#slots are opening up again this week!!! I’ll tag everyone who requested in the next update!!!! I appreciate the interest!! 🥹🥹🥹

[cupiidzbow]

comm batch from last week’s slots!!!! thank you soso much to everyone who commissioned me!!! 🫶🏽🌈✨

art in order for:

(@h0t-p1nk-ch33tah-pr1nt , @asexualfoxmccloud , @starstruckloves , toadettegal on twitter, @cj-furry-shipper and @feliville !!! )

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 3-1: 海水与火焰 Seawater & Flames Translation

“The flames of the sunset flicker within your orbs; and the leaves flutter, falling upon the water surface that is your soul.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Brother Mao: It's soooo god-damned hot out today! A new coffee shop opened down the east street with huge grand opening sales. Come on, come on, everyone grab your share!

Brother Mao had just returned to the office after completing his out of office assignment. He didn't even have a minute to spare to put the bag of goodies down, only wiping his sweat before giving said goodies out to everyone.

MC: Thank you, Brother Mao!

Brother Mao waved his hand in dismissal and threw the neatly folded plastic bag into the bin, only for his eyes to suddenly stop on the handle of the door. He incredulously widened his eyes.

Brother Mao: Since when did our door handle get all fixed up?

Li Man'man: No idea. It was already fixed when I came in in the morning.

Hao Shuai: Sister Zheng Lin, did you nag at the administrative department for this?

Zheng Lin: She fixed it. I saw her fiddling around with it when I clocked in this morning.

Zheng Lin retrieved her documents from the photocopier and jerked her chin at me.

Brother Mao: So this is our beloved heroine of the day! Do humbly pardon me!

MC: I'm the one who broke it after all. Plus, it didn't take that long to fix anyway.

Brother Mao poked his head in front of me, curiously twirling the sleeve of the formal dress I was currently fixing up and doing corrections on.

Brother Mao: You're changing it up that much again? You don't have to reply to me, but you're adding these butterflies? That's real creative! ...And they're all made of twisted metal wire?

MC: Yeah. I started out using soft tulle mesh, but it was all droopy and didn't seem very nice for wings that are supposed to look powerful and lively.

Brother Mao: Now not only does this give it a dynamic feel, but also brings about a romantic yet cruel one!

Brother Mao: Not bad, not bad! Keep at it, and you'll definitely be able to finish fixing it up before next week!

MC: But the Deadline got brought forward… She's going to be doing the fitting tomorrow morning, so I have to finish it by today...

Brother Mao: No way! Don't tell me it's that agent again...

He glanced around, checking that no one had their attention turned to us, before leaning down to my ear.

Brother Mao: I asked around about it earlier, and I heard that the agent has a pretty foul temper.

Brother Mao: Not just to the staff, but her daughter as well. She'll start scolding people at the drop of a hat, even if they did nothing!

It felt as if I could hear the piercing and horrid lashing from that day resounding in my ears again. Her words had been ingrained into my very brain like a needle stuck into a pincushion.

Brother Mao: Geez, Lin Yao's such a brilliant kid. What's there for her to be so unhappy about?

Brother Mao: My mom always told me not to blame myself, and that health always comes first, whenever I fail the promotion. She even said that if I couldn't make it big, then I could just go back home and she'd raise me.

MC: I don't know either. Maybe all these feelings we take for granted come on a conditional basis for her, I guess.

He'd stared at the table and spaced out for a long while. It was almost as if he'd retreated into his memory palace as his expression turned a little sad.

Brother Mao: I'll help you twist them into shape too. Just treat it as my way of thanking her for helping us get out of the pickle we found ourselves in that day.

MC: Okay.

Time passed silently, and it wasn't till nightfall that we finished our work. The office had already cleared out a long time ago, and sporadic stars glimmered in the ink-blue sky up above.

Brother Mao: Done!

I nodded at him in gratitude and kept the now completed dress away. That was when a message notification popped up onto my phone screen.

Housing Agent: Miss (Y/n), don't forget that we're supposed to sign the agreement today at 8 PM. Be there or be square!

Brother Mao: What's wrong?

MC: I'm supposed to go check out the new apartment I'm getting with my agent at 8 PM today, and sign the agreement if all goes well.

And the time displayed on my phone right now was… 7:28 PM.

MC: I should run! Thanks for today, Brother Mao! I'll treat you to food next time!

Grabbing my bag and my work ID, I made a mad dash downstairs.

❖☆———————————★❖

I thought that I'd make it there right on the dot if I'd left now, but who knew that the taxi-hailing app had 80+ people waiting in line! Seeing as how the app wasn't an option anymore, all I could do was to run to the nearest taxi stand.

MC: Why's it not here yet…?

I paced back and forth at the stand, but no taxi ever made an appearance. Just as my anxiousness was about to reach a tipping point, a black sports car drew to a stop before me. The car's windscreen slowly rolled down.

MC: ...Evan?

Evan: Waiting for a ride? Headed somewhere?

MC: Yeah. I'm going to take a look at an apartment. The place I'm renting right now is too far from here, so it isn't terribly convenient.

Evan: Location?

MC: Guangqi-Century City.

He slightly inclined his head, glancing at his watch before getting out of his car and opening the door to the passenger seat for me.

Evan: Get on. I'll send you there.

★Night Choice: Turn him down

MC: No need. I'd be causing you too much trouble.

Evan leaned his arm atop the door of the car, beaming as he looked at me.

Evan: Not at all.

Evan: Besides, I don't have anything on tonight. On the other hand, you seem like you're in quite the rush.

Evan: It'll be bad if you end up late for it because you dawdled here.

His eyes were filled with such sincerity that it made me feel like I'd be doing him a disservice if I refused.

I eventually nodded, seeing as there was no way I could shimmy myself out of this without feeling bad about it.

MC: Thanks.

☆Light Choice: Accept his offer

I glanced back at the taxi stand. It didn't seem like a taxi was coming anytime soon. And I'd really be late if I didn't get a suitable ride soon…

MC: Thanks. Don't mind if I do then.

8 PM, right on the dot. We reached the entrance of the housing estate where the agent was already waiting.

MC: Here it is. Thank you for this! I'll treat you to a meal someday!

Evan: Sure.

❖☆———————————★❖

I hurriedly got out of the car as the two agents quickly rushed up to me upon seeing me.

Agent A: You have a good eye, Miss! This apartment's a hot favourite! 10 over people booked slots to come check it out the moment the listing went up!

Agent B: We've kept this apartment for you till now since you seemed especially keen on it!

Agent A: Let's get the contract agreement signed tonight if there are no problems lest it keeps you up at night!

MC: Sorry, but I'll still have to confirm with you again later. Let's go check the house out first.

Both agents sidled up side by side, enthusiastically explaining and introducing things to me on either side as they urged me forwards.

Thud.

The sound of a door closing behind me made me turn, only to see that Evan hadn't left, and had gotten out of his car.

MC: ?

Evan: I'll go with you.

The agents continued their endless stream of marketing chatter as they pointed out every selling point of the apartment.

Agent A: —And that's all from us. If you sign the agreement contract today, then we can persuade the landlord to give us a little discount...

MC: Okay, then I'll-

Evan: Sorry, but we'll think it through a little more. Could you recommend us some other apartments as well? Sorry about that.

I looked at him in surprise, but he gently shook his head. Hence, I calmed my initial excitement down and turned down their request to have the contract immediately signed.

❖☆———————————★❖

The night was already deep into the throes of darkness by the time we returned to the car park.

The riverbank was coloured with streams of yellow light from the streetlamps above in picturesque disorder. I could smell the refreshing scent of blooming greenery that hung in the air.

MC: Was something wrong with the apartment earlier?

Evan: I don't think you'd like to stay in an apartment filled with construction noises, yes?

MC: But I didn't hear anyone renovating anything?

It was only after the words left my mouth that I realized something.

MC: Oh, right. It's nighttime right now, so all the construction workers should be off work by now… Still, how did you know?

Evan: I noticed that there were paint stains at the edge of the neighbouring apartment's door frame upon entering, and it looked rather fresh too.

Evan: Plus, that housing estate was built 10 years ago, yet the elevator has its interiors boarded up with temporary protective boards.

Evan: So, I'd garner that the neighbouring apartment's most likely, not the only one undergoing renovation recently.

MC: I'd never have realized if you didn't point it out…

Evan: And adding on to that, I observed the surroundings a bit when we entered the housing estate and the security personnel stationed nearby seemed rather sparsely spread.

Evan: So it wouldn't be too safe for you to be staying here alone.

MC: Yeah…

Evan continued talking about the pros and cons of the apartment as the enchanting lights from above reflected in his eyes, melding into the smile that wavered within.

MC: You're so knowledgeable when it comes to this. Did you rent an apartment before?

Although, for someone with his family background, he shouldn’t ever need to rent an apartment on his own.

However, Evan nodded, affirming my suspicions.

Evan: I’ve rented a couple of places for my company back when I was in university.

MC: You mean, the company you founded back when you were studying in Lordton?

Evan: You know of it?

MC: I’ve heard of it before! It’s truly a legendary tale!

Evan: Looks like I’ll have to personally clear up the rumours for you then. It wasn’t exactly a smooth experience.

Evan: I, too, encountered a great many difficulties that I hadn’t thought of before during my first time renting an office.

Evan: For example, unreliable agents. The relevant renting procedures never came to pass for a long time due to that.

Evan: Hence, the office wasn’t ready even if all the employees were already in place.

Evan: And another example would be poor property management, with robberies aplenty as a result.

Evan: Also, I had no choice but to take drastic action and relocate the entire office to a new location since I hadn’t initially considered office expansion.

MC: Wow, I never knew that starting a business would be so hard. You’re amazing to have done it!

❖☆———————————★❖

Suddenly, my phone vibrated.

[Guangqi Rental] Whole apartment for lease. Felin Avenue, 199 Street. 1 bedroom and 1 living room. [Guangqi Rental] Whole apartment for lease. Changle Heights. 1 bedroom and 1 living room.

It was the agent, recommending me a couple more apartments.

[Guangqi Rental] How about any of these?

MC: Now that's way too many…

Evan: You can forward them to me if you don't mind. I can check them out with you.

Evan: I might not be very experienced in this, but nothing will go wrong with having another person to think it through with.

MC: Thank you, Evan.

The night breeze blew past, gently ruffling the loose hairs that had fallen out of place in front of Evan’s forehead.

Evan: We've been talking for so long that I forgot that it's already 9 PM. Are you hungry? Do you want to eat anything?

MC: I said I'd treat you! How about we do it now?

MC: Is there anything you'd like to eat?

Evan: Just pick anything you want to eat. I'm fine with anything.

MC: Don't say that! I'm going to need a proper answer from you today.

Evan: Alright then. I'd prefer for it to be something cooling, if possible.

MC: Hmm… Something cooling?

I glanced around, my eyes sweeping past the signboards of teahouses, food stalls, fast food outlets… until it finally stopped on an old and aged sign that stood not too far away.

MC: I know! Wait for me for a while!

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Auntie! Can I get two servings of red bean ice and two servings of fruit soup?

Many customers surrounded the small shop. The owner stirred the pot of soft red beans, filling the air with a delectably rich scent of sweetness.

Due to the auntie being the only one manning the store, the demand for the red bean ice far exceeded the available supply. Hence, I had to wait for quite a while before my order finally got done.

Just as I happily took the icy delights from her, the pitter-patter of rain sounded from behind.

The rain came down hard and vicious.

The raindrops that pelted against the roof were akin to silver metal wires, trapping me within the confines of the narrow eaves.

With no other option in sight, I held the two cups of icy treats to my chest using my wrist and freed a hand to shoot Evan a message to inform him of my predicament.

However, before I could fish out my phone… a silhouette had come to a stop before me. He put the umbrella away.

MC: I was just about to ping you. What are you doing here?

Evan didn’t say anything, only smiling gently as he took the icy treats from my arms, quietly standing by my side.

Evan: The rain should cease soon. Let's wait together.

MC: ...Okay.

The curtain of rain secluded us in our own little world, and the puddles, reflecting the neon lights of the signboard above, rippled from the night breeze of summer.

And like a domino effect, this soft and gentle ambience made our moods calmer and much more relaxed in turn.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-24 Light) / (Chapter 2-24 Night) | Next Part: (Chapter 3-3)

[fullmetalscullyy]

gotta get down on friday

we have fun in the royai support group discord server

the challenge was to write a fic based on/including lyrics from rebecca black's "friday" so here u go. i wrote the most important fic i will ever write in my life and did it for the meme 🤙

rated: t | words: 2058 | tags: alcohol, night out, team bonding, fluff, pre-canon, fluff, drunkeness

read on ao3

“Are you free on Friday night, Lieutenant?”

“I can be, sir.” Riza lifted her head from her paperwork and looked towards the Colonel’s desk. He was turned to face the window in his chair, gazing out of it thoughtfully as he tapped his pen on his lips. “What do you need?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, turning to face her. “Just you.”

“Me?”

That threw her completely. What would he possibly need her for on her night off –? Unless it was for more unfinished paperwork. Her stomach dropped, but it was quickly halted. Thankfully.

“I’m thinking of getting the team together for a night out.”

A night out? This was unexpected.

“Is that what you’ve been contemplating, staring out of that window, instead of work?”

Her challenge was conveniently ignored.

“We can go to the pub, have a few drinks, shoot some pool. It’ll be great!” Roy already looked so excited by the prospect.

It would be a good team building exercise, she supposed. They knew each other in a professional capacity, but not in a personal one. And while Riza wasn’t particularly fond of the idea of bearing herself to the strangers on her team – aside from Havoc – she could see the benefits. It had the potential to form tighter bonds with her new teammates, who’d she’d only known for a few short weeks.

“So, can I count you in?” Roy’s expression told her that he sincerely hoped she’d say yes as he eagerly awaited her answer.

It would be nice to get out of her apartment on her night off and enjoy herself. They hadn’t had much of a chance since being assigned in East City because they were still trying to get settled into a new routine.

“Gotta get down on Friday,” he joked with a playful smirk, trying to entice her further.

Riza snorted and shook her head fondly at his antics. “Okay, sir. I can be available on Friday evening,” she confirmed.

“Excellent,” Roy grinned. “Okay, I’ll go and wrangle the rest of the team!” He eagerly rose from his chair, rounding his desk. “Although I don’t think they’ll need too much convincing.”

“Havoc will definitely be up for it,” she reassured. “He always was a fan of a night out with friends in the Academy.”

Roy paused, absorbing this new information. “Did you happen to partake in those nights out too, Lieutenant?” He turned to face her expectantly.

His question was innocent enough but still Riza pursed her lips. This man knew her better than anyone – and was already aware that she, Havoc, and Rebecca had all been through training together – but still, her drunken embarrassment was best kept to herself. Well, what she remembered of it anyway.

“I did,” she replied carefully and offered him no more than that.

Both of Roy’s eyebrows lifted with intrigue. He hadn’t expected her to say yes, but what was she supposed to do with Rebecca Catalina and Jean Havoc as her friends through her Academy years? Plus, she wasn’t afraid of letting her hair down. Far from it, especially when in good company. Glancing over at her commanding officer, ignoring all titles and positions at the moment, she knew Roy would be the best company. She’d feel safe with him by her side. Havoc too. And if this was something Roy wanted to do for his team then Riza would support him.

It would be fun.

Roy approached her desk with a smirk, dragging Riza out of her thoughts. “You’ve never told me of any drunken stories, Hawkeye,” he commented, coming to a stop before her, hands slotting into his pockets. She didn’t know why he suddenly had an interest in her possible drunken antics. Or why.

She shrugged. “You’ve never asked.”

“Am I allowed to ask about said drunken antics?” He was treading carefully with his question but there was a hint of amusement on his face.

“No,” was Riza’s firm reply.

His laugh brightened up his entire expression. “I didn’t think so. Still, can’t fault me for trying,” he added, lifting his hands in surrender.

Riza hummed noncommittally.

“One day I might worm it out of you,” he murmured lowly, expression turning thoughtful. The office was empty so there was no risk of being overheard. Still, she appreciated his effort to maintain the secrecy of their past, as she’d requested. “Oh!” Roy exclaimed suddenly, as if he’d though of an extremely brilliant idea. “Or I can go and ask Havoc about them?”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she threatened as she snorted at his hilarious suggestion.

“Maybe I would,” he grinned, unafraid.

“Havoc knows better than to tell anyway.”

Roy pouted. Actually pouted. “You’re no fun.”

“Maybe,” she replied with light scorn, turning her attention back to her work.

After writing for a few moments she noticed he still hadn’t moved. Electing to ignore it, Riza ploughed on ahead with her work, but then he still didn’t move from his spot. Riza glanced at him and geared up to ask what he needed but his soft smile made her pause and her writing trailed off. He was looking at her like… Well. Like he shouldn’t be.

Like he was completely enamoured by her.

“What?” Riza prompted him out of his thoughts. Despite her heart fluttering within her chest and her stomach flipping pleasantly with the way Roy was looking at her, they couldn’t be risking moments like this anymore. Not while they were in the positions they were now. They couldn’t afford it if they wanted to succeed.

Roy snapped out of whatever thoughts he’d found himself trapped in and grinned. He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I can’t wait for Friday.”

Without another word he hurried out of the office and turned in the direction of the cafeteria. Riza was left staring after him, wondering what had just happened.

*          *          *           *          *           *          *

There was a chorus of happy cheers as everyone on the team greeted one another in the pub Roy had arranged for them to meet at. Riza hung back and let them get it out of their system before she entered the fray. Roy noticed her distance from the group – of course he did – and diverted his attention from the conversation before him. He shot her a smile and there was a slightly puzzled look on his face. He was wondering if there was anything wrong. She shook her head to placate him but that wasn’t enough. He excused himself from an already tipsy Havoc and walked over.

“You made it,” he breathed excitedly.

“I did. I didn’t want to let the team down, sir.”

“You could never, Riza.” His smile matched his tone and expression. It was soft as he reassured her. The excitement was clear on his face and he looked truly overjoyed. Riza’s stomach fluttered.

“I didn’t want to miss it,” she revealed quietly, leaning in slightly so she could be heard over the team’s laughter.

