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runningwithcoffee · 3 months ago

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Sunsets and San Miguel

"Kieran is thoughtful. Lewis is nosy.

Tino is just very, very confused."

Something of an accompaniment to Ship Song by @new-berry (posted with permission) and also Something Wild In The Room.

Kieran Trippier / Lewis Hall, implied Kieran / Harry Kane, implied... oh hell, they're all at it. Adults only please, or at least only people old enough to be adults.

Kieran leans on the windowsill in the giant hotel room, watching the sun set over Dubai, and lets himself have the thought he hasn’t allowed himself for seven days.

What a weird fucking week.

He knows he’s not supposed to think that. How can you think it, when you’re the hero who ended the 70-year-wait? but Kieran thinks Dan has a point about feeling numb.

Maybe it’s just the extremes of it all; one minute, watching Bruno do that fucking stupid little pirouette in extra time, everyone staring at the screen, most of his brain was frantically running through their strategy for extra time, but a small part was preparing to call the Brazilian every name under the sun, and some that weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, they were hugging like brothers, and that cup seemed to have been made for them, three handles, him, Bruno, Jamal, winners shirts on their backs, medals around their necks, lifting the cup whilst Wembley exploded, and then…

Kieran rubs his face. He knew it was the right time to give up the England shirt, hand over, focus on finally winning silverware with Newcastle, but it turns out that no amount of knowing something was the right decision, knowing it would hurt, stops it from actually hurting when it happens. He misses it, misses H, turns out winning a Cup final just before the international break is a surreal experience. Yeah, you could do worse than celebrate in Dubai, but it feels strange, with half the team away.

He’s not old, and maybe that’s the thing, maybe he should be thinking of retiring, a nice few years of easy living in the States or Saudi to end his career, but it’s not what he wants. Turns out, winning is addictive, but he doesn’t want to be the guy who hangs on long after it’s obvious to everyone he should have gone…

Fucking hell, Tripps, you sound like an old man. Whinge on some more, why don’t you? At least you got to fucking play, unlike Lew.

It’s strange, having Lewis in Dubai. Kieran had made it a point to call him from Wembley, let him know this was his victory too. It was remarkably shit luck, breaking his foot; there will be other times for Lewis, but Kieran knows it won’t be the same, and for a few minutes he does feel it, flashes back to Wembley, hugging the gaffer, hugging Bruno, finally, finally, lifting that cup, and he wishes for Lewis’ sake he could have been there.

He was surprised to see him on the flight out, but maybe he just wanted to do his rehab somewhere warm and sunny, for which Kieran can’t blame him. Maybe he’s just missing Tino.

A bang on the door makes Kieran jump, but it’s a welcome distraction. He squints through the keyhole, and sees a familiar face.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in and watch that sunset, then?”

For a strange few seconds Kieran wonders if he somehow summoned Lewis here by thinking about him, then his brain processes what he just heard. Yeah, the sunset thing… load of nonsense, really, just all of them talking shit around the pool after the drink had flowed. Kieran had mentioned something about the view from his room last night, leading to a round of mostly good-natured winding-up about who had the best room. JT had been convinced it was him, Kieran had joked that as the captain by default, with Bruno off with the Seleção, they’d given him the best room, and for some reason this had ended with everyone throwing each other in the pool like a bunch of teenagers let out of school, which maybe wasn’t so far from the truth.

He must have said something about anyone who wanted to see the view being welcome to come up there, that sounded vaguely familiar through the haze of boozy recollection.

“Nowt else happening downstairs, then?” he asks, stepping back so that Lewis can hop through the door. He’s getting about pretty fast, but no-one walks quickly with a boot on their foot.

Lewis shrugs and heads towards the fridge. “Nah… all quiet.”

Kieran stares out as the last rays of sunlight play over Dubai. It’s a weird place, shiny and new, like someone told ChatGPT to draw a desert city and dropped it in the middle of nowhere. Pretty, shiny, and vaguely unreal, but it looks great with the sun setting over it.

Lewis hops over quickly, and Kieran turns and frowns at the sound of him cracking open a San Miguel. Lewis catches his expression, and shrugs again, with an expression hilariously like a teenager caught drinking by his dad.

“Alcohol ban doesn’t start til tomorrow,” he says, half-apologetic, half-defiant.

Kieran means to say that he doesn’t much care; Lewis is old enough to know the rules, and he’s not the Alcohol Police. What comes out is “You could’ve got me one.”

Lewis grins suddenly, an oddly predatory smile, then retrieves another beer from the fridge, knocks the top off against the edge of the table, then hands it over. Kieran drinks, relishing the cold, clean taste, whilst he tries to think of what to do next.

“Why are you here?” is what he says.

Lewis frowns at that, looking pissed. “I can fuck off if you want to be on your own…”

Kieran sighs, like dealing with a bunch of kids sometimes, and replies “Don’t mean that. I mean… why come out here? You could have stayed home, spent time with your family..” yeah, like that would have been his priority when he was barely twenty.

Lewis half-smiles. “Thought about it, but…” his words trail off.

Kieran waits.

“Just…” Lewis takes a swig from the bottle… “ah, it’s just weird.” He looks guilty, but ploughs on. “I’m thrilled, I’m fuckin’ thrilled, but… half of us are here, half of us are away, Tino’s gone off to St. George’s…”

It’s an odd echo of Kieran’s own thoughts from earlier.

“Just wanted to be part of it,” Lewis finishes, and stares moodily out of the window. Before Kieran can say anything, his phone rings with the familiar WhatsApp ringtone, and both of them jump; who even calls anyone, these days?

Turns out it’s Tino, Kieran answers, feeling himself slipping into Captain Mode without thinking about it.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Tino’s familiar voice comes through; Lewis stares curiously as Kieran props up the phone on the windowsill. “Ah, nothing…”

Well, why did you fucking call, then?

“Just…”

Spit it out, kid…

“Just wondered… I was in the lift with H, and it was strange… I was just asking after Ant, and H was really weird with me.”

“Weird how?”

“He sort of told me to fuck off. I mean, not actually fuck off, just… he told me I wasn’t needed. But it sounded like ‘fuck off’.”

Kieran frowns at that, it’s not like H to be like that with the younger players, unless…

“Yeah, that lift… where were you going?”

“I wanted to see Dan, check in with him about…”

Kieran closes his eyes and sticks his hand over his mouth. Fucking hell, was he this clueless at his first camp? Probably.

“Don’t think you need to worry, Tino,” he gets out, managing to keep his voice level. Off to the side, Lewis is looking puzzled, whether at the conversation or at the way in which the beer seems to have mysteriously mostly vanished out of the bottle he’s holding, who knows, could be either.

“Really? You sure? I don’t…”

Kieran cuts him off. “It’s Dan’s first cap, remember?”

“Huh? Why are you laughing?” Tino’s expression couldn’t be more confused; Lewis, apparently faster on the uptake, is sniggering quietly.

“First cap,” Kieran repeats, wondering if he needs to draw a diagram. Lewis appears to have stuffed the side of his hand in his mouth up to the first knuckle to muffle his laughter.

The message suddenly gets through, and Tino frowns… “Wait… oh shit, yeah!” Kieran can’t totally blame him for being confused; Dan is old for a first cap, although given that Anthony claimed first rights to celebrating it, two days before the cup final, you’d think Tino might remember.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Kieran reassures him.

“Should’ve thought of that,” Tino murmurs, and Kieran would swear he’s actually blushing.

“You’ll be fine, go and enjoy yourself,” Kieran instructs him, figuring Tino can probably find someone to celebrate his second cap with; not really a thing, but eh, a win is a win. The call cuts off, Lewis makes eye contact, and suddenly they’re both laughing, it’s not even that funny, but it’s a release, tension dissipating. They nearly stop, then Lewis catches his eye again, and they’re both howling with laughter, Lewis leaning on him for support.

“Fuck me,” Lewis gets out, and Kieran is suddenly a little more aware of him; warm skin under a thin layer of cotton, pressed against his side for support. “He’s got no fucking clue sometimes…”

“Not that long since he had his,” Kieran agrees, and finds himself wondering, who was Lewis’s?

Maybe Lewis is wondering the same, since that hyena-grin is back in place. “Yeah… you don’t forget.” He makes eye contact, and it’s strange all of a sudden, the mood shifting. “Who was yours?”

Kieran raises an eyebrow at that, but Lewis isn’t deterred, tipping his chin up a little.

“Could ask you the same.”

“Mmm… maybe we should trade. Truth for a truth.”

“Truth for a truth?” Kieran repeats.

Lewis smirks. “You tell me something, I tell you something. Truth for a truth.”

“What if it’s a lie?”

“Then there’s a forfeit.”

“What’s the forfeit?”

“Whatever you like.” Lewis is definitely looking more predatory now, but Kieran hasn’t missed the fast breathing, the white knuckles around the neck of the beer bottle. He feels his own instincts stir suddenly. Yes, he knows when someone’s bluffing, hoping you won’t spot the nerves… Maybe Lewis did have something else he fancied other than the skyline when he came up here.

He drinks again from the bottle, and Kieran sees the tension in his neck, the slight flush to his cheeks… and the way he deliberately runs his tongue around the top of the bottle, licking off the last few drops.

“Sounds like Truth or Dare,” he says, it sounds ridiculous, but fuck it, it’s a weird night and it might as well get weirder. Maybe it will get more fun.

“Maybe a bit. Go on then.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me a question.”

Kieran shrugs, fake-nonchalant. “Alright; where the fuck did you and Tino go just before we played the Mancs?” He actually would like to know this, partly because he nearly caught hell from JT when he couldn’t find them, until they sloped in barely on time, looking stupidly pleased with themselves, partly because… a few images are dancing in his head, he knows if he’s right he should tell Lewis that he and Tino shouldn’t be doing that shit just before a match, but he also knows he won’t.

Lewis grins. “To a hotel room. My turn.”

“That’s not a fucking answer!”

“It’s true,” Lewis gives him a shit-eating grin, and flicks his tongue over the top of the bottle again, this time sucking for a few seconds, cheeks hollowed. It’s cheesy, but it’s having a effect, and Kieran can already feel his loose cotton shorts aren’t hiding it.

“So… you ask me something?”

“Yeah…” Lewis suddenly looks nervous, and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing; Kieran doesn’t think he’s doing it for effect. “Who was yours?”

“My what?”

“Your first cap,” Lewis’ voice is low, almost a little shy. “Who was it?”

Kieran smirks, glad to have the upper hand. “What, you want a few pictures for the bank?”

Lewis just looks at him, and Kieran wonders if he’s been taking puppy-dog-eyes lessons from Anthony. The memory comes back, and he finds himself smiling.

“Yeah, it was H…”

Good times, he thinks, it doesn’t hurt as much this time, mostly, it’s just a good memory, the two of them not even bothering to get into one of their bedrooms, in the changing rooms, H on his knees with the hot shower water splashing over both of them whilst Stonesy kept an eye out for anyone who might bother them, mouth as hot and wet as the shower, Kieran tugging on Harry’s hair, coming hard, looking down to see H’s smirk as he wiped his mouth, deliberately letting a few drops fall onto Kieran’s trembling thighs. Hadn’t been too long before he’d returned the favour, a rest day, both of them careful to do nothing that would interfere with the match coming up, but that left a lot of options.

“What was he like?”

Kieran points the neck of his own beer bottle as a reprimand. “That’s two questions. My turn; what the fuck were you doing in the hotel room?”

Lewis grins again. “What Antony told us to.” He’s smiling now, and Kieran wonders how long he’ll drag this out. “What was he like?”

Kieran doesn’t answer directly. “You should know; he didn’t offer for you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Lewis mutters, and Kieran would swear he’s blushing. He wonders if he’s hit a sore spot.

“Alright; it was amazing. Now answer the question.”

“Eh…” Lewis seems to realise he’s boxed himself in. “Can I do something else instead?” He tugs at the waist of his t-shirt, pulling it up an inch, revealing pale skin; Kieran’s skin loves the sun, but Lewis has been slapping on the factor-50 since they got here. Kieran wonders if his skin is still warm from the sun, if he’ll smell and taste like suncream.

“You can if you like,” Kieran waves a hand magnanimously, and Lewis sits carefully down on the bed, then puts the beer down and tugs up his shirt, slowly, not too slowly, just enough to make Kieran watch eagerly as his chest, not big but taut, honed through training, is revealed. Kieran grins. “Cold?”

Lewis grins back and shakes his head. “Nah.”

“Good, now answer the question.”

Lewis looks hilariously betrayed. “That’s not…”

“I said, you could if you liked,” Kieran reminds him, and steps forward, noting that Lewis’s mouth is at a very convenient height.

“How about if I just answer another question?” Lewis mutters sullenly. Kieran paces forward, not quite standing in between his legs, but nearly.

“Depends, I’ll see if I like the answer.”

“That hotel room… yeah, it was the four of us.”

“Four?” He already knows, he counted who on the team went missing before Tino, Lewis, Dan and Antony slunk into the dressing room barely on time, but he might as well enjoy himself.

“Me, Tino, Dan and Ant.”

Kieran leans down, putting his bottle next to Lewis’ and placing his hands on either side of the younger man’s hips. “Keep talking.”

Lewis turns his head away a little. “Ant’s idea, he thought Dan deserved a reward for being player of the season."

Or, to put it another way, he fancied a go on Dan’s dick, Kieran thinks, but then Lewis adds, “we flipped for it, Tino won, so…”

“So what?”

The grin is back. “So, I’ve just answered that question, now…”

Kieran doesn’t let him finish that, suddenly leaning in and shoving Lewis back against the bed, hard enough that he breathes out suddenly with an oof, and his eyes go wide as Kieran holds his wrists against the bedsheets, then half-close as Kieran wriggles up, pushing against him, trapping their dicks in between their bodies. Lewis is half-hard already, Kieran’s nearly there, and he pins him down with his thighs either side of Lewis’s, holding him in place so that their dicks are against each other now, he can feel the wetness against his lower stomach and fuck, that feels good.

“So, you need to keep talking… or do something else,” Kieran rasps into Lewis’ ear. Lewis frantically tries to buck his hips up to get a little friction, Kieran lifts himself up easily, press-up style, enjoying the frustrated whimpers from beneath him. This is nearly as much fun as being with Ant, he thinks, smirking, teeth flashing white in the low light; the sun has gone down now, and he didn’t bother to turn on the main lights in the room.

“Like what?” Lewis asks breathily, a little catch in his voice. “Uhh…”

And Kieran, with years of experience, doesn’t miss something, some little tension in the body underneath him, that causes him to relax his grip a little and grunt encouragingly.

