room as he shuts the door.

"Elvis, I-what did you find?" your voice is panicked, but that is the last thing on your mind at the moment.

"Honey, just sit down and-" he starts but you cut him off.

"Elvis, if anyone else knows I-oh God, what's going to happen? What did you see?"

You can't catch your breath.

"(Y/N)! I'm not gonna say it again. Sit. Down."

Your eyes snap up to his at his insistence. You mutter out an 'okay' and you sit down.

"Good. Good," he sighs, his hand threading through his hair. "Now, I'm gonna need you to tell me I'm not crazy."

---

He lays it out in front of you, and you have to will yourself not to puke.

It's everything.

Your wallet, ID (with the year you were born and expiration date), even your cell phone. You are at a complete loss for words as you look up at him. His eyes connect with yours.

"Honey, I'm gonna need to to tell me I'm not crazy in about 2 seconds, because I'm this close to losin' my Goddamn mind," he breathes, fear in his voice.

"I don't know what to say."

It's a lame response, but it's the truth.

"What to say? What the hell is all this?!"

"Well...what does it look like?"

He steps back as he turns away from you, a laugh escaping him in disbelief as his hand comes to cover his mouth.

"No. That isn't possible," he mutters.

"Why do you think I freaked out when I woke up here! I didn't think it was either. I-."

You don't know what else to say. You look at Elvis and he looks unwell. He's as white as a ghost. He looks like he's going to- oh God. Running to the bathroom and grabbing his trash can as you hear him groan, sitting on one of the chairs. You get to him just in time as he hurls into the trash can, grasping onto your shoulder to keep from falling over. You have to steady yourself to keep from stumbling over.

"I was really hoping you would say it was a joke," he gasps after spitting in the trash.

You chuckle at the irony of the situation, deja vu hitting you hard as you were in this position not too long ago.

"I wish it was," you say sincerely.

He groans as you imagine his stomach turning.

"Honey, I'm sorry. I'm gonna need you to leave my room. I can't-" he starts, pausing, thinking.

"I'll talk to you later, I just can't do this right now."

Your heart sinks, although it frightened you to learn that he knew your secret, it is relieving to be able to share it with someone.

"Okay," you mutter, placing the can down in front of him.

He grabs your hand before you can get up from kneeling on the floor. A shock wave runs throughout your body as you look up at him.

"I'm really sorry honey, I just need to rest. I feel like- God I feel crazy," he apologizes, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

You bring your free hand to hold his in both of yours, massaging his knuckles in small circles.

"I know, I'm sorry too, the feeling will pass. I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

You release his hand and walk to the door, opening it gently before closing it behind you. When you approach your room, you close it before going to your own chair, letting your face fall in your hands.

---

"Jer, can you pass over the salt," Elvis mumbles, avoiding eye contact with you as you look across the table at him.

It is tearing you up inside. It's been two days since you spoke to him in his room and he has been ignoring you ever since. He won't even look at you.

"Yeah, here you go, E," Jerry responds as he hands it over.

You pick at your food, you haven't had much of an appetite lately. Elvis has told everyone that he was feeling a little under the weather after you two spoke, and has barely left his room.

"Hey, (Y/N), I got you something while I was out and about yesterday, for your books," Sonny says, having learned your name when you told him and Jerry you remembered it.

You figured they couldn't do much with just a first name. Your attention is pulled away from Elvis' sullen face.

This grabs Elvis' attention too.

"Uh, it's not much but, well here ya go," he fumbles, holding out an intricate bookmark, with a beautiful swirling design of gold.

It's very nice. You take it from his hand.

"Thank you Sonny, this is very nice. I love it," you say, turning it over to see the same design on the back.

It's heavy, a metal bookmark, so it doesn't fade. You look up at him and his cheeks are rosy, a bashful grin on his face.

Oh. Oh.

"Well, I saw it and thought of ya. Thought you might like it," he muses before quickly going back to his meal.

Your cheeks flush as you tuck the bookmark under your leg. Does Sonny...like you?

You hear Elvis clear his throat and look up. Your eyes finally connect with his after two excruciating days of him acting like you don't exist. And his gaze is piercing through you. He looks pissed. He then glances over to Sonny who is smiling like he just won a million dollars. Suddenly, his chair scrapes against the floor. Everyone else turns their attention to him.

"I'm not feeling’ so well anymore. I'm goin' to my room," he mumbles, not breaking eye contact with you until he turns to trudge up the stairs.

"What crawled up his ass?," Sonny mumbles, as he looks back down to his breakfast.

You hum in acknowledgement as you wonder the same thing.

---

You sit up in bed pulling the covers over you in your room looking towards your closed door. It's about 10:30 P.M. and Elvis stayed in his room ever since breakfast. He didn't even come down for dinner. You want to knock on his door and speak with him, finally talk to him after two days of radio silence, but you feel like he wouldn't want that. You relax back into the chair as you open up Sound of Thunder again. You've read pretty far into the book and are getting into the part where the main character, Eckles, is learning the importance of the butterfly effect by his travel guide, Travis.

“All right,” Travis continued, “say we accidentally kill one mouse here. That means all the future families of this one particular mouse are destroyed, right?” “Right.” “And all the families of the families of the families of that one mouse! With a stamp of your foot, you annihilate first one, then a dozen, then a thousand, a million, a billion possible mice!”

Travis goes onto explain that just one simple action done in the past can alter the course of the world itself. You look back to your closed door. Could Elvis knowing about you change things? From him just knowing, would the course of history be affected? Your stomach starts to churn at the possibility. You hope not. You turn back to the book as your eyes start to get heavy.

---

You can't breathe. The hands around your neck are squeezing so tight you feel all the blood rush to your face. You try to yell out but you can't. You can't move. Elvis' eyes gleam as tears stream down his face, Salty droplets falling onto your own. You grab onto his hands, trying to will him to stop.

"Why are you back?! Why did you come back!" the shaky laboured breath calls from above you, but it sounds so far away.

Lurching up in bed, you scream. And scream. You clutch the sheets to your chest as labored breaths escape your lips. You are covered in sweat. Suddenly the door surges open. The light flicks on.

"What! What's goin' on?"

You expect to see Sonny on the other end of the door, but Elvis stands there, concern written all over his face. With the speed of which he arrives, it's as if he was already awake as he stands in just his pajama pants, no shirt.

You hide your face in the sheets.

"Stay away from me!"

It's the nightmare talking, you know, but your body is riddled with fear. You shake uncontrollably as sobs escape you.

"Hey," a gentle voice calls from beside you, a hand resting on your shoulder.

You shrink at the touch.

"Don't hurt me! I'll leave I promise, I just-"

"(Y/N) calm down, you're alright. I won't hurt you, baby. I won't hurt you," He whispers.

Then, hesitantly, he breathes, "Don't leave."

In the midst of your panic, your heart flutters.

You feel his hand thread through your hair as he pulls you into his arms, rocking back and forth.

"No one's gonna hurt you, sweet heart," he repeats, his lips coming to your forehead, lingering.

You cling to him as you try to calm your breathing. You then realize what position you're in. You are in his arms. His warm body encasing you.

"I'm sorry, I had a nightmare" you croak, starting to pull away from him.

The hand stroking your hair suddenly sinks deeper until it reaches your scalp. Before you know what's happening, you feel him draw your mouth to his, your lips connecting.

You're frozen. Your mind races. You feel him start to move his mouth on yours before realizing you aren't responding to the kiss.

He pulls away.

"Was that okay?" he whispers, in the softest, tenderest voice you've ever heard.

You don't respond, your mind is so jumbled, you don't know how to respond. You want to say yes, but your mind keeps going back to the book you fell asleep reading. the butterfly effect.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, embarrassment in his voice as he moves to release you.

You grab his hand to keep him in place.

"I don't want you to leave."

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Tag List:

@horrorgirl4life @tantamount-treason @peaceloveelvis @sissylittlefeather @father-of-2cats @goldobsessionsworld @elvisalltheway101 @littlehoneyposts @atleastpleasetelephone @ccab @msamarican @presleyhearted

[bengiyo]

Only Friends Ep 11 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Atom lied to Cheum that Boston forced him to have sex with him repeatedly, and his friends iced him out completely. Boeing showed up to be an absolute menace and it was compelling. Top and Mew are still doing this dance, and Mew has decided to utilize Boeing to torment Top. Nick avoided advancing things with Dan, and then reconciled with Boston. Ray learned that Sand wasn't taking his dad's money (which is dumb) and decided to commit to rehab.

"Move on. Move in."

Plug, please don't drink after Sand. You do not know where that boy has been.

Look at them messing with Yo and Plug getting back together to lull me into a false sense of security.

Top and Mew are so annoying. Just please break up already.

I like that Nick is being honest with Dan without over sharing. He's also not giving Dan hope. "I like you, but I'm not ready to be anyone's boyfriend right now. Let's just focus on work," is actually good for both of them. Dan is disappointed, but he knows where he stands.

I'm glad Sand is avoiding Ray. He's been called a whore so many times.

I like Sand's mom.

I know they better give Sand that money after all he's been through. I do like that Sand doesn't think Ray needs to completely give up alcohol, but he does need to manage his dependency.

I feel like I've lost the thread on why Mew keeps hanging out with Boeing.

Look at nasty4nasty working again. We've added another boy to Mark's counter and furthered the mission to add complicated layers to digital surveillance and blackmail in modern queer life.

Now what was Boston thinking there when he glanced at Nick when he said he knows what it's like to have a one-sided love?

Things are going too well for Sand and Ray. Ray still got Sand to do the community service with him. Something is going to show up and disrupt them.

Every time I see Mew and Top I'm just like, "Potion Seller, enough of these games!"

I'm glad Sand is pathetic for every man he was in love with. Ray ain't special. Sand is just like this.

We have missed multiple opportunities for a Mama Sandwich and I am despondent.

I wish we'd gotten a better since of Top's emotional interior. Force is clearly playing Top as sincere, and I don't know how much of my distrust of Top is past experiences with guys like him or the reputation he has within the show.

I'm not a fan of Cheum's reaction here to Atom's admission. On his lie, they stormed Boston's house and accused him of assault. They kicked him out of their project. They stripped him of his community. We can support Atom learning something important about himself and still make sure we let him know that what he did was foul. I'm so not into Cheum at all. I was not expecting to have so many qualms with lesbians in this show.

I really loved that conversation between Boston and Nick. They continue to feel the most honest with each other about what they are to each other. I love Boston offering Nick this little time they have left and being clear that it does expire. I like that it's a request, and I like that Nick didn't exactly give him an answer. Nick has been burned, so he's being more cautious with Boston.

I actually kinda want Top and Mew to work out, because the back and forth with them is the kind of thing you need someone willing to spar with for it to work.

Ray saying he'll pay anything for Sand as his boyfriend might be more romantic if he didn't always call Sand a whore when he got mad.

Well well well, are we finally going to get that threesome??

A fire in the last episode what the hell. Who is burning down Top's hotel?? Who isn't Boeing going to try to fuck??

I'm so amused at Ray being possessive of Sand and asking him to draw a boundary with Boeing as if he ever managed to draw one with Ray. Top and Mew remain so uncertain for me, and I'm a bit disappointed that Top will remain an enigma to me. Boston and Nick are the only ones moving towards something that feels sustainable. Atom can leave and never come back. I'm over Cheum.

[jezmmart]

Chamomile Comic Trivia #25

#129 - List

A bit of a convoluted setup, but I wanted to do something a little less directly halloweeny for October’s comics in 2019 and came up with this idea - I always have been a big fan of the ghostly-voices-heard-in-a-recording trope.

It’s only barely visible in the earlier panels with a speech bubble covering it in the one shown above here, but Cammie’s hair clamp from #117 is resting next to her bedside table.

#130 - Ghosts

For story arcs, I’ve always tried to make every single Chamomile Comic’s context possible to piece together even if someone hasn’t read the ones that came before it as best I can, but in this case the previous comic was so particular and unusual that Cammie would literally need to describe the entire scene that late readers will have just read, so I made a joke out of it instead, almost serving as a marker where I made the decision to not get hung up on it anymore when it’s too hard, lol.

#131 - Whispers

I didn’t choose Layla at random, it’s an important note that she’s the one who bought into Cammie’s nonsense here. It’s never really been the subject of any focus or story arc but I do think Cammie and Layla’s friendship has an unspoken flavour to it that feels a bit different from Cammie and Brianna’s, even though Cam and Bri are besties.

Having said that it presented me with the decision of whether to depict her without her hijab, and at this point in time I leaned away from the idea. Being brutally honest, I kind of expected people to make a big deal out of seeing her without it - it’s sort of an unfortunate but understandable downside of also being a femme-focused pin-up artist, having a cast of women, and drawing it all in a cute art style. A lot of people are here who admire cute feminine character art and I’d be a hypocrite to say there’s anything inherently wrong with that when that’s literally what half my art is! I think I was right with this judgement too, because I definitely did get a comment or two from folks who were all “aww I thought we were gonna get to see her hair”. I know there’s tons of people who like me would shift their mindset to think nothing of it, but I know the folks who don’t would kind of bug me, so I think it’s easier to just not.

Having said all of this, I can’t deny it was a really fun artistic challenge to come up with a way to hide her lack of hijab in the nighttime scene without it feeling intentionally like an Austin Powers prop censorship gag - at least that was my hope!

Realistically I don’t think she would be wearing a cap around Cammie in the morning scene - in more recent comics of course we had another scene where Cammie and Layla shared a room, and I decided to go for a middleground where the point of her hijab is still kept for the audience but I was a little more relaxed about it, since I’ve read threads from folks who wear hijabs who feel it’s misrepresentational to depict them being worn 24/7.

#132 - Accent

Not much to say here.  I swear there was a story or inspiration behind the gag of Cammie’s sleeptalking, but it’s gone forever now! I did enjoy deciding that the pure and innocent Cammie has horrifically unsettling dreams that she thinks nothing of.

#133 - Cereal

This was just a one-off gag I had in the idea bank for a while that I never quite knew how to do. The punchline of “all these cereals have expired” was always there and this could have just been a Cammie at home talking to herself strip, but somehow said punchline didn’t feel as funny talking to herself as it did to another character, no idea why. This arc was a perfect opportunity to finally use it even though it doesn’t tie into the actual story of the arc whatsoever (which is fine of course, it’s November by now).

Cammie’s cereals are:

Sugar Crunch (with added Vitamin), a broad parody of sweet cereal Moist Nuts, which is just some funny words Frog Flakes, with regular JezMM mascot Frogy of course Mostly Bran, a parody of All-Bran Wheated Bix, a parody of Weetabix Corny Puns, both a parody of Corn Flakes and one of many silly cereal names that showed up in my old comic Phantasm Dyad, in the episode where they were tracking down the cause of a gaggle of inanimate object ghosts found on the beach - a Cereal Killer.

Funnily enough, another cereal in that comic was “Corned Flakes”, which is basically the same joke as Wheated Bix. Mr. Burns saying “I am enjoying this Iced Cream” in The Simpsons was one of those humour-defining moments for me as a kid I think.

#134 - Dark

Just complaining through my characters here.  I hate when the clocks go back and would always rather have more light in the afternoon than the morning.  Having the daylight end at 4pm is so depressing, but waking up in the dark and having it get light as your day begins is sort of romantic to me.

I do like how this one has sort of unique lighting - very few comics that take place exactly at dusk like this and I tried to capture that vibe even though it’s just a standard blurry background.

[More Chamomile Comic Trivia] (Above link may not work correctly on tumblr app)    

[lovenge]

❖ 𝑰𝑵 𝑭𝑶𝑳𝑲𝑳𝑶𝑹𝑬 [ ... ] a revenant is a spirit or animated corpse that is believed to have been revived from death to haunt the living.

private + selective retelling of HEATHCLIFF inspired by the pages of EMILY BRONTE'S wuthering heights. other pieces of media are highly influenced to this portrayal, as it will delve into the nature and world experienced by him. scripted by renée. seasian. she/her, 25+. [ ... ] this world deals with the struggles within social class, poverty, discrimination of 19th century socialism. proceed with caution, as this is considered to be a mature blog. rules under the cut. divergence will be talked about soon!

heavy introspection on mental illness, struggles of existence, etc. a study on tragedy and revenge, scorned love and turn to pure madness ... generational curses, alcoholism, broken love, birds of a feather, the misunderstood, the mad poet: the man who could not go on. the one who is never enough.

mains: other:

 the rewriting of Heathcliff fits into gothic horror settings . after starvation that led into his death , he did not die with a light heart . Heathcliff's jealousy and rage manifested into a violent entity that haunts human lives . takes the appearance of an angry ghoul , sometimes will possess corpses and/or attempt human vessels to exact his revenge . due to his death by starvation , many will feel an uncomfortable almost painful hunger within his presence . it also serves as an indicator that he's near .

[  001  ]  i'm going to keep things lowkey here , but basically BASIC RP ETTIQUITE IS EXPECTED. any form of hate, bigotry or nonsense will not be tolerated, at this point I feel it's pretty stark on what that entails. any form of racism, anti-semitic, ableism, aggressive posting / duplicate bashing, vaguing , petty callout posts ( there's a difference between informing the rpc on a problematic person and fueling drama. ) any gross behavior , please do not bring any of it to my blog. I will also often remove myself from things that make me uncomfortable and soft/block for my comfort. if i do unfollow i always softblock , please do not approach me asking why.

[  002  ]  based on the vibe and whether or not i feel like using icons , i may or may not. I use small font with double space , sometimes regular font depending on what i'm feeling. i primarily write in third person , am not against anyone writing in first person , literally do what you want it's super chill here. i exclusively use beta editor, please use it. I prefer not to respond to super tiny / high aesthetically formatted things because it's just not friendly to users who have problems with eye - strain , etc. [  003  ]  THE EASIEST WAY TO WRITE W ME: is to continue prompts i've answered , turning them into threads. or alternatively, I will reblog anything you answer as a thread if muse strikes. spam me with memes / prompts! i always say this but , there's no expiration date to anything i reblog. if you want to interact , sending memes is the easiest way. i like to keep a small following , focusing on a dash with those who i can see myself writing with, which means I won't always follow back. this is not meant to be taken as serious as it sounds, i just genuinely cannot write with everyone , i hope you understand. i can sometimes be slow with replies. if i owe, i truly don't mind being reminded.

[ 004 ] THIS IS VERY MUCH A MATURE BLOG. it delves into the social class of the 19th century onward, discrimination and racism will be themes that fall against HEATHCLIFF as a character. i will always tag heavy topics, but i won't remove these experiences from my interpretation as they heavily change and determine the way his entire structure and world falls apart. on the note of ambiguity that has been considered an argument: HEATHCLIFF is not a White Briton, nor will that ever come into discussion on this blog. He was adopted into a well off family, has always been described with dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin. in reference to being regarded to a derogatory term i won't use but is (Lashkar, originated from the Arabic word al-'Askir) in referencing south asian seafarers.

[  005  ]  shipping isn't necessary to write with me, however i'm always open to the idea of different ships, as well as platonic connections. ADDITIONALLY, i can't ship instantly even if we're writing muses that have a connection. i'm heavily plot based and that includes shipping. i prefer to talk about our muses in depth before considering whether or not the chemistry is there. HEATHCLIFF is not mentally well and i can hardly consider anything would be considered healthy, however i am down to plot things out!

  006  ]  :  MAINS.  i will state that i obviously will have a preference for writers that i plot with/write with frequently, but uncertain on having exclusives because i like to write with a variety depending on how things play out. this blog will contain affiliates, which simply means my blog is affiliated around certain muse(s) does not mean exclusive , it just means they hold priority to plots, replies, etc.

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

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“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

[danielxricciardo]

Can you do one with Max, with 46 and 55 from angst list?

Summary: You are suffering from depression and Max tries to be by your side

Warnings: angst, swearing, mentions of suicide, depression

Word count: 3.6k+

46. “I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

55. “You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay.”

Depression feels like a lot of things.

It feels like sadness, which is what everyone will tell you. It's a pretty common thread.

"I'm worthless."

"Everyone thinks I'm a horrible burden."

So on and so forth.

Everyone in the world is happy but you, and in the end, you are a worthless piece of shit that doesn't belong in this otherwise glorious and happy place. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and you are lying there on your bed in the same unlaundered pair of pajamas, wondering why you are even allowed to keep living any longer. Some meteor strikes or lightning bolts should be reserved for people like you because you are taking up space and oxygen and food and other resources that real, happy, productive people need.

It feels like emptiness. You have all these possibilities and none of them seem interesting. You could do some art, or play some music, but that just doesn't feel right. There's no joy in it. You could have sex with your significant other, but you can't muster up the desire. You could play video games, or read a book. But what's the point? There's no real benefit to all of it but passing the time. You could get up and make lunch. But no, you're not that hungry, and if you close your eyes, time will pass a little faster. You can lie there. That works. It doesn't require active effort to do something fruitless. Everything is as empty and fruitless as lying and staring out your window at the clouds and the shifting shadows of tree branches, and so why do anything else?

It feels like fatigue. Standing up out of your bed requires the same amount of bodily effort as climbing several flights of stairs. Managing to get dressed and walk outside is like running a race. Heaven helps you if you try to go to the store or a friend's house -- that may as well be on the other side of the continent. Every step is heavy. Every muscle motion requires ten times the work it used to. Exercise becomes difficult, and control over your body expires quickly. You become clumsier, so heavy lifting is right out. You daze out randomly, daydreaming, even dozing, so biking or running is hard. You feel most at home when you are entirely relaxed, so you lie down...and don't get up again until something like your bladder compels you.

It feels like a loss of control. You have no idea why your brain and body are doing this. You don't want to feel sad. Nobody wants to feel shitty and tired and empty all the time. People will look at you and say, "It's like you don't want to get better." Those people are idiots. You truly, deeply, from the bottom of your soul, have no idea why this has happened or what to do. It's not logical. It makes no sense. You woke up like this, or it crept in overtime or something like that. It's like a fog, a force of nature that sweeps in, occludes everything, and there's not one thing you can do about it from where you stand. Trying feels like taking a paper fan outside and trying to blow away the morning mist. Someone has tied puppet strings to your brain and is playing this hideous dance with it, and you don't have the scissors to cut them away. The dance doesn't make sense; it's arbitrary and rhythmless. If you had any sort of reasoning behind it, you could take control. But you don't.

It feels like desperation. You can't find a way out. You lie there at night, keening into your pillow like a wounded animal, making all sorts of noises that no human being should be able to make. You claw and scratch at the sheets, or at yourself, as the pain wrings itself out through bodily expression. The tears won't stop. You don't know why. All you know is that it hurts, it really and truly hurts, and you think if it goes on any longer, you're going to die. Right there. Bleed out on the floor. So you grab up your phone, and you call someone at 4 AM, and you beg them to please just make it stop. You bury yourself in books and movies because at least then you can imagine something else than yourself. You read nonstop. You have to have your fix. It's like an addiction, no, more like a life support machine. Otherworlds, fantasies of happiness, and real experiences that aren't your horrible existence become the iron lung keeping air flowing in and out. You are alive because you can stop thinking for a while. Your friends come over to comfort you. Their stories keep you sane and well, like dialysis for all the toxins in you. Your mind has failed at being independent, and now it relies on a thousand little machines to keep itself running. You rely on one machine until another comes to save you. You read books until your friends come by. You stretch out your time with friends until you have to bury yourself in a movie again just to keep the thought of real-life away.

It feels like untamed anger. Your friends can't keep this up forever. You fall further and further, and you eventually start dropping commitments. You have become That Person, the flake that everyone knows will back out. People start getting annoyed at you, annoyed at how they have to spend so much time just keeping you afloat, annoyed at how often you're causing them trouble by constantly disappearing and backing out of appointments, and so on. Your workplace gets annoyed at your lack of productivity. And then you can't take it anymore, and you want to scream at them, grab them by the throat and shake them because IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! You start having twisted fantasies, the ones where you walk up to that person who keeps telling you he can't do this anymore, you're just too unreliable, putting a gun to your head and pulling the trigger. Just to make him know, for once, that FUCK HIM, your problems are REAL, DAMMIT, REAL, and he better FUCKING RESPECT that. And when you're gone, he'll fall to his knees and cry, and he'll say, he wishes he had understood, that he didn't mean to be so unkind, and the scar on his heart from his own failure will remain fresh and knotted for eternity. And then you shake yourself out of the daydream, and you wonder why you have turned into such a horrible person, someone who even considers ending their own life just to spite another human being. Then it creeps back in, the knowledge that the world is getting fed up with you...and the cycle begins again. You start thriving off these daydreams, because at the very least if you can't be happy, you can throw caution to the wind and get the petty, oddly satisfying revenge buried under all those layers of morality that are becoming worn and flaking away. It's just a fantasy, right? And it helps pass the time...

It feels like forever. You have forgotten what it's like to truly be joyful. You can imagine it, but it's not really you in those thoughts. This is who you are. This is your life. This is you.