She’d had a glass of wine while getting ready for the night. It had helped settle her nerves about meeting everyone outside of work for the first time. Although Havoc and Roy were going to be there, she still didn’t know Breda, Falman, or Fuery very well. She’d wanted to but there hadn’t been an appropriate opportunity yet. It was their first “team night out” and she’d been excited at the prospect of being a part of it. Riza wanted to be a part of something good, for a change. She’d have kicked herself in regret if she couldn’t make tonight.

Roy’s grin was infectious. “I told you it would be fun,” he winked.

“Gotta get down on Friday, right?”

As she quoted his own words back at her Roy’s jaw went slack as he stared at her in surprise before he broke out in laughter. “We do. And I can’t wait to spend it with you.”

“Now you’re talking dangerously,” she urged quietly.

Roy just shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s still the truth.”

Riza frowned at him. “Anyway,” she urged, trying to steer the conversation towards safer territory, “on top of that, I know how to handle Havoc when he’s drunk. I couldn’t subject you all to that on your own.”

Her expression turned confused as Roy wrapped his arm around her shoulder and guided her forwards towards the team. Both his hands came to rest upon her shoulders as they walked, and he gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Every day you become more of an enigma, Riza Hawkeye,” he spoke lowly into her ear. His breath caressed her skin gently and it made her stomach flutter again. His hands increased their pressure as he squeezed her shoulders while steering her over to the team. “I love that about you,” he whispered, “on top of everything else.”

Before she could reply or properly react he walked ahead and left her, asking who wanted a drink. The first round was on him. Havoc and Breda cheered loudly and quickly placed their order. Falman and Fuery were next, leaving Riza for last. They greeted her warmly once they noticed her presence, however her replies were slightly dazed as she was still reeling from what Roy had said.

“Hawkeye?” The culprit looked expectantly at her for her order, ignoring the fact he’d just announced that he loved her in a very public place. It hadn’t been loud but… But… But he still did it! He should know better –!

“Hawkeye.” Roy commanded her attention easily, his voice soft and welcoming. Her breath caught in her throat.

Glancing around she saw that no one was paying them any attention. The rest of the team had wandered over to their table to talk as they awaited their drinks. The bar was empty still, aside from them.

“What would you like to drink?”

Her eyes met his. His expression was open and unabashed, as if what he’d said had been no big deal.

Voicing it publicly was a problem. However there was no one around. Still, it couldn’t become a habit. Riza would make sure of that. It was dangerous. Their feelings had always been there though and had been for years. Riza’s had never changed. One night, underneath the desert sky, he’d confirmed it was the same for him. It was a comfort to know, Riza thought, and it was always nice to hear.

But still, she huffed in thought.

Riza placed her order after shooting him a warning look and he smirked, promising he wouldn’t be long.

After taking a seat at the table Havoc threw his arm heartily around her shoulders and left it there until their drinks arrived. Although almost being thrown off balance by his enthusiasm Riza didn’t mind it too much, because it was Havoc. Aside from Roy, he was one of her oldest friends. The heavy weight of his arm was a comfort and helped remind her that she was in the company of friends and teammates. Plus, it had been a while since she’d sat and had a drink with Havoc and that had always been a good time back in the Academy. She was excited.

For all the emphasis Roy had put on the importance of “Friday night” and how excited he’d been to go out with them all, Riza had to admit; it had made her look forward to the weekend ahead. She decided that “partyin’”, as Roy – and then everyone else – kept drunkenly calling it throughout the night, with this group was a good time. They’d chant “partyin’, partyin’, yeah!” as more drinks were brought to the table and it made her laugh. Riza knew once tonight was over she’d be looking forward to the next one.

It was early days, and their friendships were brand new for Riza, but they’d all accepted one another so easily and had eagerly welcomed Riza into their circle. She’d been almost afraid that after being so hard on them all at work initially they’d be put off by spending time with her outside of it. However, her fears were completely alleviated after tonight.

They were a good bunch of guys. They would be an amazing team all together, Riza was sure of it.

As Roy, Havoc, and Breda had drunkenly sung off key towards the end of the night, the evening had definitely been “fun, fun, fun, fun.”

[lonelyreputation]

Cross The Line

A/N: Hiiii!! I know I said I would be posting angst next, but ha! Sike!!! Here’s a SMUT piece for ya! Ha! To the anon who requested this––So sorry that it's been so long  sljdflksd writing takes me a while and then you add smut (well, I added it in lmao) into the mix I tend to overthink alksjfld Keep your eyes peeled for some new fics!! I have a new chapter of C’est Toi, Different, and some other ones coming next week!

As always, let me know what you guys thought!! 💫 💗 Thank you to everyone for your immensely kind words!!! My heart is always filled to the brim with kindness by you lot 🥺

REQUEST: Stylist!ReaderxShawn // Friends to Something More

Let’s Chat!! | MASTERLIST

Warnings: SMUT!!! LIKE ALL THE WAY SMUT THIS TIME!! AHH!!! 

Word Count: 7.2K

-

The excitement backstage was nothing like you had felt before.  After coming off a successful European leg of tour, with a two month break, everyone was reenergized.  Stagehands were high-fiving the merchandise team, the lighting director was laughing with the audio technician, and Andrew was playing tag with the band.

You were leaned up against the back wall with Connor, discretely listening in on Shawn’s fan Q&A before the show.

“What’s your favorite outfit that Y/n’s put together for you?”

At the sound of your name your postured straightened and Connor nudged an elbow into your stomach.  You turned your head to the side and whispered a harsh keep your hands to yourself.

“That’s not what you told Shawn the night of the last London show.”

You whipped your head to look at Connor, eyes wide, “You swore to never bring that up again.”

Connor’s smirk only widened as he turned his head back to face Shawn.  You followed his gaze and saw that he was looking down and twirling the white rose he held between his fingers, “Um…I liked the VMA outfit she dressed me in––The green suit.”

The crowd aww’d at his shyness while some let out little shrieks of joy as they clutched their friend’s hand.  Once Shawn looked up from the rose, cheeks nice and red, his eyes automatically landed on you in the back.  He offered you a secret smile as you shot your head down to look at your feet; both knowing exactly how that night ended with his suit on the floor.

“Did you miss her the most when you went on break?”

Connor nudged his elbow into your side again, and before you could silently tell him off again, Shawn’s soothing voice captured your attention.

“I mean yeah, sure––I––“ he was cut off by even more shrill screams of the fans when he admitted to missing you.  The fans sounded exactly how you felt on the inside, “––Of course I missed her, she’s one of my best friends,” more shrill screaming, “And like––I––I missed everyone––Connor, Andrew, Cez–––“

“But you missed her the most, right?”

Shawn’s eyes momentarily connected with yours for a minute before moving his soft eyes to meet the fan who cut him off, “I think it’s time for me to get ready for the show.”

With his avoidance of the question, the fans only squealed more––taking it as confirmation that yes, he did miss you the most––and Connor nudged your side once more.  You shot him a glare as you pushed yourself off from the wall with your foot.

“Some of us have to actually work, Connor.”

He let out a stifle of a laugh and shot you yet another mischievous glance, “I’m sure you’ll get plenty of work done dressing him down before the show.”

Connor scurried away out the door and down the hall as you stood in the back with your mouth hung open.  Sure, you and Shawn had some sort of relationship that challenged the line of friends or more, but he was your boss and you were his employee.  

Everyone turned a blind eye whenever Shawn threw an arm around you, pulled you in close to his side, and pressed a prolonged kiss to your cheek.  And everyone ignored you when you took extra time buttoning up his shirt.  Everyone––the fans, the crew, even Andrew––was conscious about the peculiar dynamic between the two of you, but no one ever said anything because you two knew not to never cross that line.

Shawn took a chance hiring you with only minimal experience on your resumé, fresh out of university with a fashion merchandising degree.  It started with shy smiles and Shawn bringing you a cup of tea made to your liking every time he saw you.  Then the nervous laughter turned into longing stares as he looked down at you shining his shoes.  And finally, after fixing the collar of his shirt, when you let your hands rest on his chest for a few seconds longer than normal, he ducked his head and kissed you.

It was quick.  A soft press of his lips against yours that happened so fast you didn’t process what had happened until he was a rambling mess in front of you.  He apologized at least a hundred times: I’m so so sorry, Y/n––I don’t know what I was thinking––I just thought that you––And I––I thought there was something between us––I’m so sorry––I crossed a line.

You let him collect his final thoughts as he let out a deep sigh of embarrassment, turning on his heels to dart out of the room and hide until the end of time, but you took hold of his hand before he could take a step away from you.  The seconds you held his hand gently in yours felt like hours as you held your breath.

You remembered how thick the air was with tension.  All of the secret glances and private touches led up to this moment.  With a shaky breath, you let out a whisper that rang through both of your ears, I think I feel something, too.

Not even a second later, Shawn took your face in both of his hands as he pressed a hard kiss to your lips.  It was everything a first kiss with someone new was; noses bumping against each other, a few awkward teeth clanks, and accelerated heart rates.  But with more time exploring one another, the two of you knew exactly what the other enjoyed between the sheets.

You were walking down the hall, on your way to Shawn’s dressing room, when a strong arm draped around your shoulder.  You felt a smile tug at the corner of your lips, knowing exactly who it was, as they fell into sync with your walking pace.

“What’s the hurry, roadie?”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname Shawn bestowed on you when you told him the horror story of telling your parents you would be traveling to work for him.  So, like a roadie? Your mother had said with a twinge of disdain in her voice, not fully believing that this was neither a viable source of income nor a stable career.

You brought an arm to wrap around his waist, “Just on my way to dress up a client.”

“Must be a pretty important client if you’re walking that fast.”

“Well,” you peered up at him and saw that he was looking straight forward with a smirk on his face, “Was maybe hoping to just have some time alone together before.”

Your voice was soft, wavering a little like the day you told him you felt something between each other for the first time.  Your voice didn’t imply that you wanted to do anything sexual with him, it was said with a more innocent tone, because you really did just want to spend some time alone with him.  The easy going and zen aura he manifested definitely had an effect whenever you spent time with him.

You felt at peace when you were in the same room as him.  You felt at ease when he sat next to you on the couch.  And you felt giddy whenever he slotted his hand between yours and played with your fingers.

You had begun to feel something way more than the excitement of a sexual relationship.  But you didn't know how Shawn felt.  You two never talked about your feelings for each other.  Of course you enjoyed each other’s presence a little too much, cared for each other a little more than how best friend’s cared for each other, and you thought a little more about what his words meant than just a regular friend.

You had crossed the line with your feelings.

“C’mon,” Shawn guided you toward the double doors that led out of the arena and to the parking lot with the tour busses.

Your movements held no objection as you let him direct you, but your voice was different, “But you have to get ready–––”

“I wear the same pair of jeans and white shirt,” Shawn looked down at you with a smile as you felt the heat of the Portland air on your skin, “I’ll be fine.”

“You do not wear the same pair of jeans every night,” you objected, “I make sure they get washed after every performance,” you glared at him as his tour bus came into view, “so if you’re wearing the same pair then we need to have a serious talk.”

Shawn let out a boisterous laugh as he detached his arm from around your shoulder to open the door.  You offered him a smile as a thank you and walked up the stairs into the familiar temporary home.

Shawn followed close behind you and swiftly closed the door.  You could feel your heart hammering in your chest with the silence.  You were always nervous to be alone with him, but with recognizing your newfound feelings for him, all thoughts of composure left your mind and you were left in a puddle of your emotions.

“You know I––I didn’t––” Your back was to him, but you still shut your eyes tight in embarrassment, “––I didn’t mean I wanted anything more when I said I wanted alone time with you.”

“I know,” his voice was deep as you heard it from behind.

“I just––I like spending time with you,” your arms hung stiffly at your sides, hands curling into fists so tight at your confession, that you knew there would be a dozen crescent moon shapes along your palm, “We don’t need to do anything.”

You could feel Shawn’s breath hit the back of your neck as he spoke, “I know.”

“But like––If you want to––We can do stuff because I like that too, but I––I just wanted you to know that I…” your words trailed off as you felt Shawn’s hands ghost over your own, simultaneously easing your nerves and heightening them all at once, “…I like the times when we don't do any of that stuff.”

“I like those times too.”

It was the closest thing to a confession of feelings shared between the two of you.

In a moment of confidence, you spun around to face him, scared to see his facial expression.  While Shawn was gifted in the way he expressed words, you knew him well enough to know that his facial expressions held the full truth.  So, when you glanced up at him, and he was looking into your eyes with the same amount of desperation and longing you had in yours, you took your confidence up to another level.

You looped your index finger into the gap above one of the buttons on his shirt and pulled him in for an innocent kiss, curling your other hand around his neck.

When you pulled back, he seemed to be in a bit of a dazed and dreamlike state, with his lips pink and slightly parted as his brown eyes stared affectionately into yours.  The look in his eyes alerted you to the fact that maybe he wanted this too.  Maybe he wanted to tiptoe across the line with you.  

“I like being with you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper as you spoke the words that both of you knew held a deeper meaning.  Your fingers continued to play with the curls at the nape of his neck, “You calm me down.”

Another moment of silence passed and you felt the nerves bubble up in your stomach.  But you knew that Shawn felt the same way, you could tell by looking into his eyes as you saw the mechanics whirling through his mind, debating on whether or not to cross the line.  

You were across the line and held out a hand for him to join you.

Just when you were about to retreat from the bus out of embarrassment that maybe he only wanted to be physical with you, he gathered you up and kissed you again, one hand on your cheek as it slid down your neck.  You were positive he could hear the beat of your heart as he slowly walked you backwards down the little living area and to his private room in the back.

You broke the kiss, “But soundcheck––”

“They can find someone else to sing into the mic,” he interrupted you, turning the knob of the door to the small bedroom.  The door flew open and Shawn reattached your lips as he rushed the two of you inside.  And then, as if there were prying eyes of eager fans who wanted to know every detail about his life around, he shut the door right behind him so that it was just the two of you in the room.

Alone for the first time since crossing the line.

Shawn wasted no time in taking your hips in his hands as he pressed you up against the door, attacking you with kisses.  The odd plastic material of the door was uncomfortable against your back, but with Shawn’s chest pressed up against yours, you didn’t mind it.

As if it would be the last time you kissed, the two of you weren’t holding back.  The kisses he gave you, that you reciprocated, were open-mouthed, rough, and fiery.  

In moments like these, it was your greatest desire to run your hands along his chest, to be as physically close to him as possible, to rest your hands on his chest to feel if his heartbeat was beating as fast as yours.  But with both of his hands pinning your arms down to your sides, Shawn made that impossible, and you were forced to keep your arms limp as he nipped down your neck.

But after a few shrugs of your shoulder, he released your arms and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tugging on his hair. Shawn was particular when people touched his hair, and your fingers were full of hesitance when they first combed through his curls, but from the guttural sound he made when you pulled his hair from your collarbone back up to your lips, you knew he wasn’t complaining about you messing up his hair.

As much as you wanted to feel him, you savored the feeling of him touching your body.  His fingers ran up and down your sides, tracing lines on your back, inching your dress up.  

Suddenly, as if the reality of the situation came crashing down on him, he pulled away from you and ran his own hand through his hair.  You didn’t have to feel his heartbeat to know that it was beating just as fast as yours.

While you weren’t pleased by the sudden loss of contact, you couldn’t help but feel the slow tug of a smile at the corners of your mouth as you looked at him.  His white collared shirt was wrinkled and half-way untucked from his black skinny jeans.  And his curls were sticking up in a few different directions.

“You still wanna do this?”

His voice wavered in uncertainty, just like it did the day he first kissed you.

You stepped forward, hooking your index fingers through his belt loops, as you tilted your head up to sneak another kiss away from him as your answer.  Finally, he crossed the line and was with you on the other side.

Shawn held your head in his hands, tucking your hair behind your ears as he dragged his tongue across your lip to tease you.  You could’ve done without the short and sudden break of his kisses, but you would do anything for him if it eased his nerves.  

There was a change of pace to the way he touched you.  Your heart was still beating at a pace that would worry some medical professionals, but you felt calm and a sense of control you hadn’t felt before.  Your fingers stumbled over his belt buckle as you somehow managed to unhook it, only breaking your kisses once to pull the belt out of the loops. You held the leather material loosely in your hands, as you let it it slip away, dropping to the floor of the tour bus carelessly, the clanking of the buckle was loud enough for both of you to jump.

“My bad,” you nervously laughed off your embarrassment.  Shawn pulled away slightly to stare at you.  A smile softly made its way onto his face as he tilted his head to look at you with adoration.  You felt hot under his gaze, but you didn’t mind the attention you were receiving from him.

Just like every time you had been together, you wanted to watch him come undone and know that it was you who caused him to feel that way.

Shawn’s eyes traveled up, smile widening as crinkles appeared in the corner of his eyes as he softly laughed at the flower crown tangled in your hair.  It took both of his hands to remove it, and when he found a strand of hair tangled on the stem of one of the flowers, he gently unraveled it.

“I thought it added a nice touch to my outfit, a fan gave it to me,” you said with a pout as Shawn placed the flower crown on the small table in the room, “Don’t you like to play dress-up?”

“No,” Shawn answered with a whisper, “I’m tired of games.”

There was something about his voice, a delicateness to it that held a certain amount of desperation––of exhaustion––that you wanted to make disappear.  

His tone was soon replaced with a boyish smile before he reattached your lips to his.  Both of you took your time, but the urgency in your kisses and touches didn’t go unnoticed.  Your fingers went to unbuttoning his shirt as you guided him to walk backwards to his bed.  Once the top half of the shirt was unbuttoned, you slid your hands inside, spreading the shirt open to pop off the rest of the buttons.  Shawn pulled his arms out one by one, as the shirt slowly slid off his shoulders, making sure that he always had a hand on your body.  Once his shirt was fully unbuttoned and hanging from the top of his jeans, you tugged on the tucked portion out of his pants to threw it on the floor.

“That shirt wrinkles easily,” Shawn easily smiled at you, “My stylist will have your head.”