“Uhh… there’s some things… I don’t like, at least… not so much at first.” It’s a half-hearted mumble, but Kieran can make out most of it. He lets his voice drop down, soften, reassure.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, kissing softly up Lewis’ neck to relax him, “lots of ways to have fun. Don't have to do anything you don’t want,” and he draws Lewis’ earlobe into his mouth and sucks it gently, drawing a soft hiss of pleasure. This time he lets their bodies make contact, dick to dick, rutting against each other, controlling the pace so that it’s not too much, little pulses of pleasure that ripple through his belly and cause Lewis to whimper deliciously. He wants more, much more.

“What do you want?” he asks, but Lewis is frustratingly silent. Kieran lifts himself up to see that Lewis is blushing and looking away. “I’ve heard it all before, fucking believe me…”

Lewis runs his tongue over his lips nervously, Kieran nudges him with his hips as encouragement.

“I like to watch,” comes the answer, very soft and almost inaudible. Kieran has a sudden thought of him and Tino together, maybe with Ant or Dan in the middle of them, Lewis encouraging them on, maybe with his hand on his cock…

“Like to watch, yeah? Like this?” And Kieran shoves his shorts and boxers down, pulling them impatiently off his legs, then rears back, pulling his shirt off so that he’s naked except for the Rolex on his wrist and the ink decorating his arms and chest, and he swears he can see Lewis’ pupils dilate. They go even wider as Kieran reaches down and grabs his own cock, stroking it slowly, letting Lewis see it get bigger, darker, the tip leaking a little, a few drops falling onto Lewis’ bare skin.

“Oh fuck me,” he whimpers.

“We’ll get to that,” although Kieran thinks they maybe won’t, at least not straightaway, he guesses that they might spend a while just playing, and he doesn’t much care if it doesn’t go that far, something tells him that Lewis doesn’t like to do that too soon. “What were you four fucking doing?” He lets go of himself, and Lewis pouts at being deprived of the sight, then tries to reach down to grab his own cock, but Kieran pins his wrists again, almost affectionately.

Lewis pouts at him again, and it’s almost enough to make Kieran relent and let go, but not quite. Then he grins, a lop-sided grin. “Ah… Tino sucked him off on the floor whilst Ant and I watched.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah… tried it on a chair, but it wasn’t big enough.”

That, Kieran can believe. He wants more. “So, Tino was sucking him off…”

Lewis actually looks embarrassed, Kieran helpfully nudges him with his hips to encourage him. “You were watching…”

Lewis snorts and looks a bit embarrassed. “I was kind of rubbing off on his back."

Kieran has a sudden image of Dan in the middle between Tino and Lewis, Tinos’ dark hair brushing the muscles of Dan’s stomach as his mouth works away, Lewis naked behind him, nipping at his shoulder, hips shoving hard against the broad solid expanse of Dan’s back, Dan’s tattoos moving as those powerful thigh muscles flex and tense, maybe Anthony getting involved, teasing here and there, dominating the three of them… He likes that image a lot.

“Like doing that? Want to do that on me?”

Lewis surprises him. “No…” Kieran raises an eyebrow… “I want your mouth.”

That surprises him in a good way. He slides a hand down Lewis’s flank, slipping a couple of fingers under the waistband of his shorts, running it along the elastic, smirking as he finds Lewis’ cock and wraps his fingers around it, liking the feel in his hand, heavy and warm, and throbbing softly. “Don’t know if you deserve it…”

“Maybe I don’t,” Lewis flashes the hyena-grin, “but you can have mine after.”

“How about at the same time?” Lewis barely has time to take in what Kieran is saying before Kieran roughly shoves his shorts down, takes a swig of what’s left of his beer, then turns and straddles Lewis’ face, but he gets the idea immediately, moaning as Kieran closes his mouth over Lewis’ dick, cold bubbles bursting against the head. He pulls off, beer spilling from his mouth, and licks from base to tip, getting it wet, then letting his jaw relax as he takes it in.

Lewis tries to do the same, they have to shuffle around on the bed to make it work, but suddenly they’re aligned and Lewis’s mouth is hot and wet and his tongue seems to be everywhere as Kieran thrusts, difficult from this angle, it’s sloppy and messy, and perfect and he comes almost embarrassingly fast, but Lewis is right behind him, his moans muffled by Kieran’s dick in his mouth.

For a few seconds, the thrill is all he can think of, but soon he comes back to reality, and they disengage, Kieran turning round and settling himself on his side so he can admire the view, Lewis flushed and sweaty, his eyes half-closed and practically rolled back. Yeah, that’s one for the bank, he smirks to himself, wiping his mouth, then running a thumb over Lewis’ lips to wipe away a few drops.

“Fucking hell,” Lewis groans through puffy lips, “that was…”

“That was fucking good,” Kieran praises, running a finger lightly down Lewis’s heaving side. He can’t resist asking, “am I as good as H?”

Suddenly, Lewis actually laughs, a soft chuckle, and blushes. “Ahh… I don’t actually know.”

Kieran’s curious. “He didn’t offer?” He knows the two of them share the same approach; partly, it’s ‘captain gets right of first refusal’, but it’s also about making sure that whoever offers first cap privileges can hear ‘no’ without taking the huff.

“He did, but…” Lewis actually turns his head and ducks his chin, like a kid, “it was just a bit fucking weird? I mean, he’s…”

He’s Harry Kane, Kieran thinks, and feels the age difference a little, when he first went to camp, they were just starting out; not as young as Lewis, but it was the start of a new England era, people still thought of Rooney as England’s striker.

“I just…”

“Ah, doesn’t matter,” Kieran decides to spare him having to say any more.

Lewis meets his eye, the smirk is back, and Kieran briefly envies the resilience of youth, before reminding himself that the experience and cunning of age is more than a match. “Did I miss out?”

“Yeah, you did,” Kieran grins, “believe me.”

“You and him, then?”

“Yeah, a lot…” Kieran laughs. “He’ll have been enjoying himself.”

Lewis makes a sort of hmm? noise.

“Has a bit of a thing for size. Likes them big.”

“What, really?” Lewis laughs, then laughs harder. “Fuck me, so when he heard about Dan…”

“Yeah!” Kieran laughs, and finds himself slinging an arm over Lewis’ waist, slim but strong, pale skin under Kieran’s strong hand. “Like Christmas came early.” He’s aware that Lewis is eyeing him thoughtfully, but the kid has the sense not to say out loud so, size kink, you and him, how did that work? Maybe he’ll share with Lewis sometime that with H, these things go both ways, maybe he and H will reconnect, and maybe not, but the regrets feel less strong now.

Kieran looks over Lewis’s chest, out the window at the night sky, and for a few hallucinatory minutes, the Dubai skyline melts away, replaced in his mind’s eye with the outline of that strange, fierce and friendly city on the banks of the Tyne, staring out at the cold North Sea. He flashes back to their victory photos, not just the squad, but everyone, all their staff, celebrating their moment of glory, and it’s like he can see that again, but this time it’s the entire city; the landlord of the Strawberry ordering in as much beer as the cellar will hold, the stalls on Northumberland Street loaded with hats and scarves, hastily run up in some dodgy factory somewhere, the suits at the Civic Centre trying to figure out how to block off the roads to get the bus through, Wor Flags planning how the hell they can top their last display, a sudden vision of the streets insanely crowded, an entire city with one focus…

…and it’s all for him.

Kieran feels a deep sense of satisfaction welling up, rising through him, and he nods to himself, barely aware he’s doing it, you took the risk, you gambled, and you fucking won. You started out losing to fucking Cambridge United, and now…

Now, an entire city wants to deck itself out in black and white in his honour.

He knows, it’s not just him. They’ll all be stood there, and he and Bruno and Jamal will recreate the cup lift, and Lewis will be there too, and he hopes Lewis realises, this is the start for him, it won’t be the last time.

It might be the last time for him, but Kieran doesn’t think so, somehow.

He’s aware of Lewis beside him, quietly watching, but it doesn’t feel predatory, and he seems to sense it’s not a time to ask questions, as the sweat dries on their skin.

“Sounds like I missed out then,” Lewis murmurs, looking a bit regretful.

“Won’t be your last chance,” Kieran murmurs, generously.

“Won’t be my first cap,” Lewis says with a smirk, “can’t claim privileges.”

“Nah, but you can probably persuade him.”

And suddenly Lewis smirks again, and, carefully but with surprising strength, throws his good leg over Kieran’s hips, pushing himself up so that he’s half over Kieran, who laughs in surprise and wraps an arm around Lewis’ muscled back.

“If I’m gonna do that…” he murmurs into Kieran’s ear, “I should practise some more.”

Finis.

Author’s Note: for this fic to work, given the time difference, we’ll have to assume that England’s match against Albania took place in the afternoon, not the evening. Frankly, I don’t think this is the biggest liberty I’m taking with the truth.

#football fanfic #england nt #nufc #newcastle united #kieran trippier #harry kane #tino livramento #lewis hall #smut

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xino-writes · 8 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 Day 17 - "we had a good run" - caelus

[ao3 series link]

Caelus presses his hand against the burning in his chest, making a face when it gets stronger. He pushes himself to sit, looking around at the area he’s chosen. It’s empty, devoid of life, a perfect place for what he knows will happen. He only told Dan Heng where he’d gone, as he felt the other wouldn’t snitch.

He knew it’d happen regardless, eventually, but he’d told Dan Heng he had more time than he thought he did. The Stellaron’s overheating and he’s going to die and he’s just. Resigned himself to it. Every stop’s been a.. journey in itself. He’s had his life threatened too many times and he’s almost died too many times, so he’s welcoming this.

This change. This implosion. Explosion? He isn’t sure how the Stellaron is going to take him out. But he does know that this won’t change the fact he’s dying today. It’s not like he’s supposed to even exist, right? The Stellaron is what’s keeping him alive. Or was. Because it’s going to kill him, too.

He’s been sitting in this clearing for a while. He’s said the goodbyes he’s had to, or scheduled the texts for afterward to send out when he’s already dead. Caelus lays down. The burnings getting worse. The pain is shooting down his limbs from the Stellaron.

He’d gotten this place from Herta. He told her he thought the Stellaron would do something, and that she could check it out after the flare up ends. And that he just needed a place to let it run it’s course that no one could bother him.

And he got this place. An empty field on an empty planet. The only people who know he’s here are Herta and Dan Heng. And.. well, speak of the devil and he shall appear, eh? That is the saying, right..?

Regardless, Caelus opens his eyes to see Dan Heng’s staring down at him. He can’t even get a word in before the other speaks.

“Don’t worry. The others don’t know.”

And then Dan Heng sits beside him.

“Why did you-”

“I didn’t want to leave you alone. You should die with someone by your side.”

“What if I explode-?”

“I have ways to protect myself if you do. Don’t worry about me.”

“... Okay.”

Caelus leans against his friend’s side, exhaling softly. “You shouldn’t have come.”

“I wanted to. The others are wondering where you are. I told them I would look.”

“... I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I have everything to. I’m the reason a lot of.. this shit happened.”

“That’s still no reason to apologize. We came out of it alive and stronger than before.”

“I still made us go through that stuff.”

“And we learned from it.”

Caelus huffs in response, curling in on himself. “... I blame the Stellaron for it all.”

They sit there in silence for the longest time after that, just sitting together, with Caelus leaned against Dan Heng’s side. There isn’t much for them to say, not while Caelus is actively dying. His body is pulling itself apart from the inside out, as the Stellaron pitches a fit.

The sensations are.. a twisting feeling. As if his bones and muscles are turning themselves around in his body and tying themselves into knots. They feel as if they’re broken and yet not. He feels boneless but bonefull all the same. He’s just.. In pain. Every movement, every breathe he takes, every time he even blinks, more pain shoots through his body.

The contact with Dan Heng hurts all the same, but it’s also a source of comfort, so he doesn’t dare move. To think that just ten minutes ago he was so ready to.. Die, and now he’s unsure of that, unsure of whether or not he’s ready for it all to fall down. He’s not sure if he’s ready to crumble quite yet.

He’d joke about the Stellaron, about how it’s stable, but now that’s it’s.. Completely unstable and he’s unsure if he’ll implode or explode, die or live, he’s just.. Stuck in this unfortunate situation with no visible out. Part of him wants to just.. leave. Find a group that’ll take him, even with his unknown fate.

Because what else is there for him to do? He doesn’t quite have anything to return to, not with everything he’d set up, and the only loose end is Dan Heng, but the other might as well just be able to leave. To return to the Express without Caelus, without an explanation for his disappearance.

But, there’s also the promise he’d made with Herta. With letting her take a look at the Stellaron after what happens today. What happens on this desolate planet with no habitants outside of himself and Dan Heng, even you could even count that. After all, they’re not from here. And at least one of them will leave this place eventually.

With that in mind, Caelus stands despite the pain. He wants to stay. He wants to be with the Astral Express, despite it all. But he brought them too much destruction. After all, the object that takes the place of his heart is a Stellaron. A child of the Aeon of Destruction. That’s all that he is, and that’s all he will be, even if he’s tread on every path, taken on different elements. He’ll always be a being of Destruction.

And perhaps Nanook might just have him. THEY might just take him due to his situation. He can bring destruction if that’s what THEY want, so long as he’ll have a place to return to. He ignores Dan Heng’s confusion as he stands and prepares to leave. Without a word, he sets the hat he’d gotten from Misha onto the other’s head in silence. A true Trailblazer should have it, after all.

And then he runs. And runs. And Runs. AND RUNS.

He’s good at that, he’s found. Running from things. Everything. Especially his problems, now. Including Dan Heng, now.

He runs until the pain gets to be too much and he collapses. He doesn’t register the footsteps that have followed him until Dan Heng picks him up. Caelus slumps into his friend’s arms, and lets him take him wherever they’re going to end up. He makes a sound of pain when the hat is set on his head again, but other than that, he’s silent.

What more is there for him to say? He can’t explain himself, these thoughts, these feelings. He doesn’t understand them himself, after all. Maybe it’s the Stellaron. Maybe it’s influencing him like it did Cocolia. That’d.. make a twisted sort of sense, huh. Nevermind that. He’ll be fine. Totally. Definitely.

...

For now, he’ll take comfort in Dan Heng’s arms as he’s taken somewhere. (It’ll be the Express. He knows this. But he wants to believe in the idea that it’s entirely a surprise. That he’s just being.. taken somewhere new. Somewhere unknown.)

He’ll let himself believe in this impossibilities for now. Later, he’ll deal with reality.