It feels like you have only one thing truly under your power: your existence. You cannot choose what life throws at you. Your brain and body have betrayed you. Your friends have worn away, and you've fled from your job and any commitments you have.

It feels empowering. You can jump whenever you want.

But he accepted you the way you are. He never reproached you for negatively influencing his mentality or life, even though you knew he felt it too. He always listened to you, he was with you even at 2 in the morning when you were crying on the bathroom floor with your knees to your chest, and you knew it wasn't right. It wasn't right for him to go through, basically, what you were going through. But no matter how much you told him you could do it without his help, Max was coming back more insistently than ever.

He came up with the idea to start therapy. "You have to find out why you feel this way. Go at least once, see how it is, if you don't like it or feel that it doesn't help you, you will give up, okay?" That was a year and a half ago.

The psychologist gave you a diagnosis from the first session: Major Depressive Disorder. Sure you knew what the three words meant, but you didn't know what it meant to have a label on your condition.

"A major depressive disorder is characterized by one or more of these depressive episodes. the diagnosis of major depressive disorder requires depressed mood or anhedonia which is the loss of interest in pleasure and five or more signs or symptoms for the SIGECAPS mnemonic for a 2-week period. (SIGECAPS) Sleep Disturbance, loss of Interest, feeling Guilty, feeling fatigued and low in Energy, having decreased Concentration, decreased or increased Appetite and been agitated and slow and having Suicidal ideation."

It sounds incredible to you. Suicidal thoughts? Not everyone has a thought, somewhere, behind their mind 'What if I disappeared?'

You were prescribed Prozac and Zoloft and it helped. You weren't always sad anymore, you could go to the races with Max and support him as a normal girlfriend does. You apologized to my friends who tried to help me and whose lives you made impossible and you managed to get back to work, from home anyway. Sure, you still had moments when you felt like you weren't 100% yourself but not like before. You did therapy twice a week and the psychologist was happy with your evolution.

But being the stupid ass that you are, you stopped taking the medication. You took the last pill on Friday. Because you were fine. You felt ok, everyone around you told you you were better, you were doing amazing, so you were cured, right? Or so you thought. Saturday was normal. Sunday was not. Your mood and energy were very low. You woke up at like 2 in the afternoon. That is not unusual for you. You’re used to it. You were sad. You were exhausted. You knew that feeling like this was “no excuse” so you tried to force yourself to do it anyway. Typical of your life. You feel like you had already taken so much off work because of the triple-header, you were for three weeks attached to the hips with Max.

The only thing you thought of was dying. And that terrified you. And Max senses something was wrong. But he didn't want to tell something and ending up being wrong and you being upset by his misinterpretation. But, yes, he sensed that you were becoming your old self.

"Hey, babe," he snapped you out of your daydreaming. A tragic one, where you were finally at peace and Max was crying for you. You were on the verge of crying yourself at the mere image of Max in your head. But you pushed it far from your mind, somewhere in a dark corner for you to find it at an appropriate time to fantasize about your dying. "How about we go to a picnic? It's sunny outside."

Yes, the wheater was amazing. It was finally summer and you could go outside and spend some time with Max. But your brain literally is tricking you into thinking you don't deserve to enjoy the sunny day. Why? You don't have an answer.

"I'm not really in the mood, Max. Sorry."

You are not in the mood. That was his affirmation. You are not ok.

"You feeling good?"

"Yeah. Just tired I guess."

"But you just woke up."

You shrugged. He was right. You just woke up, so why do you feel like you were carrying a ton of bricks on your shoulders? You couldn't walk. You almost felt like 18 months ago. And that is when it hit you. And Max, at the same time.

"Still taking your meds, I hope."

Silence. Your mind was like overcrowded and you couldn’t take it anymore. You grabbed your head and pulled your hair because you wanted it to stop. You were thinking that you didn’t know what to think. You didn’t know how to think. You didn’t know how you felt. You were like anxious-depressed-angry-miserable-irritable all in one. Your head was spinning with thoughts. Thoughts were talking over thoughts. So fast that you couldn’t even make out one complete sentence. It was just too much for you to handle. You just wanted someone to kill you.

Max came to you and he hugged you so hard you thought he could crush your bones right there and then. You calmed down eventually. But now you were embarrassed. Because Max saw you, again, at your lowest. Because you promised you'll get better, and for a while, you were better, but now you are fucked and back into square one. All those money on therapy and your pills, for what? For you to stop taking them because you thought you were feeling better? Well, you definitely were not ok, nor you'll be. So, yeah, being fucked sounded good.

Max brought you the medicine and a glass of water. Taking the pills again? For what? The pills only fuel the feeling that everything is fine and that you are a normal person. Nothing was good and you were not a normal person.

But you took the pills. And you looked Max in the eyes and you wanted to die. He seemed crushed. He was sad, devastated, maybe angry but definitely disappointed. In you. Because maybe you don't realize this, but while you were doing good, he was doing great. He knew you could be on your own so he stopped worrying that much, and that could also be seen in his driving. He was winning more races, he was at his best and now he was at his lowest. Because you were at your lowest; co-dependency and shit.

"I'm sorry, baby. I thought I was doing well enough to stop taking the meds," you say in a broken voice but the tears are yet to appear. He stroked your hair and kissed you on your forehead.

"You should have told me. You don't have to go thru this alone. I am here."

"Yeah, you are here. But you don't have to be!" you snapped. Irritability, one thing your depression came with. "I am just a burden for you. And no, this does not come from the fact I stopped taking my pills. You took care of me like I was a child, and, fuck it, you don't deserve this."

"Stop talking like this, alright? If I would suffer from depression you would have done the same thing. You would have taken care of me. Or am I wrong?"

"You are not wrong. To be honest, I don't think I would be here if it wasn't for you, but I don't want you to be. It's obvious that I would never get better. This is me. I am fucked in the head, half wishing I was dead and I am just bringing you down."

"Don't tell me this is a fucking break up, Y/N." he narrows his brows and looks at your features to make sure you were being serious.

“I’ll leave, and the world will move on. I just wish I could see it. See how much better everything is when I’m gone.”

"What the fuck are you talking about? Is this a break-up or a suicidal vocal note?"

You broke down. Crying can be cathartic and healthy, but if it goes on too long it can lock your body in a feeling of despair. Even if your mind works through the problem that caused the crying, because your body is still feeling the physical effects it will cause your mind to revert to the negative state. It's not sadness. It's dread and paralysis. You had a certain feeling of emptiness and purposelessness.

“You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay,” you say between sobs.

"You want me to find you a reason to stay alive or to stay in this relationship? To be frank, I can name a thousand reasons, but it all depends on you."

Max hugs you from behind and you lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was stronger than ever. You allowed yourself to inhale Max's scent, a soothing scent you could get drunk on.

"I want to believe you love me. I mean, I love you and I consider you the love of my life, you know? We are so young and I know it doesn't feel like it, but I promise you, I'm gonna marry you someday, even if right now you don't think you're gonna make it till tomorrow. So, yeah, this is reason number one," he said and pressed a kiss to your cheek. "This is not the worst you have been through in life. Remember where you were 18 months ago; you had no idea what was wrong with you. Now you know and you know you can be better. I know you get sick of those pills, but maybe, in the future, you won't need them. Isn't that exciting? This was reason number two," he said and pressed another kiss to your cheek. He was going to do that every time he would give you a reason. "Have you been to all the beautiful places around the world? Sure, you came to a few Grand Prix, but you never saw Great Ocean Road in Australia, you know Daniel promised he would take us there someday. You never saw Pamukkale in Turkey or Japan in Cherry Blossom season or the Blue Lagoon in Iceland. There are many places you need to visit, baby. So, yeah, this was reason number three. I don't know if you want me to continue but I can give you one more reason. Reason number four. Do it for you, baby. You deserve to live and be happy. I know you can be happy and I promise you I will do my best to help you. You just have to take it one step at a time. You just have to let me in. Let me help you, baby."

You turn around, facing him now. You loved him, with all of your heart. You love him for who he is. You love him because he literally came into your life as your lifeline. You love him because he helped you crawl up the deep bottomless abyss of depression. You love him because he had the patience and the audacity to bear with your depression, anxiety, and panic attacks, your phobias, your mood swings, your temperamental and short-tempered nature, your overthinking, your being overprotectiveness, and possessiveness. You love him because never once he thought of giving up on you in your hard times. You love him because he stands by you like a rock of unwavering support and he’s someone you can fall back on. You love him because he listens to you talking non-stop about your past, your pains, your fears, and your losses without complaining even once. You love him because he rediscovered you and helped you find yourself again when you were lost in darkness. You love him because he filled you with confidence and hope and strength and belief and determination. You love him because he believes you are the best when you set your mind on something and no one can stop you from achieving your goals. You love him because he is protective, caring, understanding, loving, and easy to be with while never being too suffocating or taking up your space. You love him because sooner or later he does everything you ask of him and does with his whole attention. You love him because whatever endeavor he engages in, he likes to give his 100% and hates doing half-hearted things. You love him because he can decode the nuances in your voice and judge your mood just perfectly. You love him because he read you like an open book and he can hear your silence. You love him because he never doubts your loyalty, your intentions, your hard work, and your million issues. You love him because no matter how busy he might get he never forgets that you are waiting for his message or his call. You love him because he keeps you in his priorities. You love him because he gave you a passion you never knew you had. You love him because he very strongly believes that you deserve the best of everything. You love him because he is empathic, kind, magnanimous, thoughtful, and down to Earth. You love him because he has eyes for no one but you. You love him because he wants to see you healthy, wealthy, prosperous, famous and he wants you to hold back at nothing, for no one, he wants you to be a Go-Getter. And most importantly you love him because no one ever loved you like he did.

"I will let you in," you say and you kiss him hard. "I'm sorry for the scene I caused."

"Don't be. It happens."

[maybe-your-left]

BITCH I AM DEMANDING A FLUFFY PART TWO TO KYLO FORGETTING OUR DATE OKAY?!

I WANT SWEET AND NASTY MAKEUP SEX

HAHAHHA YESSSSS. here is part one of Kylo forgetting our anniversary.

“Hey.”

You sighed into the phone, slumped on the cool leather couch. The TV blaring before you, but you didn’t listen to what was on. It had been two weeks since you kicked Kylo out, the only communication shared were clipped texts and stale ‘Hi’s’ and ‘Byes’ when he needed to pick up clean clothes.

“Hi.”

Kylo took in a slow breath, you could practically feel the air hit your face. So close, yet so far, “Are you gonna be home today?”

“Yup.”

“Cool, I’ll be there at 12 during lunch. I have some shit to grab.”

You bit back sniffling, “Okay,” your voice cracked. “I’ll be here.”

———

You scrolled through your emails, waiting at the kitchen counter for him to show up. You'd applied for some jobs a few days ago if this was really the end of you two. You needed a job, there was no way you could afford living in the penthouse and at some point, Kylo would want it back.

It was in his name anyway, the only thing you really owned without his help was your laptop.

Fingers crossed you'd find something, you haven't worked in almost five years. You didn't need to with Kylo, and he urged you to not work. He wanted to take care of you, provide for you, help you in any way he could. But now, you were left high and dry, not even a single bank account in your name.

You swallowed back another round of tears, no.

No more tears, you'd get through this. You had family who would help, friends that supported you and wanted you to be happy. Even his mom, not that you'd stoop that low, was willing to help you.

It would be better to just cut all ties to him since there was a slim chance he would want to be back together.

You still weren't sure, you missed him. Terribly, barely sleeping because his presence was gone. Jumping towards your phone whenever it rang, hoping it was him on the other side calling to make it up to you.

But the man was stubborn, angry that you kicked him out.

Claiming that his accusations were valid, which wounded you further.

A light knock on the door drew you away from your wallowing, you took a shaky breath before whispering a faint, "it's open."

Kylo walked in slowly, dressed in his work clothes. A button-up, white, with his suit jacket and tight dress pants. His hair was getting longer, the harsh lighting of the kitchen showed a sheen of grease coating it.

And the bags, the bags under his eyes were darker than normal.

A part of you was smug over his appearance.

But the rest of you ached, fighting against your baser instinct to run towards him. So he could take you in his arms while you bathed him in kisses, mourning over the time spent apart.

"Hello," he nodded stiffly towards you. Not making eye contact as he shut the door. Kylo fiddled with the strap on his shoulder, his duffel bag hanging limp. Empty, ready to stuff more things inside before he ran away to whatever place he was staying.

"Hey," you croaked, eyes flitting back to your laptop. Biting your lip as you read through rejection after rejection, no one wanted you. The gaps in your resume were too long, your diploma meant nothing since you had zero experience.

Kylo's shoes scuffed the floor, sniffing loudly before he looked at you.

"I was going to grab some more things," he glanced towards the staircase, "All my stuff is at the dry cleaners right now, I've worn these pants two days in a row."

"That sucks."

He hummed, "Okay," backing away from you slowly. You watched him walk towards the stairs, back tense and straight. His hands were tucked into his pockets, something he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable.

You used to make him comfortable.

Now you just agitated him, even though it wasn't your fault you two were in this mess.

You stayed quiet as he rummaged around upstairs. Doors opening and closing, drawers slamming shut, you briefly heard swearing but you couldn't make it out. You hadn't thrown his stuff away, keeping everything organized. Right down to the hair products that he had left.

Color-coded and alphabetical by the sink.

His footsteps echoed to a stop, maybe he was considering kicking you out...

"Have you seen my black sweater?"

You stilled, his black sweater... "Nope."

A huff in annoyance, "The one that has the hole in the front, from when it got caught while we were in Niagra? It's not in the closet."

That's because I hid it, you thought. You'd been sleeping in it for the past week, it smelled like him and enveloped you like his arms used to. No way you were giving it back, call it a sacrifice of your relationship.

You listened to his slow descent to the kitchen, duffle now stuffed with clothes. He eyed you suspiciously, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek. Coming dangerously close to your seat, he angled himself behind you. A little to the left, but enough for him to spy on your computer screen.

"You're applying for jobs?"

You slapped your laptop shut, he didn't need to snoop.

"None of your business, Kylo."

He shrugged, looking up at the ceiling as he replied, "Might be good for you, to get out of the house."

"Mhm."

"You'll want to apply to multiple places," he stepped around you, opening the fridge for a brief glance inside. Spying one of his protein shakes that you hadn't thrown out, wasn't expired yet. Kylo cracked it open and took a small sip, "You won't be able to afford this place with entry-level salaries."

"Yes," you snapped at him, "I know that."

"Just trying to help, (Y/N)."

You climbed off your stool, moving away from him to curl on the couch. Already on the verge of tears, "You aren't helping, you're just being rude."

"Well, it's rude of you to steal my shit when we aren't together anymore."

That made the waterworks start, muffling your sniffles with your fluffy blanket. You tucked yourself away, desperate to disappear. Maybe when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, or you could wake up seven years earlier to avoid ever meeting him. Save yourself from the heartache that was tearing you apart from seam to seam.

You listened to the echo as he walked towards you. Huffing when he saw your shivering form, "I don't know why you're crying. I haven't been staying here for two weeks, we clearly aren't together."

"Whatever, Kylo," you whispered, voice breaking as you took in a wet breath, "Can you just leave?"

"Sure."

------

"I can't afford to stay there mom," you whimpered into the phone, you were stalling in your car. Parked in the garage of the apartment, you had been to an interview. Realizing the pitiful reality of your life, you had already begun to sell your designer clothes. Gucci purses, red bottoms, Tiffany earrings, Cartier bracelets, you name it. Anything that could help you create a bank account was sold off.

"Have you talked to him at all? Kylo wouldn't leave you high and dry, if anything he would pay for you to get an apartment."

"I don't want his help," you hissed.

A pause, "It would be humiliating to ask, I know he's expecting it. After the talk about jobs, he's just been waiting for me to cave and sacrifice my dignity."

"I'm just saying it wouldn't hurt to talk with him, I know you both have been avoiding it after the fight. It could bring you both some closure-or better yet-get you guys back together so I can get some grandbabies."

"Goodbye, mom."

You huffed as you hung up, slamming your head back into your headrest. Maybe you could sell the car, people would pay top dollar for a gold Porsche. But the title was in Kylo's name, birthday present, any money you'd earn would belong to him.

You pulled up your text thread, the last messages sent were from three days ago. He left you on read, you texted him goodnight after a few stale messages about your day and when he could come and move some furniture out. Kylo had gotten an apartment on the upper east side, right by his office. You checked the old Zillow listing, it was huge and ridiculously expensive.

Enough room for him and a new girlfriend, you were certain he was already fucking someone else. With how cruel he was with you, not even trying to make amends. Probably his secretary, she was always a slut. Showing off her tits to him, even when you came to visit. Kylo probably bent her over his desk the day after he left, just because he could.

You swallowed your pride, it was now or never.

Kylo, I think we need to talk.

Send.

Let's see how long it... oh?

What happened, I'm at work right now.

Quick, maybe he got the notification on his laptop.

Could I swing by the office?

Right now?

Yeah.

Typing...

I have a shareholder meeting at 2, make it quick.

You sped towards his work, determined to get there before he changed his mind and banned you from coming. You were shocked he even agreed, maybe he was having a rare good day.

Or forgot that you two were broken up.

After parking, you jogged into the building. No need to say hi to anyone, it was embarrassing enough to be the ex-girlfriend visiting. At least you were dressed up, people wouldn't think you were in the poor house, yet.

You smiled coldly at his secretary, not bothering to tell her what you were here for. Despite her stuttering about him having a meeting at 2, she was totally fucking him. There's no way she wasn't, a man like him can barely go a day without sticking his dick in something.

Whipping open the door, you were met with the uncomfortable silence that blanketed his office. Curtains were drawn, lights on the dimmest setting, the only noises were the door creaking and his fingers typing.

Like he was punishing the words, Kylo was good at breaking keyboards with his aggressive emailing.

You cleared your throat, watching as his eyes briefly flickered towards you before moving back to the screen. Okay, you walked slowly towards his desk. Pulling out a chair as quietly as possible, the leather squeaking when you sat.

Kylo let out a long sigh, leaning away from his screen. "What is it you want to talk about?"

With a harsh swallow, you fiddled with the hem of your skirt. Anything to avoid his penetrating gaze, "I just wanted to talk about, you know."

He blinked, face blank, "Use your words, please. I don't have time to fuck around, I have a business to run."

"I-I-I"

"Spit.it.Out."

"How come you never apologized?"

Silence.

Kylo's jaw clenched and unclenched, leaning back in his chair slowly. Staring directly at you, "This conversation?"

"Yes, I need to know."

"What good is it doing us now?"

"I don't know I just-"

"What are you hoping to gain from this?"

"Kylo-"

He huffed loudly, "I don't have to answer you anymore, we aren't together."

You slammed a fist on his desk, rattling a few pieces he had decorating it. Standing on your wobbling legs, "Listen to me, you can be an asshole all you fucking want but I deserve answers."

Kylo narrowed his eyes, standing slowly before you. His form towering, making you feel even smaller than you already felt. Crawling to his office for closure, and instead, he wanted to argue with you about the necessity of the conversation.

You watched his palms lay flat on the polished wood, crinkling papers he had strewn about.

"If you're here for money, just fucking say it."

"I am not here for-"

Now it was his turn to slam the desk, "Bullshit! You're here to fucking grovel because you don't know how to take care of yourself. Can't even get a second-rate job!"

"You're the one who insisted on taking care of me!"

"So you think it's okay to demand money when we aren't together? Selling off all the shit I bought you to pay the power bills?"

You gaped at him, "I would never."

"Shut up," Kylo spat, leaning further across to be nose to nose, "You forget that I have your email linked to my laptop. I can see every pathetic message about pawning what I worked for. What I provided you, fucking ungrateful."

"How dare you sneak through my email!?"

"It's not sneaking if I have the passwords, darling."

"You can't fucking do that," you pushed away, arms folded while you glanced around the room. All your pictures were gone, more proof that showed he was erasing your existence, "At least I'm not already fucking someone..."

"Excuse me?"

You spoke over your shoulder, "You heard me."

"Are you seriously accusing me of that," Kylo scoffed, "When that's what got us into this mess in the first place?"

You shrugged, "How long have you been fucking her, did you march to her place after I kicked you out?"

"(Y/N)."

"I'm a big girl, I can take it. Just tell me the truth, because there's no way you'd just abandon me if there wasn't someone else."

"(Y/N)."

You spun on your heel, snarling with a finger in his face, "How many women have you replaced me with? Huh? Or is it just your slut of a secretary-"

Kylo flipped his desk, everything crashing to the floor. You screamed as he began to throw items to the walls, tear books off the shelves, kicking his chairs to the ground. Anything he could get his hands on he attempted to tear apart.

"Enough!"

Heavy breaths.

"I'm not fucking anyone else! Are you fucking serious? All I've fucking done is work! Trying to just fucking move on but nooo," he faced you now, cheeks red and puffing. A few tracks of tears streaking towards his jaw, "You-you just have to be right, and have to be the victim of all this when it's both our fucking fault!"

Kylo paced away from you, running his fingers through his hair before crouching down to the floor. Cradling his face in his hands while he took in shaky breaths, "I fucking missed you, so much. It's all I thought about, but every fucking time I came back you ignored me."

"Kylo-"

"No, you fucking iced me out. I could barely speak to you and I wasn't going to do anything over text."

You succumbed to your tears, there was no way to hold them. Choking as you wiped away the floods, "I-I didn't m-mean to, you weren't talking to me Kylo. How was I supposed to r-react?"

Now he was crying, hiccuping in an attempt to steady his breathing and push through it like he always had. But he couldn't stop the tremor in his voice, "You could've told me you loved me or forgave me. Anything would've been better than this."

"Why do I have to be the one to apologize, I'm not the one who forgot our day and manhandled me in the tub! You were drunk, rude, and horrible to me, I deserved an apology."

"I know," he sniffed, "I tried to-the first few times I came back for clothes. But you hid from me."

You nodded slowly, pacing your way towards him. Unsure of how he'd react to you touching him, but you needed to be closer. You shuffled to his side, sliding your back against the gray wall to the floor.

"We've never been good at apologizing."

Kylo sat on the floor, mirroring you against the wall, "At least before, you didn't kick me out. Force me to crash on a couch, you know I don't fit on couches."

You chuckled softly, not wanting to smile at the visual.

"That's why our couch was custom," he laughed too, dull and humorless, "Because I kept sliding off."

"Yup."

Both of you swallowed, throats clicking in unison. Kylo shuffled in a more comfortable position, looking out at the clouded sky that peeked through the shades.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry."

A breath, "I never meant to miss our day, and I thought you were finished with me. I should've just spoken to you instead of drink, but that doesn't mean much now."

You hummed, "Thank you."

"I can write you a check," he sighed, "So you can get another place and still keep whatever's left of your collections."

"You don't-"

"I know I don't."

Kylo wrote you a check for half a million dollars, not looking at you when he ripped it from his checkbook. He mumbled about the bank may be needing to call him to confirm it, just have them call my office number.

Sending you off without another word.

------

Your new apartment was cute, small, perfect for you.

Light and airy, none of the fixtures were black or red. Hues of pink, coral, green, and blue danced around the rooms. Your couch was velvet, just because you wanted it to be. With an abundance of pillows and candles on every surface, you could fit them onto.

Your bed was a four-poster with a dreamy white canopy, soft and cloudlike bedding scrunched up from however you left them. No one was running around frantic to make the bed, or straighten the blinds, or draw the curtains, it was just yours.

The check was cashed with little fuss, you tried not to cry about it. You dropped off the old house keys at Kylos office, along with your car keys, there was no need to keep the Porsche. You weren't living that life anymore, you could buy your own car now! And it would be yours, it was too hard to drive the gift everywhere.

Kylo told you to keep the car when he found the keys, but you ignored his messages. He wouldn’t understand why you wouldn’t keep it, but that was his problem.

You sighed into your couch, looking at the TV nestled next to the bay window. Imagining where you could squish more houseplants… you already had an abundance but it wouldn’t hurt.

Your phone began to vibrate on the coffee table, startling you as you scrambled towards it. Oh, it was Kylo, odd.

“Hey?”

“Hey.”

“Uh,” you stood from the floor, scratching your cheek as you walked. “What’s up?”

He cleared his throat, “I saw you got a place, wanted to drop off a housewarming gift.”

Your face scrunched, balancing the phone between your face and shoulder. Popping a potato chip in your mouth, “Why would you do that?”

A sigh, “Can you just buzz me in? I brought wine…”

“Whatever.”

Kylo came in with a tight smile, dressed in some black joggers and a gray t-shirt. He looked like he just rolled out of bed, not his typical look on a weekday. He held up a brown paper bag, Whole Foods on the label.

"You went to Whole Foods?" you raised a concerned brow.

"Nope," he set the bag on your kitchen table, eying the plants and crystals that littered your living room. A few magazines were strewn around on the surface, "I had my secretary do it."