You let out a humorless laugh as you ran your hands over his chest, “I hear if you ask her nicely she’ll do anything you say.”

His skin was warm like the summer air.

“Will she now?” His smile morphed into a smirk as you felt him fiddle with the zipper on the back of your dress.  You nodded your head as you felt him pull the zipper down your back in a teasingly slow manner only to zip it right back up.

He did that a few times and the control over him you felt before was dwindling away with every tug of the dress zipper.  Instead of surrendering and giving him the upper hand, you placed a hand on his chest and pushed him onto the bed.  Surprised by your act of boldness, he tilted his head up at you.  But you could see that he enjoyed whatever dynamic was happening from the mischievous glint that twinkled up at you.

You moved to stand in between his legs, looking down at him and mirroring the lust in his eyes, as he wrapped his hands around your thighs at your knees and dragged his hands up.  He never broke eye contact with you as his hands moved further up your thighs, disappearing under the material of your dress.

You urged Shawn to scoot back on the bed.  With your hands on his shoulders to keep balanced, you straddled him, resting your knees on either side of him.  You paused for a moment to run a hand through his hair before bending your head to capture his lips in a kiss.  Shawn’s hands gripped your waist, and with one hand inching up your back toward the zipper, he finally managed to bring the zipper all the way down.

But before your moment of intimacy could continue on, you pulled back and raised your eyebrows at him.  Shawn didn’t seem too pleased at the loss of contact, but didn’t press you any further than what you were comfortable with.

“Are you sure?”

You were giving him an out; he knew that.  And while you wanted nothing more to continue on with what was to come, first and foremost he was your boss.  You were on his payroll and you didn’t want to make things any more complicated than they already were.  Sure, the two of you had sex before, but this was crossing a line into uncharted territory with real feelings.

Your question caused his smile to falter a little.  But with a hoarse voice, he managed to soften his eyes as they stared into yours, doing his best to convey every word, “Really fucking sure.”

The way he looked into your eyes––like you held every inspiration to every one of his future songs and how his voice sounded like he was pleading with you to let him imoralitize every detail of this feeling on pen and paper––you almost surrendered.  You almost let him have complete control to do whatever he pleased to your body, just so you could really feel the true impact of his words.  But you didn’t want to wave a white flag just yet, so you motioned him to slide further back on the bed, placing a hand flat on his chest and pushed him down.

You had never been so forward with him, so direct in what you wanted, that a gasp escaped from his throat when his head hit the pillow.  Leaning over him, you lowered yourself down, pinning his arms by his biceps, much like he had done to you earlier against the door, and caught him in a kiss.  This time, your tongue dominated, exploring every inch of his mouth and softly biting down on his lower lip, dragging it away with you until you released it.

Shawn didn’t fight you, and you kept your grip on his biceps as you trailed kisses up his jaw all the way to his ear, nibbling on the lobe.  Your kisses up and down his neck were full of desire, licking and sucking your way down.  

Shawn sighed as you reached his collarbone, and when you peered up at him, his eyes were closed.  His body radiated with warmth, as you moved your lips slowly down his chest, as you released the grip you had on his arms to caress his chest.

As soon as his biceps were free from the constraints of your hands, Shawn gained the upper hand, and flipped you over so you were on your back.  He sat with his knees between your legs, with the lack of control you felt sheepish under him, but he offered you a shy smile that rekindled the light in your lower abdomen.

Shawn started at your knees, one hand on each, and ran his hands over your legs.  His eyes were bright and alluring, stare never faltering, as your body was on high alert, attentive as his fingers skimmed underneath your dress.

Even with the dress still on, you felt exposed, as he gripped your thighs with each hand and pulled you toward him.  Then he leaned down toward you, moving slowly between your legs and up your torso to give you another kiss.

“Y/n,” Shawn hummed as if not believing he was awake for this moment.  He slowly dragged down a strap of your dress and kissed the spot of your shoulder where it had previously laid, “We’re gonna do this?”

“I…I want to,” you admitted shyly, pulling your arm out of the strap.  Shawn helped you remove your other arm from the strap as you asked, “Do you want to?”

Shawn smiled, “I really want to.”  He sat up, pulling your dress up over your head so fast that you weren’t even sure how it happened until you felt a coldness over your exposed body.

Your dress was tossed carelessly on the floor, as Shawn leaned down to press his chest against yours.

“Cold?” Shawn mumbled as he kissed his way down your neck.

“Um…no,” you sighed in response to his gentle biting at your skin.  “You––You’re really warm.”

Shawn leaned over and pulled back the covers on the bed, and nodded for you to climb under the sheets, which you did without hesitation.  As your head hit the pillow, Shawn crawled in soon after, unclasping your bra as he glided the straps down your shoulders.

Your fingers fumbled with the button on his pants, which was a little hard considering how tight you were pressed up against each other under the covers.  But once you popped the button from his jeans off, Shawn wiggled his legs from out of his pants, flinging them aside.  There was a noticeable bulge in his boxer-briefs, and you sucked in a deep breath.  Your moment of shyness caused him to let out a small chuckle as he brought a hand to rest on your stomach.

“I kinda like it when you’re nervous,” Shawn whispered and nudged your feet apart, brushing his fingers along the waistband of your underwear.  He dipped his index finger below the waistband, gasping when he touched your skin.

“I’m––We’ve had sex before,” you tried to keep your voice even, but with his fingers dropping dangerously low, your voice wavered, “I’m not…nervous.”

Shawn shut his eyes and leaned down to press a peck on your lips. “Okay,” his words were muffled against your lips, as his fingertips lightly brushed over your crotch that was still covered by your underwear.  You shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold air.  He placed the hand on your waist to hold you in place as he leaned down to catch your lips in a heated kiss.  His tongue slid into your mouth with no reservations as his hand rubbed soft circles on the inside of your thigh.

His hand left your thighs and traveled upward, pressing a hand flat on you, watching you for your reaction to his touch.

You were crumbling like a cookie when he brought his hand to his mouth, sliding his index and middle finger between his lips.  You felt the anticipation building in your lower stomach.  He brought his fingers out of his mouth, raising his eyebrow and smirking at you, glowing with smugness.  Before you could criticize him for it, his hand slid under your underwear, with his wet fingers gliding over you in between your slit.

As if it was like you were on autopilot, your eyes closed, head falling back on the pillow as you started to feel the build up of the state of euphoria you knew Shawn was going to lead you to.  His fingers were agonizingly slow at first as they became acquainted with the sensitive area.  His movements were torturous as you bit your bottom lip to keep any obscene words from coming out.  Every time the pads of his fingers rubbed your clit, your breath got caught in your throat.

When your eyes opened, just for a millisecond, you should see that his eyes were only focused on you.  His eyes seemed just as intrigued by your reaction as you were with his fingers.  You brought a hand up onto his shoulder, slowly moving it to the back of his neck to hold you for support, bringing him down for a kiss that you instantly deepened.  Shawn made that sound again, a content grunt in the back of his throat, as you felt the feeling of the bulge grow against your thigh.

Still breathing heavily, Shawn broke the kiss, but still had his fingers working down below.

“I want you,” he breathed, lips against your ear.  And from the way his fingers skimmed over you with ease, slippery and coated, he knew just how much you wanted him. 

Before you could verbalize your desire for him, his arm tightened around you as he pushed your thighs further apart with his knee.  His middle finger began to move in circles over your clit, gentle at first, then increasing in pressure.  You threw your head back onto the pillow, clenching your jaw tight to hold off the sounds you knew he wanted you to make.  But when the speed of his fingers increased, you opened your eyes and were automatically met with his determined eyes staring into yours, you couldn’t fight the moan that escaped your lips.  You brought an arm up to curl around his neck to lift yourself up slightly from the bed as you buried your head into the crook of his neck to muffle the sound of your moans.

When Shawn removed his finger from beneath your underwear for a split second you groaned into his neck, missing the contact of his skin on yours when you were so close to a release.  He took his wrist and rolled it to stretch it out and then his hand dipped right back in as you pressed a kiss to his neck.

His movements were a little sloppier with his tired hand, but the feeling in your lower stomach began to build faster and faster with every flick of his wrist.  A tingly feeling started out on the tip of your toes and spread further and further up your body, making all of the hair on your body stick up.  

When you finally felt it––the tensing of your muscles and a euphoric release all at once––you threw your head back on the pillow, bringing Shawn down with you, as your hips bucked against his hand.  But his movements didn’t stop there, he kept his finger circling your clit, encouraging you to ride out your high.

You were not a stranger to Shawn making you feel like you were on top of the world, but something about confirming your mutual want for each other beyond a little fun here and there, made your orgasm earth shattering.  You felt it rip through your body that left you in a puddle on the bed.  Shawn slowed down his movements, hooking his fingers around the band of your underwear, helping you shimmy out of them.  In one swift movement, he discarded your underwear somewhere around the room and removed his own.

Once he kicked his legs to get his underwear off from around his ankles he trapped you in a kiss, grinding his body against yours, not shy about his growing hardness brushing against the inside of your thigh.

With a lazy smile, he pulled away from the kiss as he lifted his body from yours, reaching over to the small night stand next to the bed.  He fumbled his hand inside the drawer, “Where is it––Fucking thing––Got it,” he slammed the drawer closed with a bang as he retrieved the condom, ripped the package open, and left the wrapper on the night stand.  

As you watched him slip the condom on, all you could think of was how many times you found yourself in this position; lying beneath Shawn, forehead glistening with a bit of sweat, as you felt a shiver shake your body at what was about to happen.

Shawn leaned down, leaving a trail of kisses up your stomach before meeting your lips.  His warmth spread over you, bringing a slight relaxing effect to your nerves.  Your breaths were shallow, chest rising and falling rapidly.  Shawn noticed your nerves and paused, the tip of his shaft against your opening.

“Everything’s alright,” he lightly brushed his lips against yours in reassurance.

Shawn waited until he got a nod in confirmation from you before he continued, and in one swift motion, he slid in with ease.  You scrunched up your nose and screwed your eyes shut as you felt him push himself further into you.  It was a pleasurable sensation, but you couldn’t deny the little bit of pain you felt as he stretched your walls.

When Shawn saw the expression on your face, he slowed down his movements, letting out a grunt as he came to a complete stop, “Okay?”

There was a tenderness behind his words from the way he checked in on you to make sure you were comfortable.  He had always been gentle and kind with you in the past, but this felt more special.  And the more you looked up at his face, with his eyebrows scrunched together in concern, it planted a seed of confidence in your stomach to try something neither of you had done in the bedroom together; you lightly pushed at his chest for him to get off you.

Before he could get a word  past his lips, you sat up and swung one of your legs over his waist.  You took his cheeks into your hands, and when Shawn realized what you were doing, a smirk grew on his face.  He propped himself up on his elbows, moving back on the bed a bit, as you placed your hands on his shoulders.

Without another word, you lowered yourself onto him, Shawn trying his best to keep his eyes open and connected with yours.

But when you sunk fully down onto him, he screwed his eyes tight, throwing his head back against the flimsy tour bus headboard, “Shit.”

You kept one hand on his shoulder as the other trailed up to hold his cheek in your hand, thumb grazing his jawline as you felt it tighten. You moaned softly, neither one of you saying a word, as your fingernails dug into his shoulder.

With the new position you found yourself in, you had more of a sense of control than any of the other times you were intimate with him.  It was something you liked.  You were moving, up and down, at a rhythmic pace, as Shawn ran his fingers up and down your thighs.  He placed a hand on your waist, keeping you in position as he moved further back on the bed.  

Your movements were faster and Shawn pressed a quick kiss to your lips as he lowered his head and placed his lips over your breast.  If it wasn’t for Shawn’s hand on your hip, encouraging you to keep up with your movements, you would have stopped right then and there.  Your mouth hung open as you felt his tongue swirl around your nipple, at a loss for words, you ran your fingers through his curls and pulled on them a little.  Shawn moaned against your breast in pleasure, sending vibrations throughout your body.  

Shawn lifted his head and placed a sweet kiss below your ear, “Relax.”  His voice was soft, but seeing as you two were still connected at the hips, his voice was thick.

You hadn’t realized that your breathing was sharp and uneven.  You stilled your hips and pressed a hand against your chest, as you tried to calm down your breathing. You were more embarrassed about your erratic breathing than you were about being naked on top of him.  He had seen you naked before, but never had he seen you nervous quite like this.

“I…” You were racking your brain for an excuse, but with a quirk of his eyebrow and a soft smile, you knew any lie you told would be detected by him, “I’m nervous.”

Shawn smiled and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek before wrapping his arms around your waist to bring you in for a hug.  His calloused fingers ran up and down your spine as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, taking in a deep, shaky breath.

“It’s alright,” Shawn whispered into your ear, fingers still delicately dancing on your back, “Trust me.”

He pressed a few kisses on your shoulder before you nodded your head against him.  You trusted him a lot.  More than you probably should.  With your confirmation, Shawn pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head and wrapped a strong arm around your waist as he swiftly flipped you over onto your back.

Without a slight notion of hesitation, Shawn thrusted back into you, so deep that you clenched your teeth and pressed your head deep onto the pillow.  You gasped as he pulled out, and when he thrusted back into you again, sharp and quick, you parted your lips, "Shawn.”  

Shawn’s pace was faster than yours, but his thrusts were still careful and executed perfectly as he hit the right spot every time.  You let out a sigh of content at the sensation of being joined together with another person––a person you cared deeply about.

He kept himself hovered over you with a hand fisting the white sheets right by your head, and hooked his other arm under your thigh, wrapping it around his waist.  He held your thigh in place as he continued his fast thrusts. The only sound you heard in the tiny back room of the tour bus were the mixed gasps of air shared between the two of you and the slap of skin as Shawn repeatedly pushed into you.

Your head started to spin as you felt your stomach tighten, reaching your peak.  Shawn had taken the words right from you since he stood behind you when you first walked onto the tour bus.  So, as you struggled to keep the lewd sounds of your orgasm to a minimum, you tried to keep your eyes locked with the brown irises above you.  His eyebrows were scrunched together as he bit on his bottom lip, concentrating on every thrust of his hips as they collided with yours.

His eyes were soft, trailing down your body and then back up to stare into your eyes.  You brought a hand up to his forehead and pushed back the curls that were slightly sticking to hid skin from the thin layer of sweat.  He sucked in a breath of air as you felt the pads of fingers tighten around your thigh.

“Y/n.”

You could feel when he hit his high; voice sounding desperate, as his pace became quicker and sloppier as he lowered himself until your chests were pressed together.  He nuzzled his head into your neck, pressing hot open kisses up and down your throat.

You grabbed a fisful of his curls as he continued to slowly rock back and forth until he completely stalled his movement inside of you.  He released a deep breath, hot and full of pure content at the conclusion of your little activity, and raised his head to look into your eyes.  Shawn reached a hand up and ran his fingers over your hairline before softly tracing his fingers down the side of your face, cupping your cheek.

With your chests still stuck together by sweat, he only had to lower his head a few centimeters to brush his lips against yours.  The kisses were intimate, soft like a kid chasing a butterfly on a warm spring afternoon, before he changed the pace and captured your lips in a deep kiss.  The hold he had on your thigh dropped as he trailed his hand from the tops of your thigh, giving your hips a light pinch that had you squirming under him, and then slid his hand up to rest on your ribcage, just below your breast.

Your thoughts were wildly running around, basking in the feeling of being fully consumed by him.  

You were consumed by the feeling of the blazing trail his touches left on you.  Consumed by his voice, saying your name with all the care and wonder in the world, but also in a tone that you would never want your parents to hear.  Consumed by the taste of his salty skin as you pressed kisses along his neck and the smell of freshly washed clothes mixed with sweet post-sex. But most of all, you were consumed by the sight of the boy on top of you; eyes always searching yours to make sure you were comfortable.

It felt like you didn’t know how to breathe until this moment.

When he pulled out of you, there was a shy smile toying on his face.  He looked nothing like the previous times when the two of you had just finished having sex.  In those moments in the past, he would have a satisfied and confident smirk on his face, knowing he made you feel better than anyone else.  But even with his confidence, he still had those soft eyes though.

Soft eyes and a shy smile.

Shawn removed the condom and tossed it in the trash can that was next to his bed, crawling back under the covers.  He laid on his side, head resting on the pillow to face you, as he wiggled under the covers, getting in a comfortable position.

“Hi,” he said with a smile on his face.

You found his hand under the covers and slotted your fingers through his as you returned his soft smile, “Hey.”

Shawn gave your hand a slight squeeze and the two of you fell into silence staring at each other.  Normally, being under someone’s gaze, especially Shawn’s, would cause you to shudder back.  But not this time.  You felt the complete opposite; the more he stared at you, the more you felt desired––more confident.

He untangled your hands, and at first you were sad about the loss of contact, but he threw an arm over your waist and pulled you in close to his chest, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.  You fitted your arm around him and smiled into his bare chest, because yes, while holding hands is a nice gesture, it didn’t hold a flame to the feeling of leaning against his chest; your head rising and falling with his rhythmic breathing as your heartbeat tried to sync up with his.  While you felt the erratic beating of his heart, you were having trouble getting your heartbeat to slow down for him.

Maybe your heart would always beat a little faster for him.

[gamergirl929]

Home (Lindsey Horan x Reader)

Anonymous Request:  Could you do a Lindsey Horan where they met in France and got really close but sadly Lindsey then left for Portland. But now the reader is joining Portland. Also could you do it where the reader is really small and some cute fluffy moment thank you

REPOST BECAUSE A-FUCKING-GAIN MY FIC VANISHED FROM THE TAGS

The day Lindsey Horan left France, your heart went with her, the two of you becoming rather close over her time with the PSG, 4 years to be exact.  

The two of you did everything together, so when Lindsey told you she was leaving for Portland, your heart broke, shattering into a million pieces a large amount of those pieces going with her when she left.  

Though now, 4 years later you were about to reunite with your friend in the best way.  

The two of you of course had stayed in touch, chatting daily, or if not daily every other day.  

Now though, you were standing on her doorstep, devising a plan with her fellow USWNT teammates; Tobin Heath, Christen Press and Emily Sonnett, to surprise her.  

Emily squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.  