#tw death mention #caeheng #implied

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groovesnjams · 9 months ago

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youtube

"Good Luck, Babe!" by Chappell Roan

MG:

Wowzers, a lot has changed in Chappell Roan's career trajectory since we last checked in on her for SOTY 2023, and yet, the only piece of new music around which to discuss all the much is this one, standalone single. "Good Luck, Babe!" sees Chappell pivot from the 90s radio revival that defined Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess and into Kate Bush-ier theatrics, befitting of her Baroque make-up and wigs. I love it. It's a step forward and a step away from the other artists collaborating with Dan Nigro, who has an increasingly signature sound. (It's not the Jack Antonoff drums yet, but let's be honest, it's getting there.) Artistically, she's doing fantastic, she should be proud, she'll have hordes of imitators soon. But that last part, well, I can't see that sitting well with the sort of artist who releases multiple TikToks talking to people she insists she would like to stop talking to her. Chappell's having one of the absolute most gravity-defying rockets to fame I've ever seen and it's clearly taking its toll on the real woman behind the moniker and under the drag. The scolding directives will only make the parasocial bond stronger (I mean, come on, that is...that is mother) and she's riding a monster wave from "I'm overwhelmed by my career" to "I don't even want to be famous! I don't care about hits, or whatever!" to "I'm canceling a bunch of Euro dates last minute so I can do VMAs shit." I don't know, like, good luck, babe!

DV:

I do tend to agree with MG that it's probably not helping Chappell to post about how much she doesn't want attention, but a) I'm not sure it'd help if she deleted her socials, either and b) I'm not sure she has a choice - remember a few years back when everyone was complaining about being forced to make TikToks? Why would we assume that era has ended? We know labels are using bullshit metrics like "Spotify listeners"; there's no reason to assume they aren't also requiring a certain level of social media engagement. I think Chappell's in an incredibly tough situation, where her fame has exploded at a rate that her management wasn't prepared for and hasn't kept up with. She's being forced to deal with scrutiny and make choices at a level that most artists build to and have support through, and she clearly isn't getting that support. Fame in general seems like a nightmare; fame of this particular sort seems unfathomably worse.

Anyway.

What I really love about "Good Luck, Babe", a weaker song in many ways than any others by Chappell that we've covered, is how it fully leans into its bridge. For a moment there it seemed like we were going to lose bridges entirely! Like they were going to be trimmed out of the pop music idiom in favor of another chorus, a shorter runtime, or both. But they're coming back to us - or at least, Chappell's practically built her career on them. And she's written what might be her best one here, an angry dagger thrust into the song's subject, an irresistible counter to the ambivalence of the verses. Because as gay as it is, until that bridge "Good Luck, Babe" isn't sure how it feels about compulsory heterosexuality - sarcastic, sincere, sorrowful? - and the balancing act Chappell pulls off is a measure of how carefully it's been written. It's complicated! And the song acknowledges that, and could easily have slid into a another chorus and ended ambivalently. But it doesn't. Which means "you're nothing more than his wife" hits like a lightning bolt, and Chappell's howled "I told you so!" is the thunder that follows. It's an incredible moment, one of the best of the year, in a song that could have benefited from almost any other producer.

#chappell roan #good luck babe #dan nigro #kate bush #jack antonoff

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navegandoaciegas · 5 years ago

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Hay(wire)

Kinktober 1/31 : quickie, face fucking, facial.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: smut, explicit language, unprotected vaginal sex, sex in a barn, oral sex, facial, set after the events of CA:TWS.

Yeah, I actually did it 💀

A/N: day 1 of @itgetsdarksometimes35 spooky challenge + Kinktober.

Bucky despises you.

He loathes how his heart rate picks up whenever he sees you, or how the pit in his stomach grows larger when he doesn't. He can’t stand the way the other farmers talk about you and look at you, but mostly he hates how you bite your lips and clench your thighs when he catches you staring, the tangy scent that floods his senses when he’s close to you, and how you never question why an American veteran would be picking hayballs in the Romanian countryside.

He hates your kindness, the way you hang onto his every word when he describes the night sky, your stained hands and the flowers you weave in your hair, your nipples showing through your white t-shirts, his blood draining from his brain and shooting straight to his cock just looking at you.

You bring out the beast, the soldat lingering inside some recess in his mind, the side of him that wants to own you, and ruin you for everyone else.

You bother him, talking and being nice. Smiling. Cracking jokes. Eating your lunch with him when the other boys are too afraid to approach him. Filling the silence with your stories while he munches on buni’s sarmalele and merely grunts in acknowledgement. Bringing him water when he sweats buckets under the sweltering sun. Shamelessly flirting like you find him attractive.

As if a pretty girl like you could ever want him, he thinks, with the stench of horse shit clinging to his skin and oozing out of his pores.

He scoffs at himself, and stacks another hayball, willing himself to forget all about you.

You know he hears your steps on the cobblestones before you enter the barn where he’s stacking hay in neat piles, like he always does before going to bed.

“You can continue this tomorrow, I’m sure buni won’t mind if you take a break.” you quip, closing the door and leaning on the wooden stall.

You eye his tanned skin, reddened by the scorching August sun, the strain on his sweaty long sleeved t-shirt that clings to his bulging biceps, the outline of his back muscles as his chest heaves.

There’s something animalistic about him, something that makes your stomach churn and your pussy tingle. When his t-shirt trails up, you can’t help but observe the hard planes of his abs and the coarse, black hair that trail them.

“I’m doing what she pays me for, and so should you.”

He dismisses you with a curt nod as he keeps lifting the hay and stacking it away for the winter.

By that time, you’ll both be long gone, so you might as well make the most of what you have.

“I’m done picking plums, if you must know.” you state, an unimpressed look making its way on your face. “You work twelve hours everyday, and you won’t drink her țuică or smoke the cigarettes she gives the other boys.” you say, approaching him slowly until you’re standing in front of him, so close you can see the darkness in his eyes and smell his pungent sweat, “She worries about you, you know.”

Your eyes stray from his, traveling down to his plump lips. He swallows thickly and inhales a sharp breath.

“I worry too.” you continue, stalking closer.

His manly, musky scent is intoxicating, and you feel short of breath, heat and slick pooling in your panties.

“Always working, never having any fun. Life must be very lonely for you.”

There’s static energy, or maybe magic, between you two.

“My life’s just fine.”

He’s gruff as always, but you hear his voice waver when his eyes drop to your own lips, and he finds them parted, and so inviting.

You shrug, feeling your skin crawl with anticipation, want, need. “I know, I’m just saying, I could make it less… lonely.”

You see him cave. You know he wants you, and he’s never exactly subtle about it. But when your hand reaches for his left arm, the spell shatters, the air gets sucked out of the little barn, and the growl that he lets out terrifies you and excites you at the same time.

“Stay the fuck away from me.” he snarls, snatching his arm away from you. He looms over you, rage burning behind his steel blue eyes. “Or-”

He interrupts himself, taking a step back and restraining whatever wild instinct is clouding his judgement. The veins on his neck swell up, and the smirk on your lips and your tangy smell only add to his irritation.

You know you shouldn’t prod. You know he could crack your skull in half without breaking a sweat.

But you’ve also seen him bathed in spring’s pollen, cooing at newborn chicks and patting their feathers, whispering soft words in a language you don’t speak. You’ve seen him kissed by the summer’s sunrise, leaning his head on uică Dan’s horse while petting his mane, and humming to mătușă Ana’s cow while milking her.

You’ve seen him sneak outside your room every morning for the past two months to leave wildflowers on your doorstep, and you know he’s the one who carries you to your bed when you fall asleep on the deck chairs outside, after stargazing together for hours, and pecks a lingering kiss on your forehead, whispering to you, his sweet girl, to sleep tight.

So no, you’re not afraid, and very turned on.

“Or what, big guy? What are you going to do?”

Jaw clenched, fists so tight his knuckles are white, nostrils flared. He closes his eyes, heaves a heavy sigh and mutters a ‘fuck that’ under his breath, and in a blur he’s on you.

But he’s not hitting you, no.

Just like you predicted, he goes haywire, feral, his mouth is on yours, his tongue prods your lips, his hands roam everywhere, tangling your hair and kneading the flesh of your ass.

He bites your bottom lip, and you taste metal on your tongue. A moan escapes you when one of his thick thighs comes between your own, and your core rubs against the rough material of his jeans.

“Took you long enough.” you tease him when he allows you to catch your breath.

He’s sweaty, rough, his clothes soiled by the ground he spends his days working on, and you find that you don’t care, that you want him to dirty you and ruin you in this barn, with hay poking your skin and cicadas screaming outside.

You’re staring at each other, panting, eyes swallowed by darkness.

He doesn’t answer, never speaks much anyways. He’s on you again, his hand on your throat, and it doesn’t hurt but it’s tight enough to make its threatening presence known.

Your walls flutter around nothing.

The other hand, splayed on your back, guides you as you grind yourself on his thigh. It’s been two months of sexual tension, and it’s about to explode.

You reach for his t-shirt, eager to feel his skin against yours, but he stops you, and the look in his eyes, hard yet pleading, is enough to make the protest die in your throat.

Your own shirt is discarded, maybe shred to pieces. His touch is bruising and desperate as he explores your body like it’s his last day on Earth.

He nips and sucks your skin, surely leaving dark marks behind, rolling and pinching your nipples between his fingers, swirling his tongue around them until you’re pushing him off of you.

“I need you.” you moan, shrieking when his teeth bite down on your shoulder.

Pain is a bucket of cold water on your burning skin, a contrast to the pleasure he brings you, and yet it doesn’t diminish it, but amplify it until his teeth on your flesh are all you want.

He lets himself fall on the hay, dragging you down with him. It irks you, pokes you, and quite frankly, it doesn’t smell like roses.

But it will do.

He hooks his fingers around the waistband of your leggings and hastly drags them down to your knees, not even bothering to get rid of them.

When he pulls on your hair and spins you around, it’s not romantic. When he forces you face down, ass up, it’s not pretty. When he spits on his hand and roughly shoves two fingers inside you, making you wince, it’s not soft and caring.

“I’ll take care of you later, need to be inside you now, doll. I’ve wanted you since the day I first saw you.” he murmurs.

You hear him fumble with his belt as he keeps rubbing your clit and pumping his calloused fingers in and out of you. “It’s been so long.” he adds, as an afterthought, while he strokes his cock and gets himself ready for you.

The hay scratches your cheeks, and you feel his intense presence as he kneels behind you, ready to take you like an animal in heat.

“Please.” you whine, wiggling your hips and brushing against him, “I need you to fuck me now, James.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, and lines himself up with your entrance, teasing your folds and smearing your arousal on his tip. You feel him prod your tight hole and you brace yourself for the pain, but when he breaches you, your walls stretch perfectly around him, accomodating him, and all you feel is a dull burn that soon gives way to pleasure.

Moaning at the fullness of his heavy weight inside you, you try to bounce on him, but his hands on your hips halt your movement. He's as rough as you expected him to be, and the coil in your core is unbearable.

“Fuck, you’re so damn tight.” he groans, picking up a faster pace, slamming in and out of you. “Made for me, so good.”

He pulls on your hair, and the pain shoots straight to your cunt, making your walls clench on him.

Arching your back you meet his harsh thrusts, feeling his cock hitting that spot inside you, the one that makes the pressure build impossibly fast every time he bumps against it.

It’s all too much and not enough, and when he tugs on your hair again, your eyes roll to the back of your head.

You don’t feel the hay scratching you anymore.

“Fuck me harder.” you plead with tears streaming down your face, revelling in the lewd squelching sounds of your pussy and the slapping ones of his balls hitting your folds.

He never talks, and he won’t start now, you realize. You don’t care though, because all you can think about is his other hand snaking between your legs and furiously rubbing circles around your swollen clit.

You mewl when he snaps his hips and his tip hits your cervix. “I wanna hear those sweet noises pretty girl, wanna hear you fall apart on my cock, only for me.”

He brings you high, and higher, and the pressure grows more and more, until the knot unravels.

“Cum on my cock, fuck, cum all over me sweet girl. I missed this so much.”

When the dam breaks, you feel months of sexual tension release, and the tight coil inside your belly snaps. Your limbs jerk as a hot surge of electricity assails you, and you gush all over his cock, feeling your pussy constrict him in a vice.

He rides your aftershock, pummeling inside you while icy cold claws your every nerve ending. You’re drooling out of your mouth as a man you barely know brutally fucks you like a beast, but in the hazy state you’re in, you couldn’t care any less.

“I’m close.” he gnarls, tightening the hold on your hips, “Where can I-?

“On my face.” You turn and peek over your shoulder just in time to see the shock in his eyes. “I like it that way.” And I’m not on birth control.

When his thrusts become sloppier and his breathing erratic, he pulls out of you and stands. You turn around on your knees and face his thick cock, half wondering how he could make it fit inside your cunt.

“Open those pretty lips of yours babydoll, I want to fuck your mouth too.”

You comply, parting your lips. He shoves himself inside you, clutching your hair and neck as he fucks your mouth relentlessly, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

You can’t breathe anymore, but he keeps going, moving your head along his length. You taste him on your mouth, heady and salty, feeling every vein and ridge of him.

You look up, and seeing him all disheveled, hair sticking out everywhere and red faced, lights the fire in your pussy again.

Your hand finds its way between your folds while he holds you down until your nose rubs against the coarse hair on his pubic bones and his balls slap against your chin.

Quickly, he slides out of you, and pumps his cock once, twice. He cums on your face with a moan, painting your lips, cheeks and the tip of your nose with his white hot spurt.

When you open your eyes again, you find him staring at you already, with the most expressive look you’ve ever seen him wear and something akin to a smile dancing on his lips.

“God, doll. I didn’t even know I could do that.” he confesses, all doe eyed. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, babygirl. I’m gonna keep fucking that tight pussy of yours all summer.”

You let out a giggle when he hoists you over his shoulder and the hay that’s stuck to your clothes flies everywhere.

“Gonna fuck you until you’re sore, until you’re sobbing and you beg me to stop. Fill you up over and over again. Make this pussy all mine. No more other farm boys, you hear me?”

He keeps his word that night, and you keep yours all August long, and you know neither of you want this summer to ever end.

—-

Day 1 of Kintober done. Join my taglist if you want to be tagged in more :) (link on my blog)

Please leave some feedback :)

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #kinktober #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you

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nanoland · 4 years ago

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new chapter (lucifer fic)

Ponder on the Narrow House, part 6

Mazikeen/Eve/Michael

(Whole thing can be read on AO3.)

Fuck the next bounty.

After thinking about it for ten seconds, Mazikeen turned them around and started driving straight for Los Angeles.

Eve can talk to him. Not me. He needs to talk to someone, and Eve will do.

Barely half a mile later, Amenadiel dropped out of the sky and landed in the middle of the road, just far enough away for her to bring the car to a screeching halt before it would otherwise have slammed into him like wet clay into a steel wall.