You glared at him, which he noticed before shaking his head rapidly, "New secretary-not the old one. His name is Brady, he's very nice."

Kylo stood with his hands in his pockets, glancing in every direction as you approached the bag. Humming when you began pulling out the goodies he had, as promised there was a bottle of wine. Your favorite, along with a set of glasses.

A clear purple tinge, almost vintage looking. Some of your favorite fruit, he blushed when you held them up to his eyes. Mumbling how you never had enough of them in the past, and it was their season.

Now you were blushing, finding some red velvet cupcakes. Packaged beautifully, and a small vase in the shape of a kitty. You placed it on the table, looking at it over and over. Biting your lip as you waited for something to happen.

"I like your place," Kylo croaked out, "It's very bright."

You chuckled, "You're just used to your eyes straining from all the red and black decor."

He hummed, walking down your hallway. Glancing indoors that were left open until he made it to your bedroom. You heard him groan when he saw the white sheets and canopy, Kylo whistled for you.

Obediently, you pranced towards him, taken aback when he was sprawled on your mattress. Facedown with his face in your pillow, groaning like he was trying to wake up from a good dream.

"I fucking forgot how good you smelled," he moaned out, looking over at you lazily, "What would I have to do to get you to make out with me in here?"

------

LOL, this was long, but I'll do a part three if you would enjoy the rest of their reunion.

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[thesacramentoflove]

(Good Omens) Beelzebub x GN Reader:

3k words - The reader runs into Beelzebub while chasing their daughter, and Beelzebub decides to follow them.

-----

Something stirred, deep within their heart - a feeling so pure, so unbridled…perhaps it was love? They couldn’t be certain, but the tiny wings of many a butterfly toiled to trace the lining of their stomach. They wanted to understand the feeling - that which had been hidden from them for millennia. To whom was it directed? What purpose did it serve? Nothing thus had sent them into such a state of confusion. This feeling…it shouldn’t have been possible. But, perhaps it too was a cog in the wheel of the Great Plan. After all, God often sacrificed sense for inanity.

No…it couldn’t be love.

But this…it seemed so innocent, and the implications…they didn’t bear considering. As a demon, a being avowedly void of the very capacity, well…they should've been immune. It should've been a far-flung fantasy, a tale only told as fiction. But seeing you here, a child hanging from your arm…Beelzebub could feel a spark of…something. It was something wrong, they were certain - positive, and therefore very, very wrong indeed. It was something that defied logic, that gave the demon pause and instilled a confusion deep within. Your meeting, albeit temporary, had hindered their plans to a great extent. They were supposed to be monitoring Crowley (a task annoying in and of itself), not…following some human. Not even an hour had passed since your paths had crossed, and yet they felt such intrigue.

The way you handled your child with care and compassion beyond anything they'd seen thus far, the elegance that shone through even the smallest of movements, that smile…

Beelzebub wasn’t sure which, of the aforementioned, they favoured most. It was a difficult choice, since their mind hadn't bothered to list all of the qualities they'd become privy to. It took neither genius nor seer to tell that you glowed. You glowed with beauty, with love, with…everything demons couldn’t hope to match. You were angelic, without a whisper of effort. You didn’t claim to be an angel, but if ever you did, the smell of humanity would betray you.

Humanity…that was your sole flaw, but your very essence. For Beelzebub to pursue it, to want to…

All of this, all of it…was the result of a single interaction - one that you probably didn’t even remember. You had quite literally crashed into them, while on your daughter's tail. In her defence, she was playing Tag…amid a rowdy throng of people. And in your defence, you had warned her. Several times, in fact. But a child so young is an angel in theory and a devil in practice, paying attention to little unless it interests them.

The memory of your bodies colliding was still fresh in Beelzebub's mind. They could almost…feel you, as though you were still there, still in their arms. It hurt that you weren't, and that you fled so quickly. They remembered the rushed apology, the eyes that avoided theirs, and the glimmers of panic and guilt that couldn’t be concealed. It all happened within a moment, and then you were gone. Beelzebub had put their actual job on hold, to track you down. That might've been an honour, for a demon. The reminder of your humanity was…painful. Your human vessel would eventually expire, falling victim to the curses of illness or age. For that reason, humans were lesser, they were expendable.

That's why, the war…

Beelzebub shivered at the thought, a string of new emotions tying up their heart. They felt…desperate, protective and scared. The threads of fate would not waver at the behest of a demon, but…did humanity, all of humanity, need to be slain…? What if a single human and their child…what if they survived? Would such a thing be questioned, or challenged? If there was a way to keep you, even at the expense of your freedom…

But…was it that same freedom, and all your human traits, that made you desirable? Would you hold that same calibre, if you surrendered your humanity? Would you become an angel and thrive in Heaven, or would some horrible secret rear its head at the time of judgement? Would you join the fallen…the demons? Would you join Beelzebub, and reign at their side, for all eternity? Or would you condemn them, as God already had? Beelzebub found themselves unwilling to entertain such thoughts. Of course you would still be you, angel or demon. And…something had drawn them to Earth, on this day. Something wanted you to meet, they were certain! And, well…demons had ill fortune, but…God would never be so cruel, right?

Something had called to Beelzebub, planted the thought of visiting Earth in their head, and watched it flourish. It had offered up Crowley as an excuse, used the lack of trust between demons to its advantage. Beelzebub had been played right into its hands. But from here, they walked the path blindly. There were no further directions, no sign saying 'THIS IS WHAT YOU NEED TO DO'. They weren't sure how to talk to humans, how to appear as a friend instead of a foe…

Everything was just so complicated. But there you were, playing with your daughter on the grass, and weaving flowers into crowns with the delicacy of a feather. The smile you wore was bright and beautiful, luring Beelzebub in like a moth to a flame. They just didn’t understand why. Why did your arms suddenly look so inviting, and your lips so soft? Why did time seem to still, why had the sun framed your head in such a way that it appeared God herself had descended from the heavens to bestow a halo atop your head?

Why were you so angelic, yet…so human?

God must have been testing Beelzebub. Again. Their heart was beginning to fracture under the weight of decisions. Mere decisions! It was ridiculous…Beelzebub was never so indecisive. This should've been a trifle, in comparison to all the decisions they had to make for the upkeep of Hell. But…how could they choose between advancing (which could result either in rejection - Beelzebub did not get rejected - or you and your child fleeing in palpable terror), or staying rooted in place (during which time you could either make your exit, or someone could 'pick you up' - was that the correct human term?). This choice was so difficult because…something, some flicker of what could only be described as goodness, begged them to leave you untainted, to simply walk away and never return.

It seemed to scream, "Do not sully the human incarnation of this angelic being."

Beelzebub knew that their approach alone would expose you to all kinds of…unpleasantries - even if they themselves had no intent to do you harm. Which they didn’t. And for that matter, they never would. Though, the words of a demon gave little reassurance, and it wasn’t like you could hear them.

They dared not dwell too long on the choices - human life was fleeting, and an hour's silent contemplation to them could be several years to you (unlikely, but they did lack very basic knowledge, so their fear-driven assumption could be excused). They didn’t want to wait…they wanted to call out, to cradle and protect. They wanted the trust of both yourself and your child, but…they still didn’t know why. A human would've laid the blame on love, but love was something demons didn’t understand. They had renounced that right at the moment of their fall. Demons couldn't…love, they couldn’t care for anything! No…it wasn’t love.

Though clearly, there were two exceptions: Crowley and Beelzebub. The latter briefly wondered if the former felt such intense emotions towards his angelic companion. Though, they had met far more than once, and Crowley hadn't made a habit of stalking Aziraphale. What Beelzebub was doing…that was stalking. And it was creepy. Their eyes were so focused, tracing every inch of your body. You wouldn’t know how to act if they just…appeared before you. No, that was definitely a bad idea - bad as in bad bad, like, really bad.

However, their hesitance left an opening for someone else - a wild animal, a vulture, someone who cared nothing for your heart, your mind or your child…someone who only wished to conquer your body. And as if to mock the demon, such a person did show up. Beelzebub was now certain this was a test, with their go-to option (murder) nowhere in sight. No…you seemed much too frail. You shouldn’t have to witness such a graphic display. Beelzebub watched for a moment, as a new form of anger took hold. That human was too close to you. Your smile had fallen, happiness abandoned and discomfort rising to its place. Beelzebub didn’t like that. Not at all.

But this was a test seemingly impossible to pass, and designed for failure. Though, if Beelzebub knew one thing, it…wasn't tests, or humane ways to deal with a given situation. What they knew was confrontation.

This wasn’t your fight, and Beelzebub was poised to prove that.

The stage was set, and they moved towards it, determined to do something…anything, to return your smile to you. This human could rot in the deepest pit of Hell, eternally isolated from both sunlight and warmth, from contact, and most importantly, from you. After today, this cretin would never bother you again, on pain of, well…pain. There wouldn’t be a murder…not yet. Your comfort was the priority, and Beelzebub had to remember that. It couldn’t be jeopardised.

They reached the scene within seconds, acting on the immediate instinct to shield you and your child. Panic and fright painted both your faces, tarnishing that beautiful innocence. That could not be excused. Beelzebub glared at your harasser, but this was a poor deterrent. They backed up a mere three paces, before sneering - acting high and mighty, as though they weren't in the presence of a Lord of Hell, a revered demon.

Still, they addressed you, venom dripping from their words. "I didn't know you had a…partner. When were you gonna tell me that, sweetheart?"

You did nothing to deny the accusation, instead vowing silence and looking between the two figures. You seemed weary, as you should, but you were thankful for the intervention. Without it, well…your imagination conjured some disturbing almost-realities. This new person, whether in or out of the binary, was…helping you. Though their presentation could lead you to believe they weren't interested in good deeds, they were…helping.

And then it hit you. The familiarity hadn't registered until now, as you couldn’t see their face, but…you knew them. Or, at the very least, you'd seen them, bumped into them. Great, now you were panicked, scared, and embarrassed, all in front of your child. You held her close, throughout this entire ordeal. A part of you wanted to run, but you had to somehow repay this stranger's kindness. And you had put them in a potentially dangerous situation, albeit without intent. You hoped this was kindness, and not simply obligation, civic duty or something to a similar effect. That was the impression they gave, but…ulterior motives seemed to be a curse of humanity. No-one was genuine anymore.

"They don't like you. So leave. Now, before I do something I can't take back." It was the first you'd heard of their voice, but you never knew you could find such comfort in a tone so exceedingly dull.

The human seemed to waver. "…Oh yeah? What, you gonna kill me or somethin'?"

"I might." A real and viable threat wove its way between those words. For all God's shit, Beelzebub was prepared to neither play nor gamble - not with you on the line.

And in the intermediate moments, the human acquired a sliver of common sense. Beelzebub was the threat, and the sooner they recognised this, the better.

They stepped back, sputtering out the pathetic excuse of "I, uh…I left my cat in the oven!"

Sheer horror led your child to cry, "Kitty?!"

"He means cake, angel." Though, your thoughts didn’t carry such surety: I really hope he means cake.

Beelzebub watched the human retreat, but kept an ear open for you. Nothing would distress you now - not with their protection. But they had to be absolutely certain. Their expression softened, senses still sharp, still looking out for you and any danger that might endeavour to betide you. They didn’t know how to speak with humans, nor how gentle it was possible to be.

But the effort could be made. "Are you…okay?"

Their question, though rather sudden and unexpected, was…calming. You could tell they cared. "Um…we're okay, yeah…thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but…I'm glad you did. Are you okay? That was a short exchange, but it was charged."

Yeah…you must've been an angel. "Yeah. 'M alright."

"That's good." You smiled. You smiled. "Thank you. Again. Oh, (C/n), what do you say to them?"

At the prompt, the little child at your side shouted, "Thank you for saving us!"

You giggled at their choice of words, while Beelzebub just stared, stunned. "I'm sorry about her, she's easily excited. Cute though, isn't she? She's usually the one protecting me. You showed her up…"

Your tone was so light, so warm, so full of…something - something special. It was greater than relief, or gratitude. Well, it seemed greater. Beelzebub couldn’t really be sure, but it zapped their confidence and made almost…made them weak. And weakness…that was dangerous. Well, it was supposed to be. Yet somehow…it didn’t feel that way. It felt like a thundering heart, a sudden and creeping heat, a soft, fluffy…something, that was so alien but at the same time, so nice.

When Beelzebub didn’t respond to your prompt, you coughed and said, "Well…is there anything I could do? To repay you, I mean…I have to repay your kindness. Um, would you like a coffee, or dinner, or…you could choose something? Sorry, I don't know what you like…"

"I like…" Beelzebub looked around, trying to find an answer in all that surrounded them. They were desperate to keep you talking, to keep your eyes on them, to make you stay. "…those."

You followed their finger, laughing as you did. "The ducks or the flowers?"

Their confusion was so strange and child-like, you couldn’t help the laughter. Still, you had never been one for judgements. You replied in earnest. "The ducks are the animals in the water, the small, fuzzy ones. Ah, see the one over there, flapping its wings? That's (C/n)'s favourite. We come here to feed them, on occasion. And flowers are those - you see them coming out of the ground? They're really sweet, and every flower has a different meaning, but no-one knows them all. It's like a secret language! (C/n) and I love that a lot…"

"You like them? Do you give them to other huma- other people?" They asked, now with a genuine curiosity.

You giggled. "I don't, not personally, unless it's a daisy from the park, which I'll give to (C/n). But…I don't really…have anyone else to give them to. It's usually a romantic gesture, and I don't…I'm not…with anyone."

You hadn't meant it to sound so much like an invitation.

"Oh. Good…Why not?" Beelzebub's tongue couldn’t decide on a narrative, torn between sympathy and a sort of cruel relief.

But in spite of this, your smile refused to fade. "Well…I'm perfectly capable of raising a child alone, and no-one ever really…made my heart soar, I suppose. My other half was…not one of God's nicer creations, I'll say that. I have a catalogue of words I could use, but…well, they would put a dampener on things."

Beelzebub nodded, noting that for later enquiries. "Are they dead?"

You laughed, both amused and taken aback. "No, no…to me, perhaps, but…no. Ah, if you're asking because of the past tense, I only used it because we aren't together anymore. We're, um…four years divorced. I just…focused on raising (C/n), rather than tending to my romantic needs. She is, and always will be, more important."

"What did you mean," Beelzebub started, furrowing their brows. "with the bit about your heart? The 'heart soar'? What…is that? How does it work?"

"Have you ever heard of 'Cloud Nine'?" You waited until they shook their head, to continue. "It's a feeling you get when you're around someone you love, where your heart starts to beat really fast, and you feel like you can fly to great heights. You feel weightless, like any sudden wind could take you into the air. Oh, it's such a magical feeling!...Have you never felt it before?"

As you spoke, Beelzebub's experience, their feelings, gained clarity. Things just…clicked. Had it been that easy all along? And had they known…? Had their heart simply pulled the veil over their mind? Could demons love? Part of them wanted to scream; love was sacred - the antithesis of hatred and the enemy of all evils. The very act, the very thought…were so unbefitting, so un-demon like. But this seemed beyond merely act or thought.

"That's how it feels." They stated, with faux confidence.

"So you have! Isn't it just wonderful?" You paused, then gasped rather loudly. "Oh my…I can't believe I forgot to tell you my name! I'm (Y/n), it's a pleasure to meet you!"

They took your hand, after a fierce internal debate. Their face, however, remained neutral. "Beelzebub, and likewise."

"Oh, you have a biblical name! Those are always so fascinating!" You gushed, taking them by surprise.

"You have a…name. A nice one." They stammered, new to both giving and receiving compliments.

You laughed again, a sound too sweet for their ears. "You don't get out much, do you? Um…would you like to get some food? Provided you can deal with (C/n), of course. We could…talk? Get to know each other…? You seem really nice, and I'd like to, um…"

Demons didn’t eat, but at this point, Beelzebub would do anything to stay at your side. Their acceptance came easily - too easily, by their standards. But they were beginning to reject those standards, at a hawk's pace, rather than a snail's. It might've been concerning, but…why should they care? Loving a human was bad, and demons thrived in the bad. Bad was good, in their books - or at least, the demonic equivalent. And 'good' wasn’t a descriptor that suited Beelzebub, but 'bad'…now that was. Surely then, a little greed couldn’t hurt. But it wasn’t material greed, no…it was far more personal, more intimate. They hungered for your affections, for your hand…for everything about you.

Their very nature justified this sin. Such beautiful, glorious sin. If Beelzebub could fall any further…they would do so with a glad and willing heart.

So this is love. They thought, as a smile crept to their lips. Forbidden love.

[phantasticworks]

Take a Picture (It'll Last Longer)

hi guys! so it occurred to me that i completely forgot to post the newest part of my new fic on tumblr when i posted it to ao3 the other day so here it is! I hope you guys enjoy this one! I've had a lot of fun working on it!

read on ao3

Words: 18.9k

Summary: Dan and Phil continue their arrangement, but are things changing?

Warnings: swearing, explicit smut, light angst

“We should go Christmas shopping,” Phil announces one afternoon. They were laying in his bed after giving each other blowjobs, and Dan was half-asleep.

“Mmf,” Dan huffs. It’s not exactly an answer. It’s not even really a response.

“Dan,” Phil whines, prodding his chest. “C’mon, it would be fun. We could go into town, get a festive drink, let the spirit of Christmas enter us.”

Dan cracks one eye open at that, giving Phil a smirk. “I don’t think I want the spirit of Christmas to be the one entering me tonight,” he says, his voice smooth.

Phil breaks out into a very predictable blush, but it’s still one of the cutest things Dan’s ever seen. “Dan!” he nearly screeches, swatting at him.

“What?” Dan cackles.

“That’s awful!” Phil shakes his head like he’s disappointed, but his eyes have gone a little wide, and Dan knows he’s thinking about what Dan has just suggested.

It’s the one thing they hadn’t yet done together. They’ve fooled around in every other possible way, but penetration has just been off the table. Until now.

“Do you want to?” Dan asks after he’s done laughing. His voice is unintentionally small. It’s not like he’s particularly nervous about this particular sex act; he’s fucked and been fucked before, but never by someone he cares this deeply for. And the part that hurts the most is that they aren’t even like that, not really.

He watches as Phil swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the pale skin of his neck. “Fuck,” he swears under his breath. He glances at Dan quickly, like he hadn’t mean to say it at all. “I mean- God, yeah, of course I want to,” he says.

Dan smiles, scooting closer to him and swinging a leg over Phil’s, as if they didn’t just have sex half an hour ago. “I’d let you, if you want,” he murmurs, trying for seductive. He’s not sure he’s really hit the target in his tone, but Phil swallows again, and he reckons he’s close enough.

“We should go out for dinner,” Phil blurts suddenly.

Dan pulls away a little, blinking at him. “Er… okay?”

“Yeah, we should go eat dinner, and then do some shopping, yeah?” Phil sounds nervous, and Dan can’t for the life of him figure out why. They have dinner together all the time nowadays. In fact, almost every time they see each other they wind up sharing a meal somewhere. It’s not usually at a restaurant, he concedes, the both of them horrible introverts who would much rather be inside the comfort of one of their flats, but still, it has happened.

“Sure,” Dan agrees easily. If he’s honest, dinner is the last thing on his mind.

If he can’t have Phil in the real way, in the way he so desperately wants, then he’ll take this: casual sex and friendship, until Phil no longer has a use for him. The fact that all of this has an expiration date tears at the tattered threads of Dan’s heart more and more each day, but it’s a pain he’s learning to cope with nonetheless.

He’s so deep in his own thoughts that he barely notices when Phil climbs out of the bed and makes his way to his closet. “Um, what are you doing?” Dan asks stupidly when he sees Phil pulling out what looks to be a nicer outfit.

Phil turns and gives him a look like he is stupid. “We have to get dressed if we’re going out!” he says, like it’s obvious.

“We’re going out tonight?” Dan squawks, still mostly naked and covered in slowly-drying bodily fluids.

“Yes,” Phil says, voice full of exasperation. “Go on, go take a shower, I’ll pick something out for you.” He sounds excited, but Dan can’t help but be weary.

“Phil…” He starts.

“No, no!” Phil protests. “Just go, I promise it’ll be good, I won’t pick anything you wouldn’t wear yourself!” It’s probably an empty promise, but his bright eyes and the way he dances on the balls of his feet have Dan convinced.

“Fine,” he says with a sigh, giving in. He stands to go jump in the shower, and he doesn’t miss the way Phil takes a long look at his body. “But I swear to god if you try to put me in color, I’m gonna actually kill you.”

“Fine, whatever,” Phil says, waving him off. “Go, go shower, smelly boy. Your fairy godmother needs some space to think about your outfit.”

Dan feels a tug in his chest when Phil smiles at him. He can’t help but step close and kiss him, just once, to dull the pain a little. “You’re on thin ice,” he whispers, his lips still a breath away from Phil’s.

“You have semen in your hair,” Phil murmurs back, pecking his lips.

Dan flips him off as he stomps off to the shower.

~~~

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Dan says nearly half an hour later, staring at the clothes Phil has so charitably laid out for him. The jeans are fine, black skinnies with rips new enough that he knows Phil hardly wears them. His problem lies entirely with the sweater.

The red, sparkly sweater.

“What?” Phil asks, voice pitched high in false confusion. “It’s nice!”

“I’m not wearing that,” Dan says vehemently.

“But Dan, it’s Christmas! Red is a very Christmassy color!”

“Red is Christmassy,” Dan spits. “This is- that’s fucking-“

“I call it ‘ladybird chic’,” Phil says, unhelpfully.

Dan turns, very slowly, to glare at him. “Absolutely not.”

Phil pouts. “It’ll look really good if I take any photos this evening.”

Dan swears under his breath. Stupid Phil with his stupid soft, kissable lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow. “I’m wearing a coat over it,” he says haughtily.

Phil grins proudly. “Of course,” he nods. “It’s not exactly my warmest sweater, and I don’t want you to get cold.”

Something about that makes Dan’s stomach twist sharply, a feeling he can’t name taking up all the space in his chest as he watches Phil search for a coat. He makes it so hard, sometimes, to not confess that he’s in love with him. Dan isn’t too stupid to think he’ll let himself go that far- he does have some dignity- but god Phil makes it hard.

“Will this work?” Phil asks, returning with a simple but warm-looking black coat.

Dan nods, taking it from him and setting it on the bed next to the outfit. “Thanks,” he says, his voice soft.

Phil smiles at him when he glances up. “No problem,” he says warmly, leaning in and planting a kiss on Dan’s temple. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving Dan with the lingering feeling of lips and warmth.

~~~

Phil looks amazing.

That’s probably the understatement of the year, Dan thinks, but he’s at a loss for words when Phil steps into the lounge, fully dressed.

He’s got black skinny jeans on as usual, but he’s gone for a really nice grey sweater and his glasses, something Dan is always, always enamored with. He figures he’s probably fully staring at him, but Phil doesn’t seem to mind, so Dan sees no reason why he should look away. In fact, Phil seems to like it, if his smirk is anything to go by.

“Ready to go?” He asks, completely ignoring the way Dan is practically undressing him with his eyes.