“She’s going to be so happy.”  

Tobin gives her a nudge, grinning, her best friend, Christen Press at her side.  

“Shhh.”

Lindsey pulls open her apartment door with a grin and you duck down, sure not to be seen but with your small stature, it’s easy to hide.  

“Come on in...” She steps aside, letting everyone in, but Tobin holds the door open.

“Go ahead, actually waiting on one more.” Tobin nods, Lindsey’s brows furrowing.  

“Who?”  

Tobin shrugs.  

“You’ll see.”  

Lindsey hums, her eyes narrowed.  

“I don’t trust you.” She hums and Tobin scoffs.  

Emily grabs Lindsey, dragging her into the apartment.  

“Stand here, and keep those blue eyes on my beautiful face.” Sonnett grins, Lindsey rolling her eyes.  

“Yes, because there’s nothing more I’d want to look at than your face.”  

As the two bicker, Tobin waves you into the room, slowly clicking the door shut as you both move towards the woman whose back is to you.  

Emily grins as she pats Lindsey’s shoulders.  

“Well, I’ve kept you distracted long enough.”  

Lindsey’s brows furrow as she turns around her blue orbs widening when she sees you.  

“Y/N?” She whispers a tear leaking from her watery blue orbs and you grin, nodding.  

Lindsey lunges at you, her arms wrapping tightly around your neck, yours wrapping around her middle as you pull her close.  

“You’re here.” She whispers against your neck. “You’re really here.” She sniffles and you grin.  

“I’ve missed you.” You whisper into her ear and the blonde lets out a watery laugh, sniffing loudly.  

“I missed you too.”  

The two of you part, neither going far as you rid one another’s cheeks of tears.  

“What are you doing here?” She whispers, grinning as her eyes dart around your face.  

You shrug.  

“Just wanted to see my best friend...”  

Lindsey hums, her eyes narrowing.  

“You’re still the worst liar.” She giggles and you roll your eyes.  

“Fine...” You glance behind you at Tobin, smirking. “I may have had some, ulterior motives.” You shrug, the forward’s brows arching.  

You bite your tongue between your teeth, turning back to Lindsey.  

“Wanted to check out Portland, since I’ll be moving here soon.” You smirk and Lindsey’s orbs widen.  

“Wh-What!?” She squeaks and you grin.  

“I’m joining the Portland Thorns.”  

                                                           ***

Lindsey INSISTED on you staying with her instead of getting your own apartment in no way taking no for an answer.  

“Why get your own place when you can live with me, you don’t even need to bring anything! You’re so tiny you could sleep in a drawer anyway!” She exclaimed, arms flailing.  

Naturally, your best friend was more than excited you were coming to Portland the woman quickly rattling off everything she wanted to do together.  

Lindsey doesn’t realize you’d stopped walking until she glances behind her, her blue orbs narrowing.  

“Hey where’d you go?” She asks and you smile, shaking your head.  

“I really missed you.” You smile, cheeks flushing pink, something that’s mimicked on Lindsey’s.  

“I really missed you too.”  

She holds her hand out and you take it without any hesitation, your fingers intertwining.  

The blonde gives your hand a squeeze and your cheeks darken, goosebumps sprouting on your arms.  

“You cold?” Lindsey asks and you shake your head.  

“No, I’m fine.” You blush the woman nodding as the two of you continue down the sidewalk.  

Lindsey continues to ramble, flailing her arms around, along with your own considering your fingers are intertwined.  

You missed the sound of her voice, the feel of her hand in your own, with the move you’d have your best friend back, but that also meant, it was harder to hide the crush you had on the blonde, something you’d kept buried deep inside since her time at PSG.  

                                                           ***

Ultimately, you had to go back to France to not only bid farewell everyone, but to also gather your belongings and tie loose ends.

After a teary goodbye with your family, friends and teammates, you were back on the plane headed to Portland.  

Lindsey had been texting you non-stop, making sure you were safe and that you told your parents she loved them. Even on the plane ride your phone beeped again and again, the blonde rambling excitedly about the two of you living together.  

You rubbed your hands together, it was going to be a long flight from France to California, but you were more than ready to start your new life with your best friend by your side.  

                                                           ***

The grin that spreads across your face when you see Lindsey waiting in the airport, Emily, Tobin, Christen and an addition in the form of Kelley smiling as you make your way towards them, Lindsey meeting you half way to wrap her arms tightly around you.  

“I missed you.” She whispers in your ear and you grin.  

“I missed you too.”  

Kelley leans towards Emily.  

“Wasn’t she gone for only a week?” She asks, the hazel eyed blonde grinning.  

“Yep.”  

                                                           ***

“Jesus, you look beat.” Emily mumbles as you move through the apartment doorway with a lengthy and loud yawn.  

“11-hour flight, and didn’t get much sleep thanks to the fact that the man next to me didn’t know how to use headphones.” You grumble, wandering to the couch and falling face down on it.  

“Y/N, go get in my bed, I know you have crazy jet lag.” Lindsey makes her way towards you, running her hand down your back and you sigh, snuggling into the couch.  

You mumble into the couch, Lindsey rolling her eyes as she scoops your up in her arms and carries you to her bed room.  

“Thank you.” You whisper, your arms slipping around Lindsey’s neck.  

“You’re welcome, let’s get you to bed.”  

Lindsey disappears into her bedroom, leaving Emily, Kelley, Tobin and Christen in the living room, the four of them grinning at one another.  

“She’s so into her, isn’t she?” Kelley whispers, Emily’s smile splitting into a grin.

“They’re into each other, without a doubt.”  

Lindsey tiptoes into the living room, softly closing the door behind her. When she sees the look on everyone’s faces, her brows furrow.  

“What?” She asks, the four women shrugging.  

“Nothing at all.”

                                                           ***

“Still a blanket hog.” Lindsey mumbles as she slips into bed beside you later that night, smiling at the peaceful, relaxed look on your face.  

A piece of hair falls into your face and your nose twitches, your hand swiping at your face.  

Lindsey giggles, tucking the loose strand of hair behind your ear with a light blush, the woman gasping when you grab her wrist.  

“Linds...?” You rasp, your eyes still closed, brows furrowed.  

“It’s be, go back to sleep.” She whispers and you grumble.  

“Bonne nuit amour (Goodnight love).”  

Lindsey smiles as you shuffle closer, burying your nose in her neck. Her arms slip around you and she sighs, the feel of you pressing against her after so many years making her melt.  

“Goodnight Y/N.”

                                                           ***

A couple weeks pass before the group gets together again, the USWNT wanting to see your skill, which of course, Lindsey had boasted about.  

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” Emily cheers when you slot the ball between Tobin’s legs and fire it down field to Christen, the nutmeg Queen turning to you with a grin.  

“Well, I like her.” Tobin shrugs, surprising you by pulling you into a headlock and ruffling your hair.  

“That’s the Tobin initiation noogie, it’s how she shows love.” Emily grins, the forward turning her way with a grin. She pats the top of your head before running after Sonnett.  

“No! No! No!” She yells, racing down field, but of course, Tobin catches up to her.  

The sight of Emily’s hair after Tobin’s ‘initiation noogie’ makes you snicker, her hair poking out in random directions, where as yours is a bit messy.  

You jump at the feel of a hand on your back and smile when you realize Christen Press is standing beside you.  

“How does it feel to be in the US?” She asks and you smile.  

“I like it so far, Lindsey’s been showing me around a lot...” You smile, watching as Lindsey joins in on wrestling Sonnett with Tobin.

“I bet it’s nice to be together again.” Kelley smirks, elbowing Christen, meanwhile your eyes are still on Lindsey, grinning when the at the sound of the blonde’s laughter.  

“It is, really nice... I’ve missed her so much.” You blush when Lindsey glances your way, the blue-eyed blonde grinning.  

Your brows furrow and you take a step back when Lindsey starts running towards you.  

“Non (No)!” You yell, running down the field, Lindsey on your heels.  

Her USWNT teammates watch as you quickly get away, thanks to your small stature, you’re incredibly fast.  

Eventually though, Lindsey catches up to you, tackling to you to the ground, the blonde landing on top of you, pinning your wrists to the ground.  

The blonde hovers over you with a grin, panting heavily as your Y/E/C orbs locking her sparkling blues.  

She surprises you when, instead of getting off of you she lowers herself on top of you, burying her nose in your neck.  

“Remember when we used to sneak out to the field after dark to look at the stars? We’d always cuddle.” She whispers in your ear and you beam, your cheeks pink.  

“I remember, how could I forget? I was with you.” You admit, blushing when Lindsey pulls back, her blue orbs wide.  

Lindsey blinks once, twice, a third time before they widen, realizing that the two of you have an audience, the blonde scrambling off of you.  

She chuckles nervously, holding her hand out to you and you take it with a smile, the woman jerking you to your feet a little too hard considering you end up flush against her, the two of you blushing as you turn away from one another, your cheeks blood red.  

Emily, Tobin, Kelley and Christen all share a glance, shaking their heads.  

“Hopeless.”  

You meanwhile turn back to Lindsey with a bashful grin.  

“I couldn’t forget because it was time I spent with you...” You shrug, Lindsey turning back towards you with an arched brow, a small smile playing on her lips.

“I cherished every second of it.” You glance at your shuffling feet.  

Lindsey slips her arms around your neck, pulling you close, your arms slipping around her middle.  

“I cherish every second I spend with you.” Lindsey whispers and you grin, blushing when the woman kisses the top of your head.  

“I’m ready to make more memories with you.” Lindsey whispers and you nod, nuzzling into get chest.

“Me too.”

Again, Emily, Tobin, Kelley and Christen share a glance, all smiles.  

“Maybe not so hopeless after all.”  

                                                           ***

You flop on the couch letting out a lengthy loud yawn, your eyes fluttering shut.  

After spending time on the field you’d all explored the city, Lindsey showing you some more of her favorite places.

Most of your attention though was focused on the fact that Lindsey had held your hand the entire day, your fingers intertwined, her thumb running gently along the back of your hand.  

Lindsey takes your bags of takeout from the delivery person and places them on the kitchen counter, turning towards you with a grin, though when she sees your spaced out, faraway look her mouth snaps shut.  

She’d noticed that look on your face a number of times that day, your Y/E/C orbs focused on something off in the distance.  

“Are you... Uhhh...” Lindsey makes her way towards the couch and you turn to her, smiling when you see her face scrunch up in thought.  

“D'accord (Okay)?” She asks and you snicker, remembering years ago when you’d taught her some French, you didn’t have the heart to tell her she was using it incorrectly. 

“I’m okay, just thinking.” You shrug, your eyes locking with her bright blue orbs.  

“About what?” She asks, taking a seat beside you on the couch.  

You turn to her, shrugging.  

“Everything I guess.”

Lindsey forgets the food entirely in favor of taking a seat beside you on the couch, eyes scanning you worriedly.  

“What’s on your mind?” She asks, gently placing her hand on top of yours and your eyes widen, cheeks flushing.  

“Everything is so new... And...” You turn towards her, your eyes darting around her face. “I missed you so much... And now living with you again, it’s just.” You shrug, cheeks flushing darker.  

Lindsey’s blue orbs flick from your Y/E/C eyes to your lips and back.  

“I’m just so happy you’re here.” She whispers, surprising you by cupping your flushed cheek.  

She leans towards you and your freeze, your cheeks flushing.  

A loudly chiming phones pulls the two of you apart, and Lindsey’s eyes widen.  

“Uh, just a sec.” She stammers, jumping to her feet and moving back into the kitchen, her brows furrowed when she sees her phone’s screen.  

Lindsey’s blue orbs go comically wide as she turns to you, realizing your phone has started chiming as well.  

One look at your phone and your heart ceasing beating, multiple pictures of you and Lindsey exploring Portland, hand in hand covering your screen, each and every headline the same.  

Is a new romance sprouting between newest NWSL Portland Thorn’s member Y/N Y/L/N and Portland Thorn’s veteran Lindsey Horan?

You swallow hard, your eyes again darting to Lindsey who you realize is now smiling softly.  

“I mean we would be an NWSL power couple.” Lindsey shrugs and you smirk, a brow arched.  

“Is this your way of asking me on a date Horan?” You tease, the blonde turning to you, her cheeks dusted pink.  

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before snapping shut, the woman dropping her phone on the counter before making her way towards you.  

“What if I were... To ummm...” Lindsey shuffles nervously and you smirk, watching the woman fidget and mumble nervously.  

Slowly, you move to your feet, making your way towards the blushing, stammering woman.  

“What if you were to what?” You ask, a brow arched and Lindsey swallows hard.

“Ask you on a... On a date?” She turns away and you lick your lips, your heart slamming in your chest, so hard you worry she may hear.  

“Well I’d have to say yes.” You grin and Lindsey’s head perks up, her blue orbs wide.  

“Seriously?!” She asks giddily and you laugh.  

“Ye-Yeah.”  

                                                           ***

That’s how you end up on the field again a few nights later, your backs on the turf as you stare at the starry sky above you.  

“Coming to the US was the best decision I ever made in my life.” You whisper and Lindsey turns to you with an arched brow.  

You turn to her with a smile, your eyes darting to her parted lips.  

“Why?” She asks, her eyes fluttering shut when you cup her cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.  

You slowly lean in, your forehead resting against hers, your noses brushing.  

“Because you’re here.” You whisper, the two of you meeting halfway to bridge the gap between you, your lips pressing softly together, meeting in a tender kiss.

Lindsey grins, her arms slipping around you as your lips move.  

Eventually, the two of you part, neither going far as Lindsey pulls you closer, your bodies now flush.  

Lindsey ducks down, kissing the top of your head.  

“You coming to the US was the best thing that’s ever happened to me...” She whispers and you grin nuzzling against her collar bone.  

“Because it brought you back to me...” She kisses the top of your head again and you sniffle tears stinging your eyes.  

“It brought me home.”  

[space-helen]

Stress

Words: 1355

Pairing: Will Riker x Reader

A/N:  I didn’t know what reasoning you wanted me to go with that the reader had started eating less so I went with a decreased appetite due to stress and shifts changing. I hope this is ok! I’m sorry if it’s not :( TW - eating less/eating disorder

Request: The reader stops eating. Will notices. - @Anon

_______________

You sat at the table in Ten Forward waiting for your boyfriend, the two of you had been seeing each other for a while and tried to have dinner with each other when you could, which happened to be most nights up until recently.

You’d both been working weird shifts, not seeing each other as much and to say the least you were stressed and with stress came your decreased appetite this especially didn’t help when your shifts were all over the place as well.

Will slipped into the chair opposite you and quickly ordered some food. “Are you getting anything?”

“No it’s ok I’ve already eaten.” 

The man’s eyes studied you for a second, the two of you would usually wait for each other before eating, after all that’s what having dinner together was meant to be. “Are you sure you don’t want dessert or something?”

“I’m good.”

He nodded “how’s your day been? I’m sorry I couldn’t get off of shift any earlier.”

“There’s no need to apologise, don't be silly. Everything should go back to normal soon and we can spend more time together then.” you fidgeted with your hands under the table.

You sat with Will as he ate, engaging in small talk about your days. Trying to engage fully in the conversation but being rather passive. “Y/N are you alright? You seem on edge.”

The thought of not working was making you anxious, you’d rather be working right now to get on top of things “Yeah I’m fine it’s just… I have a lot of work to do.”

“You don’t have to sit with me, watching me eat can’t be that fun. I understand if you want to go and crack on with things.”

“I want to be here with you.” you reached over the table and placed your hand on his and gave it a squeeze. He flipped his hand and slotted his fingers between yours.

The night passed quickly but Will could tell that something was off  but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

You laughed at the man’s joke as you both grabbed lunch, walking to a table you sat together. “This morning has been the worst.” he commented

“Tell me about it, hitting that comet was less than ideal.” 

You picked at your food as he ate his, talking small bites here and there but not nearly enough to make a dent in your meal. “Commander Riker to the bridge.” 

Will stopped what he was doing, annoyance on his face. “On my way.” he took another large fork full of food before dropping it to the plate. “I’ll see you later.” leaning forward he placed a kiss to your cheek before striding away to the bridge.

You looked around the room before picking up Will’s plate, sliding yours on top of it and walking to the disposal. You felt bad for wasting so much food but really couldn’t bring yourself to eat.

When Will said see you later this is not what you expected. The table was surrounded with all your friends sharing dinner but you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy the moment. It had been a while since you’d eaten a full meal due to stress but you needed to try, even though looking at the food made you feel unwell.

You looked down at your plate and moved everything around with your fork, you’d eaten about a quarter of the meal. “Are you ok?” Will’s hand was on your leg and he moved in close to be as discreet as he could.

Tears threatened to burst from your eyes. “I’m sorry I really don’t feel very well. I think I’m going to go back to my quarters”

He put an arm around your shoulders and brought you close, rubbing your arm up and down to comfort you “It’s ok.” he placed a kiss to your temple “I’ll come over after.”

“You don’t need to.” you gave the man a weak smile before addressing the rest of the table “I don’t feel too well I’m heading back to my quarters. Thank you for the company though.” with that you quickly left. 

Rushing to your quarters you changed before slumping into bed, wrapping yourself up into a small cocoon you let yourself cry. Everything was getting to you.

Deanna slid over a chair to get closer to Will “I think Y/N’s unwell because she’s stopped eating. I thought I sensed it and noticed it the other day but I didn’t want to pass judgement.”

“I noticed it yesterday. I’ll go speak to her”

“Take some plain food that she likes, and some juice.” 

He nodded and stood, quickly grabbing you some food before disappearing after you. You’d forgotten to lock your quarters doors so he slipped inside with ease. Slowly walking around the room searching for you until he saw you curled up in bed, a broken smile adorned his lips. 

“Y/N” he softly called as he moved closer to the bed, putting down everything on your dresser as he passed it.

You sat up in your cocoon and looked at him, he could clearly see the tear stains down your cheeks. “Awh Y/N” his voice broke and he came and sat next to you, gathering you in his arms and hugging you close. 

You stayed silent as he just held you. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I know you’ve stopped eating, you can talk to me about it ok?”