“We’ve got a problem,” he said, looking exhausted.

She snorted and pointed skyward. “Yeah. This? Not gonna lie, I was expecting something like this. But I thought it would take, like, at least a month.”

Wincing, Amenadiel said, “No, that’s… that’s a different problem and Chloe’s promised to discuss it with him. Maze, we need you back at Lux. Now.”

“Hi, Amenadiel!” Eve called, waving.

He succeeded in smiling at her without even glancing at Michael, despite his younger brother sitting right at her side, glaring fixedly.

“Why?” demanded Mazikeen, tensely drumming her fingers on the wheel. (Inner voice hissing, Shouldn’t have left him alone, you dumb bitch, you’ve been doing this for centuries and you know what he’s like when you leave him alone for more than five minutes.) “Seriously – what could he possibly need me for? He’s God.”

Sighing, Amenadiel put his wings away. “Mazikeen, we’re all well aware that Lucy often… has difficulty focusing. To put it mildly. There’s a lot more for him to focus on now than ever before. He’s trying to undo climate change. To that end, he started refreezing all the melted ice in the Arctic. But he did it too quickly and, resultantly, there are several hundred trapped ships we need to save and several thousand dead penguins to resurrect and, to be honest, he hasn’t really got the hang of resurrection yet – you remember what Dan looked like for the first few hours after Lucifer brought him back to life…”

“Eurgh. Yeah. Yuck. Totes not the kinda shit you’d wanna see in Happy Feet.”

Michael was snickering.

“Right. And then there are all the changes he’s been making locally,” Amenadiel went on. “The expansion of Lux, the overnight disappearance of all Los Angeles’ firearms, his deciding that the city’s white supremacist population should grow a third ear so they can be easily identified, and, well, it turns out that a lot of Chloe’s colleagues at the police station-…”

“I get it, I get it. Chaos everywhere. As usual. What, exactly, is the problem he wants me to fix?”

Amenadiel exhaled heavily. “The demons. The ones you brought from Hell to help us defeat Michael.”

“Oh, so you do remember I exist,” Michael muttered.

Stonily ignoring him, Amenadiel said, “They’re still on Earth and they’re causing trouble. The one called Dromos, in particular. He’s gathered followers and they’ve surrounded Lux.”

Her brother’s face – his real face, not the human puppet he wore – flashed through her mind’s eye; a memory from when they were unruly children and had raced through Hell together, using the stone pillars that they’d not yet known were cells as an obstacle course. She’d been faster; he, more athletic. Together with a few cousins, they’d made a fearsome team, and not even their meanest older siblings had bullied them.

She folded her arms and looked away. “They’re demons. Lucifer can deal with them. Snap his fingers and turn them into rats or whatever. Make them explode.”

“Mazikeen,” Eve murmured, soft and low, touching her shoulder. “You don’t want that. They’re your family.”

Amenadiel blinked, as though that hadn’t occurred to him. “Er… yes, there’s that. There’s also the fact that Lucifer doesn’t want all of humanity to see him as the type of God who casually annihilates his enemies; a harsh, vindictive God. He wants to be liked. To be loved.”

“Fine. So why don’t you and the other angels sort it out?”

“Come now, Maze. A bunch of angels and a bunch of demons waging war in the midst of a bustling city? Humans will die. But you’re the Queen of Hell now and, by extension, the Queen of Demons. If you command Dromos to stand down, he will. This can all be resolved peacefully.”

Eve’s fingertips were cool against her skin.

Mazikeen looked back at the sky. The cloud letters were starting to dissolve. “What does he want?”

“Who?”

“Dromos. He doesn’t act on instinct. He’s a planner. He wants something.”

Shrugging, Amenadiel said, “He shouted at me about demanding an audience with the king. I didn’t ask for details. I don’t really care. Dromos isn’t someone I’m inclined to listen to at the best of times. The last time the wretch showed his face on Earth, he kidnapped my son.”

“Mmm. Kinda like your sister was gonna do. Kinda like you were gonna do, now that I think about it.”

“Maze!” he gasped, sounding shocked and hurt. “You can’t compared poor Remiel’s misguided actions to-…”

“I’ll do it,” she interrupted. “Take me to Lux. Now.”

“Excuse me? What about us?” snapped Michael.

Mazikeen met Eve’s gentle gaze. “You don’t need to be involved in this. My family drama, it – it’s not pretty.”

“My son killed my son,” said Eve, taking her hand. “My husband loved another woman. I’m used to drama.”

Swallowing, Mazikeen glanced at Michael. “And you, wimp?”

Feigning disinterest – feigning it badly – he said, “You showed up to my last domestic dispute. Guess this’ll make us square.”

“I’ve only got two arms. I can’t carry all of you,” Amenadiel pointed out.

Mazikeen rubbed her chin. “No… but you can carry the car, right?”

He didn’t have time for this. There was so much to do.

“World hunger,” he recited as he bounced from one laptop to the next, all twenty-three of them displaying a different article or video by a leading scientific or sociological mind, “wealth inequality, pollution, cancer, droughts, racism, elderly abuse, housing shortages, cruelty to animals…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda patiently, sitting on his best couch with her legs crossed, a cup of coffee and a laptop of her own beside her. “You said you wanted my advice as to how you should manage this whole ‘being God’ business.”

“I do, doctor! Very much. Your input is invaluable. Blast, where did I put that map of Alaska? I’m thinking of making it bigger; slotting it in alongside the Arctic to help stabilise all that new ice.”

“Right. Thanks. So here – here is what I’m suggesting now; slow down. Seriously. Take a breath, step back, and think your next move through.”

He scoffed. “‘Slow down’? Doctor, I need to work at least three times faster if I’m to keep up with everything. There are people suffering everywhere, millions of them! There are sinners in need of punishment! I’m seriously considering asking Chloe to be my Deputy God. I never imagined omnipotence would entail so much paperwork and she’s always been better at that than me.”

Outside the penthouse, many stories below, the chanting grew louder. None of the human police officers, journalists, and gawkers who’d gathered to watch could understand it; it was in Lilim.

Cursing, Lucifer strode to the balcony and shouted down, “For the last time, would you all kindly piss off? I’m trying to fix an entire planet here!”

He heard the elevator open and moaned. “Detective, not now. Please. I’m very sorry I haven’t returned your calls – I swear I’m not avoiding you – it’s just that I’ve got a lot on my plate today and we did already agree to meet for supper at-…”

“Lucifer,” said Linda, sounding terrified.

“Lucifer,” said someone else, sounding irritable.

Now that he was God, rage didn’t turn his eyes red anymore. It turned them gold and blindingly bright, like spotlights. Fists clenched, he turned to see Dromos step into the penthouse, once again clad in the flesh of the late Father Kinley and wearing a leather jacket.

“Nice trick, making all the doors disappear. Finally decided to climb up the side of the building with a sledgehammer and burrow my way through into the elevator shaft,” said the demon, hands in his pockets and concrete dust coating his beard and his bald head. “I want to talk to you, sire.”

Storming across the room while Linda remained frozen, white-faced, on the couch, Lucifer snarled, “You! You have the nerve to come here, to stand before me, after what you did to my nephew?”

He took Dromos by the neck and lifted him off the ground, his wings opening in fury (he had six of them now).

Stoical even as he choked, Dromos said, “I need. To talk. I will leave immediately afterwards.”

“Oh, you’ll leave, alright! You’ll be lucky if I don’t throw you into an active volcano, you accursed traitor!”

Dromos’ stolen skin began to sizzle beneath his fingers. He waited until the demon’s face was wrinkled with pain before throwing him to the floor hard enough to crack the wood and make a crater.

“I will leave,” Dromos gasped, coughing up blood, “when I have spoken.”

“What could you possibly have to say for yourself? Kidnapper. Child-thief.”

Still on the couch, Linda said tremulously, “Lucifer, you’re… you’re hurting him. Stop it. Please.”

“Let us stay!” shouted Dromos, and coughed again before dragging himself up onto his knees. “On Earth. That’s what I came to say. Let your erstwhile subjects stay on Earth if they choose – at least, those who served you in the battle against Michael. Don’t force them to return to Hell. Let them, let us choose where we live, going forward. That’s my request, your Majesty. My only request.”

Lucifer boggled at him. “Is that a joke? Demons? On Earth, indefinitely, unsupervised? Are you out of your tiny mind, Dromos?”

Baring teeth, Dromos said, “Why not? What does it matter to you now? You’ve got everything you could possibly want. Everything anyone could possibly want! All we’re asking is the freedom to come and go as we please.”

“No.”

He spoke the word bluntly, and then he stepped back, adjusting his cuffs. Regaining his composure. “Never. You’re dangerous and untrustworthy. This world is for humans, not you. Good grief, haven’t I got enough to preoccupy my mind, without the added stress of demons rampaging around town?”

“We won’t rampage. We just-…”

“Why are you even coming to me with this? Mazikeen’s the new Queen of Hell. Didn’t you get the memo?”

Dromos wiped blood from his lips. “I don’t know if my sister and I are on speaking terms right now. And she may be Queen, but you’re God; I assumed you would be tasked with such decisions. After all, there’s never been a demon in charge of Hell before. We were told – we were always told – that only angels could rule us. I don’t doubt Mazikeen’s competence, but I…”

He seemed to run out of steam, spreading his hands and finishing weakly, “Lucifer, you’re the king. You’ve been the king for millions of years. For my entire life. Look, if you really don’t want us leaving Hell, then can you at least use your newfound power to improve it? Let us have the things mortals enjoy? Pianos, dogs, blankets, weekends, all that stuff?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “That would rather defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it? Hell is supposed to be a place of punishment. The ultimate consequence awaiting sinners. I need a carrot and a stick, Dromos. How else am I supposed to convince people to behave if I don’t? Imagine a rapist arriving in Hell and being confronted with demons playing pianos and walking their dogs. Wouldn’t have quite the desired effect, would it?”

Dromos was quiet for a moment, then said without inflection, “Perhaps you could find somewhere else to put rapists. Somewhere other than our home.”

Throwing up his arms, Lucifer said, “More demands! Don’t you see how selfish you’re being? Here I am, doing my best to end all suffering, and you’re complaining about babysitting a few evil-doers – which, might I remind you, is your job. Nay, your very reason for existence. Always has been. Why’re you getting stroppy about it now?”

“I think,” Linda began, taking a tentative step forward before stopping and clearing her throat. “Excuse me. May I interrupt? Um. Okay, so I think that maybe Dromos has a point here, Lucifer.”

“Doctor! This is the creature that stole your baby!”

“Yes, I know. And I’m not saying I forgive him for that, but…”

“I wasn’t going to eat the brat,” Dromos grumbled. “I was going to make him a king.”

“You took him away from his mother!” Lucifer shouted.

“Gentlemen!” said Linda, sharply. “Please! Let’s try to talk this through like adults.”

Overcome with frustration, and only vaguely aware that he’d not been sleeping well lately, Lucifer kicked the nearest chair. “I can’t believe you’re siding with him, doctor.”

“I’m not siding with anyone. I-…”

“You don’t know these people like I do. You didn’t spend millions of years in Hell alongside them. The only demon you’ve ever gotten acquainted with is Maze, and she’s not like the others; even without a soul, she’s learned how to behave like a more-or-less civilised adult, barring the occasional tantrum. But your average, baseline demon has nothing to them besides wrath and cruelty. Lilith made them to be weapons and that’s all they really are. I mean – just imagine, for a moment, how hard it was for me. To go from the Silver City, the most beautiful place ever created, to a lightless nightmare realm full of these bloodthirsty animals. To be surrounded by them, for endless eons, while they nattered mindlessly on and on about how much they love torture and pain and…”

He trailed off. Linda and Dromos were both looking past him.

To the elevator. Where – oh – Mazikeen was standing.

Where Mazikeen was crying.

No sobs, not like when Dan had died. No expression at all, really. Just open eyes, motionless muscles, and steady tears.

Before Lucifer could say a word, she pressed the button to close the elevator doors.

“Wait!” he yelped, sprinting over to stop them.

He needn’t have bothered. Now that he was God, objects did whatever he told them to do. The doors stilled, half-open.

“That sounded wrong,” he acknowledged, clasping her shoulders in apology. “You completely missed the context. What I was trying to say was-…”

“Don’t touch me.”

It was a phrase he’d heard many times before from mortal lovers to whom he had accidentally revealed his Devil Face. Some of them said it in horror. Some of them, the religious ones, said it in anger.

Mazikeen looked neither horrified nor angry. She looked sick. As though the very sight of him turned her stomach.

Lumbering over, Dromos stepped into the elevator alongside her and pointedly pressed the button again. With no idea what to do or say, Lucifer allowed the machinery to work.

The elevator closed.

“What have I done?” he asked Linda.

Nothing I didn’t know.

“Maze?” called Eve, waiting by the car with the others as Mazikeen stepped out of Lux’s front door and into the sunlight.

The door hadn’t been there when they’d arrived. She’d been forced to use Dromos’ route. Lucifer must have decided to put it back. He could do that now. Just decide things. Didn’t need servants, nor followers, nor anyone. Sure didn’t need a ‘more-or-less civilised adult’ whose kin were animals.

“Maze! Wait!”

Mazikeen didn’t know where she was going, only that she was walking very quickly and felt that she’d die if she stopped. She heard Eve’s heels patter on the pavement and heard her say her name a third time, quiet and worried, and that was what stilled her feet.

“What happened?” murmured Eve, cupping her face.

The fifty or so demons who’d been standing around outside Lux when Amenadiel had set the car and its passengers down were still there. Instead of chanting to get their king’s attention, they were now looking at her.

Michael and Amenadiel stood among them, the latter having been trying to convince them to stop blocking traffic.

Which was what she should have been doing. It was what he’d brought her here to do. But she’d been gripped by a sudden, violent need to see Lucifer, to check on him, just quickly, before tending to her siblings. Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.

Except that wasn’t what I was. Not to him. To him, I was a Rottweiler on a leash.

“Are you alright?” asked Amenadiel, his eyes overflowing with concern.

That was what cracked her.

To him. Not to everyone. Not to Eve, or Amenadiel, or Linda. It’s not that I’m incapable of earning love and respect.

I’m just incapable of earning his.

Her legs gave out. She crumpled against Lux’s outside wall and started to weep properly, loud and bitter.

Eve immediately dropped down beside her, holding her tight. Michael shuffled closer, rubbing his shoulder while his mouth opened and shut, testing out sentences that were never spoken.

Then Dromos was there, kneeling, his face sad and tired.

“We did what we were told,” she said to him in Lilim, through sniffles. “We obeyed. We were loyal. We… we…”

“We are alone, sister,” he replied. “But I think we always were.”

“We obeyed!”