“Sure,” Dan says, his voice coming out a little garbled. He clears his throat, flushing. “Let’s go.”

~~~

They end up at an Italian place, one that Dan’s never been to. It’s nice, nicer than he expected when Phil suggested they go out to dinner. It almost feels like a date, if Dan lets himself think too much about it. But he knows better than that, so of course he doesn’t let himself think about it at all.

Instead, he convinces Phil to order wine.

“Come on, I’m almost done with classes, and it’s a Friday. Shouldn’t we celebrate the end of the week?” Dan says, batting his eyelashes to really sell it. The truth is he doesn’t think he can keep his mind from drifting off into romance land if he’s not at least slightly inebriated.

Phil sighs, but nods. “Fine.” He gestures for the waitress to come back over, then points to something on the wine menu. “We’ll each do a glass of the Cabernet Sauvignon, please,” he says, tapping the name.

The waitress nods before disappearing, and Dan watches Phil as he fiddles with the menu, biting his lip in thought. “You sounded like some proper wine connoisseur, just then,” Dan says mildly, glancing over his own menu. He already knows he’s likely to get the same thing he always does at Italian restaurants, but he feels weird staring at Phil when he isn’t looking back.

Phil snorts. “Not hardly,” Phil says dryly. “Cabernet‘s just the happy medium.”

Dan tilts his head at that. “How so?” He asks.

Phil glances up at him, and his lips twitch into a smile. “Well, you like wine that’s bitter, and I like sweeter wine. You always order something with mushrooms when we do Italian, and I usually do some type of tomato-sauce pasta, so...” The waitress returns then with the bottle of wine, and Phil smiles at her. “So Cabernet is the happy medium for us.”

Dan blinks at him. Phil asks the waitress a question about something on the menu, looking completely casual, as if he didn’t just send Dan’s heart spinning. As if they just know each other that well- just fit together that well, without ever even acknowledging it.

He’s still lost in thought when the waitress turns to him with a smile. “And for you, sir?” She asks.

Dan shakes his head in an effort to clear it. “Uhh...” His mind is cloudy at the moment, and he can’t really see the menu.

“They have the mushroom risotto you like,” Phil says softly. “Is that okay?”

Dan nods dumbly. “Yeah,” he says weakly. “That’s fine, thanks.”

The waitress nods, taking their menus before leaving the table. It’s quiet then, and Dan jumps a little when he feels Phil’s foot brush against his. “Sorry,” Phil says, frowning. “Are you okay?”

Dan nods. It’s not a lie, exactly. He thinks maybe he is okay, but everything feels stilted and weird now, and the traitorous, lonely part of his brain is trying to convince him that this- this thing between him and Phil- means more than it does. “I’m fine,” he says quickly, nodding again. “Just tired, I guess.”

A brief flash of something like disbelief flashes across Phil’s face, but it’s gone in a blink. “We can just go back home after dinner, if you don’t feel like shopping.”

The word “home” plays on loop in Dan’s brain until he processes the rest of the words. “No, no, it’s fine. I’ll feel better after we eat,” he says, shrugging it off.

Phil nods, and they fall into silence again. They’ve known each other long enough now that it’s not uncomfortable, but Dan’s skin still itches with the quiet. He’s trying to think of something to say when he feels something brush his ankle. He glances up to find Phil smirking at him.

Dan quirks a brow. “Can I help you?” he asks, barely hiding a smile.

The smirk on Phil’s face just deepens, and he rubs his ankle against Dan’s. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does, but Dan’s long past the point of being surprised that everything feels better with Phil. “Nope,” Phil says, biting back a laugh.

Dan rolls his eyes. He takes a sneaky glance around them, and finds that no one is paying any attention to them. He takes that confirmation of almost-privacy and decides to be cheeky. Taking a sip of his water, he shifts his legs, trailing his foot up the length of Phil’s leg teasingly slow. He watches as Phil’s face flushes, the smirk dropping away to a look of surprise.

“Dan,” he hisses.

“What?” Dan says innocently. “You started this.”

Phil shakes his head, his hand disappearing below the table and catching Dan’s ankle in his hand before Dan can reach his destination. “Not now,” Phil murmurs.

That sends a little thrill through Dan. There’s an unspoken “later” in the air between them, and Dan recalls suddenly what he had offered earlier, when they were getting ready to leave. His blood rushes through his veins hot and fast, making him light headed.

“Are we still going to...” he trails off when the waitress approaches with their food, giving her a fake smile.

She makes sure they’re comfortable and have everything they need before leaving the table again, and by then Dan’s too distracted by his food to return to what he wanted to say.

“Fuck,” he moans around the first bite. “This is delicious.” He’s trying to mind his table manners, but the food is hot and sort of amazing, and he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He really can’t help the sounds that fall from his mouth at that point.

He takes a sip of his wine to wash it down and finally glances over at Phil. His entire face is red, and he’s staring down at his plate with pursed lips. Dan blushes, realizing exactly what he sounded like. Then, he remembers their current situation, and the fact that it really shouldn’t bother Phil, hearing Dan make sexual noises. After all, they’ve been getting each other off for the past month or so, so he’s surely used to it by now.

“Sorry,” he says, despite himself. “Got a little too excited about dinner,” he explains, flickering his eyes between Phil and his plate.

Phil nods, avoiding eye contact. “Right, yeah,” he says, his voice sounding hoarse.

Dan smirks down at his plate, but decides to give Phil a break. “How’s the photo series going? Are we almost done taking photos?”

Phil looks relieved at the change of subject, and his eyes are bright when he looks up at Dan. He’s so enthusiastic about this project, just like he is with everything that he really cares about. Dan can’t help but find it ridiculously endearing.

“Almost, yeah. We’ve gotten some really great shots for experiential, but I don’t think I’ve gotten like the perfect shot for each of the other categories,” Phil says. His eyebrows furrow as he looks down, looking more than a little bothered by that.

“What’re the other categories again?”

“Intellectual, emotional, and er- sexual,” Phil says with a deep blush.

Dan smirks. “Sounds like we can knock that last one out pretty easily,” he says, only sort of teasing.

Phil’s nose goes a little pink, but he’s got a guarded look in his eye as he chases a bite of pasta around his plate. “I don’t know if I want that one to be like...” he trails off, glancing up at Dan with something soft in his eyes.

“Like...?” Dan prompts, confused.

“Like... genuine,” Phil says.

Dan blinks. “Why?”

Phil clears his throat, looking down again. “I don’t- I just- I just want you to be comfortable, yeah? And if it would make you uncomfortable to-“

“It wouldn’t,” Dan interrupts. His face immediately warms when he realizes how that must sound. “I mean... it’s what we’ve been doing this whole time, right? I’ll be no more vulnerable naked than I have been for every other candid shot you’ve done.”

Phil looks almost- disappointed, in a way. Dan can’t think of a reason why he would be, so he convinces himself that he’s probably just imagining it, that Phil is probably just thinking about the best way to shoot the more explicit photographs.

“Sure,” he says eventually, downing a few gulps of his wine. “We’ll work on that stuff- later, yeah?”

“Sure,” Dan echoes, sipping his own wine.

‘Later’ is starting to have a lot of weight.

~~~

After they’ve finished their meal and Phil has ignored Dan trying to pay for the check, they head out to see what the shops have to offer. Everything is so bright with all the twinkling lights and decorations, and Dan’s feeling just a little bit warm and fuzzy with it all. Maybe that’s why he reaches for Phil’s hand, he thinks to himself absently. It’s probably just the overwhelming excitement of it all forcing him to reach out for something to ground himself. Definitely not his deep attraction and infatuation with his best friend.

Right?

Either way, for whatever reason on both their parts, Phil doesn’t pull away at the touch. Instead he laces their fingers together, swinging their hands between them as they meander down the busy streets. It feels safe, with so many strangers surrounding them, to share a touch like this in public. No one here knows them, any looks cast their way are forgotten the moment the gawker looks away.

“Ooh, mulled wine!” Phil announces after a while of aimless wandering. He tugs Dan in the direction of the stall he’s laid his eye on, and Dan allows himself to be dragged. “Do you like mulled wine?” Phil asks as they stand in line to order.

Dan shrugs. “Yeah, it’s alright.” He wants to say something about how it would taste better coming from Phil’s lips, but he thankfully restrains himself from going that far.

Phil rambles on about something that happened to him a few years ago, something about spilling cider all over a guy he worked with that he also had a crush on. Dan’s trying to listen but he keeps getting distracted by the rosy patches on Phil’s face, his frostbitten cheeks looking more kissable than ever.

“We’ll have two mulled wines, please,” Phil says to the sweet older lady tending the booth.

She smiles and nods as she goes about preparing them, and Dan doesn’t even have the chance to reach for his wallet before Phil is sliding a few notes across to her. “Have a good evening! Happy Christmas!” the shop lady says with a happy wave after she hands them their drinks.

“Thanks, you too,” Phil replies with a smile, taking Dan’s hand again and leading them over to a set of benches situated around a massive tree. “Mm, this is really good for the spot,” Phil hums happily, slurping on his mulled wine.

Dan gives him an odd look as they sit together. “Good for the spot?” he repeats.

Phil nods. “Yeah, you know. That thing people say when something tastes good.” He looks so sure of himself, and Dan sort of hates to burst his bubble, but it’s basically his duty as a citizen to do so.

“You mean “hits the spot,” right?”

Phil blinks. “Er...” He seems to consider it for a lot longer than Dan thinks is necessary, and finally he shrugs. “Okay, maybe. Maybe that’s what I meant.”

Dan cackles out a laugh at this, dropping his head back with unabashed glee. “Oh god,” he giggles. “You’re such an idiot.”

Luckily they’ve grown comfortable enough with each other that Phil’s not really offended. He pretends, though, knocking their shoulders together with a pout. “You have to be nice to be. I bought you dinner and mulled wine.”

That makes Dan’s skin prickle just a bit. “Right...” he says, looking down. He knows Phil didn’t say that with the intentions of making him feel guilty, but he can’t help what he feels. “About that, actually,” Dan starts.

“Hm?”

“I wish you’d let me pay for something. Like dinner, or the wine, or something, you know?” He looks down at his hands wrapped around his cup, flicking the plastic lid with his thumbnail. “I’m not entirely useless.”

Phil makes a startled, hurt noise in his throat. “Dan, I never said you were. I don’t- listen, I paid because... well, I dragged you here, didn’t I?” He shifts awkwardly, and won’t meet Dan’s eye. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d say Phil seemed sort of nervous.

“You hardly did any dragging,” Dan says with a roll of his eyes. “I wanted to come. Believe it or not, I genuinely enjoy spending time with you.”

Phil looks surprised, and Dan snorts. He feels like it’s really hardly a shock that he enjoys spending time with him; if Phil was only slightly less oblivious, he’d have already realized that Dan’s got feelings for him.

“Oh,” Phil says, stupidly.

Dan knocks their shoulders together. “Yeah, oh,” he mocks, his voice gentler than he meant it to be. “I’m just saying, you should let me pay for stuff now and again. It’s not going to break me.”

Phil nods, but looks down, mumbling something under his breath. It sounded like “I like taking care of you,” and that sends Dan’s heart beating so fast that he can’t even ask Phil to repeat himself. If that wasn’t what he said, well, Dan wants to be ignorant for now, and live in that bliss.

“Shall we do some shopping?” Dan asks, changing the subject. He’s drained nearly half his mulled wine already, and the warmth of the alcohol is making its way to his veins, making him giddy with energy.

“Yeah, but first...” He hands Dan his cup, which is almost completely empty already, and grabs his camera.

Dan rolls his eyes. “Is this really a photo-worthy moment?” he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Phil smirks at him over the camera. “Of course it is. Now smile!”

Dan looks directly over the camera, straight into Phil’s eyes. He’s not really smiling, but he’s not frowning either. He’s just... looking at him. The camera flashes once, then twice, and then Phil lowers it, looking back at Dan with something almost wild in his eyes. Dan hands him his cup back silently, and purposefully brushes their fingers together. Something settles in Phil’s expression then, and he gives Dan a soft look before downing the rest of his drink.

“Shall we?” he says as he stands, holding a hand out for Dan to take. The smile he gives him when Dan does is gorgeous and makes every photo worth it.

~~~

Dan allows himself to be led in and out of shops for the next two hours, and Phil takes plenty of photos along the way. He takes photos of Dan window shopping, walking, admiring decorations; basically any move Dan makes, Phil captures. And Dan knows he agreed to this, he knows that it’s all for Phil’s project, but after a while, he grows tired of it.

Eventually, Dan turns to him and gives him a withering look. “Can we put the camera away and just be us for a little while?” He doesn’t intend for his voice to be so soft, but he can barely hear it as it floats in the air between them.

Phil lowers the camera with a strange look on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, like he’s surprised.

Dan nods, and before he can think twice about it, he reaches out and laces their fingers together. “C’mon, I saw a nerd shop over there that I want to check out.”

Before he gets the chance to turn away, Phil darts into his space, kissing the corner of his mouth softly. It’s over so quickly that Dan almost thinks he may have imagined it, simply because Phil looks so calm and confident afterwards. He simply squeezes Dan’s hand and leads him in the direction of the shop, and Dan feels like he’s been left to play catch-up, not for the first time today.

“Hey, look at this,” Phil says suddenly, when they’re almost to the shop. He slows to a stop, his eyes scanning over a bulletin board posted on the bit of brick wall between the windows of the game shop and the bakery next door. “Dan, look!” He taps Dan’s arm excitedly as he speaks, as if Dan’s not already looking at the poster.

“Open Auditions” it announces at the top. Dan’s heart quickens, just slightly. A quick scan of information confirms what he’d already gathered: a local theatre company is holding open auditions for their upcoming performance of Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice.

Dan’s heart races and his vision has gone slightly fuzzy as he tries to take in the information. He can barely focus on anything, his ears ringing with the possibilities. This could be it, a little voice in his head mocks. An escape from the life you don’t want, a chance to be more.

It takes him a minute to come back to his senses, and when he does Phil is rambling excitedly beside him. “-great this is, Dan, you’ve got to audition, this would be perfect for you!”

Dan shakes his head slowly, trying to clear the cloud of fantasy that’s infiltrated his mind. “No,” he says eventually. He forces himself to look away, reminds himself that life isn’t a fairytale. He chose this shitty career and this shitty life, he can’t just back out now. His parents may have raised a socially awkward, queer procrastinator but they didn’t raise a quitter.

“No?” Phil says the word like it’s foreign. “What do you mean, I thought you wanted to act again if you got the chance?” He sounds confused.

Dan shrugs, avoiding eye contact with Phil as he shuffles his feet, moving further from the bright poster. “Yeah, but... come on, this? It’s not very responsible, is it?”

Phil blinks at him, glancing at the poster like it has the answers he needs. “Er- how do you mean?” he asks carefully.

Dan hates that. He hates that he’s ruining their nice day with his bullshit. “Well, I’ve got class, don’t I? And like, work, and shit. I can’t - I don’t have time for this.”

There’s a brief moment of pause where Phil looks at him, then studies the poster again, clearly thinking hard about something. “The auditions are next week, so I bet the rehearsals start after you’re done with classes.”

Dan tells that little stirring of hope in his chest to pipe down. Instead, he shrugs, like he couldn’t care less about the whole thing. “Whatever. Are we going in? It’s fucking freezing out here.”

Phil nods and gestures to the store, so Dan turns to lead the way. He notices Phil doesn’t move to hold his hand again, and he pretends that doesn’t hurt his feelings. When he opens the door he glances behind him, and Phil is still a few steps away, like he’d stood there for a minute before following after Dan. Dan can’t imagine why, and decides it’s better not to think about that at all.

He waves Phil in ahead of him, and spares one last look at the poster before following after Phil and into the shop.

~~~

Dan would love to pretend that he stops thinking about the audition flyer by the time they make it back to Phil’s place, but it would be a lie. It’s still there, in the back of his mind, mocking him with the possibilities.

So he does what any reasonable adult would do.

He immediately jumps at the opportunity to get in Phil’s pants.

It’s not like it’s difficult at this point in their... situation, but he still finds part of him is reluctant to be the one to make the first move, if only because he’s scared of rejection. But this time, like so many times before, Phil indulges him.

“Oh,” Phil laughs as Dan pushes at his coat, his voice deep and sexy like it always is at the end of a long day, when he’s truly worn out. Dan can’t believe he has the privilege of knowing exactly what this sounds like. “Eager, are we?”

Dan latches his mouth onto Phil’s jaw, sucking gently as he shoves the stupid coat off of Phil’s shoulders. “Wanna fuck you,” he mumbles against Phil’s chin, loving the prickly feeling of almost-beard under his mouth.

Phil makes a good noise then, a horny one that Dan doesn’t get to hear nearly often enough. “Can we- bed?” he mumbles out around Dan’s mouth, which has finally found its way to Phil’s.

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, guiding Phil backwards blindly.

This proves to be a bad idea when he leads him into a wall approximately five seconds later, but luckily, Phil is able to laugh it off. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, pulling Dan back against him once more and kissing across his cheeks. “Let me lead,” he whispers.

Dan allows that, following Phil as he shuffles them backwards down the hall towards his bedroom, their lips barely parting the whole way there. It’s sloppy and messy, but it’s hot, too, unbearably so. Dan is so turned on by the time they step foot in Phil’s room, he’s half afraid he won’t even make it to the good part.

Luckily, Phil trips right before they reach the bed, and the resulting stumble-almost-fall is enough to calm Dan down a little. He’s giggling against Phil’s mouth as they right themselves, and Phil is struggling to mumble an apology around the kisses he’s receiving.

“Dan,” he manages, thumping on Dan’s chest a little, just enough to get Dan’s attention and make him pull away for a second. Phil catches his breath and then smiles at Dan, a wide, gorgeous thing. “Slow down, baby. We’ve got all night.”

It’s said so softly, so lovingly, that Dan thinks he’s going to cry. So, instead of listening, he throws that caution to the wind and leans in for another kiss, his hands dropping to undo Phil’s belt. Phil makes a little noise in his throat, and Dan feels gentle hands pull at his wrists, pulling his hands away from where they’re struggling to undo the fasteners on Phil’s jeans. Dan whines and tugs at the grip, trying to free his hands, but he hears a soft shushing noise as Phil breaks the kiss.

Dan doesn’t realize it at first, but when they’re no longer kissing, he feels a dampness on his cheeks. Frustrated, he wipes at the traitorous tears, but at the same time, Phil’s hands come into view, gently wiping the tears away as he murmurs soft words. Dan struggles to make them out at first, his breathing gone hard and ragged. He tries to settle himself, and Phil tugs at his hand, settling it on his own chest like he wants Dan to copy his breathing. He does, and when he finally calms down, Dan can make out what Phil’s saying.

“Shh, there we go. It’s okay, baby. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

It’s said in such a soft, soothing voice that Dan almost starts crying again. This can’t be meaningless. Even though he knows Phil doesn’t feel anything for him like that, some part of him is just begging for this moment to have some kind of meaning, something that means Phil wants him. But wishing can’t change the truth, and he knows that.

“I’m sorry,” he says eventually, his voice raw.

Phil makes a startled noise. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know, but like... crying is so not sexy.” Dan feels embarrassed just to say it.

“I don’t know,” Phil muses. “I think showing your emotions is kinda hot.” He gives Dan a smirk then, and Dan barely refrains from pushing him off the bed. The only reason he doesn’t is because of how much he craves the closeness.

“Did I ruin the mood?” Dan asks timidly, sitting up in Phil’s lap to give him some space.

Phil smiles, but shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Do you still want to...” His face flushes then, like he can’t even bring himself to say the words.

Dan grins. “I definitely still want to fuck you. If you still want that.”

“I do,” Phil says quickly. Dan smirks and Phil blushes. “I just... it’s been a while since I’ve done that, so...”

Dan nods easily. “Do you need some space to get ready?”

Phil looks relieved. “Please?”

Nodding again, Dan leans down and kisses him sweetly. “Of course. I’ll go sit in the lounge while you do what you need to do.”

“Thank you,” Phil says softly, leaning up to peck Dan’s lips once more. “I won’t be long.”