You nodded against his chest and unwrapped yourself “You’re right. I don’t even know why I tried to hide it. I’ve just been really stressed and when I get stressed I forget to eat and my appetite goes down then when I do want to eat I can’t stomach a full meal. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. We’re all worried about you though.”

“All worried? Who else knows?”

“Just Deanna I think she noticed the other day.” he stood and moved over to the food and brought it to you “She suggested I bring you some plain food that you like. Please can you try and eat this for me?”

You gave the man a small nod “I’ll try my best.”

He put his hand on the side of your face and let his thumb stroke over it, you leant into his hand “Take as much time as you need you just need to eat it and drink something too.” 

You took the plate from the man as he moved around the room and stripped off his uniform into his underwear, before putting on some pyjamas. He slid into the bed and you crawled up next to him. “We’re going to watch a movie while you eat, then we’re going to cuddle and sleep. Tomorrow morning I’ll grab you a light healthy breakfast and we’ll eat in here. We’ll see how you feel after that and we’ll either pay Doctor Crusher a visit or Deanna but you’re seeing one of them tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you for caring” 

His face dropped at your words, of course he loved and cared about you. “Y/N I love you, you know that? I just want you to be happy and healthy.”

“I know. I love you too” tears threatened to fall again.

“Hey, hey come here.” he opened his arms and you leant into them. 

You cried into his chest for a while before pulling away. “I’m so stupid.” you said with a broken smile as you laughed through the tears, pulling the plate onto your lap you took a bite of the food.

Will smiled as he searched for a movie, he knew this wasn’t a quick fix but you 're ok and they’d caught it before it was too late. You were usually so strong, stronger than he could be but the past couple of weeks had had an effect on everyone, some worse than others.

He wanted you to be happy and healthy, back to your usual self. He needed you as much as, maybe even more than, you needed him. 

Tag List: open

Riker:

All Star Trek: @morganofthecoves1 @sophiaescapes @livenerdyandprosper @allthetrek @deeppandanerdbatty​

[moonlit-han]

a truth universally (un)acknowledged | chapter one

(artwork credit to @jisungieart​)

genre: rivals-to-lovers, fluff, college au, theatre au pairing: han jisung x reader chapter word count: 1.9k warnings: suggestive, swearing request: yes (@jisungsjheekies)

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

{prologue} {chapter one}  {chapter two}  {chapter three}  {chapter four} {chapter five}  {chapter six}  {chapter seven, part one}  {chapter seven, part two}

chapter one

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.” — Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

It was in freshman year of college, the sixth week of classes, in Shakespeare for Theatre Performance Majors (THEA 200), halfway through the class period, just as the class prepared to perform their first monologues. You’d wanted to be assigned one of Prospero’s speeches from The Tempest. Instead, Jisung got to play Prospero and you ended up with one of Rosalind’s clever monologues from As You Like It. Not that you disliked Rosalind as a character, you simply wanted to have the fun of 1) not playing a girl for once in your life, and 2) wearing a long robe and getting to wave around a long staff. (There are few things that delight more than strutting around like some self-important wizard). 

You did your best with the monologue, pretending to hide behind a tree at times and speaking to an imaginary Orlando at others. You were as pleased as a cat who’d caught a canary with how well you’d performed, and the fact that your professor gave few notes made it all the better. You liked being the best at anything you did. Jisung was called up to perform after you, and he had brought a robe and a staff. You scoffed a bit because, until that day, he’d been a fairly good actor but nothing extraordinary. Oh, how wrong you were. Yes, his participation in class thus far had been exemplary, his integration of notes seamless, and his general affect lighthearted and kind. But again, he’d only been a fairly good actor, nothing extraordinary. So, seeing him play Prospero as he called down the elements to wreak havoc at sea was unexpected, to say the least. Jisung seemed to put every ounce of energy he had into the performance, and the class clapped when he finished. He, like everyone else, had received notes from the professor, but they were cursory comments. Jisung had done the proper research to play Prospero as well as he could, and then presented the monologue better than you ever thought possible—from a college freshman, that is. And, you hated to admit, better than you could’ve done.

Thus, your rivalry with Han Jisung began. 

At first it was distinctly one-sided, but you performed so well on the mid-term that Jisung noticed he wouldn’t be the sole star of the class. From then on, you and he vied for many of the same scenes to perform, the leading roles in the plays and musicals, and even the chance to mentor younger students once you were upperclassmen. Also, you consistently tried to perform better than each other in everything you did. The unofficial title of Best Actor in the Department (created by you and Jisung for your own purposes and, somehow, represented by a child’s gaudy tiara) bounced between the two of you. It must be said, though, it became more and more like a game with your steadily maturing attitudes and values. However, the one thing you both flatly refused to do was play love interests. If the two leading roles in a play were love interests, you would find different roles for which to audition to avoid that awkwardness.

And now, you were a senior and the reality of your impending graduation had just set in. 

As you walked down the hall to the costume shop for your shift, your best friend and roommate, Miri, caught your arms and swung you around.

“Y/N! Babe, did you see the posting? They’ve announced the next production!!” Miri was practically bouncing up and down as she spoke, which wasn’t unusual for her. “It’s a new adaptation of Pride and Prejudice—who are you going to audition for?” 

“Wait, really? Pride and Prejudice? I didn’t even know there was a stage version of that,” you said as Miri swung your now linked hands back and forth. “Hmmm, I guess I could audition for Jane? I don’t think I’d go for Elizabeth, since I really don’t feel like carrying a show next semester, you know?”

“But you’d make such a good Elizabeth Bennet! You have to audition for her!” Miri pressed you.

“Mir, no, I don’t want to have too much going on. Jane will be enough for me. Plus, I’m sure everyone will want to play Elizabeth—she is the lead, after all,” you said, finally extracting yourself from your friend’s grasp.

“But Y/N—” Miri whined.

“Come on, I want to ask if we’ll have to do extra shifts in the costume shop with the show coming up,” you interrupted and continued down the hallway.

When you got off from your shift sewing and repairing garments used in the last show, you went to the audition sign-up sheet on the Theatre Department Message Board. You saw a small knot of people huddled in front of the board, all waiting excitedly to put down their names. You joined the group just as Jisung sauntered up and stood beside you.

“So, Y/N, should we break our rule and go for Elizabeth and Darcy?” Jisung asked, knowing full well you’d never agree to it. He liked to tease you and you liked to tease him, just as long it didn’t end up as flirting. That would be bad.

“Jisung, you know that’s never gonna happen. I am never going to play love interests with you. My first choice is Jane, and after that I’ll just let Professor Greystone decide,” you said as you rummaged in your bag for a pen.

“Ah, the calm and lovely Jane . . . so you’d rather have a simpler role, huh? Too busy this year?” Jisung teased.

“No,” you replied sternly, “I’d just sooner have less to worry about than more. Who are you auditioning for, anyway? Wickham?”

“Nah, I think I’d do best as Mr. Bennet—play to my natural wit,” Jisung said casually, sweeping his hair up off his forehead. “It’d be perfect!”

“Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Jisung.” You’d finally found a pen and began to write your name and your role of choice under an audition time. 

Just when you’d finished, Jisung snatched the pen from your fingers. You were about to protest, but he’d already added his name to the list. Handing the pen back to you with exaggerated care, Jisung said, “See you at auditions, then, Y/N,” and strolled down the hall like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

You quickly glanced at the audition sheet again, and sure enough, Jisung had signed up for the slot right after you. Damn, that had to be the worst luck ever.

Two weeks later, the Department held auditions on Thursday and Friday afternoon in the main theatre. Most students auditioning were familiar with the space, especially those, like you and Jisung, who had performed in it before. The director, Professor Greystone, clearly wanted to see how each person reacted and adjusted to the size and acoustics of the theatre throughout their audition. The long hallway along the back of the theatre was full of students waiting for their time slot. It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional mutter as someone cursed themselves or their chosen monologue for one reason or another. Every fifteen minutes, the door would open to free one student only to swallow another into the maw of the theatre scant minutes later. All looked less stressed coming out than when they went in, but the tension in the air was thicker than strawberry jam. 

You’d been thinking about the auditions for nearly every waking moment over the past two weeks. Jisung’s comment about playing Elizabeth and Darcy had, somehow, stuck in your brain like the worst kind of repetitive song. There was a part of you that wanted to play Elizabeth—she had some of the wittiest responses to the hidebound and often dull comments made by those of her social circle, and you aspired to be as quick-witted. But, you didn’t want to risk being cast opposite Jisung. You didn’t think you could bring yourself to act, truly act, even remotely interested in him as a lover. You leaned against the wall, reading through your monologue and your notes for comfort more than anything, trying to clear your head of all else. The temptation of playing Elizabeth just would not go away, though. After another five minutes of fruitless reading and rereading, you paused. What if I did audition for Elizabeth? you thought, scarcely daring to even think it. Jisung surely wouldn’t audition for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, right? He wanted to play Mr. Bennet so he could, in essence, play himself. It wouldn’t hurt for you to add Elizabeth to your list of potential roles—it was just another option. You’d been cast in enough leading roles in the past that there was a good chance Professor Greystone wouldn’t cast you in one again. Right?

“Y/N,” came the sing-song voice in your ear. You had to fight the urge to hit Jisung in the head as you glared at the young man who made it his business to annoy the daylights out of you.

“What, Jisung. What do you want,” you hissed under your breath, trying not to disturb the ten other people still waiting for their turn. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Oh, just saying ‘Hi.’ Break a leg, Y/N! Hope you get the part you want.” With that, Jisung walked back down the hall to sit on the floor with his ever-present headphones pulled down over his ears. You guessed it helped him filter out distractions. Although, it did make Jisung seem especially cocky, though, as if he didn’t need to study his lines or do anything else before an audition.

After twenty minutes or so, your audition time arrived. Of course, Professor Greystone and the other faculty had some general questions for you before you performed. They made it seem like part of the audition process, but the questions were really an excuse to let students adjust to the space. No matter one’s years of experience, the additional time always helped. Thus, the questions were simple. Yes, you’d read Pride and Prejudice—several times, in fact. No, you hadn't been aware of a stage adaptation before it was announced for the spring. No, your spring schedule was not full yet.

“Do you have any other questions, Y/N?” Professor Greystone asked, setting down her pen for a moment.

“Well, yes. Could I add Elizabeth to my preferred roles, please?” You smiled sheepishly, knowing Professor Greystone had probably expected this. 

“Of course, Y/N. I’ll consider you for the role, in addition to Jane,” replied your professor. “Could you perform your monologue for us now?”

With that, you took a deep breath, lowered your head, then raised it in character.

And then, you were done. You emerged from the theatre, a bit tired but happy with your performance. Jisung, who really was acting like your shadow these days, waited outside the door for his own audition.

“Break a leg, Jisung. You’d do wonderfully as Mr. Bennet,” you said, surprising even yourself as you gave the compliment.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Jisung said bemusedly as he watched you gather your things, settling your sweater and backpack on your shoulders. Still staring into space even after you rounded the corner at the end of the hall, Jisung bit his lip. Should I go for Darcy? he thought. There’s no way Y/N would audition for Elizabeth. She’s too scared we’ll end up being cast as lovers. Chuckling to himself, Jisung methodically put away his headphones, straightened his clothes, and took a deep breath. Opening the stage door, he thought, Hell, I’ll do it.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Beneath an Aurora Sky (Ch. 7)

Summary: The South Pole Station is equipped for research and Edge has always made sure things run smoothly for the inhabitants. His charges are meant to follow his rules and regulations, and in turn, he makes sure they survive in the arctic temperatures. It takes plenty of hard work and determination and Edge, along with his crew, can handle both.

He wasn’t counting on one of the newest researchers. He wasn’t expecting Rus.

Tags: Spicyhoney, First Time, Arctic AU, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: So, bourbon came up with an amazing AU and did some lovely art for it: please look at it and love it.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Read Chapter Seven on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Aside from the days where a new group arrived, the days at the station usually passed with a pleasant sort of monotony. Once the researchers were settled, everything was routine, meticulously planned, and that was the way Edge preferred it.

Edge woke early, brewed his first cup of coffee from his personal machine while he went over the morning paperwork. He sent his reports to the Institute, handled any requests from their current batch of researchers, and went over the duty log for the day.

He always finished in time for breakfast, taking the time to join the others. Red was always there early, sunglasses in place. Undyne occasionally came in before Edge, sometimes after, and Edge did not question her morning routine. For all her loud, careless laughter and casual moments of fond disrespect, she was as rigid in her duty schedule as he was. All her responsibilities would be finished, there was no questioning it.

After a breakfast that included another cup of coffee, he might chaperone a group of researchers offsite or work on more paperwork, depending on schedule; checking supply orders alone was tedious and necessary, the paperwork required at the station was endless.

All the permanent staff was scheduled a time to work in Hydroponics and there was a sign-up sheet for any researcher who wanted to spend some time in the gardens. An hour of work was worth an extra shower token and the time logs were always filled. After days in the snowy cold, the lush greenhouse warmth was appreciated, as well as time with the plants.

Edge preferred his time slot right after lunch and made sure it didn’t coincide with any other. Time spent alone in the quiet starting new seedlings, caring for the slender greens, and picking fresh supplies for Bonnie was soothing.

Afternoons were spend checking workstations positioned around the perimeter to repair any damage caused by the weather. Every week the emergency shelters needed checked for supplies and access, and the duty roster changed between the three of them weekly.

The drive through the cold and snow in the ever-present twilight was unremarkable even if these days Edge found himself pausing more often to look up, watching the swirl of the southern lights.

After that, he had open slots again for researchers and if no one scheduled a time, he might work in the kitchen, kneading bread dough while Bonnie prepped for dinner.

Evenings were spent checking duty logs again, reading notes left by the others about upcoming repairs, supply requests, and any issues that erupted during the day. Once he was finished, there was a little time to go to the Rec center or to simply read in his own quarters before he went to sleep and the cycle began again the next day.

There was peace in planning, and Edge liked to keep surprises at a minimum. His days were carefully laid out with precision and only the occasional hiccough disrupted that.

Until Rus. His presence was less a hiccough than a seizure, shaking him to his core in less than a handful of days.

How was it then, that his absence was somehow worse?

Since their time in the kitchen two nights ago, Edge had barely seen Rus. He always left breakfast before Edge got there, at least according to Red, who gleefully said that Rus only stopped by to snatch up his food before fleeing back to wherever he was working.

Lunchtime he was there, usually consumed with his laptop, and dinner was the same. Wherever he was in-between, Edge did not know. He never scheduled an outing with any of them, never sought him out, and Edge was not about to chase him down.

If only he could stop thinking about him.

Ridiculous that someone he hardly knew could consume his thoughts, but at odd times Edge found Rus lurking in his mind. When he should be working on his duty reports, Edge found his thoughts wandering to Rus’s smile, that soft, sweet one. The real one. Working in the gardens, he would remember Rus’s voice, low with the faintest hint of a rasp. Driving out to the workstations was a reminder of crawling along the road in the Cat with Rus in the driver’s seat, brimming with that same determination he’d shown that first day when he staggered through the cold with all his gear, refusing to give up.

And there was the kiss.

Edge thought of that kiss entirely too often, ridiculously so. It could barely even be called a kiss and yet, at odd times there it would be in his thoughts, remembering the gentle press of their mouths together, the soft little sound Rus made.

Perhaps that same kiss had frightened him off.

He hadn’t acted frightened at the time, but there was no way to know. Even now, if he met Edge’s eye lights at the meal table, he would smile, a little, that sweet, genuine one that made warmth rise in Edge’s soul.

And he wore Edge’s jacket, always, replacing his worn sweatshirt with the sleek modern thermal. What did that mean?

Perhaps he was waiting for Edge to ask for it back? If so, it would be a long wait. Some might say confession was good for the soul, but any cracks in Edge’s would not be healed that way. He would admit to no one that he liked seeing Rus in his clothes, safe and warm.

Liked it, yes. But he wasn’t certain what to do about it.

Edge was an expert in many things, and none of them were how to handle a flirtatious scientist when he wasn’t entirely sure what they wanted to begin with.

And despite Undyne’s urging to have fun, Edge had little experience in anything past hurried encounters in the dark and his own hands. Nothing in his life ever led him in that direction, neither Underground nor his time above it.

Also, his information pool was sadly lacking. There was Undyne, whose lover had all but fallen into her lap with nothing more than a cheeky smile and his brother, which the very thought of asking gave Edge a chill worse than any the arctic carried. And despite having the World Wide Web at his fingertips, the question seemed past a simple google search.

In the end, Edge did nothing. He kept to his routines, ignored Undyne’s pointed nudges and sighs, her gleeful smirk when she noticed Rus’s…Edge’s…jacket and waited for those glances, those smiles.

It only seemed proper that Rus would once again disrupt things, only this time, he managed by not even being there.

A few days after their kitchen incident, Edge came to breakfast and found Undyne and Red were already there, and unusually, Alphys. She didn’t often join the main group for meals, a rare exception to Bonnie’s meal rules that eating in the station was for the dining room alone.

Closer to usual was a lack of Rus. But for the first time when Edge took his seat, Red murmured to him, “haven’t seen the fashion victim today.”

That was a touch irritating; they were all warned about missing meals and the information was also in the welcoming packet. Irritating and also worrisome.

Undyne only snorted loudly, “He’s gotta be around. Anyone seen the other resident skeleton today?”

There was a low murmur of denial from the others, until one Man spoke up, disdainfully, “Probably sleeping in. If he was going to sleep all the time, he could have allowed someone more dedicated to their research to take his slot.”

Before Undyne could speak up, and possibly shatter the fragile bonds that were developing between her and the scientists, Alphys surprised them all by doing it for her. “A-actually it’s probably b-because he was up late last night with his work.”

Blank stares greeted that, and she cringed, looking down at her plate. Surprise became blatant shock when she went on, softer but insistently, “H-he’s an astronomer? He sort of needs to work when the s-s-stars are out...a-and the different rotations are important, too.”

No one else had known that, Edge realized. None of the other scientists or even Red, who was usually a font of information that he shouldn’t possess. If it were true, his quick stops for breakfast made perfect sense. Of course he’d keep different hours than the others if his research involving star rotations. It brought to mind his awe when he stood in the snow, watching the aurora and Edge was forced to shake the memory away, focusing back on the others.