“We obeyed Lilith and she left. We obeyed Lucifer and he left. No one wants us, Mazikeen. It’s just the truth.”

She took a shuddering breath and squeezed her eyes shut. “No. I want us.”

Seizing his jacket’s shoulder, she hauled herself to her feet and addressed the crowd, her voice raw: “I want you! You’re my family and I want you! And I swear I will be the queen you deserve, for as long as you’ll have me!”

Her human skin fell away, the left side of her face turning cold, bony, and brittle.

Stepping back to join their siblings, Dromos asked hesitantly, “What would you have us do, then, my queen? What are your orders?”

Hurriedly drying her eyes, she studied them one by one. “Whoever wants to can stay here. But I’m going home. Hell is going to be ours, Dromos. No more damned souls. No more angels. It’s ours now and we’re going to make it into something we can love.”

She turned to face Eve and Michael, her heart pounding. “You’ll come with me, yeah? You’ll stand with me?”

“Always,” said Eve, closing in to kiss her.

“Whatever,” Michael muttered, clearly just relieved that the crying part was over.

Amenadiel sighed, shaking his head gravely. “Mazikeen, are you sure this is what you want? You won’t be able to leave Hell on your own – you’ll need to contact me.”

“Yeah. At least until this one grows his feathers back,” she said, gesturing at Michael. “That’s okay. You’ll always come when I call, right?”

“Of course. You’re my friend, Maze. I’m sorry if I haven’t said that often enough.”

Fuck it. Cringing on the inside, Mazikeen drew Amenadiel into a quick, gruff hug. “You too, idiot.”

#lucifer #mazikeen #lucifer morningstar #eve #amenadiel #michael #michael demiurgos #dromos #fanfic #my fic

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silver-wield · 5 years ago

Text

A Promise to Come

Cloud put a hand to his eye and winced. Mayday sucker punched him on the sly and he was still pissed even though he got revenge. Assholes. He shoved his front door open and slammed it hard behind him.

“Cloud, is that you?”

Rolling his eyes at his mother—Who else is it gonna be?—Cloud replied, “Yeah.” He paused beside the mirror strung up by the door and grimaced at his reflection. They got it worse. He smirked recalling the look on Dan's face as he shoved him into the dirt. Always cares more about his clothes than anybody else. Jackass.

“...and then you just need to crimp the edges like this and done.”

“Huh?” Cloud turned and leaned to one side to see into the kitchen. “Ma, who you talking—?” He stopped as he spied a familiar back. Her long hair was tied into a ponytail, but he could already see strands falling free to frame her face. Tifa?

“So, I can do this with any filling?” She turned to look up at Cloud's mother. The smile on her face was brilliant and earnest. “Dad's gonna be so surprised when I cook his favourite for him! It'll be the best birthday present!” She bounced with cheer.

Cloud turned his head away as he felt his cheeks heating. He knew Tifa was getting cooking lessons from his mother, but he'd stayed away while she was in the house. He never knew what to say to her and felt like an idiot third wheel while she and his mom chatted away like best friends. It put a scowl on his face and he knew he shouldn't feel jealous, but he wanted her to notice him as much as she did his mother. Forget it. She's way out of my league. He tried to creep past them towards his room.

“Cloud, hi!”

Cloud squeezed his eyes shut like a child who thought if they couldn't see, then they couldn't be seen. “Hi,” he mumbled when it became clear that wasn't going to work. “'Scuse me.”

“Oh, Cloud, what happened to your face?!” Tifa came close and tilted her head to better see.

Cloud turned away. “Nothing,” he muttered, swallowing hard. She's so close. Stay cool.

“Have you been fighting again?”

Glancing at her from the corner of her eye, he saw her face wreathed with concern. It felt nice knowing Tifa cared. “Uhh...”

“Why do you have to fight all the time? It won't fix your problems, you know.” Tifa shook a finger at him, then held out her hand. “Come on, you need an ice pack or your face will swell up and explode!”

Cloud frowned. “That's not how—” He stopped and took in the teasing look on her face. “Seriously?” One side of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile.

“Ms Strife, do you have any ice?” Tifa looked over her shoulder at Cloud's mother.

As his eyes tracked that way, he saw the amused look his mother wore. What's so funny?

“Unfortunately, no. This old refridgerator doesn't have much in the way of an ice box.” She patted the appliance and shrugged. “Maybe there's some at yours? Do you think you have some spare?”

Tifa nodded. “Sure. I'll go get a load.” She turned back to Cloud and gestured for him to sit. “You stay right there. Don't move an inch. I'll be right back. Promise!”

“Tifa, wait—!” Too late. She'd let go of him and rushed towards the door. His shoulders sagged.

The second the front door closed, Cloud felt his mother's gaze on him. “Uh...”

“All right, out with it. The truth. Who started the fight this time?”

“Me,” he muttered, ducking his head. “But—!”

“No 'buts', Cloud. You can't start fights with every boy in town.” Cloud's mother moved around the kitchen, tidying up after Tifa's pie making lesson. “What was it about?”

Cloud looked away. “Nothing.”

“Nothing, huh? Are you sure?” She came and sat across the table from him. “You seem to have a lot of fights over 'nothing'.”

Cloud couldn't meet her eye. The truth was he'd heard Dan bragging about how Tifa's father approved of him. He'd wanted to punch his smug teeth in, so he did. That brought Wel and Mayday running because one couldn't fight without the other two. Three on one was unfair odds, but Cloud still beat them worse than they did him. “They always start when Tifa's not around,” he grumbled, slumping in his seat. I bet they're talking shit to her the second they see her.

“Maybe they're jealous,” his mother said, reaching across the table to place her hand over his. “They wish Tifa kept them out of trouble like she does you.” She sat back and chuckled. “Shame she isn't around more often.”

“She doesn't.” Cloud scowled. “Does she?” He avoided her whenever her friends were there, but there were times it was just the two of them. They'd talk for a bit. One time they went chasing after a chocobo that wandered through town. Mostly they'd just sit and not say much. Cloud didn't know what to say to her. She was pretty and smart and kind and way too good for the likes of him. If he didn't think she'd be upset he wouldn't hang around her at all. Her dad said if he couldn't look out for her then to stay away. He tried to follow his orders, but Tifa was just...Tifa. He couldn't stay away no matter how much those stern words rang in his ears. If he wasn't good enough for her now he'd become good enough. Then everyone—Tifa—would notice and even her father would accept him. He knew exactly how, too. SOLDIER. Everybody loved them, and the best of them was Sephiroth. A living legend. If Cloud could become half the man Sephiroth was he knew Tifa would finally notice him. He'd have the courage to admit his feelings. He just had to show her he was the best of the best.

“I'm back! Sorry it took so long, Dan, Wel and Mayday all wanted help, too.” Tifa came back in carrying a bulging handkerchief that was already dripping. “Here, for your eye.” She put it against Cloud's face and held her hand out to him.

“Huh?” He reached towards her and she grabbed hold, then wrapped his fingers around the knot holding the cloth closed.

“There you go. Just stay like that, okay?” She blew on her fingers and rubbed her hands together, then smiled at him and shook her head.

Why's she looking at me like that? “What?”

“Thank you, Tifa, you're an angel,” his mother said, giving Cloud a pointed look.

“Uh, yeah, thanks,” he mumbled, grateful the cloth his half his face so she couldn't see how his cheeks turned red again.

“No problem!”

She was looking again.

“What?”

Tifa sighed and said, “Do you have to fight? Can't you solve it without fighting?”

Cloud felt shame weigh on his shoulders. “It wasn't my fault,” he said, trying not to pout. He didn't know why he felt so awful whenever Tifa was disappointed in him. It hurt more than the times he ignored her.

“I don't care whose fault it is,” she replied. She tipped her head to the side to try and catch his eye. “There's gotta be better ways to handle it than fighting, right?”

“That's very true,” Cloud's mother said. A timer by the oven dinged and she looked up. “Who wants pie?”

“It's ready?” She beamed at Cloud. “You gonna try some, right? I hope it turned out okay, it's my first time making one.”

Cloud smiled and nodded. “Sure.”

Tifa laughed and went to help his mother. He watched her chattering away and asking questions about the recipe and how to cook other things. This is nice. Wish it could always be like this. He moved the ice pack from his eye and sighed. After I make SOLDIER. Then nobody will say I'm not good enough. Tifa looked so happy, getting bowls and spoons for them. Would she still laugh like this once he left? Would she still visit his mother? Of course she will. She's Tifa. She wouldn't abandon anyone. Maybe she'll even miss me? He didn't want to think of her sad, but he did want her to think of him. It was the only way. He was sure she'd never pay attention to him unless he was a somebody worthy of her. He thought of Dan's bragging about asking Tifa out to the watertower. Did he do it yet? Maybe not. I should ask her first. I can tell her about SOLDIER. She'll understand me. That I'm going for her and I'll come back just as soon as I've made a name for myself. Cloud nodded. Yeah, I'll ask her before she leaves.

Tifa and his mother came back to the table and a bowl of fruit pie was put before him. “Honest opinion, else I can't get better,” she said, with a smile that melted his insides.

“S-sure.” He crammed a spoonful in his mouth and regretted it when he burnt his tongue. “Ah!”

“Cloud, be careful! It's not going anywhere.” Tifa laughed and leaned across the table to blow on his food. “Do you need help like a baby?” she teased.

Cloud rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “I'm not a kid.”

“Then don't eat like one.” She giggled and looked away.

Hiding a smile, Cloud took his time eating until there was nothing left. “You're good at this,” he commented.

“Really? You think?”

She looked so pleased with such little praise he felt guilty for not saying more. “Yeah. You could be a real chef.”

“All thanks to your mom.” Tifa sent a smile across the table.

A knock at the door interrupted them before Claudia could speak. “I'll get it.” She got up and went to the front door. “Oh, Brian, how can I help you?”

“Tifa here?”

Cloud stiffened at the gruff tone. Her dad was the town chief and what he said went. He wondered what Tifa said to convince her father she could go to Cloud's house to get cooking lessons from his mother.

“Tifa, your father's at the door.”

“Gotta go.” Tifa stood up and tucked her hair behind her ear. “This was fun.” She smiled at him again. “Although, next time, no fighting.”

Cloud's hand darted out before he knew what he was doing. His fingers closed around hers. “Wait.”

Tifa stopped and looked down at their hands. “Yes?”

Cloud swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Do it. Before Dan or one of those other assholes gets there first. “C-can you come meet me at the watertower tonight?”

Tifa's eyes widened and her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. “R-really? The watertower?”

Struck dumb, Cloud could only find it in himself to nod. After a long silence, in which Cloud noticed his hand starting to sweat, but was too afraid to let go of Tifa's hand in case she noticed the reason why, she gave him a sweet smile.

“Okay. I'll see if I can sneak out.”

Cloud frowned. Sneak out? Why?

“Tifa!”

“Coming, dad!” She extracted her hand from his. “Wait for me, okay? I'll come.” She hurried to the front door and passed his mother and her father on the way out.

Cloud stayed still for a long time after she left. He knew his mother came back in and that she cleared away the empty bowls, but he couldn't seem to move from his seat. His gaze remained fixed on the spot Tifa stood. The watertower. Tonight.

“You look happy. Did Tifa say anything?”

Cloud avoided his mom's searching gaze. “Not really.” He got up and went to his room, where he lay on the bed trying to work out what he wanted to say to Tifa. It would be an important night. He had to get the words just right.

#final fantasy 7 remake #final fantasy 7r #final fantasy viir #ff7r #ffviir #fan fiction #cloti #cloud strife #tifa lockhart

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

Text

Ballad of a Shelby and a Solomons

Summary: Following the events of Burned. Ruby Shelby and Teddy Solomons fall in love.

@justanothershelby Because I love you and I’m so sorry you’re going through a rough time.

(gif isn’t mine)

Birmingham-1948

“I’m in love with Teddy Solomons.”

Arthur Shelby was far too old for this shit. He couldn’t handle the scares that he used to be able to experience every day. Normally, he was pretty quick on his feet, maybe less so than his younger self. But the announcement from his niece completely caught him off guard. So much so that he spat out his whiskey.

The eldest Shelby was sat with his brother at the Garrison, a few hours before it was due to open for the night. It was a little odd because Tommy seldom visited Birmingham. He was far too busy in the Commons to visit Small Heath. Likewise, Ruby rarely traveled back and forth. Either she was in London or in Warwickshire.

“Solomons?” Arthur sputtered, his face already turning red.

Tommy stood behind the bar much calmer than his brother. A hint of a smug smile crossed his face. He knew almost instantly that the two young adults were going to spark up something. The way Teddy could hardly speak clearly in front of her and the way Ruby’s fair complexion turned bright red under his eyes.

“You’ve met up with him again?” Tommy asked.

Arthur was practically spasming with anger. “As in Alfie Solomons?!”

“Yes.” Ruby held her head high, her lips pursed. She looked just like her mother when she gave him that confident look. “Several times, in fact, and I love him.”

“Tom!” Arthur erupted. “You knew ‘bout this?”

“Easy, brother,” Tommy replied coolly. “The two met when I was going to see Louise’s new foal. He’s a very respectable young man.”

Ruby was a little surprised by her father’s steady demeanor. She expected there to be an issue, like the issue her uncle was clearly having. “Well-well, yes he is.” She hesitated and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Why on Earth was he being so nonchalant about the whole issue. When she was younger, Ruby had declared her love for one of the Lee boys. Granted she was only fourteen and it was simply because the teenager could tame any unruly horse. When Tommy heard the news, he had a fit and threatened the boy to stay far, far, far, away from his beloved daughter.

So that was that. Ruby never saw the boy again. But now she was confessing her adoration for the son of an old colleague. Rival? Friend? The details were murky.

“Louise said he served during the Second War.” Tommy poured himself and his brother another glass of whiskey.

Arthur gave him a flustered glare. Like Ruby, he was bewildered by Tommy’s reaction.

“Yes.” Ruby nodded.

Tommy beckoned for his daughter to sit at the bar and poured her a gin and tonic. Warily, she sat down beside her uncle. “Where did he serve?”

“France. Like you.” Ruby replied. “He was hurt by a grenade. You should see the scar, nearly lost his entire leg. He’s so brave.” She chewed on her lip when she thought of the handsome young man who had won her over.

“You’ve seen the scar?” Arthur demanded. “On his leg? Under what fucking circumstances!?”

“Pral.” Tommy hushed him.

“We went swimming behind his home in Surrey.” Ruby lifted her chin again, pretending not to be bothered. “It isn’t 1920, Uncle Arthur.”

“Fucking…kids these days!” He threw up his hands.