With that reassurance, and a dismissive pat on the bum, Dan sees himself out of the room, going to wait in the lounge like he’d promised while Phil showers and does whatever else he needs to do to feel comfortable with how the evening is proceeding.

~~~

“Dan?”

Phil’s voice is more than welcome in the quiet of the lounge, but it still makes Dan jump a bit. He’d been lost in thought again, pondering over the amount of time they’ve spent together lately and trying to count in his head how many nights he’d spent at Phil’s over the last month. He’d just made it to thirteen when he hears Phil’s voice.

“Yeah?” Dan calls back, already rising from the sofa.

“Can you come here?” Phil replies, his voice a bit quieter. If Dan didn’t know any better, he’d almost say he sounded nervous.

When Dan steps into Phil’s bedroom, he nearly coos. Phil’s turned the overhead light off and lit a couple of candles, and he’s even got music playing from somewhere. It’s all very relaxing, and something about it feels sort of romantic. Dan bats that thought away immediately before it does something stupid, like settle in his already lovesick mind.

“Is this okay?” Phil asks, and Dan’s gaze snaps over to where Phil’s sat at the edge of the bed. Dan hadn’t even registered him sitting there at first, his mind trying to wrap around the way the room is set up. Phil definitely looks nervous, tugging at the hem of his sushi-printed boxers and avoiding eye contact. “I just thought... I don’t know, actually.”

“It’s nice,” Dan murmurs, going to join Phil on the bed. He’s trying to be considerate of the conversation they’re having, but honestly it’s a little hard considering Phil is practically naked, and god Dan loves to look at him. He nudges Phil’s knee with his own, prompting him to make eye contact. “It’s really lovely.”

Phil smiles, pleased. Something darkens in his gaze then, and before Dan has a chance to decipher that look, Phil is climbing onto his lap and gently pushing him to lay flat against the mattress. “This okay?” He murmurs as he kisses his way across Dan’s jaw.

Dan swallows hard, the kissing and weight of Phil on his lap sending heat to his groin. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “This is... fuck, this is perfect.”

Phil makes a humming sort of noise before finally pressing his lips to Dan’s, swiping his tongue against Dan’s bottom lip. Of course Dan opens up for him, feeling that tongue slip in easily. This is possibly Dan’s favorite kind of kissing, the kind that’s wet and maybe a little bit messy. It just feels good, in a way most things don’t.

Eventually, Dan’s hands trail over Phil’s pale back, tracing shapes down his spine with a featherlight touch before reaching his destination. Dan isn’t like, a hundred percent sure, but he’s actually pretty positive that Phil’s got the nicest bum in the world. It’s thick and soft and gives easily under the pressure of his kneading fingers.

“You’ve got the nicest ass,” Dan murmurs to Phil, pulling away just enough to get the words out properly.

Phil laughs against Dan’s neck, and Dan can’t help the full body tremor that happens when he feels pressure on the sensitive skin. “Do you want to fuck it?” Phil asks, in a voice that’s almost innocent.

Dan groans, kneading his cheeks with more purpose. “God. Yeah, I do. Can I?” He knows they’ve sort of already discussed this, but Phil’s allowed to change his mind.

“Of course,” Phil says with a little smile. He leans back, trailing his hands down Dan’s clothed chest before tucking his hands under his borrowed sweater and stroking the skin there. “Take your clothes off, babe.”

Dan feels a tingle down to his toes at the pet name, and has to remind himself very quickly to get a fucking grip. They’re just friends, this is just a friendly fuck. A mutual benefits kind of deal.

Maybe if he says it enough in his head, he’ll start to believe it.

He’s quick to discard of Phil’s stupid ladybird sweater, throwing it across the room blindly, which unsurprisingly earns him a pinch to the hip. “Don’t be rude to my favorite jumper, Daniel,” Phil chastises, a smile in his voice.

Dan’s got a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it in favor of arching up into the way Phil’s stroking his chest, his thumbs catching on Dan’s nipples repeatedly. “Fuck. C’mere,” Dan mumbles, tugging Phil down by his neck. They’ve had enough sex together for Phil to know what he wants, so he goes easily, latching that wonderful mouth around a pink nub and sucking gently.

The sounds that fall out of Dan’s mouth are too loud in the quiet of the room, but if Phil wants him to be quiet, he’s got a funny way of showing it. Instead he reaches for Dan’s jeans, thumbing at the zipper without looking. He’s got them unlatched in seconds, pushing at the material like it offends him.

“Let me-“ Dan mumbles, pushing at Phil’s shoulders. Phil bites down on his nipple then, and Dan keens. It’s never felt so good before, but when they’re like this, it’s never better. “Fuck, fuck,” Dan chants, holding onto his willpower by a thread.

“You will,” Phil mumbles against his skin, kissing his way across to Dan’s other nipple, which has been quite ignored so far. In a feat of coordination Dan wouldn’t have thought him capable of, Phil manages to shuffle his lower half enough to yank Dan’s jeans down past his thighs without stopping the movements of his mouth.

If Dan wasn’t so stupidly turned on, he’d probably say something about how impressed he is.

Phil massages Dan’s thighs with gentle pressure for a while, kissing and sucking and biting at Dan’s nipple all the while. Dan is leaking through his pants at this point, and he makes a very pathetic sort of noise when Phil brushes a hand over his cock.

When Phil pulls away, it gives Dan just a brief moment to recover, but he still squirms under the heat of Phil’s gaze. “What?” Dan finally asks, when Phil won’t stop staring at him.

Phil shakes his head slowly, blinking like he’s coming out of a dream. Dan is positive that it shouldn't be as hot as it actually is. “You’re so gorgeous,” Phil murmurs, rubbing gently over Dan’s thigh.

Dan covers his blushing face with a squeak. He’ll never get used to this naked appreciation that Phil has for his body. A traitorous corner of his mind reminds him that he better not get used to something he’s not even allowed to keep. Dan clears his throat, twitching his head like he can shake the thought away.

“You know...” he starts slowly, a certain conversation coming back to him. “You said that part of the photo series was about sex, right?”

Phil freezes a little then. He’s quick to recover, but not quick enough for Dan not to notice it. “Sexual intimacy,” he corrects, his voice soft. “What about it?”

Dan shifts his hips pointedly. “I think this might be prime photo taking time, bub,” he jokes.

Something shifts in Phil’s face, and he stares down at Dan like he’s grown a second head. “You want me to take them now?” He asks.

Dan shrugs. “Might as well. We’re horny, and all. Kind of makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Phil draws his hands away from Dan’s thighs, and Dan immediately craves his touch again. “I thought you... I thought we were going to...”

“Fuck? Well, that’s the plan, yeah. Doesn’t mean you can’t get your photo thing done too. Two birds, one stone.” Dan doesn’t intend to sound so tetchy, but Phil’s hesitation is getting under his skin. Has he changed his mind? Is Dan’s body not good enough to be photographed in the light of intimacy? His head swirls with self doubt as he sits up. “Look, we don’t have to, but-“

Phil stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, we... that’s okay. I’ll, um... let me grab my camera.” His voice sounds wobbly all of a sudden, and Dan frowns.

“Phil, I-“

“It’s fine,” Phil interrupts, climbing off the bed. His face is horribly neutral, and Dan feels a churning, the bad kind, in his stomach.

He watches, wordlessly, as Phil leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with the fancy camera he totes around with them nearly everywhere they go. Dan tries not to glare at the stupid thing. Phil climbs back onto the bed and goes to straddle Dan’s lap again, clicking different things on the camera before holding it up. “Tilt your head,” he says softly.

Dan does, but Phil makes a tutting noise like it’s not what he wanted. Before Dan can ask for better instructions, Phil shifts forward, the movement effectively causing their hips to grind together. Dan can’t help his very human response, tossing his head back with a quiet moan. He hears the camera shutter, and for some reason his skin crawls. He tries to ignore it in favor of grinding up for more of that delicious pressure, reaching out blindly to grip Phil’s hips and pull him closer.

The camera goes off a few more times, but eventually Phil leans away and Dan hears the sound of it being set gently onto Phil’s bedside table. Dan opens his eyes, glancing around until he catches Phil’s gaze. Something has changed. Phil’s got a guarded look in his eye, and Dan feels his stomach clenching with nerves.

“Phil,” he whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s cheek gently. He watches as Phil’s eyes slip shut and he leans into the touch. Dan breathes out a sigh of relief at that. It’s a gamble, sometimes, showing even the slightest amount of affection. Because no matter how Phil reacts, Dan has to remember to keep his guard up, protect himself first and worry about the consequences of it all later.

“I want you,” Phil breathes against Dan’s palm.

“You have me,” is Dan’s immediate response. Even if it’s a lie, it’s a lie he feels comfortable telling, as long as it settles whatever is making Phil look so despondent.

Phil blinks at him, raising an eyebrow like a question. Dan nods. It’s worth it for the smile it puts on Phil’s face, for the way he looks down at Dan like he’s given him the world. It’s worth it even though it tears a hole in Dan’s chest. Phil presses a gentle kiss to Dan’s palm then, and Dan knows he’s absolutely fucked.

“How do you normally like it?” Phil asks, pulling away and doing an odd little wiggle to free himself from his pants. Even as ridiculous as he looks, Dan is naturally very distracted at the sight of his cock, and it takes him a second to process what Phil said.

“Oh, uh,” Dan says stupidly. Phil is looking at him with a smug little smirk, and Dan begs his brain to stop being so fucking gay, for like two seconds. “I’m not picky,” he eventually comes up with.

Phil’s lips twitch. “Really?”

Dan nods, watching the way Phil sits up on his knees and begins tugging at Dan’s jeans, which until this moment, Dan had honestly forgotten he was still wearing. “I’m easy,” he says, trying for a flirty tone but not quite getting there.

Phil snorts. He finally pushes the jeans down to Dan’s ankles, leaving Dan to finish kicking them off, paying no mind to how they crumple to the floor in a sad little heap. “Do you think you can handle it if I ride you?” Phil asks, tilting his head.

Dan’s not sure if he wants to laugh or moan. “Uh, yeah,” he stutters out stupidly.

“You sure?” Phil gives him a doubtful look. Dan almost bristles, but then Phil’s hand is diving under the band of his pants and wrapping around his hardness, and Dan can’t find it in himself to even be mildly offended.

“Fuck,” Dan whines. “Yes, just let me-” Dan wiggles helplessly, trying to push his pants off with the use of only one hand. His other is clutching Phil’s thigh, trying to keep himself under control while Phil wanks him.

Phil laughs quietly as he watches Dan struggle but he finally pushes at Dan’s pants, freeing him from them at last. “Are you comfy there?”

Dan nods, but flails an arm above his head in search of a pillow. Phil rolls his eyes and reaches out, tugging on the pillow Dan normally uses when he sleeps over. He pats at Dan’s shoulder to get him to sit up, and when he does, Phil gently places the pillow under his head before pushing his shoulders back down. “Better?” Phil asks.

“Yeah,” Dan says with a smile. “C’mere.” He tugs at Phil’s body, trying to manhandle him onto himself. Phil giggles, like actually giggles, as he complies, straddling Dan’s hips like before. Their nakedness is hard to ignore now, especially when Phil settles, their cocks rubbing together without a barrier between them. Dan groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling.

“You okay?” Phil asks, rocking his hips gently.

Dan swats at him lightly, with absolutely no force behind it. “Don’t be a tease, you know I hate that,” he complains.

Phil grins. “I know you pretend to hate it,” he says, leaning down and kissing Dan’s mouth wetly.

Dan loses himself in it for a bit, forgetting to defend himself entirely. Instead he arches into the kiss and strokes his hands down Phil’s back, trailing his fingers down until he reaches the small of Phil’s back. He pauses there, stroking his fingertips up and down, but Phil arches, making a needy little noise in his throat, and Dan grins, pulling away from the kiss to speak. “Yeah?”

Phil nods, his eyelids fluttering shut. “Yeah. Touch me.”

Dan certainly doesn’t have to be told twice. He pushes his hands down further, kneading Phil’s ass cheeks with a firm hand. Phil groans, pressing back into the touch, and Dan feels a hot surge of arousal in his gut. It’s so beyond sexy for Phil to be on top of him like this, and then for him to be making those noises... Dan can hardly stand it.

“Condom?” He breathes against Phil’s jaw, trailing wet kisses along the smooth expanse of skin. Part of Dan wishes it was a bit stubbled, and then he’s wishing that he’d had the foresight to ask for something a little different. He’s never personally experienced it, but he’s heard good things about being rimmed by someone with facial hair, and he thinks if Phil put off shaving for a couple days, he’d be well on his way to a decent beard.

Dan shakes himself out of his horny fantasy when Phil moves off his lap. The whine that comes out of Dan’s mouth is embarrassing at best, and Phil rolls his eyes when Dan makes grabby hands for him. “Calm down, you actual goblin,” Phil chastises as he looks through the top drawer of his nightstand.

When he finds what he’s looking for he makes a little trumpet noise. Dan’s so endeared with him that it’s actually kind of ridiculous. Phil smiles at him with the same little happy grin he gets sometimes when he makes Dan smile, and Dan reaches out for him. His hand finds Phil’s thigh, and Dan scratches at the hair there while he watches Phil fight with the corner of the condom package.

“Need some help?” Dan asks, his voice softer than he’d intended.

Phil huffs, but shoves the packet into Dan’s hand with an adorably frustrated noise. “Stupid plastic,” he mumbles.

Dan nods as he rips the corner off easily. “Bad for the turtles,” he says mindlessly.

When he glances up, Phil is smiling at him stupidly. “Yeah,” he says, his tone affectionate. “Bad for the turtles.”

Dan grins and gets to work rolling the condom on, squinting when he realizes that it’s a bright blue color. “Uh, is this gonna like dye my dick blue or something, mate?”

Phil scrunches his face up in adorable disgust at that. “Okay, first of all- ew. Don’t call me “mate” when we’re...” he gestures between them pointedly, making eyes at Dan’s penis. “Secondly, no, you weirdo. Your dick will be fine, I just thought they were neat.”

He’s got a little flush on his cheeks when he’s finished with his rant, and Dan has to bite his tongue to keep himself from cooing at him. “Okay, babe, whatever you say,” Dan says, mostly teasing.

Phil bites his lip, but Dan can tell that the pet name does something to him. It may just come from a point of arousal instead of affection, but Dan will take what he can get. “Here,” Phil says, grabbing Dan’s hand and putting something in it.

When Dan looks down, he’s met with a bottle of lube, and he smirks. “You don’t want to put it on me?”

It was meant as a joke, but Phil’s nose crinkles like the idea disgusts him. Dan tries not to take offense. “I don’t like the texture,” he admits. “That’s why I prefer to, like, prepare in the shower. It’s cleaner and I can just wash the lube off my hands right there.”

Dan nods in understanding. Phil was a bit peculiar about textures of things that he touched. “Maybe next time I can help you out with that?” He means for it to come out as a sexy suggestion, but halfway through the sentence he loses his nerve and it comes out as more of a nervous question.

Phil leans down and kisses his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says simply. Then he nudges Dan’s hand. “Alright, get to work, I’m not getting any younger.” He waggles his eyebrows as he says this, making Dan snort.

“Bossy,” he mumbles as he pours a dollop of lube onto his hand. He tries not to feel watched as he covers himself with it, but he can feel Phil’s eyes on him like a touch. Instead of psyching himself out, he leans into the feeling, giving himself a couple good wanks before drawing his hand back. “Reckon that’s enough?” He asks as Phil settles in his lap again.

Phil shrugs. “You can add more if it isn’t,” he says with a cheeky grin.

Dan rolls his eyes, but Phil’s already sitting up and looking at him expectantly, so Dan reaches down, carefully guiding himself to Phil’s waiting hole. He grips Phil’s hip with his free hand, smiling when Phil reaches down to grip his wrist in a loose hold. They’re both quiet when Dan presses into Phil for the first time, almost holding their breath. It takes Dan a second to realize that Phil actually is holding his breath and he moves his hand to hold Phil’s, squeezing gently.

“Breathe, baby.”

Phil takes in a noisy breath, and his body relaxes enough for Dan to push inside past the first tight ring of muscle. He’s already sweating, the pressure he feels around the head of his cock absolutely maddening already. “Thrust up a bit,” Phil whispers, balancing himself with one hand on Dan’s chest, his other still kept in Dan’s grip.

Dan immediately obliges, pausing only to decipher the noise Phil makes when he bottoms out. “You okay?” He whispers, reaching up and stroking Phil’s chest in a soothing sort of way.

“Yeah,” Phil breathes, nodding. “It’s just, like... been a while.”

It’s stupid how happy those words make Dan. “Same,” he murmurs, trailing his hand up and petting at Phil’s collarbones.

Phil smiles down at him, shifting his hips a little to get used to the stretch. He leans down slowly, taking care not to disrupt the position, and peppers Dan’s face with kisses, only some of them landing on his lips. It feels like so much, all of this affection while he’s buried balls deep inside his best friend, and as much as Dan craves it, he can feel himself beginning to suffocate underneath it all.

Gently, so as not to hurt or surprise Phil, Dan reaches down to grip his hips, pulling out a little ways and thrusting back in. Phil moans against his cheek, and Dan smiles. “Good?” He asks, just to make sure.

“Yes,” Phil whispers. “Right- right there!” He nearly squeals the last part as Dan thrusts a few more times, keeping his angle. He must’ve managed to find Phil’s prostate like this, so he reaches one hand up to grip the back of Phil’s neck, holding him in place.

“You feel so good,” Dan whispers. It’s the truth, Phil always feels good whether they’re sharing a kiss, giving each other blowjobs, or just brushing shoulders as they sit on the couch watching a film. He realizes with a start that as incredible as this is, this isn’t even his favorite way to feel Phil, not by far.

“Mm,” Phil moans, barely coherent. Dan looks at him and smirks when he sees how out of it Phil is, watery, hooded eyes and his teeth digging into his bottom lip in a very Dan-esque fashion. “Meant to be riding you, though,” Phil finds enough brain cells to mutter.

Dan pulls him in for a wet kiss. He can’t not, not with Phil looking like this sat on his cock. When he releases him, he does so completely, tossing his arms over his head to rest on the pillow. He settles Phil with a challenging look. “Okay, so what am I doing all of the work for?”

Phil narrows his eyes at him as he sits up. “You lazy git,” he says, with no bite in his voice.

Dan smirks. “I could say the same about you.”

“Pft.” Phil seems to take this as a personal challenge, steadying himself on Dan’s chest with both hands before he begins moving his hips, doing little bounces at first before eventually abandoning that to grind in tight little circles.

Dan moans. Loudly.

“Fuck.”

“Shh, my neighbors will hear us,” Phil chastises.

Dan groans. “Fuck the fucking neighbors.” He grips Phil’s hips, digging his thumbs in a bit harder than he normally would, and he would probably feel bad if he had the brain capacity to think about it.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” Phil says smugly.

Dan wants to roll his eyes in annoyance, but Phil just feels too good. He can’t focus on anything but tight, wet heat and searing blue eyes. “God. Make me come,” he grunts, grinding up into Phil. They’d been having sex together long enough that Dan knows Phil doesn’t mind him being a little bossy.

Phil shakes his head though, grinning. “Me first,” he says, grabbing Dan’s hand and pulling it over to his neglected cock. Dan’s pleasantly surprised to find that it’s only flagged a little, still mostly hard. It only takes him a couple of strokes to get him back to full hardness, but then Phil whines like he’s in pain.

“What?” Dan asks, immediately releasing him and stilling his hips. “Are you okay?”

Phil pouts. “It’s getting all tacky and drying out,” he complains.

It takes Dan’s horn-driven brain a second to understand what he’s talking about. “Oh, hang on, let me-“ he reaches blindly until his hand discovers the discarded bottle of lube, and he pats Phil’s hip with his dry hand so he’ll climb off for a second. As Dan’s lathering himself back up, he notices Phil rubbing at his thighs. “You alright?

“Yeah. Little tired though. My thighs hurt.” Phil gives him an apologetic smile.

Dan returns the smile easily. “That’s fine. Do you wanna try this a different way?”

Phil gives him a sheepish look. “Do you mind?”

He’s so considerate. Dan cares for him more than he wants to admit. “Not at all. How about...” he shuffles around on the bed, moving the pillow further up so that it’s out of the way. “Do you want to lay down or would you be okay on all fours?”

It’s funny, the horny expression that crosses Phil’s face as he considers the options. “I think... for now I think I'll lay down. I’m so out of shape, and my legs already feel a bit like jelly.”

Dan giggles. “Alright. Well, get comfy, then.”

As Phil settles himself on his back, he seems to be mulling something over. “I do want to try the- the other one. Like, some other time, obviously, but I do want to try it like that as well.” He sounds nervous, even shy, and Dan feels it settle somewhere in his chest.

“Sure,” he says quietly. He settles himself between Phil’s legs, running his hands up Phil’s calves and stopping at his knees. “You think you can be flexible for me?”

Phil nods. Dan helps him settle back, then brings both of his legs over Dan’s shoulders. Phil looks a little ridiculous, but he grins up at Dan, so Dan smiles back, tilting his head to kiss his knee. He curses himself afterwards, at the soft look Phil gives him. He’s probably already thinking of ways to distance himself from Dan, to tell Dan that they really should just finish the stupid photo series then never speak to each other again.

At least, that’s what’s running through Dan’s head at first. After a moment, however, Phil distracts him again by speaking in a soft voice.

“Are you okay?”

Dan can’t help but smile down at him. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Phil tilts his head. He looks like a curious puppy. Dan keeps that thought to himself.

“About what?”

Dan nearly freezes at the innocent question, but reminds himself to stay calm to avoid suspicion. Instead of telling the whole truth, he smirks, reaching down to press his fingers to Phil’s perineum. “You,” he half-lies.

Phil smiles, his eyelids fluttering shut as Dan applies gentle pressure. “Mm. Might wanna start doing me instead of thinking about me, Howell. Running out of time, here.”

Dan knows that Phil’s just joking about it being late, but that cuts deep. He really is running out of time, already. This may be the last time he ever gets to have Phil like this, even if it’s technically the first.

“Hey,” Phil murmurs. Dan’s eyes refocus on him, and Phil smiles, a little twitch of his lips. “Come back,” he says.

Dan smiles at him. “I’m here,” he replies.

Phil reaches up, stroking Dan’s arms in gentle sweeps. “No. You were stuck in your head. Get out of there, come be with me for a little while.”

It’s stupid, but for a moment Dan thinks he might cry.

Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to Phil’s mouth. “I’m with you,” he murmurs, reaching down to line himself back up.

Phil gasps against his mouth when Dan presses back inside, but it’s a good noise, Dan thinks. “Mm,” Phil hums. “This is better.”

“Yeah?” Dan asks, grinning.

Phil nods, twirling his fingers around a curling piece of Dan’s hair. “I can feel you even deeper like this,” he murmurs, sounding inexplicably fond.

Dan makes a noise that’s somewhere between a whine and a whimper, and Phil tugs at his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. Dan slows his thrusting to a grind so they don’t knock their teeth together too much, and Phil opens his mouth up for him with a soft noise.

It’s softer like this, Dan realizes. They’re slow and careful as they drag fingers over damp skin and press kisses to any place they can reach. Dan’s never been a fan of the term, but this feels more like making love than anything he’s ever heard described in any movie or book.

He’s quick to bat that thought away though. If there’s one thing he understands about their arrangement, it’s that this is temporary.

He doesn’t want to think about that right now, though. Not when Phil is squeezing around him so tightly and he’s making these sounds, like he feels just as good as Dan does. So instead he does what any sensible person would do, sitting up and reaching down to take Phil’s dripping cock in his hand.

Phil keens, and Dan hides his pleased smile against Phil’s knee. “Good?” He asks softly.

Phil nods jerkily. “Really good,” he breathes. “Just, ah-“ he flaps his hand vaguely. “Bit dry.”

“Oh, hang on.” Dan pulls his hand away in search of the lube, but keeps idly thrusting his hips while he searches the sheets for it. Phil whines, and Dan glances down at him with a smirk. “There it is,” he says, brandishing the little bottle triumphantly when he spots it near Phil’s shoulder.

“Pour some more on you, too,” Phil says, reaching up to hold his thighs close to his chest so Dan can pull out.

Dan nods, resting a hand against the back of one of Phil’s thighs as he dribbles a bit over the length of his cock, pushing back in gently and glancing up at Phil to gauge his reaction. “Is that good enough?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Phil nods, gripping at his own hair. “I just don’t like the drag when it starts drying out.”

Dan smiles. He loves learning all these little intricacies about his favorite person. “You like it wet, no shame in that,” he teases, pouring a dollop on his hand and tossing the bottle to the side before wrapping Phil up in a tight grip. He’s learned a few things about how Phil likes to have his dick touched over the weeks that they’ve been doing this, and nothing is better than getting to practice them all.

Phil blushes at what Dan said, but doesn’t argue. “God,” he murmurs instead. “I’m getting really close, baby.”

Dan’s whole body tingles at the pet name. “Okay,” he murmurs, using his free hand to drag Phil’s legs back over his shoulders. He kisses Phil’s knee, trailing across to nip gently at a bit of thigh. Phil jerks, and Dan smiles down at him innocently.

“Cannibal,” Phil says affectionately.

“You like it,” Dan argues.

Phil doesn’t deny it. Instead, he shifts his hips to grind up against Dan, his eyes fluttering closed as Dan tightens his grip, wanking Phil’s cock with purpose. Phil sighs, a little punched out noise that has Dan feeling desperate, his hips driving in faster and harder to reach that place that Phil’s at.

It doesn’t take long. Listening to Phil’s noises and feeling his tight, wet heat around Dan’s cock are recipes for an early finish, but Dan is still a little impressed at how long he’s managed to hold out. Still, he feels a little bad for how quickly he’s approaching that finish line, with Phil still whining and twitching beneath him, like he can’t quite reach it himself.

“C’mon, bub,” Dan breathes, nipping at Phil’s thigh again and twisting his wrist on an upstroke. “I want you to come first.”

“I’m trying,” Phil whines. “It’s- it’s too much, too-“

Dan gets a weird idea. Weird, because, well, it feels incredible to be buried inside Phil’s body like this, as close as two people can be, and honestly someone would have to fight to pull him away from that any other time.

So it’s weird that instead, he pulls out gently, shushing Phil’s noise of protest as he crawls down Phil’s body so that he’s level with Phil’s cock. “Oh,” Phil breathes when Dan ghosts his lips over the tip, dragging his mouth down lower to kiss and suck at his balls. His hands go exploring, searching lower until he finds exactly what he’s looking for.

Phil groans when Dan pushes two fingers inside, and Dan hears the complaint before Phil has a chance to make it. “Your hand’s too dry, Danny.”

“Shh, I know,” Dan placates him, pulling his hand out after a gentle prod around. He glances up at Phil for a second, and when he sees that Phil’s got his eyes closed, head thrown back, Dan grins. Phil’s a little on the shy side about certain parts of sex, and so he’s not sure how Phil would feel about this particular idea if Dan were to ask him.

So instead of asking with words, Dan gives a last gentle kiss to Phil’s balls, then kisses further down, slow enough that Phil could stop him if he wanted.

He doesn’t.

Dan reaches his destination and places a light kiss to the pink puffy rim before him, and he hears Phil’s sharp intake of breath.

“Dan,” he breathes, his voice tight.

“Can I?” Dan asks, excited. He loves doing this for people, even though it wasn’t something he was often allowed.

Phil seems to be struggling to decide. “I...”

Dan kisses him there again, gently. “I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he says softly, looking up at Phil with what he hopes are perfect puppy eyes.

Phil reaches down, brushing Dan’s damp, curling hair out of his eyes. “Yeah,” he agrees after a moment. “Just...” He looks embarrassed.

Dan thinks he gets that. He’s not usually shy about sex like Phil is, but he understands how nerve wracking this particular sex act is, especially with a new partner. “I’ll make it good for you,” he promises, grabbing Phil’s hand and pressing a quick kiss to his palm.

Phil rubs his thumb over Dan’s lips. “I know,” he says softly. He shifts to give Dan more room, and Dan takes that as an invitation.

He dives back in, gentle, just like he promised. He starts with kisses at first, just gentle brushes of his lips while one hand reaches up to wank Phil’s cock, which is still rock hard and hot. Dan slowly introduces a bit of tongue, just an occasional brush against Phil’s rim until he hears him whimper. Dan can tell without looking that it’s a good noise, Phil’s legs shaking with pleasure.

After that, Dan’s a little less cautious. He’s basically making out with Phil’s hole, so he fully commits to it, pressing his tongue in as far as it’ll go, using one hand to hold Phil in place. He struggles to get the position right at first, but then Phil’s hands appear, reaching down to hold himself open, giving Dan plenty of space to work. Dan glances up at him with a grin and a wink. “Thanks,” he mumbles against Phil’s puffy hole as he dives back in.

He laps and sucks and fucks him with his tongue, and eventually Phil is grabbing his hair, moaning loudly above him. Dan will pat himself on the back for this later, but right now he just really, really wants to make Phil come.

“Close,” Phil breathes. “Really fucking close.”

Dan doubles his efforts, wanking him fast and sucking hard and it takes just two, three strokes, and then Phil’s body is seizing up, tight like a wire before he finally releases with a long sigh.

Dan kisses his hole once more, nuzzling his thigh gently before kissing his way back up, lapping at the come cooling on Phil’s stomach just a bit, just enough that Phil groans and squeezes his eyes shut when he looks down and sees him.

Then, Dan decides it’s his turn. He’s hard and aching and ready to burst, but he’s polite enough to give Phil some space to recover. For a moment, at least, and then he’s tugging the condom off and swinging his legs over Phil, rutting his cock against the come smeared all over his stomach.

“Fuck, Dan,” Phil groans. “You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Dan shrugs. “That’s fine. We can go again. Maybe you can fuck me this time,” he says with a cheeky grin. He’s mostly kidding. He’s already feeling exhausted, and at this point he just wants to come his brains out and then immediately pass the fuck out for the night.

Phil seems to be on the same page. “Maybe another night,” he says vaguely, reaching forward and gripping Dan’s hips. “Come here, I’ll blow you the rest of the way.”

Dan smiles and crawls up Phil’s body to straddle his chest, holding his cock to Phil’s lips. “Here comes the airplane,” Dan says in a stupid voice.

“Shut up,” Phil laughs. He tugs Dan forward by his ass, holding his mouth open like a baby bird.

Dan really needs to stop with the childish references before he gives himself a complex.

Instead, he focuses on the feeling of Phil’s mouth. Dan thinks that he’s got this down to a science by now, knows all the right places Dan likes to have touched when he’s getting a blowjob, knows the exact pressure he can use when sucking to really make Dan’s eyes roll back in his head. It’s kind of perfect, if he’s being completely honest.

It doesn’t take him long, not with how long he’s been aching to come, and when he does it’s with a long whine and a full-body shiver. Phil swallows and gives his cock a sweet little kiss, looking up at him with this adoring smile.

“I love it when you do that,” he says.

Dan quirks an eyebrow. “Do what? Come in your mouth?” He smirks.

Phil rolls his eyes, pinching his naked hip in reprimand. “No. That cute little shiver thing you do when you come. It makes me feel like I did a good job.”

And that’s... really adorable, that Phil would even be worried about that.

Dan scoots himself down Phil’s chest so that he’s laying flat on top of him, then smashes their lips together messily. He can taste himself on Phil’s tongue, sharp and salty and a little bit gross. He still likes it though, probably more than he should. So he lets himself indulge for a while, relaxing his weight onto Phil’s body and plying him with kisses.

Eventually, Phil pushes him away a bit. “I’m covered in semen,” he says matter-of-factly.

Dan sits up, looking down at the mess now smeared across both of their chests. “I suppose we both are,” he observes. “Wonder what we ought to do about that.”

Phil smiles tiredly. “Can we just do a quick wash up? I’m really tired.”

“Sure,” Dan nods. He goes to climb off of Phil’s lap, when a thought hits him. “Should we do some more photos?”

Phil flinches. “Now?”

Dan shrugs. “Yeah. I mean... I’m all debauched, I reckon that’s what you’re going for, right?”

Phil stares at him for a long time. Dan feels his gaze like a brand, and it makes him twitch. Finally, Phil shakes his head. “No. I got enough photos for that part.”

“Oh,” Dan says slowly. “Okay.”

There’s a moment of silence as they stare at each other, and then Phil leans back, closing his eyes. “Can you go get something to clean us up with?” His voice is flat.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Sure,” he whispers. He feels chastised, even if Phil really hadn’t said anything out of order. He climbs off of Phil gingerly, being careful not to touch him more than necessary. It feels wrong, now, to be this naked together, and Dan makes sure to grab his pants from the floor on his way out, as well a random shirt. It’s probably not his, but they’ve fallen into a habit of sharing clothes a lot lately so there’s a good chance that it might be.

He goes to the bathroom and wets a cloth, carefully cleaning himself up and dressing in silence. His heart is racing all of a sudden, like he’s two seconds away from a panic attack, and he really, really doesn’t want to deal with that on top of everything else right now.

Quietly, he returns to Phil’s bedroom with the damp cloth, hovering by the bed awkwardly, looking down at Phil, whose eyes are still closed. His breathing is too uneven for him to be asleep, but Dan feels strange, like he’s not supposed to speak to him when he’s like this. He tries not to think about which part of his childhood instilled this particular behavior.

“I can feel you staring at me,” Phil says suddenly, interrupting the weird, tense silence.

“Sorry,” Dan mumbles.

Phil blinks up at him, and Dan’s never seen him look so tired. Like the weight of the universe is clinging to his shoulders. “Clean me up?” He asks, voice soft.

Dan’s shoulders relax and he lets out a breath. “Yeah, course,” he murmurs. He drags the cloth over Phil’s chest and stomach, wiping away all the evidence of their activities, then carefully cleans up around his dick before going lower. Phil hisses, and Dan stops immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just sensitive. Be gentle.” Phil looks at him with kind eyes, like he already knows that Dan will do his best.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. He carefully cleans up the tacky, drying lube, and when he’s finished, he holds the cloth in his hand, slightly disgusted.

“Just toss it wherever,” Phil says, flapping a hand, uncaring. “It’ll get into the wash eventually.”

Dan at least has the decency to drop it far enough from the bed that there’s very little chance that either of them will step on it, but with empty hands, he’s suddenly unsure of his purpose. He shifts awkwardly near the door, hesitating. He wants to stay, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed. They don’t always sleep together after, well, sleeping together, but tonight... Dan really fucking wants to.

“Are you coming to bed or are you just going to stand there creeping?” Phil asks eventually, looking over at Dan like he’s gone crazy.

Dan could crumple with relief at that. “Yeah,” he says, making his way back across the room and sliding into bed next to Phil. “I wasn’t sure if, like, you wanted me to stay.”

Phil snorts. Dan tries not to be offended, since he doesn’t really know the reason for the rather unattractive sound. “I always want you to stay,” Phil mumbles, wrapping around Dan like an octopus once he’s settled.

“Me too,” Dan whispers, wrapping his arms around Phil’s waist. He’s clinging, but Phil is too, a bit, so Dan doesn’t feel too guilty. He does realize, however, that Phil is still naked. This feels like it needs to be said. “You’re naked,” he says softly, stroking Phil’s shoulder with gentle sweeps.

“Mm,” Phil hums. “Yeah. That okay?”

Dan snorts. “Of course. As long as you’re comfy.”

Phil nuzzles him then, like a proper nuzzle, and Dan knows he’s not going to be able to escape his very real feelings for much longer.

“Dan?” Phil says eventually, breaking the lull of almost-sleep Dan has fallen into.

“Hm?” Dan mumbles, his eyes already closed.

Phil’s quiet for long enough that Dan is mostly asleep when he speaks again. “You like me, don’t you?”

Dan hums, a sleep-drunk noise that’s barely coherent.

“Dan,” Phil says again, nudging him. “You do, right?”

“Mhm,” Dan mumbles, sighing noisily and snuggling in close to Phil. “Like you best,” he says nonsensically.

Phil makes a noise then, that Dan’s mostly-asleep brain deciphers as a pleased noise. He whispers something against Dan’s hair, but Dan loses it to the clutches of sleep.