“I didn’t know you’d been hanging out with the fashion victim, babe,” Undyne said, slowly.

She only shrugged, stirring her oatmeal. That she’d been able to say even that much in front of the Humans was startling and pressing her for more would be an unkindness.

Not that the Humans knew that. One of the young women who showed such fondness for Undyne spoke up, “What is it you do here, Alphys?”

Undyne grinned and bared needle-sharp teeth. “It’s Doctor Alphys. And she’s with me.”

But the young woman took no offense, only nodded with a smile, “Oh, of course, Doctor.”

Alphys managed to look up briefly, offering a meek smile of her own.

“Along with her own research, Alphys works as our engineer,” Edge said, sparing her from trying to answer and sparing them all from Undyne. “She devised the system that gives us electricity so if you want a hot shower, I’d stay on her good side.”

“I’ll do her laundry and sweep the labs if it’ll keep the hot showers going,” came from the end of the table and Alphys visibly relaxed as the others laughed and went on with their conversations.

Soon everyone was wandering off to go about their days, including his brother and there was a trap that needed to be set soon. Red couldn’t avoid his treatments forever.

Edge cleared own plate, trying to decide what to do about Rus, when the answer came to him from an unexpected source.

The kitchen door swung open and Bonnie stalked out to plunk down a covered plate in front of him, giving him a stern look as she signed, For Rus.

Edge blinked at her, disbelieving, Am I serving breakfast in bed now?

“Looks like,” Undyne drawled lazily. Next to her, Alphys giggled, peeking up at him, and that was as good as a confession that Undyne was sharing gossip. “Go ahead, Boss, play delivery boy. Maybe you’ll get a tip.”

Bonnie made a chuffing sound of laughter, patting her chest and then rubbing her belly. Get to the heart through the stomach.

Already tried that, Edge signed in clipped little gestures, but it wasn’t as if he had any better advice. Perhaps he'd been thinking of asking the wrong people all along.

He picked up the plate, ignoring Bonnie’s smug look. It might be his station but even he knew that the cook outranked all.

~~*~~

Edge refused to waffle when he got to Rus’s room, balancing the plate on one hand and knocking sharply.

The door was flung open almost immediately, Rus filling the space as he snapped out, "what?!…oh."

Whatever his irritation at being interrupted, it melted quickly into surprise. He looked tired, his weary eye lights framed by round wire glasses and suddenly that was all Edge could look at. For all his casual, slovenly way of dressing, he couldn’t disguise his intellectual within, and the glasses transformed him into the sort of nerdy researcher that he’d known first in Alphys. No wonder she was spending time with him.

"is that for me?"

Edge nearly forgot the plate. "Yes, you missed breakfast."

That earned him a blank look. “i did? what time is it?"”

“Past breakfast,” Edge said dryly, “Did you oversleep?"

“Haven't been to sleep.” Rus scrubbed a hand over his skull distractedly, knocking his glasses askew and Edge was forced to resist the temptation to straighten them.

Sleep, right. "Don’t you think you should?"

"in a…" Rus yawned hugely. "in a minute, i'm almost done." He wandered away from the door, leaving it open. It was as good as an invitation and Edge stepped inside. The bed was unmade, the blankets a tangled mess, but the rest of the room was acceptable.

He set the plate on the desk, noting a framed picture in the corner of a younger looking Rus crouching next to a much shorter skeleton Monster. A sibling, perhaps, far too young to be a parent. When Rus didn’t seem to notice, Edge lifted the lid to reveal a full plate of scrambled eggs and toast, with a rasher of bacon at the side.

The tantalizing smell did what Edge’s presence didn’t, and Rus finally reached for the plate, scooped everything onto the toast, and scarfing it messily down.

Ignoring his table manners took effort. His laptop was open, the screen filled with equations, and Edge started to look over Rus’s shoulder before he reached out and snapped it closed. "excuse you, nosy nancy."

"You're assuming I have a clue as to what you’re doing,” Edge studied Rus, taking in the weary slump of his shoulders as he ate. It wasn’t only calories that were necessary to live at the station, exhaustion could leave anyone vulnerable to illness as well. “You should go to bed."

Rus licked his fingers obscenely. "are you angling for an invitation?"

Edge only shook his head. Here he was, tired enough to forget to eat but still trying to flirt and yet, he ran from kisses. A conundrum wrapped in a mystery, was Rus. Perhaps that explained his interest; Edge always had a weakness for puzzles. “Are you trying to make promises you can't possibly keep?"

"probably." Rus took off his glasses and rubbed his sockets. "okay, yeah, sleeping for a little while sounds like a good idea.” He pushed his seat back, rocking up on the back legs as he smirked up at Edge. "sure you won't join me?"

"If I do, will you go to sleep?"

The chair nearly tipped backwards as Rus wobbled unsteadily, his sockets widening, and a bright flush flooding his cheekbones as the legs clattered back to the floor. He looked so genuinely shocked that for a moment Edge wondered if he'd somehow been misreading everything. "i...really? i mean, yeah. yeah, sure."

“To sleep,” Edge clarified, warily.

“no, no, sleeping is fine. i like sleeping.” Rus almost stumbled to his feet. His few extra inches in height vanished in his awkward slump as he stripped down to his thermal layer, the ones Edge had given him.

"Get into bed," Edge ordered. He did, crawling in between the blankets and settling next to the wall.

"i'm sensing some unfairness here...oh." He swallowed hard when Edge stripped down to the same underlayer, flicking off the main lights before slipped between the blankets. The beds weren’t really meant for two, but they had the advantage of skeletal slimness. There was enough room for them both and a dismal space between them as well.

Edge settled his head on the pillow, looking at Rus. Who seemed to be trying to look anywhere else, his eye lights darting nervously around. "Is this not what you wanted?"

"yes," he squeaked. He cleared his throat, adding, "i...yeah. it’s just. i'm not sure what…i mean…."

"Come here," Edge told him, softly, and hesitantly, Rus did, crossing the few inches of empty sheets between them. Edge slipped an arm around him, urging Rus to settle his head into the hollow of his shoulder, all his light weight pressed into Edge’s side. At first, he lay stiffly, wired with tension that slowly eased, melting away until Rus was relaxed against him.

Edge closed his sockets, inhaling the scent that was surrounding him. Magic had a presence of his own and Rus’s smelled delicately sweet. Against the smooth bone of his temple, Edge murmured, "Go to sleep."

"mmhmm.” Barely even a word, slurred with sleepiness, and Edge thought Rus drowsed off until he whispered, “i didn't think you really meant it. about sleeping with me.”

"I know." But he didn't know why. The first words out of Rus's mouth when they'd met had been flirtatious.

“thought you wanted—hm.” The words faded, unspoken, and instead Rus rubbed his cheek bone against Edge’s shirt, sighing out, “you’re so warm, boss.”

He considered that for a long moment, then said, very softly, "My name is Edge."

He wasn't even sure if Rus heard him, until, "edge. i like that, suits you. you're warm, edge."

“Go to sleep.” In another moment, Rus did.

Beneath the heavy blankets was heady with warmth, Rus snuggled into his side. There were things Edge should be doing. There was a schedule to keep, duties that were waiting for him. He should slip free and let Rus sleep.

Instead, he closed his sockets, holding Rus close and breathing in his sweetness. He still had no idea what he was doing, but this seemed like a place to start.

~~*~~

tbc

[danfanciesphil]

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

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

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

Ao3 Link

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five

Chapter Six

For a moment, no words will come. The blood in Dan’s wrist pulses in odd, shifting patterns beneath the skin. He swallows, caught on the edge of a gelid blue stare. “I… can’t.”

“You can’t ski?” Phil asks, his sneer an anchor that yanks Dan back down from the astral plane into which Phil’s touch had propelled him.   

“Of course I can ski,” he retorts, bristling. He chooses not to mention that he hasn’t skied since he was fourteen, when his family went to Chamonix for a week, and his mum and dad complained the entire time that it was too cold. At a ski lodge. “But I have to… y’know, work. Hotel stuff.”

Mesmerised by the slight twitch of the corner of Phil’s mouth, which still doesn’t quite count as a smile, Dan’s hostile stance falters, then wanes. Like it’s a perfume wafting from Phil’s skin through the air between them, in the next second Dan smells the imminence of his own surrender.  

“Come on,” Phil says, his voice quiet, like it’s just for Dan. It doesn’t seem to matter that nobody else could have heard him anyway. “What else are you gonna do all day? Cook lunch for the hotel ghosts? Sit at reception and pretend you’re not playing on your phone?”

A spurt of blood shoots into Dan’s cheeks; he’d thought he was so stealthy, hiding his phone under the desk as he attempted to load a single meme at a time on Tumblr mobile, using tenuous 3G.

“I- I don’t have any skis,” Dan says lamely.

“Lucky for you that my old ones were repaired by the elusive hotel elf, then,” Phil quips, already stepping away. “I’ll meet you by the front door, shall I?”

He’s gone before Dan can muster up a further refusal. He stands gormless in the middle of the kitchen, gazing around at the pristine surfaces. If only he’d resisted the urge to clean everything already, then he could at least have the excuse of needing to scrub the day away. Perhaps he could quickly throw open all the cupboard doors, ransack the fridge and hurl ingredients and coffee everywhere, feigning a wolf had snuck in somehow, or a snow leopard. 

An image flashes into Dan’s mind, of Mona’s deepening frown as Phil explained to her that not only did Dan let some wild animal break in and contaminate the kitchen, but that he also refused to grant the one request of the only guest. He shudders, closing the door on that image before it can develop. Mona is already far too close to a stark realisation of Dan’s utter hopelessness; despite the words of any fortune-telling crows, a voice lingers at the back of Dan’s mind, assuring him that it’s only a matter of time before he slips up and disappoints everyone. His only hope is to stall that inevitability for as long as possible. 

Plus Phil is, annoyingly, right. There is nothing else for Dan to do today; he and Mona did a deep clean of the whole hotel before she left, and the place is spotless. With no guests to look after, and a low chance of anyone phoning given that the Swiss news helpfully predicted a terrifying blizzard, Dan really is at a loose end.  

It takes about two minutes of dithering in the kitchen before he has to admit defeat. Dan lets out a dreaded sigh, pushing all the air from his lungs, and then goes to wash up the two mugs he’s still holding. As he’s scrubbing the coffee stains, he decides that caffeine is the only acceptable (or available) drug he can utilise to get through whatever lies in store, so he places the mugs on the drying rack, and rinses out a thermos flask he finds, along with Louise’s percolator. He makes the coffee very strong, pours it into the flask, then thinks for a moment, and adds a dollop of soya milk. 

*

As soon as he opens his chest of drawers, Dan is struck once again by how ill-prepared he is for a sudden, impulsive foray into the snowy wilderness. As he lacks proper ‘ski-wear’ - whatever that might be - Dan Instead chooses to go for layers. A clingy t-shirt that barely fit him when he was sixteen, then a baggier, long-sleeved t-shirt. He covers these with a shapeless grey jumper, then a black jacket, and then, finally his warmest coat. He adds thick socks, a hat, boots, sunglasses, gloves and a scarf. By the time he feels he’s ready, his arms stick out stiffly from his sides, but he figures that a little loss of movement is a fair price to pay for not getting frostbite. 

He slots the flask into one of the deep pockets of his coat, and tries not to think too hard about what he’s about to do. Or with whom. He deliberately takes his time getting down to the lobby in order to prolong the inevitable, and also because he likes the idea of the Fresh Prince of the Alps having to wait for him. Phil lowers his phone as Dan approaches, pushing off from where he’s leant against the wall. It takes a moment for him to drink in the sight of Dan, and then his eyebrows shoot up, and he seems to swallow something suspiciously close to a laugh. 

“Err, think you’ll be warm enough?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “I didn’t exactly pack for extreme sports.”

Phil just makes a ‘hmm’ noise, turning to the collection of skis and poles leaning against the wall. “Not sure cross-country skiing could be classed as an extreme sport, but you do y- er, suit yourself.”

If Dan tries to reply, he’ll probably swear, so he clamps his mouth shut, and sticks an arm out to grab for the the red skis. Phil snatches them up first. 

“I’ll wear these,” he says. “You take the new ones.”

He doesn’t look at Dan, just pushes the shiny new skis into his hands. Bewildered, Dan stares at his warped reflection in the electric blue varnish. 

“What? Why?”

It takes a minute for Phil to respond; he’s tugging at the repaired bracket on the red ski, seemingly to test its durability. This alone is enough to make Dan want to slap it out of his hands. Then, he turns to Dan, that vague almost-smile still tucked beneath his smug expression. 

“Haven’t tested the new ones out yet,” he says with a shrug. “Reckon it’d be better for my caddy to fall on his face than me, right?”

Dan splutters, outraged. “Caddy?”

“Grab those ski poles for us, would you?” Phil asks, a spritz of amusement perfuming his words. 

Dan might be intrigued by the lightness of his tone if it weren’t for the fact he were quietly steaming inside his many layers. The heating in this place does not fuck about. Worried he’ll boil alive unless they get outside soon, Dan chooses to just do as he’s asked. If Phil insists on calling him a caddy again, at least Dan will have four long weapons to wield. Dan gathers the four poles up in his arms as best he can, along with his own skis; on the verge of dropping everything, he opts for speed, and scurries after Phil out of the front door.

“If you expect me to haul all of this up some peak or other-”

Dan can’t see, as he’s got a number of pointed objects obscuring his view, so he doesn’t realise that Phil has stopped directly in front of him, a few paces beyond the door. Dan bumps straight into him, and instantly everything he’s holding drops to the ground. When he looks up, Phil is aiming an exasperated gaze down at the pile of poles and skis, as if he’s already regretting inviting Dan along.

“No, I don’t expect you to actually be my pack mule. We’re going to wear our skis,” Phil explains slowly, like he’s talking to a child.

He’s already got his skis laid neatly out in front of him - two bright red parallel lines striking through the snow. As Dan watches confusedly, Phil pushes the tip of his right boot into one of the skis. Dan’s stomach squeezes with discomfort; he’d been correct before, when repairing the skis. The fastenings are not the same as he’s used to.  

“Erm,” Dan says, moving his attention to one of his own skis, laying at an angle in the snow. It has the same unfamiliar fastening, much to his dismay. 

Mind racing to figure out every option available to him that doesn’t involve swallowing his pride and asking Phil for help, Dan moves to inspect the contraption. As if he’s sensed Dan’s incompetence, Phil drops into a crouch anyway, and reaches for Dan’s boot. Instinctively, Dan jerks his foot away. Phil lifts his head to look at Dan. Viewing him from this angle is strange. From this perspective, he seems hunched, small, insignificant. He has none of his Lordly airs about him, hunched down in the snow near Dan’s feet. Phil doesn’t say anything, he just waits, hand calmly outstretched towards Dan’s boot. Wordlessly, Dan moves his foot back into Phil’s reach, and watches as Phil carefully rights the ski, then pulls his foot towards it. He fits the toe of Dan’s boot into the unusual strap. 

“They’re telemark skis,” Phil says, tightening the strap around the ball of Dan’s foot. “I’m guessing you’re more used to Alpine skis? They’re the ones with the strap at the back as well.”

Dan bristles again at the condescending tone. “I’m familiar with both,” he says, because he’s a stubborn moron. Phil says nothing, but that near-smile returns as he reaches for Dan’s other foot; Dan wobbles slightly as Phil guides it into the left ski. “But, uh, it’s been a while. So... remind me again of the difference between, er, telemark and…”

“Alpine,” Phil supplies, standing up. He holds Dan’s gaze for a moment, and then laughs, short and quiet, but just enough for Dan to catch a glimpse of two rows of pearl-white teeth, with a flash of pink tongue caught between them. It’s the most Dan’s seen him smile yet, though he’s obviously laughing at Dan which isn’t ideal. “Telemark skis are designed so that you can wear them for both hiking and skiing. You can move your ankle in them, see?”

He demonstrates, twisting his un-strapped heel to and fro. Dan tries to do the same, and almost falls over. “Why do we need to use our ankles, exactly?”

Dan doesn’t remember skiing requiring a lot of joint movement. From what he can recall of his brief experience as a teenager, he strapped the skis on, let the lift drag him up a big hill, and gravity did a lot of the work getting him to the bottom again.

Phil is full-on smirking now. Dan thinks he preferred the non-smile. “You may have noticed that we don’t have chairlifts up here. We’ll be hiking to the slopes on foot. I’ve put skins on the bottom of these to give us more grip, but we can take them off when we get there.”

Dan tries not let the alarm show on his face. They’re going to be walking up hills? In skis? “And... I suppose once we ski down the slope we’ll be having to...” 

“Walk back up again? Yes. Unless you fancy setting up camp down there.” 

An ill-timed image of the Brokeback Mountain tent attacks Dan so viciously it nearly knocks him sideways. “No! No, no. Walking back up. Cool. Good thing I’ve been practicing with those bloody hotel stairs, right?” 

Dan forces a laugh, but this time Phil’s face remains unmoved. Clearly it’s only Dan’s unintentional idiocy that can procure a genuine smile from him then, right. 

Phil looks to the sky briefly, seeming to assess something in the heavens themselves, and asks, “ready to go, then?”

He doesn’t wait for Dan’s reply. He picks up his ski poles, then turns and begins sort of slide-walking away from the hotel, in seemingly no particular direction. There’s a large thicket of trees ahead of him, but then there are thickets of trees in a few other directions too. Nevertheless, Dan has no choice but to trust this man’s sense of direction, so attempts to move after him; to his horror, his legs immediately split apart in a move he is certainly not flexible enough to achieve. He manages to stab his ski poles into the earth and rectify himself before pulling anything, but in doing so he flails, and almost falls. Luckily, he’s gotten back into a reasonably dignified standing position by the time Phil turns to him, wondering what the hold up is.

“Sorry,” Dan says, making a valiant attempt to copy Phil’s movements exactly as he inches forwards again. It works, sort of, though he doesn’t do it anywhere near as gracefully as Phil seems to be able to. When he gets to Phil, he shrugs, like he’s totally fine. “Just… admiring the view,” he explains. “Lead on.”