“I’m not a kid!” She argued. “I’m an adult and so is Teddy. He almost died serving our country just like you lot did so you shouldn’t treat him and fucking differently! He goes to university and he’s fucking smarter than any of you. And he loves me.”

Arthur grimaced but shut his mouth, for the time being, downing the fresh drink Tommy put in front of him.

“And he loves horses,” Ruby added, her blue eyes glancing over to her father.

Tommy nodded in acknowledgment. “I know. Mrs. Carleton told me he’s a very gifted rider. Perhaps we ought to invite him on a hunt at Arrow House.” He suggested. “We can see what sort of a shot he is.”

Ruby’s eyes lit up. “Really?” She jumped up and reached over the bar to hug her father tightly. “Thank you, daddy, I’ll call him right now!” She left the Garrison so quickly that she nearly tipped over the stool she was sitting on.

Arthur pouted in his seat. “I don’t like it, Tom.” He muttered.

“He’s nothing like Alfie.” He assured his brother. “And it doesn’t matter what either of us says anymore. She’s going to see him whether we like it or not.”

Arthur grumbled his discontent but just shook his head. "Shelby women, aye?"

"I'm afraid she won't be one for much longer." Tommy sighed and briefly wondered what Alfie would've done if he were still alive. A Shelby and a Solomons. Perhaps he would assume the world was crumbling.

Birmingham-The Midland Hotel-1950

“Mr. Shelby, would you like a drink?”

The lobby of the Midland hotel was fairly quiet for a Friday morning. A few ladies sat together talking avidly amidst the lavish décor. A couple of businessmen greeted one another properly. A maid was busy dusting the many gilded ornaments around the large lobby. It had been refurbished after the war had ended, giving all the intricate fixtures and architecture life again.

“Yes, bottle of whiskey, Irish. Bring the bottle ‘round.” Tommy answered one of the barkeeps as he slipped off his hat and sat down. He cleared his throat and checked his pocket watch.

Perfectly on time, Teddy Solomons came in, shaking off his umbrella. He removed his hat and headed upstairs to the bar where Tommy said he’d be. He’d never been to the Midland before, in fact, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever been to Birmingham before. Well, before he met Ruby, that is. Sometimes she would be there visiting family and Teddy stopped by to say hello. More often than not, they’d both be in London. Ruby working in the family business and Teddy still in university.

“Mr. Shelby.” Teddy smiled as he greeted him.

Tommy stood up to shake his hand. “You can call me Tommy, known each other long enough.” He chuckled. “Have a seat, glad we could get together to chat you said it was important.”

“Yes, sir.” Teddy sat down and set his cane to the side.

Tommy took note as he pulled out a cigarette and lighter. “I didn’t know you walked with a cane.” In all the times he’d spoken to the young man, he hadn’t seen him with a walking cane. He noticed the limp, but only after Ruby mentioned it, Teddy did a good job of covering it.

“Gets worse with the rain, I’m afraid.” Teddy grimaced lightly. He never liked calling attention to his limp. It was something he would much rather ignore if possible. It only brought up terrible memories. Memories of the grenade exploding near him. Fortunately, he didn’t recall much after that. Only remembered waking up to hearing a doctor discuss the possibility of amputation. After that, it was a long and torturous recovery. Having to comfort his mother when she worried over him. Learning to walk differently. All things he would rather forget.

“Much different from your father’s.” Tommy smiled slightly. He could recall the slender, simple cane that Alfie sometimes toted around.

“Yeah, my mum pulled it out but it was too weak.”

“I thought sometimes he would carry it just for emphasis.” Tommy chuckled and shook his head. “Smoke?” He offered the pack to Teddy.

“No, thank you.” Teddy declined politely.

The man arrived with the whiskey, setting down two crystal glasses. “Anything else, Mr. Shelby?”

“That’ll be all for now.” Tommy nodded and began pouring the whiskey. “So, what’s the matter of importance, Teddy?”

“Well, Mr-erm-Tommy, as you know Ruby and I have been going steady for a couple of years now.” Teddy swallowed and tried to maintain a façade of confidence, even though his palms were sweating. He’d nearly lost a leg in Normandy but Tommy Shelby was just as terrifying. “And we’ve discussed the possibility, well, the future I suppose. That’s why I’d like to ask for your blessing.”

Tommy had been half-expecting it. Ever since they’d met, Ruby had been head-over-heels for Teddy Solomons. The girl could hardly stop gushing about him. One night at dinner, Charlie finally had to shout at her to, ‘stop fucking talking about Teddy Bloody Solomons!’. That hadn’t ended well.

As the years wore on, Tommy had gained a bit of softness. None for his enemies, political or not, but for his family and friends. Nothing brought him more joy than his beautiful princess smiling. And Teddy made her smile.

So, when he called to request a meeting, Tommy assumed it could only mean one of two things. Either he wanted to ask for Ruby’s hand in marriage, or she had mistakenly gotten pregnant. Not that Tommy could really say anything about that, he’d gotten both Grace and Lizzie pregnant before he married them. Still, it was a relief that Teddy was requesting marriage instead of planning for a baby. Tommy wasn’t ready to be a grandfather yet.

“I think that would be a wise choice. I doubt she’d marry anyone else and she’d most likely marry you without my blessing.” Tommy admitted. He had no one but himself to blame for his daughter’s stubbornness. “It would be in my own best interest to say yes.”

A look of relief and happiness flooded Teddy’s eyes. “Thank you, sir. I promise I’ll give her everything I can. She’s very important to me.”

Tommy held up his glass for a cheers. “I trust you’ll make a good husband.” Trust was scarce, but it could be afforded for the shy, polite, Solomons boy. Tommy could only imagine what Alfie would say if he were still alive.

Warwickshire- June, 1951

Teddy Solomons didn’t know how wild a Shelby party could get. Even a big blow out wedding didn’t seem to curb their thirst for a rowdy night. Luckily, Teddy’s side of the wedding guests didn’t seem to care much or they had been expecting such an affair. He didn’t care at all; in fact, it was all in good fun. His heart had been pounding all day. First out of nervousness, then out of shock when he first saw Ruby walking down the aisle, and then euphoria as they said their vows. He was breathless from dancing with her all night. And even though he was a bit awkward with his stiff leg, he couldn’t deny Ruby one more song.

So, they kept dancing until Ruby wore herself out. That’s when Teddy suggested they get some air outside. His ears were ringing from the loud music and chattering from inside Arrow House so they had to adjust being out in the summer air. The soft sounds of crickets lulling his heartbeat.

“I can’t wear these fucking shoes another moment.” Ruby groaned and bent down to take off her heels. She set them side on the patio.

“Want to walk? Or do your feet hurt?” Teddy asked.

“We can walk. Unless I’ve worn you out from dancing.” She teased and linked arms with her husband.

“I might be sore in the morning.” He chuckled and kissed her temple. “It’ll be worth it though.” They started off past the garden and across the lawn. The lights from Arrow House fanning over the grass and dimly lighting their way. Fireflies blinked across the forest-line and the sky was clear of clouds. Every star seemed to be shining its brightest just for the occasion.

Teddy stopped for a moment to look up at the half-moon hanging in the sky. “I wish my dad was here.” He said quietly. A hint of melancholy draping over him as he realized there was a piece missing. It’s how most occasions in his life felt. There was always something missing. Sometimes, Teddy didn’t realize what it was until he was alone with his thoughts.

But it was always Alfie. How Teddy wished his father could be there to see him at his proudest moments.

“Oh, Ted, he would be so proud of you.” Ruby touched his cheek.

He leaned into her touch and nodded. “I know. I just think it would’ve been a bit more fun.” He smiled weakly. “Shelbys and Solomons aren’t supposed to mix, y’know.”

She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, what do you call this then?” She murmured before kissing him deeply.

Warwickshire- April, 1952

Teddy thought it was such a good idea. His brother-in-law had suggested he bring along the mare on the hunt. Apparently, she was a gift from the Lees and she was very green, hardly broken in at all.

But Charlie said he would be more than capable. And Teddy did not want to shy away from such a task. He’d only been married to Ruby for a little under a year, they’d been engaged for six months and dating for three years. Despite that amount of time, Teddy was still slightly terrified of the Shelby boys. He wasn’t too keen on Arthur unexpectedly grabbing him by the shoulders and jostling him around, he sweated under Tommy’s icy eyes, and didn’t care for Finn’s scathing remarks about his university studies. But it was all in love, at least that’s what Ruby said. Charlie was perhaps the hardest on Teddy, but as the older brother, it was to be expected.

Moments after the engagement at a family event, Charlie hugged Teddy, only to whisper in his ear.

“If you ever break her heart, I’ll fucking gut you and make you eat your intestines.”

All in good fun.

~~~~~~~~~

“You think you can handle her, Teddy?” Tommy asked as they began down the trail.

“That’s what he was asking himself when he proposed to Ruby.” Isaiah jeered and exchanged grins with Finn.

“Oi, enough.” Tommy glared at them. “Fucking beautiful day out, don’t want you idiots ruining it. Now jog on.” He shooed them off and began walking side by side with Teddy.

The young man’s face had gone a little pink. “She was steady on the cross-ties, didn’t fuss much when I tacked her up. Erm, not Ruby I uh-meaning the horse.”

Tommy chuckled and lit up a cigarette. “I knew your father very well. Not as well as your mother of course. But I did see a different side to him.”

A hint of a smile crept onto Teddy’s face. Before, he only used to get sad when Alfie was brought up. But as he grew into a man, he learned to accept the wisdom. Accept the things he never knew about the mysterious man. To listen to the people who had a clearer memory of him. They were his key to getting closer to his late father. “Mum said he was rough around the edges.”

“We were raised very similarly. Raised poor on the streets so we grew to have a rough side.” Tommy agreed, his eyes on the trail ahead of them, steadily moving along with his horse’s smooth walk. “He was fucking clever though. Never could underestimate him ‘less you wanted to get cut.” He let out a sigh, exhaling smoke into the foggy air. “I remember when he told me you were born. Just a little bit before Ruby was born. There was something in his eyes that I’d never seen before. He cared about your mother and you very deeply. That night he was willing to risk his life for you both.”

Teddy listened with bated breath. He wanted his father-in-law to tell him everything. Describe every interaction with Alfie. What was said, what they did, what he looked like, what his emotions were. He wanted to shed more light on the man in the photographs and the man in his dreams.

“You’re not much like him. Not in the way he conducted business.” Tommy clarified before the young man wilted in shame. “But I see the way you look at my daughter. It’s the same look that your father had. I know you would risk your life in order to save her.”

That was a no brainer for Teddy. If it came down to himself or Ruby, he wouldn’t have to think twice about it. “Of course. I would never let her be hurt.”

Tommy smiled slightly and nodded. “That’s how you and Alfie are alike. And it’s a good thing too. Loyalty is well-liked in this family.”

Before Teddy could say anything else, they came across a glen with tall grass. Isaiah, Finn, and Charlie had gone ahead and began hunting through the grass. Without warning, one of them shot wildly into the air.

The young horse under Teddy spooked and began to buck. He did his best to stay on but soon found himself thrown into the ground.

For a moment, he hadn’t even realized what happened. His thoughts became a little fuzzy. All he could process was the sound of the mare galloping off without him. Then, Tommy’s voice found his ears. He was ordering someone to catch the horse as he dismounted and jogged over to Teddy.

“You alright?” The Blinder knelt down and tried to assess any damage. “D’you hit your head?”

Teddy blinked a few times. “Don’t think so.” He groaned when he tried to move. “Can’t feel my fucking arm.”

“Think you landed on it.” Tommy reached out. “I’ll help you sit up. Easy then...”

“Fuck!” Teddy shouted when the movement caused a sharp pain shoot up his arm and into his collarbone.

“Easy, easy. Try to stay still.” Tommy stood. “Curly! D’we have any wraps for the horse’s legs?”

There were a number of footsteps that came running over. Arthur had managed to wrangle in the spooked mare while Isaiah, Finn, and Charlie came to see what the commotion was.

“Couldn’t handle her, Ted?” Charlie chuckled when he saw his brother-in-law sitting in the mud, clutching his arm.

“Oi!” Tommy grabbed his son by the back of the neck. “You fucking warn us when you’re going to shoot, you know that.” He scolded. “Now you can go back to the house with Teddy and explain to your sister what you’ve fucking done to her husband.” He smacked him on the face and went back to tend to Teddy. He did his best to create a makeshift sling with the leg wraps Curly had brought over. “And you better fucking hope that horse isn’t injured either. Now go.” He ordered.

Charlie grimaced but threw his rifle over his shoulder. “C’mon.” He held a hand out to Teddy to help him up.

~~~~~~~~~~

The two walked back down the muddy trail, Teddy clutching his arm, the wraps loosely supporting it.

“I didn’t mean to get you thrown, mate,” Charlie said after a few minutes of silence. “I really did think you would be able to ride her. Rubes always talks about how great of a rider you are.”

“It’s alright,” Teddy replied gently. He didn’t blame his brother-in-law for the incident. All in good fun, right?

Charlie shoved his hands into his pockets. “We’re all just tryna wind you up, you know that right?”

“Oh no, I…Ruby mentioned it wasn’t in malice.”

“Thing is, you’re Alfie Solomons’ son. Y’know people still talk about him? Talk about what he was like and you’re just-you’re very different.”

Teddy might’ve been irked had if not been for the conversation he just had with Tommy. Perhaps he wasn’t capable of the violence his father inflicted. But he would protect his own no matter what.

Charlie chuckled, interrupting Teddy’s thoughts. “You should slug Isaiah for what he said ‘bout Ruby.” He mentioned. “We all want to see if you can throw a punch.”

‘Oh, I’d rather not.” Yes, he’d never been in a fight before but none of the Peaky Blinders needed to know that.

Disappointed, Charlie sighed. “Alright then, I guess Ruby’ll handle it. She’ll never let me live this down.”

“She doesn’t have to know any details.” The two young men exchanged smiles, agreeing to secrecy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ruby was outside on the lawn reading with her mother when her brother and husband came walking back. She was shocked to see the state Teddy was in, shooting up out of her chair and running towards him.

“What happened?!”

“I got thrown off,” Teddy admitted. “I’m alright, though.”

Ruby glared at her brother. “You put him on that wild mare, didn’t you?” She demanded. “I told you not to fucking do that, you fucking idiot!” She emphasized every word by smacking Charlie with her book.

“Hey, hey!” Her brother tried to bat her away. “Lay off!”

“It wasn’t his fault, love, I was too confident.” Teddy intervened, holding out his good arm to stop the literary assault.

Her forehead wrinkled and she pouted. “Oh, you must be in so much pain. Come inside, romer, I’ll take care of you.” She kissed his cheek and ushered him into Arrow House.