~~~

When Dan wakes up, he knows something is wrong. It’s still dark out, but the bed is empty and the sheets are cold, and even as he tries to claw his way out of the haze of sleep, he knows that something about that should raise some alarm.

“Phil?” He calls, patting around on the bed for his phone. The screen is too bright when it powers on, showing a hideous three a.m. that makes Dan want to gag. But part of him, the part that’s spent maybe fourteen nights with Phil so far, is very concerned about this turn of events.

Quietly, as if there’s someone to wake, he crawls out of the bed, shivering in the chilled air. He quickly grabs a random blanket that’s thrown over the back of Phil’s desk chair, wrapping it around his shoulders as he goes in search of Phil.

A peek into the bathroom and kitchen has him coming up empty, so he journeys into the lounge, unnerved by how quiet and dark everything is. He shivers as he turns slowly in the space, and his breath catches when he sees movement out on the balcony.

He relaxes when he realizes that it’s Phil, and paces over to see what the fuck has him out of bed and in the cold, half-dressed at three in the morning. Dan taps on the glass door before he slides it open, making sure Phil isn’t startled by his presence.

It appears he needn’t have bothered, as Phil barely glances at him when Dan steps out on the balcony. Instead, he stares out at the sky before him, not sparing Dan a single look.

Dan can’t take the silence for long. “Having a nice freeze?” He jokes quietly.

Phil doesn’t laugh. His lips barely twitch. “Yeah,” he says flatly.

Dan shuffles, looking down at his feet. He’s already freezing, and he’s got far more layers on than Phil. Phil, who is only wearing a t-shirt and Sonic-printed pants that peek out from under his shirt just a bit. “Are you cold?” He asks softly.

“Why’re you out of bed?” Phil asks, ignoring his question.

Dan startles a bit at his tone. “I was looking for you,” he says, almost petulant. “I woke up alone, and I wanted to know where you were.”

“Well, you found me,” he says. He still doesn’t look at Dan.

“Yeah,” Dan says slowly. “Wishing I didn’t, to be honest.”

Phil finally glances at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Hm,” is all he says.

“Why’re you being a dick?” Dan asks bluntly. He’s always been one to get straight to the point, as he’s been told by many people in his life.

Phil sighs, settling back in his chair and closing his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice low. “I don’t mean to be. I’m just tired.”

Dan takes a risk, stepping forward to stand between Phil’s knees. “So come back to bed,” he mumbles, nudging Phil’s knee playfully with his own.

Phil’s lips twitch in an almost-real smile, and Dan savors that victory while he can. This turns out to be a good thing, because when Phil opens his mouth, it’s not what Dan wants to hear. “You can go back to bed. I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

Dan frowns. “I don’t want to go back to bed unless you come too.” He sounds like a child, but he can’t help it.

Apparently Phil picks up on the whiny tone, as well. “Dan, I’m really not in the mood,” he sighs.

“In the mood for what?” Dan demands, his temper flaring.

Phil rolls his eyes. That pisses Dan off even more, if it’s possible. “To argue. Just, go to sleep, or watch tv, or something.”

Dan hates himself for it, but he feels rejected. “I’m not trying to argue with you,” he starts, wrapping his arms around himself as a gust of wind blows over the balcony. Phil shivers, and Dan’s heart clenches. “You’re cold,” he says gently.

“I’m fine.”

“Right.”

“Dan, just...” Phil sighs, rubbing his eyes.

Dan doesn’t want to hear what he’s about to say. “Do you want me to leave?” He asks suddenly, his stomach twisting with the thought. London at three in the morning was a terrifying place.

“Of course not,” Phil replies vehemently. “I want you to stay, I just...” he sighs, running his hands through his hair and making it stand up at funny angles. “My head’s being loud,” he murmurs eventually.

“Oh,” Dan replies. This is really the first time Phil has shared this side of himself, this side that feels pain and annoyance and discomfort.

“Yeah,” Phil says. “So I came out here to try and clear it.”

Dan feels guilty, suddenly. “And then I came out here and made it worse,” he fills in.

Phil shakes his head immediately, reaching out for Dan and gripping his hip. “No, you didn’t. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay,” Dan mumbles. He hates his body’s natural reaction to this kind of stress, as he can feel hot tears pinpricking his eyes. He blinks rapidly, hoping Phil won’t notice.

Of course, Phil notices. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling Dan in to sit on his lap.

Dan goes willingly, settling into Phil’s arms that wrap around him, one hand coming up to rub his back in gentle sweeps. “Sorry,” Dan mumbles, wiping at his eyes with the edge of the blanket.

“It’s okay,” Phil says softly. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Dan immediately says. It’s a lie, but his natural instinct is apparently protect Phil first and then feel guilty about it later.

Phil kisses his cheek. “I know that I did,” he says gently. “I’m sorry.”

Dan stays quiet, nuzzling against Phil’s neck, curling up as if he can make himself smaller by sheer will alone.

They sit in silence for a long while and then eventually, Phil sighs. “We should go back to bed.”

“Is your head still loud?” Dan asks.

Phil pats his back, prompting him to climb off his lap. “It is, but it’s fine. I’ll go to sleep eventually.”

Dan doesn’t move from his spot, chewing on his lip as he considers something. He turns so that he’s facing Phil, offering a timid grin. “I think I have a better idea.”

~~~

“This is not exactly what I thought you had in mind,” Phil says, his voice sounding very skeptical.

Dan huffs. “Quit being a hater,” he says, snuggling back against Phil. They’re sat on the sofa, Phil leaning back against the arm with Dan tucked between his legs, his back pressed to Phil’s chest.

Phil kisses his neck. “Sorry. What’re we doing again?” He wraps his arms around Dan’s waist, squeezing him like a teddy bear. Dan doesn’t mind being that teddy bear at all.

“You’re gonna help me decorate my island and my house on the new Animal Crossing game,” Dan informs him, leaving no room for debate.

“And why are we doing this instead of sleeping?”

“Because you said you probably wouldn’t be able to sleep,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.

Phil kisses his neck again, and nuzzles at his shoulder, biting gently and playfully. “Okay, so instead of not-sleeping,” he says, a certain lilt to his voice. “Why are we doing this?”

Dan tilts his head to give him a look. “Because this is just a mindless little video game, and I think it would make you feel better to focus on something unimportant for right now. Something that’ll keep your brain busy but not in a bad way, you know?”

Phil looks at him for what feels like a long time before finally nodding. He kisses Dan’s cheek softly, lingering just a little. “Okay, fine. Let’s check out this island, then.”

~~~

“That is so tacky,” Dan complains.

“It’s not!”

“Phil, it doesn’t match.”

“So?”

Dan groans, crossing his arms petulantly. He’d handed the switch over to Phil when he realized that Phil was already familiar with the concept of Animal Crossing. He hadn’t played New Horizons yet, though, so Dan thought this was a perfect opportunity to get a taste of the game before he committed to buying it for himself.

“I’m gonna have so much to fix when you get done playing,” Dan complains.

Phil pinches his thigh. “Shut up, rat. Now where can I go with all these fossils? Should we sell them?”

Dan screeches, a fair impression of a pterodactyl. “No! Take them to the museum, you tit.”

Phil giggles behind him, and Dan feels it vibrate against his back. “Fine, fine. Where’s the museum?”

Sighing loudly in a very put-upon way, Dan guides him through the game to where his museum is located, screeching and complaining when Phil gets his lefts and rights confused and can’t figure it out. By the time Phil gets there, they’re both giggling uncontrollably, poking at each other repeatedly just to start laughing again. It’s so nice, Dan thinks. This is just what they needed. Even if it is nearly five in the morning and they’ve gotten absolutely no sleep, this is what they needed.

“Hey,” Phil says softly after a few minutes, once they’ve mostly settled down.

“Hm?” Dan replies, watching the screen as Phil makes Dan’s character run around in circles.

“Thank you, for this.” Phil’s voice is quiet, and it almost feels like too much, there in the darkness when they’re wrapped around each other like this.

“Of course,” Dan murmurs to him, tilting his head back and puckering his lips for a kiss. Phil grants him with a gentle peck, and Dan turns back to the game, pretending that the pointless kiss didn’t send an army of butterflies raging through his chest.

“You really knew exactly what I needed to calm down,” Phil says, sounding almost in awe of the fact.

Dan snorts. “Of course. You’re my best friend, Phil.” He hesitates, then, nervous that he may have crossed a line that he’s not ready to cross. “I mean- I may not be yours, and like, that’s fine, I just-“

“You’re mine, too,” Phil says quickly. Dan glances up in time to see Phil blushing. “You’re my best friend.”

They stare at each other for a minute that feels like forever, and then Dan clears his throat. “Right. Glad we got that cleared up,” he says, trying to joke.

Phil tightens his grip on Dan’s waist, and Dan tries to pretend that it doesn’t make his heart pound. “Should we go back to bed?” Phil says softly.

Dan smirks at that. “Round two?”

He feels a laugh vibrate against his back and a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “Don’t know about that, babe. I’m actually kind of exhausted.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees. “It’s getting late. Or early, depending on how you look at it.”

Phil sighs, nodding. “And I’ve got to meet Martyn in the morning.” For all the time Dan has known him, Phil has never sounded so upset about meeting up with his brother.

“Well we definitely need to hit the sack, then,” Dan says. He pats Phil’s arm that’s wrapped around his waist and sits up. “C’mon, bub. To bed, to bed.”

Phil allows himself to be pulled off the sofa and down the hall into his room. Dan tugs Phil’s shirt off with no other intention than making Phil more comfortable, and Phil’s got a soft look on his face when his head emerges. Dan brings a hand up to rest at Phil’s neck, rubbing his thumb over his pulse gently. It’s a moment that feels like it’s suspended in time, their breaths evening out to match. Dan thinks that maybe, maybe this is what it would feel like if they were actually together. Maybe this hot air balloon feeling would be comfortable someday, if he was allowed to grow more used to it. As it is now, it’s so unfamiliar that Dan feels like he might choke with how overwhelming his feelings are.

“Dan,” Phil breathes in the limited space between their lips.

The moment is shattered, and Dan forces himself to pull away. “I’m tired,” he says. His voice is flat.

He doesn’t miss the hurt on Phil’s face, for the flash of a second that it’s there. It’s gone before he gets the chance to feel properly guilty over it, and Phil’s turning away, crawling under the sheets without a word.

Dan settles on the side he’s come to think of as his own, but there’s an undeniable tension in the air between them now. He pretends there’s not, reaching out and turning off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight,” he whispers once he resettles.

He’s greeted with silence.

~~~

The next morning, Dan wakes up alone.

The light is streaming in through Phil’s shitty blinds, and Dan groans out his discomfort, flailing about like he can will the sunshine away by sheer force alone. It doesn’t work, obviously, but his flailing about does bring his attention to the emptiness of the bed.

He sits up, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes with sleep-numb fingers. “Phil?” he calls out. His voice echoes in the quiet of the room.

When he doesn’t immediately hear a reply, Dan starts worrying, because of course he does. He’s never woken up totally alone in Phil’s flat. On the rare occasions when Phil isn’t still in bed with him, Dan always finds him in the kitchen or bathroom, or somewhere. But a quick search of the flat has him coming up empty and he’s trying not to panic, really he is, but he actually can’t help it.

He calms down a little when he notices a note pinned to the fridge. It’s a little ridiculous how relieved he is when he pulls it down to read it.

Dan- I would’ve texted but I didn’t want to wake you up. I’m just out to breakfast with Martyn. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. Phil

He’s signed the note with a heart beside his name, and Dan refuses to think about how that makes him feel. Instead he focuses on the last part. I hope you’ll still be there when I get home. The idea that Phil would still want to see him again, after the awkwardness of the night before, makes his heart pound. He feels almost sick with guilt over how he’d acted. But he had been so overwhelmed, with the sex and the emotions that came with it. It was no surprise that he was pushing Phil away by the end of the night.

Dan sighs, folding the note carefully and making his way back to Phil’s bedroom. He tucks the note into his backpack, and then he just sort of stops. He’s not sure what to do, alone in Phil’s flat. It’s not something that’s ever happened before, he realizes with a start. Of course he’s spent the night with Phil before, several times by now, but this is the first time he’s found himself waking up alone on a Saturday in the other man’s flat, with no real idea of when he’s coming back. It’s probably stupid, how much he’s already missing Phil, when he’s got no idea how long he’s even been gone.

It takes Dan a few minutes of searching, but eventually he finds his phone amidst the sheets, and he sighs when he doesn’t see any notifications. He debates with himself for a minute or two, but ultimately decides that yes, he is that pathetic, and opens his chat with Phil. All he does is type out a quick “good morning” before going to find a phone plug, a mocking thirteen percent glaring at him from the top of his screen.

He’s barely gotten the phone plugged in when it vibrates with a notification. It buzzes two more times before Dan manages to swipe over to the messages, and he grins when he sees what’s there.

Phil: hi! Phil: why did we stay up so late 😭 Phil: I swear I have some sort of weird sober hangover

Dan grins as he types out a response, leaning awkwardly on Phil’s desk as he does.

Dan: Idk bub I guess maybe you should’ve stayed in bed Dan: you know, instead of abandoning me

Phil: I had to meet my brother!

Dan: I’m naked though

It’s sort of a lie, since Dan is wearing a pair of Phil’s pants, but he could easily be naked, if he was so inclined.

Phil: ..... okay maybe I should’ve stayed at home

Dan smirks to himself. This part of their arrangement, at least, is easy.

Dan: where r u guys at

Phil: That cafe close to the park Phil: The one you said had hipster vibes

Dan: ew of course martyn would like that place

Dan’s never actually met him but from what he hears from Phil, Martyn’s definitely the hipster-y type.

Phil: You wanna come meet us? Martyn keeps asking about you

Dan: you want me to meet your brother?

He’s trying to be normal about this. Because really, that’s a normal thing. Friends do that. Friends meet their friends’ siblings and families all the time.

It’s the “friends” part that Dan is having trouble with, actually.

Phil: Yes.

Dan hesitates. That does sound kind of nice, actually, but something in him doesn’t really know what his answer should be. He knows what he wants it to be, of course. He definitely knows that.

He must take too long to answer, because suddenly his phone is vibrating in his hand, the constant vibrate of an incoming call. Of course it’s Phil, and of course Dan answers almost immediately.

“I still can’t believe you’re the kind of person who just calls when they don’t get a text back,” Dan says in lieu of a hello.

Phil sounds like he’s smiling when he replies. “Come to the cafe. I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Dan makes a considering noise, as if he’s not already digging around Phil’s dresser for something to wear. “Alright, fine. But I’m not putting out.”

Phil laughs. “Yes you will,” he says quietly. Dan wonders if Martyn can hear both sides of this conversation. “Now hurry up. I want another croissant, but I don’t wanna order twice.”

“Okay but I’m borrowing your clothes,” Dan says, tugging on a pair of dark grey sweats. He goes to the closet, looking through the selection with pursed lips.

“Fine,” Phil says, unbothered. “Wear something warm, it’s cold out.”

Dan smiles. “Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Bye, Dan.” The call disconnects with a click, leaving Dan to select a shirt in silence. He debates with himself for all of a minute before tugging at Phil’s hoodie from his university days, tugging it over his head easily. It’s hideous, but it makes him feel warm when he wears it, both literally and figuratively. It’s well worn with all the years of use it’s seen, but it also makes Dan feel a little possessive. As if anyone who sees him will somehow assume that he belongs to someone just because of a stupid sweater, with a university insignia on it that’s not his own.

He tells his brain to shut the hell up as he makes his way out of Phil’s flat, locking the door behind him with the spare key Phil keeps above the door. He considers slipping it into his pocket but figures that if he comes back it’ll be with Phil anyway, so it would be pointless to pocket the key.

It’s a short walk to the cafe he’s headed for, but he still tucks his AirPods in and scrolls through one of his many pretentiously named playlists until he finds one of his favorite Frank Ocean songs, one that’s really good to listen to while he walks. He hums along as he walks, stuffing his hands in his borrowed hoodie pocket. Phil wasn’t joking about the weather, and Dan’s already regretting his lack of undershirt as the wind nips at every bit of exposed skin.

When the cafe comes into sight, it’s a very welcome thing, and Dan stuffs his AirPods back in their case as he pushes the door open. There’s no happy little bell ringing out the sound of his arrival, not like the little cafe that he and Phil always go to on their own. Still, it’s a warm building, and somewhere in it is the promise of food and Phil, so Dan is pleased to be there anyway.

It doesn’t take him long to spot Phil and his brother sitting at a table towards the back of the cafe. And from the goofy look on Phil’s face, it didn’t take them long to spot him either.

“Hi,” he says when he reaches the table. He didn’t realize it until now, as he’s face to face with the infamous older Lester brother, but he’s nervous. He’s so nervous to meet someone that he knows is so important to a person who’s so important to him.

“Hi,” Phil parrots, sliding over and patting the space of booth next to him. “Cute top,” he smirks as he looks over Dan’s outfit, making Dan’s cheeks flame in mild embarrassment.

When Dan slides in, he offers a smile to the stranger across from them, unsure what to say. He turns to Phil with the intentions of making some sort of joke, but he’s thrown off track by Phil leaning in, planting a short kiss right on his mouth. Dan startles away, his heart racing as he shoots a panicked glance over to Phil’s brother.

Martyn looks completely unbothered, and more unsurprised than Dan thinks he’s really got a right to. “So you must be Dan,” he says, his tone neutral. He’s got a smirk on his face, or what Dan thinks might be one if his eyes weren’t also a bit smiley. “Unless my brother is just in the habit of kissing strange boys.” He sends Phil a funny look, his mouth doing a mimicry of Phil’s precious tongue bite thing.

“Er-“ Dan says with an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I’m Dan.”

Martyn reaches his hand across the table, and Dan accepts the handshake, still a little shaken by the weirdness of the whole encounter. He’s trying not to think about the other reason he feels a little shaken, or the way his lips feel decidedly tingly from Phil’s kiss.

“I’m Martyn, his brother. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Martyn is saying. Dan forces himself to pay attention. “Phil never shuts up about you.”

“Martyn,” Phil hisses. There’s a thudding noise and Martyn winces. Dan knows without asking that Phil just kicked him. Phil smiles sweetly at Dan, and Dan can’t help but lean into the warmth of his gaze. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“Hm,” Dan hums thoughtfully. “There was mention of croissants?”

Phil rolls his eyes, but nods. “I’ll go get you your usual carb selection. Scooch.”

Dan dimples up at him as he slides out of the booth so that Phil can get up to go order. As Phil passes him, Dan makes a split-second decision and kisses his cheek, his body desperate to release some of the affectionate energy he’s got stored up from a morning without him. “Get me something sweet too?” Dan requests as he slides back into the booth.

Phil grins at him. “You’ve already got me, though!”

Martyn makes a retching noise and Dan feels himself blush as Phil trots over to the counter to order their food. Dan forgets to be nervous about being left alone with Phil’s brother for a second, so wrapped up in watching the awkward hand gestures Phil makes as he selects an array of croissants and muffins for them.

His brief reverie is ruined when he hears Martyn clear his throat from across the table. Dan jerks at the noise, startled. Martyn sends him an apologetic smile, and Dan finds himself relaxing. Martyn really isn’t that scary in person.

“If he wasn’t so tall, I’d swear he’s a hobbit,” Martyn says, nodding towards his brother.

It takes Dan a minute to think about it, but he grins when it clicks. “Are we on second breakfast or elevensies?” he jokes.

Martyn laughs, seemingly pleased that Dan understood the reference. “Definitely elevensies,” he says.

Dan smiles, shaking his head in fond exasperation as he sneaks another glance at Phil. “He eats like he’s been starved for twelve years. I don’t know where he puts it all,” Dan jokes, rolling his eyes.

Martyn grins. “One of the world’s greatest mysteries,” he agrees. He glances over at Phil for a second, like he’s checking that he’s still preoccupied, and then he’s turning back to Dan, a thoughtful look on his face. “Phil seems really happy these days.”

“Yeah?” Dan says lightly, trying his hardest not to let that go to his head. He can’t hide the smile it causes though, but he tries, biting down on his lip hard.

“Yeah,” Martyn confirms. He taps the table a little, peeking over his shoulder at Phil again. Phil’s chatting with the barista as they prepare the drinks, and Dan just knows that Phil is trying to tell some weird coffee joke that he tells every time he’s in a coffee shop. Dan’s attention is brought back to Martyn when he speaks again, his voice quieter than before. “We never thought he’d get over his ex-boyfriend, to be honest with you. He was so hung up over him, even after the breakup.” Martyn shakes his head, taking a sip of his coffee with a pained look in his eyes.

Dan feels like he’s been doused in cold water all of a sudden, the thought of there being some other man, some other partner before him... But then again, he reminds himself bitterly, they aren’t partners. They’re just friends who... friends who sleep together sometimes. And that’s enough for Dan. But if that’s all they are, he can’t bear this- hearing about some ex-boyfriend that left Phil broken and obsessed. Some person out there that’s been lucky enough to have the parts of Phil that Dan himself isn’t allowed to have, and then wasted it. He can’t handle it.

Martyn doesn’t seem to notice the breakdown Dan is having, steamrolling right over the topic like it’s nothing. “So I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Phil told me that he met someone.”

Dan startles at that. The way he phrased it makes it sound like Martyn has a very different perspective on their situation. Almost like Phil told him they were...

“Freshly made breakfast, per your request,” Phil announces as he appears beside the table, his arms laden with various treats and pastries.

“You say that like we don’t know they’re thawed out of a freezer every morning and then chucked in a microwave,” Martyn says, grinning.

“Well... they smell delicious, so surely that counts for something,” Phil says, flapping a hand, completely unbothered by Martyn’s comment. He starts sorting out the food, and Dan doesn’t realize he’s staring until Phil turns to speak to him, freezing when he catches the undoubtedly intense look on Dan’s face. “Are you okay?” Phil asks, his voice dropping to something soft.

Dan nods, trying to shake himself out of it. It’s fine. Everything is fine, so he needs to get a grip and get over himself. “Did you forget our coffee?” He asks, looking pointedly at the table.

Phil makes an offended noise, immediately followed by an “oh- yeah.”

Dan rolls his eyes, looking over at Martyn and shaking his head with a mocking thumb pointed in Phil’s direction. Dan can’t help but grin when Martyn laughs at that. “Scoot over, I’ll go get the coffee,” Dan says, patting Phil’s thigh.

Before he gets the chance to get up, a barista is appearing at their table with two cups of coffee, a small smile on their face. “You forgot your coffee,” they say pleasantly.

Phil looks embarrassed, but nods. “Thank you so much.” He pushes Dan’s cup to him as he gestures at his own head vaguely, saying, “one brain cell, and all that.”

The barista laughs and nods. “Same. Have a lovely day, guys.”

Dan waits until they walk back to the counter and out of earshot before he looks over at Martyn, nodding his head in Phil’s direction. “I can’t believe he told them he had one whole brain cell.” His voice is dripping with false disappointment, and he ignores the noise of protest from Phil.

Martyn grins though, clearly finding this banter delightful. “Right? He’s obviously only got half of one.”

“Hey!” Phil whines. “You can’t team up against me. It’s not fair.”

Dan reaches over and squeezes his knee, letting his hand linger for much longer than is actually necessary. “Don’t worry, bub. I have the other half.”

Phil looks surprised for a second, and Dan revels in the way that look melts into one of delighted affection. Turning to his brother, Phil sticks his tongue out childishly.

Martyn rolls his eyes, reaching over and snatching a croissant, dipping it in his coffee in a decidedly Lester fashion. “You’re a child,” he tells Phil mockingly.

Of course, Phil, ever the younger brother, retorts with a truly impressive: “I know you are but what am I?”