*

It takes over thirty gruelling minutes to cross the plains of the mountain in pursuit of a supposedly safe ski-area, but eventually they reach an abrupt dip, where the mountain begins its gradual slope downward. This close to the edge of the mountain, the view is breathtaking. Dan can’t focus on it, however, because his thighs ache, the moisture in his lungs has turned to ice and is freezing him from the inside out, and for the last twenty minutes, Phil Novokoric has been unhelpfully telling him everything he’s doing wrong with the stupid ‘telemark’ skis.

“Is this where we do some actual skiing then?” Dan asks crossly, jamming his poles into the snow.

He’s so glad to get to a point where he actually knows what he’s doing that he’s already shuffling up to the edge of the slope, more than ready to get this over with. He’s so keen, in fact, that he’s only just about saved from teetering over the edge and hurtling down in an enormous cartoon-style snowball, by a far more sensible Phil. He grabs Dan by the hood of his coat before he can topple to his untimely death.

“Careful!” he exclaims as he yanks Dan backwards. Yet again, the irritating warning is at least ten seconds too late. Dan has already been an idiot; unless Phil expects him to travel back in time to ten seconds ago, and take heed of Phil’s caution. Phil pulls him so sharply that Dan jolts backwards, skis slotting between Phil’s as his back crashes against his chest. His heart pounds incessantly. Or maybe that’s Phil’s heart. “Are you some kind of moron?” Phil asks, then pauses, like he’s actually waiting for an answer. “Just wait a minute, we’ve got to take our skins off. Then I’ll lead the way.”

“Remind me why I agreed to this,” Dan mutters, carefully sliding away from Phil whilst trying not to accidentally fall down the slope. 

Sulkily, he stands to the side and watches as Phil removes one ski, and peels a thin black strip from the underside, then does the same to the other. Dan copies his action in silence, though he has no idea why on earth this is necessary. Phil monitors Dan wordlessly, but thankfully makes no judgemental comments.  

“Ready?” he asks once Dan has his de-skinned skis back on. 

Dan shoves the bunched up skins into his jacket pocket. No. “Yep.”

And then, with enviable ease, Phil pushes himself over the edge of the slope, and begins drifting downwards, swaying gracefully to and fro as he descends. Somewhat alarmed by how quickly that just happened, Dan swallows his nerves and shoots after him. It’s terrifying. 

Dan hasn’t experienced this level of self-propelled velocity for years, let alone the searing chill that whips his cheeks, or the sensation of being at once in control of his own speed, and simultaneously ill-equipped to do so. He grips his ski poles tightly, attempting to copy Phil’s swooping motions up ahead, leaning left and right as much as he dares in order to slow his pace. The slope had not looked particularly steep from the top, but Dan should probably have been more concerned about the amount of debris on the path that he has to keep swerving to avoid. Annoyingly, Phil was completely right in insisting he went first, as otherwise Dan would have crashed several times into boulders and tree stumps and icy patches.

It can’t last particularly long, but it seems to Dan that he’s skiing, teeth gritted, eyes frozen open, for hours. Eventually however, the slope evens out, and flattens enough that they slow to a stop. Somewhere in the recesses of Dan’s brain, he scrounges up his knowledge of how to point the tips of his skis together to halt himself. Phil does some kind of impressive, sudden, 90 degree turning move, but he doesn’t outright laugh at Dan’s less stylish method, thankfully.

Dan is just about to collapse to the floor and weep, relieved he survived that and didn’t so much as fall over once, when Phil pulls off his sunglasses, and gives Dan the widest, most brilliant grin. His teeth are as white as the snow surrounding them. Seeing such animation on his usually sullen features is so unexpected that Dan swears his heart literally skips a beat, though that might be on account of all the adrenaline from plummeting down the side of a mountain. Dan removes his own sunglasses, somewhat shakily, and aims a tentative smile back at him.

“Not bad,” Phil says, eyes bright and crystalline in the light. “If you did some fitness training, you might be halfway decent.”

The smile wipes itself away again. “Thanks,” Dan mutters.

“What did you think?” Phil asks, elbow resting on one of his upright ski poles. He’s a tiny bit breathless, which gives his words a whisperish quality. In another setting that wasn’t as eerily silent, it might be difficult to hear him. “Fun, right?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Dan replies, heart still pounding at double his normal rate.

Phil chuckles. “This is probably the gentlest path I’ve found.”

“Found?”

“Yeah. I can’t be certain of course, but I doubt anyone else has ever skied up here.” He grins again, jarring and hypnotic. “I’m the Columbus of the Alps.”

This seems highly unlikely. Dan’s no expert in mountaineering, but surely other adventurers have come up and explored the mountain before now. Phil being the first one to ever scope out reasonably skiable pathways seems incredibly dangerous, and probably illegal.

“Are you, like, allowed?”

Phil shrugs, slipping his shades back on. “Who’s gonna stop me?”

It’s this offhanded, entitled flippancy that Dan detests about the rich. He chooses not to respond to such an irritating question, and instead asks, “so, what now?”

“Climb back up,” Phil says, already pulling his skins from his pocket. “Unless you wanna check out one of the trickier slopes?”

“No, thank you,” Dan says tightly.

Phil chuckles again. “Alright then, skins on, Howell.”

*

In hindsight, Dan should really have given more thought to the idea of climbing back up the hill they’d just skied down, in skis. To say it was difficult would have been generous. By the time they reach the top (it shouldn’t go unmentioned that Phil was much, much quicker than Dan at getting back up, and then shouted helpful suggestions of how he should turn his heels, or dig his skis in to the snow from the summit) Dan is so exhausted he never wants to lift another limb in his life, let alone slide down a hill just to climb it yet again. Phil is raring to go, of course, but Dan simply unfastens his skis and falls back onto his bum, unconcerned that the snow immediately begins seeping into the seat of his trousers, and gestures for the other man to go on without him.

“Suit yourself,” Phil says, snickering, and pushes over the edge.

From his position, Dan is able to watch as Phil airily glides down. It’s obvious, from this vantage point, that skiing gives Phil an air of freedom that he lacks in everyday life. His limbs are loosened of their usual tension, and even from a distance Dan can see that he is calm and happy. As Phil re-climbs the slope, Dan peels off the weird skins from the underside of his skis again and studies them for a bit, then stuffs them into his pocket, deciding they’re just flaps of fabric you could make in five seconds, probably sold in sports shops at an absurd cost. He then attempts to browse the internet on his phone, though given that they’re currently in the middle of absolutely nowhere, this does not go well. He quickly abandons any attempt to check his Facebook feed, and plays Crossy Road until a shadow washes over him. He looks up just as Phil slumps down beside him, panting.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” Phil says between breaths. “Usually I do this about twenty times, up and down. On the steeper slopes, too.”

Dan snorts. “Excuse me, but screw that. Nobody told me there’d be climbing involved. Give me a terrifying ski lift any day.”

“Anywhere there’s a ski lift there’s a hundred tourists crammed on, waiting to dawdle in front of you on the slope on the way down.”

Again, Dan doesn’t remember this being particularly true from his previous skiing experience. On the red and black runs, there were only a handful of other people to avoid. He can see nothing wrong with something being made safe by professionals. Deciding it’s probably wise to keep this thought to himself in order to keep the peace, Dan instead digs the flask of coffee out of his pocket, pulls both the plastic cups off the top, and hands one to Phil.

“So you’ve skied in a lot of places, then?” he asks.

Phil is looking down at the cup like Dan just pulled it out of his rear end. “Er… yeah. Quite a lot.”

Dan ignores the curious expression being aimed at him, and just focuses on pouring out the coffee. He’d remembered at the last minute to bring sugar for Phil, so he digs out the packets from his pocket, and presses them into Phil’s free hand along with a wooden stirrer.

“Cool,” Dan says. “Where abouts?”

For a moment, Phil says nothing. It’s as though he’s forgotten how to move, or speak. Dan just waits, the warmth of the coffee cup in his hands starting to spread through his gloved fingers, melting the stiffness. He sips his own coffee until Phil regains composure and pours the sugar in.

“Uh, lots of places. My family used to go every year at Christmas.” He stirs the coffee slowly, gazing out at the thick, snow-frosted trees lining the slope. “I’ve been to Andorra, Saalbach Chamonix…”

This peaks Dan’s attention. “Chamonix? I’ve been there.”

Phil’s eyes go round. “Oh my God… I knew I recognised you.”

Dan’s stomach drops. “W-what?” Surely this cannot be happening.

“The New Year’s Eve party…” he gushes, placing a hand on Dan’s shoulder. Fuck, fuck, fuck, abort, abort, abort. “There was karaoke... we were dragged on stage to sing a duet…”

For a split second, Dan’s mind is hurtling in circles as he tries to remember any such awful event, and then he notes the twitch of Phil’s mouth, the glimmer of obvious teasing lurking in his expression. Right as Dan’s about to grab a handful of snow and smash it into that obnoxious mocking face, Phil clutches his chest and belts out, “this is the start of something newww!”

Dan groans, eyes rolling so far backwards he can see the folds of his brain. “As if you’re making an actual High School Musical reference right now.”

“Hey, you’re the one that got it,” Phil points out, giggling softly.

“You’re so irritating,” Dan mutters, sipping more coffee.

The snow has officially soaked all the way through his trousers, and his bum has gone entirely numb from the cold. If he has to sit here and listen to Phil’s annoying, posh-boy teasing for a second longer, he’s going to ski directly into a nearby tree.

“Are you supposed to call your guests irritating?”

Dan fights a smile, hiding his mouth in his cup. “Depends how much they piss me off.”

This makes Phil laugh; a sound Dan is sure he will never grow used to. “At least I have a dry bum right now. Your idea of appropriate ski attire is as shocking as your technique.”

“You know what?” Dan says brightly, and stands up. He pretty much instantly regrets doing so as the cold water that’s been soaking his bum for the last half hour trickles down the backs of his thighs. He chucks the remainder of his coffee into the snow, and pockets the cup along with the flask. “Being the official laughing stock of the slopes is not part of my job description. It’s been a blast, Mr Novokoric, but I have a hotel to run, so if you’ll excuse me-”

“Ooh, back to Mr Novokoric, is it?” Phil asks, standing up as well. He drains the last of his own coffee, and gathers his ski poles. “Hang on then, let me-”

“No, no,” Dan says, swishing his ski pole at Phil as he tries to slide closer. “I’m clearly stopping you from throwing yourself down some more death-defying hills or whatever. I can get back to the hotel on my own just fine.”

He shoves his feet back into the skis one by one, thankfully able to tighten them to his feet without help this time, and then awkwardly shuffles around to face the direction they came from. There’s a bit of a hill ahead, but in comparison to the one he climbed up not long ago it looks tiny, so he slides towards it with determination.

“Dan, hold on,” Phil says impatiently, still strapping himself back into his own skis. “You can’t just-”

“I said I’m fine,” Dan says through gritted teeth. In truth however, gaining any sort of momentum on this incline seems a lot harder than it had been previously. “Just go do your thing.”

He’s about halfway up the small hill, and he feels alarmingly unsteady. The skis seem to have a mind of their own, and keep threatening to slide out from under him. Dan just shoves his ski poles into the snow as hard as possible, using them to help drag him upwards.

“Dan,” Phil is calling from somewhere behind him. “Can you stop being so pig-headed for a minute? You’ve forgotten-”

Dan cuts him off with an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp as his right ski slips sharply backwards, splitting his legs wishbone-style. With the help of his ski pole, he manages not to rip his own crotch in half, but the back of his right ski crosses over his left, and in trying to correct it, Dan falls backwards. His right ankle seems to not want to cooperate with the angle Dan is toppling, and twists beneath him; his boot still being attached to the ski, this hurts like a motherfucker.

“Shit! Ow, ow ow-”

Pain, scorching and sudden, shoots up Dan’s leg. His ankle is bent somehow beneath him, and it’s agony. He only has mere seconds to revel in the pain however, as then hands are on the strap of his ski, scrambling to unattach him, and blissfully his ankle pops free.

“I told you to wait for me!” Phil shouts, though the sound is fuzzy and distant from the leftover cloud of pain hazing Dan’s senses. “You forgot to put your skins back on, you idiot.” Dan barely understands, too focused on his throbbing ankle. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes it bloody hurts!” Dan snaps, clutching the ankle. "What kind of idiotic question is that?!”

“Let me see.”

“What? No!”

“Dan, I need to see how bad it is.”

“It’s fine,” Dan protests, but Phil is already picking at the knot of his laces, clearly not listening.

As he reluctantly surrenders to Phil’s insistence on acting the hero, Dan realises for the first time just how… close he is. At this level of proximity, it’s possible to detect notes of the shampoo Phil uses dancing on the thin, icy breeze. Coconut, possibly. Or watermelon? In the distraction of trying to place the smell, Dan doesn’t realise what’s happening until his laces are untied, and Phil begins carefully pulling off his boot. He removes his gloves, and blows quickly on his hands before reaching out and rolling down Dan’s thick sock. Something about this whole scenario is so intimate that Dan wants to squirm. Presumably, he’d only blown on his fingers to warm them - to ease Dan’s discomfort. Dan wouldn’t expect such consideration from his own mother, let alone this dick-brain. To stifle his drumming heart, Dan bites down on his lip, and turns his face away.

“Looks swollen,” Phil mutters as he pulls the sock down. Gently, he presses the pads of his fingers to the puffed, pink skin around Dan’s ankle. It doesn’t hurt any more than the existing pain, but Dan twitches nonetheless, and Phil’s blisteringly blue eyes flick up to his. “It doesn’t feel broken. Do you think you could stand on it?”

Experimentally, Dan tries wiggling his toes. It’s unpleasant, sure, but not completely unbearable. “I’ll try,” he says, attempting bravery.

Phil begins rolling his sock back up. “Good choice,” he says, reaching for the boot. “It’s just you and me up here, so unless you fancy spending the night in minus six degrees under the stars, I’d advise hopping if you can. It’ll start getting dark in a few hours.”

“Gee, thanks for the sympathy,” Dan snorts, batting Phil’s hands away to re-tie his laces.

Phil waits, saying nothing, and when Dan is done, he holds out his hand. For a moment Dan just stares at it. He’s seconds away from slipping his own hand into it, when Phil says, “your skins? I’ll put them back on for you.”

“Oh, right,” Dan says, hoping Phil doesn’t notice his odd behaviour. He has no clue what the fuck this mountain air is doing to him recently. He digs in his pocket and pulls out the skins, then shoves them into Phil’s hand. “Cheers.” 

*

“You’re much more… bony than you look,” Phil huffs. 

They’re about halfway through the hideous journey back, as far as Dan can tell. Approximately three minutes in, Dan had realised that attempting to walk on his own, wearing the damn ‘telemark’ skis, was not an option.

“I apologise sincerely for having bones,” Dan replies scornfully. In truth, he feels like a pile of boneless goo, so it’s surprising that Phil seems to think he’s the opposite. His arm is wound around Phil’s shoulders, allowing Dan to lean a great deal of his weight onto the other man. He’s got one ski on, the other is in his right hand. Phil is carrying all four ski poles, tucked under his arm. 

They’ve been moving at a torturously slow pace, so the sun is already dipping towards the horizon at their backs. Even in the space of a few hours, Dan can feel the drop in temperature, and it wasn’t exactly warm before. They were lucky, in a way, that Dan’s little accident had happened whilst there was still a lot of light left. He leans closer into Phil’s body heat, hoping the other man doesn’t notice.

“Are you cold?”

Crap. “Um, a bit.”

They hobble further on in silence. Dan wonders what the purpose of Phil’s question might have been, as now he seems to be deliberating something silently. Please, God, don’t say that Phil Novokoric is about to hand over his snow jacket to invalid-Dan so he can tell the story of his chivalry to some doe-eyed journalist months from now. 

In a way, Dan is almost glad when Phil, predictably, says, “another reason to invest in some proper thermals. Might have been an idea, considering you’re living up a snowy mountain.”

“Noted,” Dan says through gritted teeth. Finally, the sight of the hotel crests the horizon, some way off still, but at least within view. “Thank the fucking Lord,” he mutters under his breath.  

“You could get on my back for the last bit, if you like,” Phil suggests, tone lilting into something like a tease.

“You’re alright, thanks,” Dan replies tersely. He sincerely wishes he could extricate himself from this infuriating human and sprint the rest of the way back, but unfortunately he thinks he might snap his own ankle off, brittle as it is now from the cold. “Can we just focus on getting to the hotel without any further injuries, please?”

“Sure,” Phil says, then effortlessly hitches Dan’s arm a little higher across his shoulders, taking on significantly more of his weight. For a reason Dan refuses to analyse, this action makes his stomach flip multiple times, but he has no time to dwell on the how’s or why’s, because Phil has doubled the pace now, near-dragging Dan along.

(Chapter Seven!)

[izthecannibal]

Bloodline (Part 3) - Carl Grimes & Negan Imagine

Part 1

Part 2

requests: Hey, I know you’re probably really busy with other fanfics and stuff, but if you could, would you write a fic were the reader is dating Carl in Alexandria and Negan is her father/step-father but they got separated in the beginning of the apocalypse and she highkey hates him? This would probably take place after the lineup. Thanks loads!

This nearly made me cry. MORE PLZ

bring cold ass Negan back in the next chapter. We need him

pairing: pairing: father negan x reader

a/n: HOLY SHIT IT’S BEEN SO LONG SINCE I’VE UPLOADED AND I’M SO SORRY BUT I’M BACK I’M FINALLY BACK 

being in an assload of honors classes finally caught up to me, but i’m back. i will be posting as much as i possibly can, and i’ll make sure at least once or twice a week. i’m really sorry for not posting in a million years. i’ll find some way to make it up to you aha

word count: 1,006

tagged users: @deeindarkwonderland @namelesslosers @styles-grimes @winchestxgrimes @clairecnn 

“I’m sorry,” Negan apologized. His breaths were uneven and his shoulders couldn’t seem to settle comfortably. He sniffled and continuously rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know.” 