Charlie laughed and shook his head. “I’ll get you to throw a punch one of these days, Solomons!”

All in good fun.

London-1954

“Fucking hell, Rubes, you’re as big as a whale!” Charlie snickered.

“Yeah? I could still probably kick your ass!” She snapped back at him but decided to slump down on the couch. It was Christmas and Ruby Solomons was due any day with her first child. Everyone was gathering at Polly’s home in London for the occasion but Ruby arrived before most guests were supposed to arrive.

Polly smacked Charlie with a dish towel. “Be lucky you’re a man and never have to push out a baby.” She scolded. “Now help me in the kitchen.”

Charlie sighed but obliged.

Moments later, Tommy and Lizzie arrived. Lizzie greeted her daughter affectionately. “Oh, you’re just glowing!”

“God, I feel like I’m dying,” Ruby complained and propped up her feet. “I just want it out of me. And I’m hungry too.” She groaned. “M’always hungry.”

Lizzie smiled and kissed her forehead. “I’ll get you something to nibble on before dinner.” She promised and went into the kitchen.

Tommy sat down in an armchair by the fire. “Where’s Teddy gone off to then?”

“He dropped me off, wasn’t any parking close enough. Should be here soon.” She answered.

“Any guesses on the day, then?”

“Hopefully soon.” Ruby sighed. “Feels like it’s been forever.”

“Any word on the gender? I heard Polly might’ve told you.” Tommy recalled.

“A boy.” She smiled. “Ted and I talked, we decided to name him Alfred. And if Polly’s wrong, then we’ll improvise.”

Tommy frowned a bit. “Alfred? After his father?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, did Thomas ever come up in discussions?” He asked, trying not to sound disappointed.

Ruby glanced over at her father. “Yes, Teddy mentioned it. But I said we ought to name him Alfred. You’re alive, dad. Teddy’s father isn’t.”

Tommy had a hard time arguing with that logic. “So, if I die soon, you’ll name the next one after me?”

Ruby snorted and laughed. “Sure, dad, sure.”

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea

Burned Tag: @vehement-care @eleventhdoctorsangel @fire-treasure-iii

Masterlist

#alfie solomons #alfie solomonsxoc #ofc #omc #oc #ocxoc #tommy shelby #charles shelby #lizzie shelby #lizzie stark #polly gray #isiah jesus #one shots #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction

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the-fiction-witch · 5 years ago

Text

Apologize P6

REAL LIFE: COUPLE: TBS X READER RATING: SMUT

Once we got to mine we had some simple dinner and went up to my room playing old video games for a while, "Hey Uhhh Y/n, I've been thinking about what you said the other day" he says as I was playing a rather puzzling Lara croft level while Thomas sat beside me his arm around my back "What did I say the other day?" I asked "You know the day you let me Uhhh... Touch your-" he blushed looking at my chest "you know" "Want to again? You don't have to ask Thomas you can just do it" I laughed "Well... Later sugar, actually I've been thinking about what you said about you not being comfortable with me touching your...area?" "Umm?" I asked pausing the game "Look it's just an idea tell me to shut up but it though maybe we could maybe if we wanted to do something physical other then making out and me getting to feel your boobs maybe we could just cuddle up and .. touch ourselves" he suggested "How would that work?" I asked "Well we would lay down together" he smirked pulling me gently to lay down on my back with him next to me "and maybe cuddle up or start kissing and... Just play with ourselves that way I'm not touching you but we can still do stuff" he explained "I don't know how too" I whispered "Y-you what?" He laughs "I don't know how" I blushed "You don't know how to...play with yourself?" And I shook my head "aww that's so sweet, and kinda sad, so you've never in your life had an orgasum?" "No' I blushed "Oh you poor thing" he says giving me a kiss "I could always teach you?" "How would you know about girl stuff?" I asked "I'll admit, I've watched alot of porn" he says

"Im not sure, I mean Im okay with just making you feel happy and good, I can go without an orgasum"

"No becuase then i feel like a dick Y/n, its not fair I get one and you don't?"

"but whats so good about one anyway? Im okay" I shrug

"what so- my god you can tell you've never had one" he laughs "They feel amazing like the best feeling in the known universe okay, and if Im going to have one I want you too aswell"

Not long after we where laid out bodies under my duvet, in our underwear gasping for air both of us overwhelmed and exaughted "Fuck..." He said between breaths "fucking hell that was... Just fuck" he muttered "Was it-" I began "oh fuck you don't even need to ask sugar" he says "fuck that was good Y/n." He smirked "what about you? Was it okay?" "Very good" I smiled nuzzling close to him "again?' I giggled after a little while once we got our breath back "Again? It's addictive isn't it?" He laughs and I nodded "you really wanna go again?" "Very much" I giggled "Humm okay come on sugar' he smirked pulling me back to kissing him... I humming my little tune as I listened to my headphones while I read my book, it was the last day for this year of college and I was thrilled all my grades perfect for my next year so I had little to do until suddenly my book was thrown from my hand across the room hands on my waist and lips on mine. I considered screaming, biting this person, kicking them like crazy before I realized who the familiar lips belonged too as he pulled away "Hi Thomas" I laughed "Hi Y/n, guess what!" He said excitedly "What?" I laughed "I passed! Top of my class" "Aww well done Thomas" I laughed "can I have my book back?" I asked "Ohh yeah sorry" he blushed going and fetching my book bringing it back for me "aren't you happy?' "Of course I am, but I knew you'd pass Thomas" I smiled giving his cheek a kiss making him blush a little more "You ready to head home?" He asks and I nodded so we gathered our stuff and went out to his car driving down the sunny roads "So I have this awesome plan for his next week" he smirked "Ohh do you?" I laughed "Don't judge till you hear my amazing plans" "Go on" "Right, this week to celebrate our end of our first year of college we are going on an adventure" "Right?' "We are going camping" he says "our own little tent, all by ourselves, all week" "Why do I think you didn't come up with this?' I laughed "Okay... You got me." He sighed as he drove "Dan did, him and Mark are going camping together and... I thought it sounded like a good idea" "And?" "And my dad will throw a fit if they go on there own..." "So Dan and mark are coming with us?' I laughed "Well yeah but they will have there own tent and be like away from us. So you gonna come?" "Sure" I laughed "Yes, that my girl" he smiled kissing my hand "so pack your bag but not to much okay sugar it's a week but we only have a little tent" he says as we parked up by my house and headed up to my room "I have my own single airbed if you want? I can bring it with me" I said as I sat on my bed "Well Uhhh u don't really think our tent with have room for two singles sugar..." He explained sitting with me "I was kinda thinking we could uhh maybe just rough it on a nice double airbed?" He smirked giving my neck tickly kissed "Ahh Thomas" I giggled pushing him away "why do I think your using this as an excuse to share a bed for a week?" "I'm not using it as an excuse Y/n it's just that... Dan and mark will get to snuggle up all week, if I'm going to be away on some seaside holiday with my brother and his boyfriend in some tiny little tent... Least I can get out of it is a snuggle with my girlfriend" I couldn't help but blush hearing that word "What?" He laughs "why are you going all red sugar?" He laughs "You've not called me that before" I laughed "Called you what?" "Your girlfriend" I blushed "Haven't I? Could have sworn I have" he says "Once... While beating up Daniel" "See I have" "I kinda assumed you just kinda said that... If nothing else but for simplicity, that's my girlfriend sounds alot more powerful in a argument then thats the girl I'm seeing" I explain "Your right' he laughs "but I do think of you as my girlfriend Y/n, unless... Your not okay with that?' "No, more then okay" I smiled giving him a kiss .

I packed my suitcase as tightly as I could having to sit on it to get the zip to close having another extra bag of stuff that wouldn't fit, it's hard to fit a week of stuff in one bag, as soon as it got it all together mostly having packed dresses and such I did my make up and headed down to the little house seeing Thomass car parked on the drive as him and Dan tried desperately to for everything in, I suddenly felt even worse for my suitcase of clothes when mark who was sat on the bonnet saw me and waved "Morning Y/n" he smiled "Ohh hey Y/n" Dan waved from inside the boot as he had climbed inside in an attempt to organise it "Ahh Y/n your here sugar" Thomas smiled as he abandoned his brother and gave me a hug "Who's this?" A stern voice asked I looked and saw Thomas and moms dad looking as angry as usual "Y/n dad, you've met her before" Thomas sighed holding my hand "Have I?" "Briefly met her before" he corrected "Y/n his is my dad, dad this is Y/n... My girlfriend" "Just hurry up" his dad sighed before going in the house I went over to help Dan but he looked so defeated as he saw my suitcase "Four people going camping for a week, can't fit in a fucking Corsa!" He complained "Sorry" "It's not your fault Y/n, it wouldn't be so bad if somebody wasn't taking three different outfit options for each day" "I like choice" mark complained "And if someone else wasn't taking six boxes of condoms!" "Dan shut up, there for everyone' Thomas complained "We don't use them, neither of us can get pregnant, six boxes, six boxes of twelve condoms... That is seventy two condoms! How much sex are you planning to be having?" Dan complained "You guys should use condoms" I said "there not just for pregnancy, they help stop the spread of STI's and STD's" "Really?" Mark asked "Yeah... Wasn't this covered in health class?" "Ohh honey we didn't even get straight sex advice let alone info for us" Dan answered "That's shit" Thomas said "Indeed it is" Dan laughed as by some miracle we got it all to fit in the car with a little overhang into the back footwells I honestly wouldn't have been suprised if when we got there we opened the boot and everything explodes out and we all got in opening our windows and starting playing some CDs "We ready?" Thomas asks "Yeah!" We all yelled "Right let's get going then" Thomas smiled as he started up "and we will stop for hash browns and egg muffins" "Yay!!!!" I sat in the car watching as Thomas and Dan put up the tents on this little Mablethorpe campsite Dan and marks tent was orange and me and Thomas's was blue, our windbreaks around our little tents, even if our tents are far enough apart we wouldn't hear each other our campfire set up in the middle, I sat in the passenger seat as Mark sat in the back seat having a cigarette

"Hey guys we're already" Dan yelled so I got out starting to sort out my stuff crawling into the little tent to sort out, as soon as I got in I noticed the space for all the stuff and the sleeping compartment so I put all the stuff in from the car and I unzipped the sleeping compartment to put my stuff in but there was only one kingsized airbed where Thomas laid over the duvet on his stomach his head on his hand

"Hi Honey" He smirked

"Hi Thomas" I smiled

"Soooo... You wanna come snuggle in bed with me Y/n?" He asks

"Well I don't have much of a choice" I laughed "Either that or bunk with Dan and mark, and I have a feeling they don't want me in there tent

"Don't worry I'll keep you nice and warm" he smiles grabbing my waist and pulling me on top of him I laughed and tried pushing him away both of us bouncing around on the airbed giggling like crazy.

We spent most of that first-day unpacking and setting everything up till it began to get dark so we sat around our little campfire roasting some marshmallows

"Hey, Y/n? You ready to get to bed?" Thomas asks

"Sure" I smiled

"Okay night guys," Thomas told them

"Goodnight boys" I smiled giving them a little wave as I unzipped the tent and climbed in instantly going off into the sleeping compartment Thomas climbing in behind me zipping the tent up behind us

"So... how about we have a little snuggle before bedtime?" Thomas smiled as he got changed outside the sleeping compartment while I got into my nightie

"I'm not sure Thomas, all this sea air has made me very sleepy" I admit

"Awwww... Okay, Y/n" He laughed tapping on the sleeping compartment door "Can I come in?"

"Give me a sec," I told him as I quickly got sorted and got into bed under the covers reading my book "Okay you can come in Thomas"

"Thanks, Y/n" He smiled coming in and zipping the bedroom door space as he climbed into bed with me getting under the covers with me in his loose-fitting grey shirt and his blue shorts "So... can I have a cuddle?" he asks

"Okay" I smiled putting my book down and laying my head on his chest it was nice and cosy, his heartbeat calm and sweet

"Y/n?" He said after a while as his hand started playing with my hair

"What is it Thomas?" I yawned

"I love you," He says

"what?" I asked sitting up a little, the twilight outside in the sky, the campsite light still on with the light coming in shining a blue-hued light across his face as he laid under the purple striped duvet on the slightly bouncy airbed

"I said I love you, Y/n," He says "it's okay... I understand Y/n, after everything I understand you're probably not ready to be like that with me" He says

"Thomas, I love you too," I told him giving his lips a gentle kiss

"Ummm... I love you so much Y/n, My beautiful girlfriend"

"Aww I love you too Thomas, you're a good boyfriend" I smiled snuggling back with him closely

"Thomas?" I asked

"Yeah Y/n?"

"Tell me again" I giggled

"umm I love you honey" He smiled giving my head a kiss

"Again?" I giggled

#tbs #tbs sex #tbs smut #tbs spy #tbs smutty #thomas #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster #thomassangster #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster i #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster im #thomas sangster smut #thomas smut #thomas sangster x reader #thomas sangser imagine

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artificialqueens · 5 years ago

Text

Hot as Hell and No A/C, Chapter 4 (Branjie) - Blackhighheels

(Read at AO3)

Four

”Morning Jay,” Jose says as he shuffles into the kitchen. His hair is sticking up in all directions and his eyes are barely open, even though it’s already close to eleven. He desperately needs some coffee or this day will be a complete mess.

”Good morning, sunshine. Don’t you look chipper this morning.” Jason chuckles and thankfully hands him the much needed caffeine.

”Shut up, asshole,” Jose grumbles anyway as he takes the mug. He sighs as the sweet and hot liquid explodes on his tongue. ”I didn’t go to bed until like four in the fucking morning .” He adds once he has swallowed.

”You want me to pretend I didn’t hear every word that was yelled last night or are we gonna talk about it?” Jason asks and makes Jose look up at him, before he drops his head on his arm on the counter.

”Fuck,” he groans. Brock is going to kill him, if he finds out. ”Please, promise me you gonna keep every word to yourself.”

”Goes without saying. I like Brock. Never thought he’s playing for our team, but he’s a nice guy. Together with Ada he’s the only person in the Hytes family, who isn’t an absolute fucked up asshole.”

”I don’t know them, only Rachel. Well, and his parents from talking to them for about a second the other day.”

”You better stay away from them Vanj’. Brock has a reason to be scared. If his dad finds out he’s talking to us, he’s in for a lot of trouble.”

”What do ya mean? Like, he’s beating him up or some shit?” Now Jose gets really worried.