~~~

It’s nearly an hour later when Martyn makes his exit. He apologizes but says he’s got to get back home to his girlfriend, who has some kind of stomach flu. Phil mocks him for leaving her alone all morning, but Martyn has this oddly unbothered look, waving it off and saying, “she’s fine. Corny is a tough bird. She doesn’t need or want me to coddle her.” Phil says he can’t really argue with him there, and they laugh about it, making it clear that there’s something to this Cornelia person that Dan doesn’t quite get, having never met her.

They all clear off their trash and dishes from the table before Phil and Dan follow Martyn to the door. They pause as they stand outside, Martyn and Phil making plans to hang out again sometime the next week. Dan feels sort of awkward stood there, as they haven’t included him in this bit of the conversation, so he pulls his phone out, messing about on Twitter until he hears his name. He tunes back in, glancing up to find Martyn looking at him with a smile.

“Sorry, what?” he asks, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. God, way to look stupid in front of a stranger.

“I just asked if you’d be coming with Phil, when we go out next weekend,” Martyn says, with the air of someone who is not used to accepting no for an answer.

“Oh, er...” Dan looks to Phil helplessly, but Phil just shrugs. He’s smiling encouragingly, like he wants Dan to say yes, so Dan gives Martyn an awkward, uncertain nod. “Uh, sure. Where are you guys going?”

“We’re going with Martyn and Cornelia to have dinner and maybe clubbing a little bit,” Phil replies, giving Dan an apologetic look. He knows how Dan feels about clubbing, and something about that fills Dan with such an ooey-gooey warmth that he finds himself agreeing to it easily, despite how much he despises the club scene.

“Sure, I’m in. Sounds fun,” Dan says with a smile.

Martyn looks pleased, and Dan is surprised when he holds his arms out for a hug. “Cool. Listen, it was nice meeting you, mate. Be good to my little brother, okay?”

“O-kay,” Dan says, stuttering through the word just a bit. He can’t hide his surprise, though, and it only melts into confusion when Martyn pulls away with a wink.

“Bye, Phil,” Martyn says, hugging Phil next. He mumbles something in his ear that Dan doesn’t catch, but Phil’s ears go pink, and Dan decides that he’ll be pestering Phil about it immediately after Martyn leaves.

“Goodbye, Martyn,” Phil says, a little bit strained. He waves his brother off, reaching out and catching Dan’s wrist with the one not waving. Dan thinks he probably means to hold his hand but just doesn’t have the coordination to do both at once.

Dan watches Martyn walk away, then turns to look at Phil. “Your flat is also that way,” he points out, unnecessarily, probably, considering Phil looks like he’d rather choke than have to walk with his brother. Dan’s dying to ask what Martyn could’ve possibly said that would make Phil react like this, but he’s going to give it a moment.

“I know,” Phil says, petulant. He’s a lip twitch away from a full-on pout.

“So... shouldn’t we also be going that way?” Dan teases.

Phil suddenly shakes his head, turning and tugging Dan in the opposite direction. “Nope. We’re going to the park.”

“Are we?” Dan laughs, letting himself be towed along.

“Yep,” Phil says, popping the ‘p’ as he says it. “Gonna buy some bread and feed some ducks.”

Dan shakes his head, adjusting the grip their hands are locked in so that their fingers are properly laced together. He tugs a little on Phil’s arm, slowing Phil down from where he’s walking a pace and a half quicker than Dan. “Bread is bad for ducks,” Dan remarks mindlessly.

“Hm,” Phil hums. He sounds distracted. “Fine, we’ll just look at the ducks.”

Dan shrugs. “Okay.” He waits for a beat. When it’s clear that Phil isn’t going to look at him or speak, Dan cracks. “So what did Martyn say?”

Phil’s face immediately flushes, an incredibly big tell for him. Dan bites back a laugh, squeezing Phil’s fingers reassuringly. “Nothing,” he says quickly. Another tell, and clearly he doesn’t know Dan very well if he thinks that Dan is just going to let it go.

“Come on,” Dan whines, tugging on Phil’s hand. “Tell me! I won’t leave you alone until you tell me.”

Phil rolls his eyes, tugging his hand out of Dan’s grip. Dan feels mildly offended for a moment, but he recovers quickly when he feels Phil’s arm wrap around his shoulders instead. “You’re not wearing anything under this, are you?” Phil asks as he tugs at a hoodie string, ignoring Dan’s pestering entirely.

“No, I’m not,” Dan says quickly, batting Phil’s hand away. “Quit trying to change the subject, I wanna know what he said.”

“It’s really cold out, Dan, you should’ve worn a t-shirt or something underneath this,” Phil continues, a little frown tugging at his lips.

Dan huffs. “I think you’re stalling,” he says.

Phil shrugs, looking away. His ears are still pink, and not the kind you only get from the cold. “I’m not,” he mumbles half-heartedly.

“Was it about me?” Dan asks, excited. He already knows it was, but the way Phil blushes confirms it for him. “It was! What was it?”

Phil sighs deeply. “If I tell you will you drop it?”

Dan nods, holding out his pinky for a sacred pinky-promise. Phil rolls his eyes, but locks their pinkies together anyway. “So?” Dan asks, giddy.

Phil’s quiet for a moment, pulling his arm away from Dan to shove his hands in his coat pockets. Dan feels the loss of his warmth immediately, and leans into his space to get a little of it back. “He told me that he was happy to see me happy,” Phil says quietly.

Dan’s heart squeezes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil says with a nod. “And...” he glanced over at Dan, looking away quickly with another flush to his cheeks. “He told me not to screw it up this time.”

At first, Dan is surprised that Martyn would tell him not to screw this up, considering he clearly doesn’t understand the arrangement they have, but then his brain processes the implications of that. Martyn had told Dan that Phil had gone through a terrible breakup, that they thought he’d never get over it... but what he said to Phil makes it sound like he was the one at fault. And despite the fact that they aren’t actually dating, that Dan doesn’t actually really know how Phil is in a romantic relationship, Dan just knows that this cannot be true.

“You couldn’t,” Dan says, leaving very little room for argument.

Phil gives him a strange look. “What?”

Dan clears his throat. “You couldn’t screw this up. You know that, right?”

Phil looks at him like he doesn’t quite agree, but shrugs. “I thought that last time, too,” he mumbles.

Dan’s heart jumps. Phil’s never told him about his previous relationships, and this feels like that might be where this conversation is headed. Dan doesn’t know if he can stand that. It was bad enough to hear Martyn tell it, Dan thinks he might actually be sick if he has to hear Phil tell it as well.

“Phil,” Dan murmurs, reaching out and touching his arm.

“It’s fine,” Phil says with a shrug. “This time will be different.” He turns to look at Dan, a little smile tugging at his lips. “Because you’re different.”

Dan has to pretend that doesn’t make his insides set alight, but oh god, it does. “Right,” Dan murmurs. He doesn’t even know what Phil meant by it, really. Is this different because they aren’t actually dating? Is it different because Dan isn’t like Phil’s mysterious ex? Dan is desperate to know, but he’s afraid to ask.

He didn’t realize how far they’d walked, but his spiral of ruinous thoughts is cut off by Phil tugging at his arm and pointing. “Look! Ducks!”

Dan still has questions, he still wants to know if there’s something else going on between them, but for now he decides to ignore it. There will inevitably come a day where he can’t ignore it, but he decides that today is not that day, and instead allows Phil to drag him over to where the family of ducks is quacking about near the pond.

~

[random-mha-thoughts]

Kiss of Death (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Angst

Summary: If the Angel of Death came upon you but you had half an hour, what would you do?

BGM: Ateez “Inception” slowed + reverb

Word count: 1,639

Warnings: Character death and preparation

Tags: @rintomoj​ @yuki-osaki​ @yamichxn​ @lonelyfangirl453​ @cyanide9602​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​

a/n: Really proud of this one, I really like it and I hope you guys do too.

The figure looms over you, its shadowy silhouette casting the room in darkness against the moonlight streaming through your window.  At first, you figured it was a thief or murderer breaking in; anyone else would have concluded the same judging from the dark clothes and intimidating demeanor.

That is, until you realize the massive shadow blocking out all the light is due to a pair of overarching, feathery wings.

Your mouth can't help gaping open as you jolt up in bed.  There's a supernatural creature visiting you at what you assume is an ungodly hour of the night.  The thick grey wings retract into their back, allowing you view of their entire physique as the moonlight rushes back into your room, no longer restricted.

The figure appears human, their white cloak's hood settles over squared shoulders and hips of roughly the same width.  Their hair cropped short and the rest of their features remain androgynous.  You should be scared of the intruder, but something about their serene expression and inexplicably calm aura dispels any tension in the room.

"My child, forgive me for disturbing you," their airy voice is just as serene as their appearance, a gentle fingers barely ghosting your cheek, "But I'm afraid your time has come."

Your eyes widen.  "M-My time?  As in..."

They nod slowly, the hand cool hand trailing down to gingerly take your hand.  "It is sudden, but to compensate, you are allowed half an hour to do as you please."

It's expected that being told you're going to die would send cold down your spine and threaten your entire being, your body shivering as your mind tries to comprehend what exactly it means to cease to exist.  While it does happen, you're calm and collected, smiling at the messenger.  "I'm thankful for the warning.  At least I won't have to leave without preparations."

Your mind is surprisingly rational in the face of an earth-shattering reality, you're unsure if it's because of the influence of the angel or your complete blind acceptance of fate - you hope it's the latter.

You begin your preparations.  The first thing you do is gather as many letters and envelopes as you have in your room.  Each one is addressed to those dear to you: to your closest friend and loving family members.  Pouring your most genuine feelings out into each of these makes your only slightly regretful that you might not have showered them with enough love in your life this far, but at this point you can only hope your affections shine through in your last moments, and that the thought of you writing your last words to them in your dying breaths will hold more weight.

Next, you pull out your bank card and all the money you have stashed in an extraneous corner of your sweater drawer.  Dividing it into two even piles; one goes into the envelope for your parents and the other for your closest friend.  In the envelope for your parents, you also include your bank card and the PIN, along with the trust that they'll know how to divide the money in the bank - though you very strongly suggest the idea of them taking much needed vacation for themselves.  To your friend, you also include a list of all your social media and email accounts connected to friends you can only talk to and not meet face to face, mandate that they split this money between the other friends who need it most, that you trust their judgment, and also to spare some for themselves.

Finishing all the writing, the weight on your shoulders slowly lifts, as if releasing all your affections on paper is a much needed therapy.  You try not to think of the possibility that it might just be your soul slowly disconnecting from your body.

"What will they think I died from?" you ask curiously, placing the envelopes face up on your desk.

The angel - who has been patiently watching your tranquil planning from afar - blinks.  "They will think you simply died in your sleep.

"I see."

The only remaining preparation in your home was to leave your apartment key under the mat in front of your door.  You send a text to that same closest friend to come by in the morning to help clean, and if you didn't answer the door to use the spare key under the mat.

All of this took up a 25 minutes of your remaining time.  However, there is one more person you couldn't stop thinking about as your time of expiration looms closer and closer.  You turn to your companion.  "Would you mind teleporting me somewhere?  There's one last person I need to see."

~

Three raps on the balcony door was all it took for you to see movement in the bedroom.   The lump rolls over, a head peaks out from under the blanket, first checking the time then lifting up to face the window.  Bicolored hair is illuminated as the figure slowly retreats from the bed, clad in nothing but dark sweatpants.

Your heart pounds and your stomach churns, the normal reaction that he elicits out of you whenever you're near him.

The boy rubs his eyes and blinks the sleep away, focusing on your waiting figure.  He opens the balcony door full of confusion.  "(Y/n)?  Why are you here?  It's 3 am."  His voice is as gravelly as you've only imagined hearing it being, thought you usually picture him greeting you in the morning after sleeping next to him.

Anticipation wells up inside you.  Up to this point, you had no problem spilling your deepest thoughts to your loved ones, but something about him had always made you think twice before showing any sort of affection.  Call it a force of habit, but you've never wanted him to know about your crush on him since you wanted to preserve your friendship and keep your relationship from becoming awkward around your mutual friends.

But you have nothing to lose at this point; might as well cross this final what-if off your list in your last few minutes.  "I know it's late, Todoroki, but I have to tell you something  It can't wait until morning."

He sighs heavily and leans against the door frame.  "I'm listening."

You use the ever-lightening weight you feel unraveling within you as strength to call upon.   "I have feelings for you."

The boy's expression doesn't change after you've ripped the bandage off, his stoic expression still in tact.

You can't help but let out a puff of laughter.  "You're the only person I've met who I can confidently say I've imagined waking up next to.  I always thought we would've been compatible as a couple, we would've been happy together.  Your calm nature, your quiet power and charisma, your heart, I did fall for all of it.  And... I didn't want to leave without finally saying this to you."

This is your first confession.  Every other crush you had, you let pass you by without so much as a word or hint.  But now, you've run out of time to hide it.  In a way, you're grateful for the pressure to finally overcome your fear of rejection, but only regretful that it came under these circumstances.  If he rejects you now, it doesn't matter.

But Todoroki's response was unreadable, the only display of feeling being his slightly widened eyes.

Your face gets hot and you laugh to cover it up.  "Yeah, I came at 3 am to confess to you, I'm sorry."  Your eyes flicker to the clock on his bedside table, the time telling you that you have barely two minutes to wrap this up.  Behind you, the angel makes its presence known by gingerly touching their hand to your shoulder.  "I need to be going now."

You're about to leave the balcony when another stroke of bravery crosses your mind.  Squarely facing him, you grip his neck and tug him closer until your lips meet gently as you've dreamed of on many occasions, though the burst of electricity that erupts between you two is indescribably better than what you've imagined.

Todoroki's hand reaches to meet your wrist just as you pull back to rest your forehead against his.  You want to laugh; such a blissful feeling was waiting for you this entire time where you could've had endless kisses like these, but you have to be satisfied with just the one as it's the only one you're getting.  You almost forgot that you have to part ways with him forever now.  Still, it's a perfect way to die, you think in bittersweet parting sorrow.

You step away from him for his tether on your arm to keep you still.  He finally exhibits emotion: desperation and hunger for another one, mixed with fear as he acknowledges there must be something amiss.  "Don't go," he pleads, as if this is the last time he sees you.  Little did he know it would be.

You give him one last smile.  "Goodnight, Todoroki.  Thank you."  Your body is feather light now, your time whittling away to the final seconds.  Without a second thought, you let go and fling yourself off the balcony.

In the blink of an eye, you're back in your familiar room, laying in your bed.  The conflicting sensation of a heavy body but weightless inside overtakes you, and you know it's time.  The lingering aftermath of your final kiss still on your lips, you smile to yourself.  If your soul can remember memories, you hope this feeling remains permanently engraved in them.  "I'm ready to go."  Your eyes flutter closed and you breathe out, your terminal exhale coming with the tingle of a thin thread gently unraveling its last fibers.

A faraway caress is your final feeling.

"Rest now, my child."

.

Part 2

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

School Girl Attitude Part 6

Master list

Warnings: Smut and Fluff. Sorry if thr Italian is wrong I used goggle. 

WC: 1393

Enjoy x

“Sonny stop pacing your making me nerves” You looked at Sonny from behind your desk in the bullpen.

“You’ll wear a hole in the floor the way you’re going Carisi” Rafael laughed, sitting on the corner of your desk.

Sonny’s laptop pinged with a new email, he moved his chair out and sat down. Fin and Amanda made their way to stand next to your desk waiting to hear the results.

“Ok” Sonny huffed “Y/N come here please”

You stood up off your chair and walked around to stand next to Sonny. He grabbed onto your hand and squeezed it, you could feel the sweat on his palm as you held his hand in both of yours. Sonny clicked on the link of the e-mail and scanned the pass list for his number.

“There it is” Sonny’s eyes were wide.

“Sonny babe you passed” a big smile came to you face.

“I- I- I passed” Sonny jumped up wrapping his arms around you, lifting you up off the floor spinning you around. He put you back down on the ground cupping your cheeks kissing you.

“Congratulations Carisi” everyone said. Sonny turned to shake Fin and Rafael’s hand and hugged Amanda.

“I’ am guessing you passed?” Liv walked out of her office “Well done Carisi, we should have drinks tonight to celebrate”

“Well” Rafael cleared his throat “It will be a double celebration” Rafael looked over at you with a big smile, you looking at him not quite sure what he was talking about.

“You’re looking at your new Bureau Chief” you gasped and rushed over to Rafael hugging him.

“Congratulations Rafi” Rafael kissed you on the cheek, shaking the rest of the squads hands.

“Carisi, an ADA position will be advertised soon you should think about applying”

“Trying to steal my squad Barba” Liv patted him on the back.

Once Sonny had passed the bar the months that followed where a whirl wind. Both your leases had expired. You both decided to make the move to move in together. Managing to find an apartment you both liked just two blocks from Rafael’s and a 5 minutes’ drive to the prescient and the DA’s office.

Sonny applied for the ADA’s position, Rafael putting in a good word for him and he got the job. Liv was sad to see him go but knew how much he wanted to make the move. You were even sadder, but coming home to him every night took the sting out of not being his partner anymore. Rafael was enjoying being Bureau Chief and he told you that his next step was to become a judge.

“Babe what time do you need to be at Rollins?” Sonny yelled from your shared kitchen as he was making you coffee.

“10, Jessie’s doctor’s appointment is at 11. Amanda said Billie had a bad night so hopefully she isn’t too fussy for me” you walked into the kitchen kissing him on the cheek.

“Billie would never be fussy for you, she loves her Aunty too much” You rolled your eyes.

“Sonny she is 2 months old- what are you doing today?”

“Barba and I are going to catch up for a coffee, I’ am nervous for Monday” Sonny wrapped his arms around your middle.

“You’ll do great babe. Tell Rafi I said hi. I better go” You kissed Sonny and walked out of the apartment.

----

“Carisi, Rollins” Rafael walked up to Sonny and Amanda shaking their hands “Hey Jessie” Rafael looked down at Jessie’s pram with a smile. “What are we doing here?” Rafael nodded towards the jewellers shop “Where’s Y/N?”

“She is looking about Billie for me. She thinks Jessie has a check-up today” Amanda smiled at him.

“OK” Rafael looked at Sonny for the rest of the answer.

“Barba- Your Y/N’s best friend and you mean so much to her-“

“Spit it out Carisi” Rafael cut him off with a smile.

“I want to marry her, and I would like your blessing”

Rafael looked at Amanda and then back at Sonny.

“Of course you have my blessing Carisi”

“Ok good” Sonny let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding “Our appointment starts in 5 minutes”

“What appointment?” Rafael looked at him confused

“You and Rollins are going to help be design her engagement ring”

****

“Babe what are you doing here?” Sonny looked up from his paper work and crumpled pieces of paper all over the table of the empty court room that you had just walked through the doors of.

“I needed a break and I missed you- This case” you walked over to him handing him a coffee and kissing him hello. “What a case to come in on your first week” you rolled your eyes.

“You’re telling me- I have written my opening four times” Sonny lent back in his chair and patted his lap for you to sit “I missed you too” You took his invitation and sat across his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck.

“I hope that the case is over by next week so we can enjoy our anniversary” You kissed him on the cheek.

“If not well have to reschedule, but I hope it is” Sonny reached up too kiss you.

The kiss started out soft and soon become heated and needy. You pulled away from Sonny standing up off his lap, then sitting back down to straddle him. Your lips meeting his again for a kiss that was now more intense. Sonny rested his hands on your ass over your pants and yours where either side on his neck. Sonny pulled away which surprised you, you could feel him hardening,

“We can’t- not here, if we get caught, it’s my first week” Sonny looked into your eyes.

You nodded as a smirk came to your face. You got up off Sonny’s lap, pushed his legs apart and moved to stand between them, dropping to your knees.

“Wh-What are you doing Y/N”

“If anyone comes in just act like you’re writing” you winked at him.

You reached up and rubbed him through is slacks. Sonny grabbed the edge of the table. You undone his belt and zipper pulling out is hard cock from his boxers wrapping your hand around it giving it a few pumps, spreading his pre-cum all over his length and your palm,

“Mettimi in bocca per favour Babe” (put me in your mouth please)

You lent down and took Sonny into your mouth, relaxing your throat to take him all the way. Sonny groaned at the sensation, his knuckles white from grabbing onto the table to hard, and his head falling forward his jaw going slack. You started to bob up and down coming right up to his top, licking around it then taking back into your mouth. After a few more sucks, Sonny threaded a hand into your hair, bucking up into your mouth. Your eyes watering,

“Y/N” Sonny groaned as he bucked one more time into your mouth, his salty release running down the back of your throat.

****

“Why are you so nervous Carisi?”

“Seriously Barba” Sonny frowned at Rafael

“She isn’t going to say no is she. Let me see it again”

Sonny handed Rafael the navy velvet box opening it up seeing the shine of the beautiful diamond ring sitting inside that he helped design for you. Sonny tilted his head to get a better look at Rafael’s face,

“Barba- are you crying?”

“Don’t be so stupid Carisi. You better go, don’t keep her waiting- she looks beautiful. I’ll make sure everything is set up. Just make sure you text me when you’re on the way.”

That night after a beautiful dinner, Sonny led you up to the roof top garden of your building. You had to remind yourself to breathe when you walked through the door seeing candles and vase’s filled with your favour flowers positioned to make an aisle. Sonny walked to the end of it and got down on one knee and asked you to marry him. As soon as you said yes bubbles filled the air and your kiss was interrupted by claps, cheers and wolf whistles. You pulled away from Sonny’s kiss to see Rafael, Liv, Amanda, Fin, your parents and all of Sonny’s family.