“Is that just what you do now?” you yelled. “You just kill everyone who gets in your damn way? What the hell happened to you?” 

“I fucking lost you!” he screamed. His booming voice echoed through the otherwise silent halls, leaving a cloud of tension in its wake. “I never stopped looking for you. I looked for you on my own for weeks before I found anybody who would help. I was willing to do anything if it meant I could see you again.” 

You felt ashamed of yourself for allowing your lip to quiver in front of him. He wasn’t going to win you over. You wouldn’t let that happen. 

“When I saw you with those people, I didn’t know what to think. I just wanted you back, so I did the only thing I knew how to do.” 

“Are you bullshitting me? The only thing you’re capable of now is killing?” Your voice grew more and more sore as you shrieked with each rhetorical question. You were in shock. You were in disbelief. You were almost numb. Almost. The thought of Carl being dead shot pains through your stomach and made the tips of your fingers tingle unpleasantly. 

“I need to get back to my family.” 

Negan shook his head frantically, reaching his arms out to you. “I am your family.” 

“No, you were my family.” 

You turned away from him and began to walk town the narrow hallways, but the echoes of your footsteps were interrupted. 

“You can’t leave.” 

You turned back to face your father, and as you did so, you were picked up and carried off into a small, dark room. You screamed and flailed your limbs in an attempt to break free, but he held you to him too tightly. The faces of strangers kneeling as your father aggressively forced you into the room were fearful, but blank. Nobody was going to help you. 

The door was slammed, and you were faced with pitch black all around you, the only light coming in through the slot between the door and the cement beneath you. 

Although you were in the room alone, you could see the outline of Negan’s black boots standing up against the door. Your sobs quieted, and you rested your head against the wall. 

“I’m sorry,” Negan whispered, then his boots left your eyesight. 

You woke up with a tray and a plastic cup of water across your room. You crawled over to it, drinking half the water and taking a bite of the apple on the tray. There was a bag of chips and a cup of yogurt with a plastic spoon on the tray as well as a folded piece of paper with your name on it. 

I’m sorry about yesterday. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I found these chips in an abandoned house a while ago and had to get them for you. I know they were your favorite. If you want anything at all, just let me know. Anything for you. I’ll visit you tomorrow. I love you. 

Dad

You folded the letter back up and placed it on the floor next to you. You ate the apple, then the chips, and then the yogurt. You really forgot how good those chips were. 

You didn’t know when you would get more food, so you tried to eat slowly. It was difficult, though. You hadn’t eaten much in the past twenty four hours. 

You reached into your belt for your knife, but it wasn’t there. “Shit,” you mumbled, bringing your hands to your temples. 

You searched the room for anything that somewhat resembled a weapon when an idea came to you. You reached for the spoon you had used to eat your yogurt and began grinding the handle against the floor. You didn’t know how long it would take, but you figured it would be to your benefit to try and make something you could use to defend yourself if given the chance, and possibly even escape from the prison your father had damned you to. 

Whenever you heard voices or a pair of shoes come close to your room, you placed the makeshift knife in the back of your belt. You had to play smart, because your father and his men obviously had no problem killing and imprisoning innocent people. You were physically inferior to him and his gang of grown, built men as well. The only things you had going for you were your intelligence and your relation to Negan. 

While grinding the spoon against the ground was making a point, the edge was dull. There was no way you could have any sort of benefit from using that against someone. You snapped the end off instead, folding it until it broke into two pieces, creating two rigid edges that were still barely useful, but more harmful than your original plan’s outcome. 

You held the two pieces in your hands, realizing how stupid it was to believe that you had a chance against them. You tossed the pieces into the corner of the room, leaning back against the wall when a few knocks sounded on the door. 

It creaked open slightly, only enough for your father to slip in and close it right behind him. He fell back against the door, sitting down across from you. 

“How are you?” he asked. 

You kept a straight face and looked him in the eyes. “I’ve been better.” 

He sighed as his head fell a little. “I can’t let you leave. I can’t let you go and know that you’ll go back to them.” 

Tears attempted to fall, but you closed your eyes to prevent that from happening. 

“If you want what’s best for me, you’ll let me go back to them.”

Negan shook his head, and his face grew serious. “Stop that. You’re not leaving, and that’s final.”

[kitties-and-rice-cakes-blog]

FIC TIME PEEPS.

So this was requested by the lovely @shutuptimmy under the prompt of “Seung-gil X JJ fluff”. Now this was something else I didn’t even realise was a ship, but this was really fun to write. I haven’t done fluff in ageeeeeeees so this was lovely ^^

You may have notice that my other stuff is tagged “nsfw” but this one is totally safe so I’ll be starting an “sfw” tag now too. Just a little heads up :3

Reeeeeeeeally hope you guys enjoy this!

He knew how obvious it was.

He knew this wasn’t normal for him.

For a while he’d been able to act normal and keep his usual grin on his face but now…

Everyone already knew anyway. Why bother acting like he was okay?

Even if someone didn’t know what had happened, just looking at JJ was enough to make you realise he was not alright. His hair was a mess, he had bags under his eyes that hadn’t gone away in weeks, he was getting worryingly skinny, he wasn’t landing jumps properly in practice, and he wasn’t speaking.

That last one was the biggest one. JJ would talk to everyone and anyone, and it was normal for the other skaters, particularly quiet or angry ones like Yuri Plisetsky or Otabek Altin, to completely ignore him or tell him to shut up. But even they had been worried about him recently.

JJ knew he was worrying his friends and competitors, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Every competition, every practice, every gala it was the same.

“Hey JJ, good to see you. How’re you holding up?”

“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling. I am really sorry JJ.”

“Everyone’s really worried about you, you know. I hope you feel better soon.”

And JJ was done answering stupid questions or reassuring his friends that he was okay. He wasn’t okay. Nobody would be okay if their fiancé left them.

JJ had never taken Isabella for granted, but he hadn’t realised how important she was to him until she was gone. She had sworn to him that it wasn’t because of anybody else, that she just needed time to herself after dedicating her own life to JJ’s sport, but that was all just empty words to the Canadian. It hurt. He’d loved her; he still did. But now she was gone.

It had been two months now, but it hadn’t stopped hurting. Everyone had told him that it would get better, but so far they’d been proved wrong. He knew he should but he didn’t have it in him to unfollow her on Instagram, so he knew she was fine. Or at least she looked fine, going out to dinner with her friends, traveling to Paris with her parents and actually making a comment that it was nice to be in a city for reasons other than skating tournaments. That crushed JJ. He still didn’t unfollow her though.

Right now, JJ was walking through the halls of the rink in Barcelona, where he had come third in the Grand Prix Finals, the year Isabella had started the cheering and singing when he’d had his breakdown during his routine. He had his hood up and his headphones in. He should have been on the ice twenty minutes ago and he knew his parents would be looking for him, but he couldn’t bear to look at that rink again because all it held for him now were memories of Isabella supporting him.

He’d already ran into Yuuri, Viktor, Sara, Otabek and Leo, and he had walked right past all of them. They were all here for a gala, and while it wasn’t competitive it was to get the public interested before the new season for figure skating started, so it was important to gain supporters. The actual gala was tomorrow and today was just the practice, but that still meant everybody was here.

Apart from Yuuri, who had just given him a sympathetic smile which he was extremely grateful for, everyone else had tried to stop JJ to talk to him. But JJ didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to be here…

Squeezing his eyes shut and turning the volume of his music up to full blast, JJ began to walk faster, storming ahead through the corridors…

Until he smacked right into someone walking the opposite way.

Falling down to the floor and pulling his headphones out of his ears, JJ looked up to see Seung-gil, the South Korean skater, lying on the floor just slightly away from him.

“Oh damn, Seung-gil I’m really sorry,” JJ stammered out, pulling his hood down.

Blue eyes met dark, and for the first time since he’d known him JJ swore he saw Seung-gil’s eyes soften slightly. “Just watch where you’re going next time,” Seung-gil replied, brushing his own hair out of his eyes.

“I will. Sorry,” JJ responded, feeling a tiny smile grow on his face.

Seung-gil frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

JJ chuckled slightly under his breath. “I’m…not sure.”

Seung-gil sighed before standing up. “You’re a strange one JJ,” he stated before offering his hand to the younger Canadian.

“Well I won’t deny that,” JJ replied before taking Seung-gil’s hand and allowing him to help him up. “So have you already practiced?”

Seung-gil nodded. “Yeah, I had the second slot after Plisetsky.”

“I’ve seen your videos of your routine for the gala,” JJ smiled. “Looks like you’re back to your regular stuff.”

“Yeah, well,” Seung-gil shrugged. “The mambo stuff was…different…but didn’t exactly have the reaction I was hoping for. Seems like I’m just built for more lyrical music.” JJ nodded in agreement as Seung-gil looked at his watch. “Speaking of which, aren’t you meant to be on the ice now?”

JJ’s smile faded and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Yeah…well…um…”

JJ heard Seung-gil sigh slightly and he glanced back up.

“You’ve not been back here since you won bronze, have you?” Seung-gil asked, although it sounded more like a statement than a question.

JJ slowly shook his head. “I haven’t…but it’s got nothing to do with the bronze.”

Seung-gil held his hand up and JJ fell silent. “I know exactly what it’s to do with JJ,” he murmured, speaking softer than JJ had ever heard him before.

Glancing around them Seung-gil seemed to decide something before he began to walk off, calling, “Come on,” to JJ before he pulled his phone out.

JJ quickly followed him. “Where are we going?” he asked.

“Out of here,” Seung-gil answered quickly before pressed the ‘send’ button on his phone. About ten seconds later he got a reply. Reading it he said, “Phichit’s taking your practice slot. That means you’ve got his at the end of the day. He’s going to explain to your parents.”

“Hang on a second,” JJ said, grabbing hold of Seung-gil’s sleeve and pulling him back so he stopped walking. “I’m confused. Why are we leaving?”

Seung-gil turned back to look at him and actually smiled slightly. JJ felt his heart pick up as he dropped his hold on Seung-gil’s arm.

“Because you’re not going to skate your best right now,” Seung-gil answered simply. “And to be quite frank, I need you to be on top form so I’ve actually got some competition out there.”

JJ chuckled again in spite of himself. “You know it’s not a competition tomorrow Lee.”

Seung-gil shrugged, still smiling, before continuing to walk towards the exit. “Point of principle. Now come on. I want tapas.”

JJ didn’t think he was going to be laughing again for a very long time. What he also didn’t count on though was Seung-gil actually being one of the funniest people he’d ever spoken to.

Seung-gil wasn’t one to crack jokes, but he was very dry, and JJ loved that sense of humour. He knew Seung-gil didn’t open up to most people; the longest conversation he’d ever seen him have with someone else was when he told Sara to leave him alone when she’d tried to strike up a conversation with him. So he was very grateful that he was keeping him distracted.

That was exactly what JJ needed right now; a distraction. Something to keep his attention away from his phone and Isabella’s Instagram and the thought of having to skate on that ice again.

“So your program’s changed a lot this year too,” Seung-gil said as he picked up a small bowl of chicken from the tapas they’d chosen. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you skate to a sad ballad number before.”

“Yeah, it didn’t seem right to stick to the cheery songs,” JJ admitted. “Everyone knows what happened, so it seemed right to base my routines around those feelings. It’s how I’m feeling right now so it makes sense to skate to that kind of music.”

“Hmm…” Seung-gil hummed thoughtfully as he chewed on his food, eyeing JJ carefully.

JJ frowned. “What? Do I have food on my face or something?”

“No,” Seung-gil replied as he swallowed his food, “but that was the first time you’ve managed to talk about anything to do with Isabella without looking like you’re about to shut down.”

The abruptness of Seung-gil’s statement was a shock to JJ, but then he realised the Korean was right. Any mention of even his routines had sent the Canadian back into that pit he was beginning to get used to, until right now. Locking eyes with Seung-gil, JJ laughed under his breath.

“What is it?” Seung-gil asked, not looking away.

“You haven’t changed,” JJ said simply. “Everyone else is tiptoeing around me. They don’t know what to say or do so they all treat me differently than they used to. But you…you’ve kept me busy. You spent over an hour with me and didn’t bring Isabella up, and then when you did I was fine. Even before now you acted like anyone should when someone bumps into you and sends you falling to the floor. You didn’t let me off with it just because of what happened. It’s refreshing to be honest.”

Seung-gil rolled his eyes slightly. “JJ of course I’m treating you differently. I’m actually talking to you. Normal would be me ignoring you and pretending you don’t exist because to be honest usually you’re a giant pain in the ass.”

JJ burst out laughing at how Seung-gil said that all without batting an eyelid. Seung-gil picked up his glass of water and smiled as he took a sip.

“Seriously though JJ,” he said as the younger man calmed down, “I’m not stupid. There’s no point in asking if you’re okay. Of course you’re not. You’re an amazing skater and I’ve kept a close eye on you ever since we began to compete against each other. I know how much you loved her. So of course you’re hurt. And what she did to you was awful. But I also know you’re never going to get back up on your feet if you keep wallowing in your grief. You deserve better than her, and the best way to show that you’re back in the game is to do brilliantly at the gala tomorrow. But you wouldn’t have done that if your practice had gone terribly. Enter the distraction.”

JJ was shocked. He’d never heard Seung-gil talk that much in his life, and he’d never expected him to say something like that. Part of him felt like he wanted to cry, but most of him wanted to run back to that rink right now and practice till dawn.

But above all that, one part of Seung-gil’s little speech stood out amongst the rest of it.

“You’ve…kept a close eye on me?” JJ asked quietly.

The Canadian’s heart sped up again slightly when he saw a flash of a blush dance over Seung-gil’s cheeks. He looked down slightly. “Well…you’re my competition. And you’re a good skater. Of course I’m going to watch you.”

“Actually a second ago you said I was an amazing skater, not just good,” JJ smirked.

Seung-gil glared up at him but with a glimmer of humour in his eyes. “Watch it Leroy, or I’ll be making you pay for all this food.”

JJ’s smirk turned into a proper grin before he stood up. “I was planning to anyway,” he winked at Seung-gil before quickly jogging over to the counter. Seung-gil opened his mouth to protest but slowly closed it again, once again smiling into his glass of water.

Everyone else was gone apart from JJ, his parents and Seung-gil. The rink was quiet as JJ took some deep breaths in the centre of the ice to focus himself before he nodded to his father to start the music. Shooting a quick glance at Seung-gil he saw the Korean nod once and smile at him. JJ returned the gesture before the music started and he began his practice.

By the time the music ended his mother was in tears, and his father was very nearly there too. That was the first time in weeks he’d skated an entire routine without falling or missing a step.

Staying in his finishing position for a few seconds to get his breath back, JJ heard someone clapping. Looking for the source he saw Seung-gil beaming from ear to ear, clapping as loudly as his hands would let him. Nathalie and Alain quickly joined in as JJ skated over to the exit, his parents hugging him tightly as soon as he was off. Seung-gil hung back, allowing them to embrace their son.

“JJ, that was amazing,” Nathalie gushed, her tears still fresh on her face.

“Thanks mom,” JJ grinned, slipping on his skate guards once his father had passed them to him. Glancing over his shoulder at Seung-gil he turned back to his parents. “Listen, I’ll get changed and head back to the hotel in a little bit, okay? I won’t be long, promise.”

“Take all the time you need son,” Alain replied, clapping JJ on the shoulder before he and his wife headed for the exit.

As they passed Seung-gil, Nathalie grasped his hand and shook it. “Thank you dear,” she murmured. “Thank you so much.”

Seung-gil just nodded, slightly embarrassed, before JJ’s parents left the rink.

“Your parents are really nice,” Seung-gil said once they were alone, sitting down next to JJ as he unlaced his skates.

“Yeah, they’re the best,” JJ smiled. “I know I’ve really worried them lately. I think that’s why they were so relieved tonight. My sister told me they were scared I was going to give up skating.”

“Would they have been angry if you had done that?” Seung-gil asked.

JJ shook his head as he took his skates off and zipped them up in his bag. “No, they wouldn’t have been angry. They were skaters too, but they never pushed me into this. I wanted to skate. They know how much I love it, so I think they were scared I was going to lose something else I love.”

Seung-gil nodded in understanding, impressed that JJ was now able to say things like that without getting upset. He felt strangely proud of his new unlikely companion, but he’d never tell him that.

JJ sat up properly once he’d slipped his normal shoes on and turned to face Seung-gil properly. “Hey, you’re at the same hotel as us, right? I think I saw you in the lobby this morning.”

“Yes I am. I saw you too. You were talking to Viktor and Katsuki. Or they were talking to you at least.”

JJ chuckled once again, and Seung-gil smiled.

“Well…do you want to walk back together?” JJ asked softly.

Seung-gil was surprised at the vulnerability in JJ’s voice, and his smile grew slightly as he answered, “I’d like that.”

JJ’s own face broke into a grin before the two headed towards the exit. Just before they reached the door JJ reached out and took hold of Seung-gil’s hand. Their eyes flew to each other’s as JJ swallowed heavily.

“Um…thank you. For today. I mean it, thank you,” JJ managed to stammer out, his heart now thudding in his chest.

Seung-gil looked down as he chuckled slightly from his own nerves before he raised his eyes to once again meet JJ’s. “You’re welcome,” he replied softly, still smiling.

JJ’s face was bright red, and he began to loosen his grip on Seung-gil’s hand, meaning to let it go.

But Seung-gil tightened his grip slightly.

Their eyes met again for a moment before Seung-gil looked down again.

“…Only if you want to,” he said quietly.

Now it was JJ’s turn to smile as he squeezed Seung-gil’s hand gently. “I do,” he replied.

Seung-gil didn’t look back up, but his smile came back as the two skaters walked out into the warm Spanish night, hand in hand.

Thank you again to @shutuptimmy for requesting this!

In case people are interested, the fics that will be getting working on next are from anon submission to my ask box, and they are Guang-Hong X Leo, a rather steamy Christophe fic, and some Phichit X Yuuri loveliness :3 Not giving you any more details than that!

As always, if you have any requests for fics, smut, fluff, Yuri on Ice or otherwise, feel free to message me or send an ask! As always thank you for reading!