“I can’t wait for you to be Mrs Carisi”

Tags: @detective-giggles​ @the-baby-bookworm​ @thatesqcrush​ @permanentlydizzy​ @averyhotchner​ @infiniteoddball​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @shittanyy​ @wanniiieeee​ @labellapeaky​

[doodledraw]

Return (Of What Was Cherished)

Cody crash lands on Tatooine. He doesn't really know why, but there's nothing left for him in the Empire. Little did he know there's a lot waiting for him this far out in the Outer Rim.

(thanks @katanrocksketches​ for the title idea!! and for being my sounding board ily)

Today for @commandercodyweek​ I decided to write a fic I’ve been wanting to try my hand at for a while!! Post-Order 66 reunions are just...the BEST so here’s my shot at it!

Read on AO3 here! Or under the cut!

He didn't know who he was. He didn't know what he was doing. All he knew was that it was kriffing hot and it had been over 24 hours since he had crossed paths with another being. Granted, 12 of those hours had been in space and then another 5 had been spent unconscious in the desert, slowly baking under the hot suns. Most of his armor had quickly been removed and fastened to a small sled using a piece of debris from his now absolutely trashed ship. Dragging that along, he began to wander the desert (it was just his luck he managed to land as far away from civilization as possible).

After two hours, he felt like he was going in circles.

After three, he spotted a ridge in the distance and started to make his way towards it.

After four, the ridge was still firmly in the distance and he was starting to think it was a mirage and that he was going to die out in the middle of nowhere.

He never realized that he was thinking clearer and more him than he had been for the last five years, like taking a breath after being underwater.

He finally reached the ridge on hour six and allowed himself a small rest. Clones were built for endurance but not for invulnerability. Besides, he needed to tend his wounds and the shelter he had found was the most he was going to get.

It was only once he'd stopped that his brain, no longer preoccupied with moving his legs through the rapidly shifting sands, caught up to his situation. That was when the panic set in. He was all alone, on a planet that very well could be the death of him, and yet at the same time he was feeling more alive than he had in a good long time.

After he gave himself a moment to panic, the rational part of his brain kicked in and he looked through the pockets on his toolbelt to see what he had with him.

Unfortunately, his black armor did nothing to help him from the heat of the suns, and he curses his competency for that. Why couldn't he have been forgettable?!

None of you are forgettable to me, my dear. You're all so very important, the memory surfaced unbidden. Obi-Wan would reassure him like that whenever he or his vode felt inadequate.

Cody's breath caught. He tried the name out in his head again. Obi-Wan. Then out loud: "Obi-Wan," he whispered to the wind.

He can say his General's name!

For the first time in years, he can say the name of the man who gave him everything and asked for nothing in return. It made him want to cry. But water is precious on Tatooine. Even he knows that. So he stashed that grief with all the other grief he'd piled away into a corner of his mind and then he left it be.

He's got a bacta patch, some tape, two painkillers, a spare comm that's broken straight in half, a ration bar, and nothing else. He split the ration bar in half and ate one of the halves along with one painkiller. Then he set to work making bandages out of part of the sleeve of his blacks and secured it around the cut on his head with some tape. Luckily he could still think rather clearly, so he didn’t think he was in danger of anything worse than a concussion, and the blood had stopped hours ago.

~~

He didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up the next day. Sighing, he decided to conserve his painkillers and food. He wanted to make it out of this canyon...gorge...thing...whatever it was, if he even could and make it to some sort of civilization. So with a groan of pain, he set off again.

He focused on the fact that he was no longer burning under the suns constantly due to the slight shelter the ridge provided, and told himself that he could make it. He was Marshal Commander Cody turned Purge Trooper, the sun was not going to be the thing that killed him. Kriff it all, he was going to live. For his vode. For his General. He would live.

~~

Civilization was a sight for sore eyes. After almost having fallen to his death multiple times, and having definitely aggravated the wound on his abdomen, he had made it out. He wanted to fall asleep. No wait, he wanted to eat something other than the expired ration bar and then fall asleep. And food required civilization.

The citizens of the town had apparently had a good amount of half-dead beings stagger their way into town because he was barely even given a second glance. The town, which he later learned was Mos Espa, was located in the north across from the Dune Sea, where he'd crashed. The barkeep was helpful enough to direct him to somewhere he could trade in some of his armor and scrap for some credits and get new clothes for it. He traded everything except his vambraces, greaves, blaster and toolbelt, and got a hooded jacket and a pair of patched-up spacer's pants in return. Freshly outfitted and feeling lighter than he ever had, but also more exposed than ever, he wandered back outside and through the town.

He had no working commlink, not that he would want to call the Empire anyway, better they just assume he died, and no credits and nowhere to go. Credits, he obviously needed. Shelter could come later.

~~

Cody spent three weeks in Espa. He picked up odd-jobs here and there, and with the credits, bought some medical supplies, treated his wounds, and then did more odd-jobs. He had no purpose but also no reason to leave. The townsfolk weren't so bad once you got to know them and Espa was quiet, out of the way. No one could find him there.

At least that's what he thought.

Brown robes weren't uncommon on Tatooine. The first time he had seen one, he nearly killed himself by looking away from the box he was supposed to be catching. But it wasn't him, how could it be? The second and third times, he had been no less surprised, but this time he knew it wouldn't be him. It couldn't be him.

Now, being the tenth time, he barely even glanced at the stranger on an eopie wandering into town. But he felt the eyes on his back anyway.

Cody knew he was recognizable. He was one in a a few billion, obviously there would be people that had seen his face before. Some of the townsfolk asked about that at the beginning, but not for long. They stopped asking soon enough. So this stranger would realize soon enough that he wasn't who he thought and move on. They all did, everyone had for as long as he could remember, except for one. Cody couldn't escape the slight feeling of relief that filled him when the stranger's eyes were gone. For some reason, that stare had felt more piercing than normal. He shivered despite the heat, then turned back to his work.

He forgot about the stranger until that night, when he made his way into the bar for a refreshment after his day of work. They were there, at the bar, almost as if they were waiting for him. But that was crazy, and Cody resolutely placed himself as far away from them as possible. They made no move towards him, didn't even notice him, as far as he could tell, and they mutually ignored each other for the rest of the night.

Until Cody left to make his way back to where he was staying. Noticing his brown hooded shadow, he made his way through alleys and then stopped. "Whoever you are, whatever you want, why don't you just leave me alone. We'll both be happier that way."

The figure made a choked noise and took another half step towards Cody, who had spun to face them.

"What do you want from me?" the clone demanded.

"I don't know."

"Who are you? How did you find me?"

The figure lifted their hands to remove the hood, and Cody immediately tensed towards his blaster. Moonlight illuminated silver threaded copper hair and Cody's eyes widened.

"My dear, I think you know the answer to that by now. It's not an expression you've particularly liked me to say," Obi-Wan Kenobi said, tears streaming down his drawn face.

Cody stumbled back against the rough stone wall. "No. No, it's not you. It can't be. I...I killed you! I watched you fall! That should have killed you!"

"You of all people should know I am rather good at surviving things normal mortals should not be able to," he chuckled wetly and his gaze moved off into the middle distance. "It was a specific point of anxiety for you during the war. Oh Kote. Ner'Kote...what have they done to you?"

"More like what have they done with me," Cody remarked bitterly. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "Is this real? I need you to tell me right now if this is real, General."

"Not your General."

Cody gave him a withering glare. "Yes you are."

The Not Apparition took a step forward. "May I?"

Cody nodded slowly, and then General Kenobi was gently, carefully, cradling his hand in both of his like it was the most precious thing he had ever held. "I'm here, Cody."

Cody broke right there. In the middle of nowhere on Tatooine, Cody fell to the ground and sobbed. He grieved in his General's arms, the man he was not allowed to even think of until earlier that month. The man he thought he had killed. The man he loved.

"Ni'ceta! Ni'ceta, Obi-Wan! I should have fought it harder, I should have escaped earlier, I should have looked for you, I should have--"

Obi-Wan shushed him. "You should have nothing Cody. You did everything you could. It was not you. I forgive you. I've forgiven you. I'd forgiven you as I was falling. It was not you, my dear."

They sat there, two broken pieces slowly healing each other in the middle of an alley in the middle of nowhere in Mos Espa until Obi-Wan pulled away.

"Let's go home cyar'ika," he murmured.

Home. The first true home he would ever have. "That sounds perfect."

[dragonturtle2]

Charting Penny's course, on the eve of the V8 finale.

I just realized that one of the lengthiest essays I ever posted online was never copied or cross posted over here to Tumblr.  A huge mistake on my part.  For one, as a big fan of transhumanism, I got a kind of enjoyment mapping out the distinctions Penny Poledina’s series-wide arc, even with the flaws.  Two, I’m actually kind of proud of the predictions I made at the end.  Not because I was correct about one of them; I remarked how I’d LIKE Rooster Teeth to do something, not that they’d actually take the shot.  But some of the stuff I thought of was fun, and I do feel a bit of validation for having my thoughts line up with the actual writers; especially in lieu of how heated other people’s reactions were to something sorrowful and unexpected.  

Tonight I had been responding to a critique I'd found earlier on Tumblr. They had remarked that Penny's conflict in Volumes 2, 7 and 8 were just recycling the question of whether Penny was a real girl. That doing so was just boring as heck, when the question has been answered firmly with Penny becoming the Winter Maiden. I thought the question of “what makes a person a person, and not just a simulated pattern of behaviors with the instinct to survive?” was broad enough to get a few arcs’ worth of visitation.  But I thought just responding with that one lengthy sentence could come off as belittling sarcasm. So tried to offer up an my actual interpretation and clear opinion. I got this monstrosity.

Volume 1 has Penny reaching out to make friends, V2 is finally admitting her robot nature to someone and vocalizing her fears about being a real girl.  Volume 3 dangles the upcoming conflict of her wanting to exercise independent action, step away from the national military organization that bankrolled and housed her, and go to Beacon with her friends.  But that got cut short.

Volume 7 picks up the thread of Penny’s independent actions.  Not just with the ability to disagree with or full-on disobey orders, but her own value system and initiative.  Not only is she asking Winter about how to make decisions in life, she is also silently (and not-so-silently) judging whether Winter is morally right, or even truly happy with her own choices.  When she takes Freya’s hand, she asks something that no one has probably said to Freya in awhile: “Are you OK?”

Volume 8 is focused on the things being taken from her.  Her previous family-unit-facsimile of James, Winter and the Ace Ops have labeled her a traitor and are now hunting her.  Being targeted as the Maiden makes her distance herself from her friends, so they aren’t further harmed .  In doing that, she also leaves behind her previous dedication, protecting Mantle, to launch Amity Tower and assist in the bigger picture of warning the entire planet.  Then in the pursuit of that goal she damages herself, pushes her body to it’s limit, and says goodbye to her father.  

Volume 8 might seem to backpedal, and spend much of the season emphasizing how inhuman Penny is. That’s the point.  After Freya essentially canonizes Penny as human, with her ‘blessing,’ Penny’s new identity (to herself and the audience) is arrested in the most traumatic ways possible.  Her body is peeled back and cut open.  Her schematics are passed around and assessed by characters and factions more than ever.  The hacking is the Atlas military complex literally claiming ownership over her, exploiting the body and code they created alongside Pietro.  (In contrast with the earlier consensual control and teamwork with Pietro, which even then she hardly enjoyed).  How much pain can you inflict on a person until they devolve, or abandon rational thought?  Little wonder Penny ends up begging the team to end her own life.  She’s now taken Winter’s role from Volume 7, her self-esteem having sunken even lower.  “My life doesn’t matter!“

When that ghastly moment was (temporarily) resolved with a quick revelation and Jaune’s Semblance, it was a moment of mixed feelings for me in an episode I otherwise loved.  But I really came around to it afterword.  They have to head to Vault for a permanent fix pretty much immediately, so it doesn’t feel like the writers used Jaune to kick the can down the road until they felt like tackling it.  A very direct benefit is that by pausing Penny’s affliction, Penny gains the ability to actually have a conversation with people, to have scenes beyond just desperately wrestling her.   It also spared us the repeated dialogue of “I must go to the Vault.  I don’t want to!  I must - I don’t! - I MUST- I DON’T!”  Seriously, that routine was wearing thin.  

Whether any fans predicted Jaune’s Semblance being able to help or not, I’m pleased when characters are able to quickly conceive applications of in-universe fictional powers.  This is such a refreshing improvement over how CRWBY previously couldn’t bring Ruby to even ASK about the Silver Eyes that put her in a coma.  

There were missteps along the way.  Ruby really should have reacted more to her friend coming back to life; RT leaning on the Fourth Wall doesn’t fully remove the sting. ("It seems we will have to wait!”)  We also never see any of our protagonists outside of Ruby even react to the revelation of a robotic life form.  When they meet Penny again at V7′s start, apparently ALL of them, even Oscar, were so acquainted with Penny’s story that none of them had any questions for her the entire Volume.  There was no sense of betrayed trust, or trauma from watching one friend be ripped apart by another.  These are disappointments, but not deal breakers.  Now, I want to talk about how post-Ambrosius Penny may fit in with the rest of the story.  Maybe it’s stupid of me to try to get this out by 4 in the morning the day the finale drops, but I’m on a role, and I want to get my ideas out in the open before they’re tainted by hindsight.  Otherwise I won’t feel like even finishing this.  

I’m not going to launch into a tangent with the metaphysical mechanics on whether Penny’s new body would have ‘logically’ been conjured or not.  (For the record I think it works).  I just want to talk about the message the show is conveying, and what they could do with it.  My base assumption is that Cinder is going to get the Winter Maiden power.  It would be great way to coincide with her (GASP) actual character development this volume.  But more importantly, if she doesn’t succeed in her goal, and get an upgrade to compete with our leveled-up protagonists, I can’t see how she can be an interesting or threatening villain going forward.  A few ways this can end for Penny:

Pietro could give up the last bit of his life to bring her back.  He’d probably need to get assistance from Abrosius, since he’s lacking in equipment; he’s a brilliant scientist, so explaining it certainly wouldn’t be an obstacle.  Maybe Penny would be back to being a synthetic, maybe she remains organic.  Either way, it’s a compromise with having a functional villain, while keeping around a fandom darling.  Personally, I think RT needs to evoke the spirit of Volume 3, and make people cry.

Actually killing Penny would be bold and stand-out.  By taking away Penny’s function of a core that can be salvaged (as explained at the start of Volume 7), and having her body get incinerated just like Pyrrha, RT can fully signal “This character is dead, and can’t be resurrected.”  The heart break would be brilliant, with Penny getting to know the joys of an organic body just to be immediately ripped away from life.  This would beautifully parallel with General Ironwood.  James clamped down on human emotion because he thought it would give him the strength to stand against the darkness.  Penny’s friends made her MORE human in a loving act of rescue, but now have to watch as she dies like any other human.  Both characters would be cautionary tales regarding the Atlas Arc’s question of Trust.  To leave yourself open.

Alrighty, now that I’ve gotten to feel like an intellectual by making some proclamations of doom, I want to throw out a tinfoil hat theory that actually combines the two previous versions.  What’s fascinated me for years, and the show hasn’t re-visited, is the nature of Cinder’s parasite.  Can Cinder talk to it?  Will it begin gaining sentience?  What’s relevant to Penny is what exactly this thing DOES.  When it comes to it’s soul-power-absorbing function, we’ve never actually seen it’s full extent.  The process with Amber was interrupted, with half the power just zipping over to Cinder after Amber expired.  With Raven and Penny’s power, Cinder’s arm only got a little taste of them both, since both of their captures were unsuccessful.  What if Cinder’s parasite can absorb more than raw power?  Pinnochio is eventually swallowed by a monstrous beast.  We were all sure it would be The Whale.  But what if it’s Cinder?

I’ll be watching the finale in about 5 hours.  The idea that I could be correct about something that takes everyone else off guard (Penny’s death) has an electric feeling, and I totally understand why people can get hung up on the stories they compose in their head.  But I don’t want to start thinking any of MY ideas HAVE to come true for me to get joy from whatever happens to Penny or Volume 8.  Regardless, reviewing character arcs that preceded wherever we are in the present is always worthwhile.  

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 4: Bridge and Chorus

Chapter summary: the aftermath

Chapter warnings: Odin, Major Character Death, suicide

Chapter note: this chapter is dedicated to @lucywrites02 because she pretended to be a bad bitch yesterday.

Previous chapter AO3

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

The shackles sing as Loki walks towards the throne, fighting back a grin. Odin, on the other hand, sits on his high quality chair, believing to be intimidating.

"You have committed a grave crime against the-" Odin tries to speak, but Loki chuckles.

"I know what I have done, Odin. No need to repeat yourself," they interrupt, using a voice they've been hiding in their throat since they learned how to speak.

And it has so much to say…

"Has your mother taught you no respect for your king?" They yell, their favourite way of speaking to Loki. In all these years, Loki cowarded away at this voice, scared of a physical expression of the anger. This time, he laughs at it.

"Not my mother, and I have no king but myself," they smile, watching a new wave of anger flashing in the old charlatan's face.

"Silence! You never knew how to shut this mouth of yours!" Odin raises his voice, hoping to see the now natural cowering of Loki. The only answer is another laugh.

"Do you really want me to start speaking, Odin? To see who is truly guilty, with all these good dicks and whores listening?" Loki asks, a glow in his eyes as he gestures around as wide as the shackles allow. The harshness of their tongue makes the nobles who watch the "trial" gasp.

"Who taught you this language?" The old man spits, narrowing one eye.

"Apart from your anger? And that old warrior you ordered to teach Thor and me how to survive in a forest? And there are the guards, I can name a few but stitching is a worse crime than murder…" he mutters, acting if like he's chatting with a cup of tea other than being on a trial for murder.

There's no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

"Enough with your games! Why did you murder Lord Gæirasson in cold blood?" Odin asks the "big question", as if the right answer will lift the charges from Loki's name.

"Because… one, because he was a racist and offended me, to which the punishment is death. Two, because he started a war-"

"You started a war, Loki," Thor interrupts, taking Odin's side, like every time.

"A war had been started. Let's not blame people, Thor. Now where were I? Oh, yeah, at how Gæirasson started a war. Also, he refused to pay his taxes and you know how seriously I took my responsibility of being in charge of the palace's finances. Did war crimes against my people, father would be proud the son of a bitch is dead. And lastly, but definitely not least, a dreadful sense of fashion. Have you seen what his grooms wear? I think I threw up in my mouth when I saw it…" they finish with the rumbling, not even thinking of answering seriously. Odin will execute him anyways, would some fun be so bad?

"I said, enough with the games!" Odin basically screeches, their face going red.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

"For the murder of a lord, cause of a war and disrespect towards the throne, I Odin Allfather sentence you to a life in the dungeons," he decides.

"Dungeons? Not axe? Did Frigga's ghost or this moron talk you out of killing me?" Loki questions, taking their turn to narrow their eyes.

"If you keep talking, I might change my mind," Odin sighs, rubbing his temple.

"And get rid of this perfect pawn to hold King Laufey from the balls? A shame, really," Loki poutes and shrugs, pretending awfully that he cares.

"I will not stand your disrespect any longer! I had granted you your life, Loki, more than once! You will learn to respect me for it! Take them to the dungeons!" Odin speaks the final order. Four guards grab the chains that lead to Loki's shackles and push him away, forcing him to walk with them

Only then I am human / only then I am free

On the way to the dungeons, Thor stops the guards and demands to speak to Loki.

"Just tell me why, brother. Please. What didn't we give you to make you care so little?" they ask, grabbing Loki's shoulder, just like they always used to do.

"A family. That's what you didn't give me. And that's what I've earned," Loki answers, staring right into his no-brother's eyes, the blue in them and the pale lines that resemble his lightning. They know they won't see Thor from this close ever again, and they deserve a proper last memory.

"Then, I'm sorry. It's late, I know, but remember this, please… I shall visit, whenever I can, Loki. I swear. You shouldn't be in prison all alone," Thor promises. Loki gives only a nod, enough to make Thor dismiss the guards and let them keep walking Loki to his future and last chamber.

The only sign of emotions they allow themselves to show is a sigh, only out of sympathy.

For he knows that his freedom just begins.

Take me to church / I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

The moment the guards put Loki back into the white vacant cell and take their eyes off them, they cast an illusion of them settling on the floor and staring at nothing. The real Loki is walking up and down the room, waiting for the Tesseract to speak.

"Now?" he asks, feeling it close.

"Now, you need to learn who your family is. Not Odin, not Laufey, your true family, Entropy," they answer.

"What with this name? After all this, can't you call me by my name?" Loki groans.

"I am. You have many names. Entropy, the Chaos Stone, the Death Stone, the Knot… the last one, actually, is the name you're most familiar with, translated to Old Jötunn tongue," they speak, all matter-of-factly.

"You're lying, the Chaos stone is a myth," Loki brushes off the answer.

"It does exist. A black gem, created by billions of ropes, strings and threads tangled together. The hardest one to wield and command and impossible to find. The Jötnar had found it and worshipped it. And when Laufey found out that his son is nothing but a dead baby, he sacrificed the infant for the infant. And Odin found the baby crying in the altar, the gem gone,"

"So I own my life to an imaginary stone, apart from an old piece of shit. What a surprise…" Loki throws their hands in the air.

"No. You are the imaginary stone. In order to give life, the Chaos gem entered your body and never left. You are the flesh of a corpse and the mind of an infinity stone. And it's time to leave the corpse and join us,"

The aimless walking stops, and Loki's heart skips a beat

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

"You made me kill a man, for this?" he asks, glaring at nothing. They don't answer.

"You made me kill a man! Just so I could die!" boiling hot tears streaming down their eyes and slither into their shirt as burning red eyes stare at the empty room for something. "I trusted you! You promised me a family!" he yells between his sobs.

Their feet cannot support them, and they kneel down, turned into a crying sobbing and yelling mess. A hand, created by mist, grabs his shoulder, trying to provide comfort.

"I hate you," they spit, flaring their nose drills as they stare into the blue eyes of the illusion they use to pretend they're close to them.

"I'm sorry, hurting you was… if I could prevent it…" the stone says and gives him a small squeeze. And they mean it. If there was a way to do it without any pain, they would. But it's too late, Loki is already hurt…

Offer me that deathless death

Loki throws themselves into the tightest embrace they ever had, weeping like a baby. "I don't want to die. Please, I don't wanna die. Anything but this, anything, please!" he whispers, diving his head into their shoulder without a thought of holding back the tears.

"Shhhh, you won't die. Not truly. Your mind is the stone, as long as it exists you exist. And the body will stay intact until you need it again. You will be fine, I promise," they whisper, hoping of making them feel better.

"I'm scared, Tessie. I'm so scared, I can't," for a prince, Loki sounds so small, almost like the small child they used to be. Tessie starts playing with his hair, hoping to calm him down, even for a bit.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine, no matter if you do it or not," they shush them.

"If I do it or not?" Loki repeats, sniffing quietly and breaking the hug only to look at the misty blue eyes of Tessie.

"I… you're in so much pain… if you decide that you had enough, you'll be left alone," they explain. Loki nods, still quivering from the crying, but determined.

"No. We got so far. I-I-I'm not giving up," he lets his voice get louder, and then stands up. "What do I do?" they ask, collected once again.

"Get comfortable in a position. And once you're ready, make the ropes appear and let them wash over you," Tessie explains, holding this sympathetic voice. Loki nods and sits back down against the white wall, moving to get comfortable.

Then, with just a thought, the ropes appear and fill him with this calming sensation. Tessie walks closer and cups their cheeks. "See you on the other side, Loki," they smile and kiss their forehead before vanishing.

Loki takes a deep breath, and looks around the cage. He remembers a field day he had when little, a good day. Odin was sleeping on a bench and Frigga was yelling at them and Thor to not get into trouble as Thor dragged Loki, who was just above six, on an expiration of the forest around a castle in Vanaheim. Of course, they returned after the sun was down, with scraped up knees and dirty clothes and Loki had traces of tears in his cheeks because a bug scared him. But it had been, and still is, the best time they ever had with Thor.

He holds tight into the memory as he lets the ropes cover him and closes his eyes.

Good God, let me give you my life

The guards don't know how this happened. One moment, Loki was gazing at nothing and the next…

How does one say this to the Allfather?

The healers walk out of the cage when Thor storms in the dungeons, on the verge of panicking. "Is he alive?" It's all they ask.

The healers won't answer, it's enough to know.

Thor walks in and sits beside what used to be Loki, holding their cold and deformed hand and letting tears run down his face.

Loki doesn't respond, how could he?

He's a statue, as if made from black stone, and his hands covered in stone black ropes, with a faint glow where his heart should be being the only sign that there was once life there.

Loki's face doesn't have the signature smirk, and there's no gleam in their closed eyes. But he does wear a peaceful smile. A smile Thor regrets he had to see this body in order to know that his brother knows finally peace.