”I don’t know. I don’t think he’s physically able to do it anymore, ‘cause he had a heart attack a couple of years ago and can’t do any hard labor since then, but when we were kids…” Jason scrunches up his face. ”Brock’s older brother, Dan, is my age and we were in one class. He’s an idiot, who got hit in the head fighting one too many times. But I’ll always remember the day when we all went swimming after school and I got invited for whatever reason. We must have been like fifteen or something. Dan had marks all over the back of his thighs. I asked him what had happened and he replied that his dad had caught him making out with a girl after church and had beaten him with a belt. He said it like it was completely normal. I told him I thought it was fucked up and he nearly beat me up for saying that, ‘cause the asshole minister preaches that it’s normal to beat your kids and that kids aren’t allowed to cry and shit like that.”

”Shiiit, mami.” Jose hisses. This is a lot worse than what he imagined was going on.

”All three of them always had like bruises and were real scared of their dad. People are talking ‘round here and they say that he also beat his wife. Brock was the smallest and used to cry a lot as a little kid. I think he must have had it real rough at home. Now that I know that he’s gay, I don’t really get why he ever came back. The whole family basically lives at church. Ada got married when she was just sixteen and I think it was more to get away from her dad. Joe, her husband’s a good guy though. Not the sharpest knife, but he’s good to her. Since they got married she’s been popping out one kid after the next. Dan’s married to the minister’s daughter and she’s just as narrow minded as him. I don’t think she ever cut her hair and like, only wears skirts. When they were courting, they went on some missions and shit, then came back and now they’re trying to have as many kids as Ada or more. There’s no music in their house other than gospel. They don’t own a tv. When we were still at school they believed in creationism and I think they still only fuck to make more babies. Brock’s always been the most normal out of them. Now knowing that he’s gay kind of explains why he hasn’t got married yet, even though they’ve been trying to set him up with church girls for years. I always thought he might get back to his studies once their finances got better.”

”He said he didn’t wanna be a minister and that his family needed him or some shit. But child…. Now I really wanna take him out of here and … I dunno,” Jose mumbles the last part. He really doesn’t know. He wants to protect Brock, take care of him, look after him and make him smile. He wants to see him laughing, not crying. He wants him to be not tired for just one day. He wants him to relax and be happy. He wants to hold him and kiss him. He wants to be with him. But that’s all stuff that he can’t tell Jason, because he’d look like a fucking idiot who’s fallen for the wrong guy once again.

”He’s a good guy and if he opens up to you like this… girl, he must really like ya. But Brock will never leave his family and you’ll be gone in another three weeks. So you might wanna think about what you’re offering. You’ll be gone, but he has to stay and live here.” Jason’s warning rings loud and clear in his mind, but also makes his stomach clench painfully.

”I know,” Jose sighs and puts his coffee down. All of a sudden, it makes him feel nauseous.

”Fuck, Jo, I can see on your face how much you like him. Just… be careful, k? If not for yourself and your romantic heart, then do it for him.”

Jose just sighs again. Last night he lay awake and dreamt with open eyes of what he could do with Brock and how he could make him fall for him.

Now he knows that would be even more of a fucked up idea than he initially thought. He can’t be more than friends with Brock, no matter how much he hates it. He only has three more weeks left here and Jose wants to take his own heart back to L.A. with him, in one piece if possible.

His phone beeps and when he takes it out of his pocket he sees a text from Brock. He is dimly aware that he’s smiling like a damn fool.

***

Brock is proud of himself that he had the courage to really text Jose in the morning. After a bit of an awkward back and forth about where and when they could hang out, they decided the easiest way was, if Jose just came out to where Brock was working today. It’s an old ranch in the middle of nowhere that Daniel is renovating for a client. Well, was renovating before his accident. Now Brock has to at least fix the roof and the porch so Dan can continue once he’s better.

Brock is so giddy with excitement that he forgets the hammer twice as he crawls up on the roof.

Around lunch time he can see Jose’s fancy car slowly rolling up the dusty pathway even from afar. No one else around here drives a car that expensive. When Jose gets closer, Brock waves and forgets his fear of heights for a second, as he lets go of the wooden beam he’s sitting on.

”Child, you better come down here, ‘cause I’m sure as fuck not crawling up there!” Jose yells as soon as he gets out of his car.

”I’m coming, I’m coming,” Brock chuckles and carefully makes his way over to the ladder and down to the ground. This is not the time to fall and break his neck, if there ever was one.

When he gets down, Jose is holding a large basket and a blanket. ”Brought us some food,” he smirks and holds up the basket.

”Thank you.” Brock’s cheeks heat, but he doesn’t really mind it. He’s been out in the sun all morning so most likely he’s all red anyway. ”We can sit over there in the shade if you want.”

”Dang, I thought I could get my tan on,” Jose complains.

”Oh ok, we can stay in the sun then.”

”Idiot, I’m just fucking with ya! You really think I’d like to sit in the fucking heat? Especially when I have to spend my afternoons and evenings in a building with a fucked up A/C?” Jose is laughing and bumps his shoulder into his, before he leads the way and spreads the blanket out in the shade. The spot has another advantage: It can’t be seen from the small pathway, should anyone else come up here.

”I thought Jason got the A/C fixed?”

”He did… for about a day. Then the damn thing broke again. I’m sweaty as fuck from simply teaching them kiddos.” Jose opens the basket he’s brought and starts unpacking. ”Don’t worry, I didn’t cook any of this shit myself. I stopped by your sister’s store.”

”I knew this looked familiar,” Brock laughs and picks up one of the rolls Jose’s brought. ”You really didn’t have to do this though. One more thing I owe you for.”

”Well, Miss Thing there’s only one way to make it up to me.” The way Jose says it sounds very seductive.

Brock’s very nervous when he asks: ”How?”

”You fix the fucked up A/C next time you’re over.” Brock is surprised, but then has to laugh with Jose when he starts cackling. His laughter is as loud and boisterous as his personality. Brock likes it so much to see him laugh. ”You quite the handy man, aren’t ya?” Jose nudges him again. ”But I have to say, ya look more like a real ass cowboy with your hat and all.”

”What? You don’t like my hat?” Brock laughs and adjusts the old straw cowboy hat he is wearing. Jose doesn’t need to know that he only wears it, so he won’t get burned by the sun and because it’s old and he doesn’t care if it gets any dirtier.

”I like it,” Jose smirks and snatches the hat off his head a second later. ”I just think it’d look better on me.” He twirls the hat around his index finger as he leans back on his elbows.

”It’s all sweaty and dirty.” Brock feels embarrassed when he points it out. He knows the hat is disgusting, but he doesn’t want to see Jose getting disgusted by it. He looks down, stares at the blanket.

”What do ya think?” The words make Brock look up at again and Jose is now wearing his hat and a large smile.

Shit.

For a couple of seconds Brock doesn’t think anything.

Beautiful.

Cute.

Hot.

Sexy.

That’s what he’s thinking.

”It looks good on ya.” Is what he’s saying.

”Really?” Jose cocks his head to the side. He looks like a fucking model.

”Really.” It feels like time stands still as they smile at each other and all Brock can think about is Jose, his smile, his eyes, his lips and his hat on his head.

”Let me see. Take a picture of me,” Jose snaps him out of his daze, as he hands Brock his very expensive and new phone. Jose poses for the camera like a pro, then goofs off a bit by pretending to line dance and makes Brock laugh so hard he snorts and can’t stop until Jose drops back down beside him on the blanket, chuckling as well. ”Show me.” He requests once he is able to talk again.

”I’m not a photographer, but I think the pics are good. And the video is really good,” Brock smirks as he hands Jose his phone.

”Bitch! You filmed me doing the chicken dance! You such a cunt!” Jose screeches, rips the hat off his head and swats at Brock with it. ”But the pics are cute, boo. Looks like ya know what you doing.” Jose says after he’s stopped laughing and looked at the pictures.

”When I was away at college, someone scouted me for photoshoots. For a couple of weeks I modelled for them, did some fashion shoots, but then one of the ministers at the college caught wind of it and told me it wasn’t ok to do that because of vanity and seductive looks and stuff. So I stopped. But I’ve been interested in photography since then. If I ever got the opportunity to go back to college, I’d study photography.” Brock reveals yet another story and dream he has never told anyone around here.

”You certainly have the bone structure for modelling and the eye for photography. Betcha, you could still get some gigs if you wanted to.” Jose fiddles with his phone for a bit, then snaps a couple of shots of Brock and shows him.

”I look like shit.”

”You just look tired, boo. You working too much.”

”I don’t have a choice.”

”I know.” There isn’t any conviction behind Jose’s words, but Brock doesn’t want to get into this right now.

”Let’s eat?” He asks and is glad when Jose accepts. They are back to laughing their heads off in no time when Brock tries to teach Jose how to catch grapes with his mouth after throwing them up in the air. Surprisingly Jose lacks the coordination and fails every damn time. Or maybe he’s just doing it to keep Brock laughing - who knows.

***

Their lunch meetings only last two days, then Brock’s family gets in the way once more.

”I’m so sorry, but I have to cancel our lunch plans,” Brock tells Jose on the phone and looks around to make sure he isn’t overheard by his family.

”Oh, ok. Dinner then?” Jose’s disappointment is audible through the speaker.

”I can’t do that either. I have to work over at the grocery story during lunch and after I’ll done here at the farm. Ada was put on bedrest and now my mom is managing the store. But she can’t do the re-stocking of the shelves.”

”Don’t tell me you taking that on now as well?”

”Who else?” Brock sighs heavily.

”Brock that’s crazy! You’re actively working towards a heart attack at thirty-five,” Jose scolds him and it feels kind of good to have someone who is worried for him. At the same time can’t change it so he opts for not saying anything. ”When you gonna stack those shelves?”

”Around nine. Why?”

”Leave the backdoor to the store open and I’m gonna help ya. It’s gonna be done much quicker and at least we get to talk a bit. I have another funny Thackery story for ya.”

”Jo, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…” What if someone sees them?

”Hey, if anyone sees us, we can always just say the big city guy is used to 24/7 service and needed some cat food. And Imma be quiet, all sneakily and shit.” Jose comes up with an excuse.

”Fine, I’ll text you when the coast is clear.” Brock quickly gives in, because really, he just wants to spend some more time with Jose.

When half past nine comes around Jose strolls into the store through the backdoor.

”Booh!”

”I’ve heard you coming,” Brock chuckles and turns around. He starts laughing for real when he sees Jose. He is wearing a blue work overall with a neon orange security vest over it. The fact that the overall is unzipped nearly down to his navel and his naked chest shows makes the outfit even more ridiculous, albeit sexier. ”What the heck are you wearing?”

”I came to work, work, work, work, work… so I gotta do the work work work work work work,” Jose sings and moves his hips to his own tune. ”I found this at Jason’s. It cute, right?” he smiles and puts his hands on his hips.

”Very,” Brock chuckles. ”But also unnecessary. We can stack some shelves without a neon vest.”

”Safety first!” Jose screams loudly in delight after his own smart ass comment.

”Sshhh, my sister’s living just next door.”

”Fine, Mary, Imma be as quiet as a hamster.”

Brock can’t help it, he guffaws. ”As a mouse, you idiot,” he corrects and pushes Jose into the direction of the shelves they need to stack.

***

For nearly a week, each night they stock the shelves together and then hang out at the closed store, eat snacks and exchange stories. Brock gets an idea of what life is like for Jose in L.A. and he wishes he could glimpse at it, just once.

The additional work and the long talks are part of the reason why he gets even less sleep now. The only time he gets to nap is when he falls asleep out of sheer exhaustion at night. Another reason are the thoughts in his head, as he processes his friendship with Jose, his views on life are so different from his own.

Jose doesn’t believe that being gay is a punishment. Instead he sees it as a way to belong to a community, share a culture with others, that Brock has only seen glimpses of. The fact that there are gay movies and romance novels out there blows his mind. He doesn’t even own a tv.

Jose’s view on life and love is much more positive and romantic than Brock’s own. Jose wants to find true love and be with that man for all eternity. Brock wants that too, he just knows that for him it’s not an option - not now, not ever.

However he gets to dream with Jose, live through his ideas and hopes when he isn’t allowed any of his own.

The hopelessness he feels when he’s alone in bed at night is crushing, when the urge to touch himself to his memories of Jose gets overwhelming and makes him feel dirty and disgusting. He’s not supposed to lust after his friend and yet he can’t forget their one short kiss, the way Jose smiles, laughs, walks and smells; Brock finds everything about him arousing.

He always squelches the desire by reminding himself that Jose will be gone in two weeks.

***

When Daniel calls him to tell him that he has to stop by at the dance studio because Jason called about the A/C, Brock is less than excited. He stops by the store to stack the shelves even though it’s not closed yet.

Since the dancing studio will be closed by the time he gets there and Jason will be around, he won’t get to see Jose, which ruins his day completely. He’s got so used to seeing him regularly over the last week. Even all the sleepless nights are more than worth it; it’s not like he’s slept well for years.

”Yay, our lord and saviour!” Jason greets him as he lets him into the studio.

”Let’s see first if I can fix it,” Brock shrugs and follows him through the empty building.

”Here’s the A/C unit, there are the manuals and stuff. I have to get going, because I have a meeting tomorrow in Dallas and are driving out there tonight. Jo should be here in a sec to help you and lock up,” Jason lets him know and Brock’s heart starts beating faster at the prospect of seeing Jose.

”Hey, you hoes. Did I just hear my name?” His distinctive voice echoes through the rooms and makes Brock laugh. ”Hope you only saying nice things about me, or I have to whoop your ass.” Jason doesn’t look very threatened and just laughs.

”I better get going, you asshole. Don’t forget to lock up. Imma be back tomorrow evening. You better not try and cook again. There’s no fire brigade in town.”

”Leave, bitch!” Jose hollers and pretends to throw one of the weights after Jason. ”That motherfucker always gotta run his mouth,” he giggles once they are alone.

Brock just smiles, but doesn’t reply. He’s still too shocked by Jose’s sudden appearance.

”You really gonna fix the damn A/C?”

”Isn’t that why I’m here?” Brock looks up from his tools.

”Kinda,” Jose shrugs with a smile. ”Just thought after you done with that thing, we could go upstairs and watch that show I told you about. Can’t leave here without educating ya a bit.”

Brock feels his heart beat in his throat. ”The one with the Spanish gay drug dealer?”

”Arab gay drug dealer in Spain,” Jose corrects.

”Right,” he nods. ”Sure. Let me just at least look at ‘that thing’.”

”You’ve already eaten something? We could get some pizza and make it a real dope ass movie night?”

”No, not yet. But didn’t Jason just say you’re not allowed to cook. And there’s no delivery service in town.”

”I can heat up some frozen pizza, dumbass. Why don’t you do your fixy-thingy here and I make the pizza and we meet upstairs? It’s way too hot in this fucked up building without a functioning A/C.”

”That’s what I’m here for,” Brock rolls his eyes playfully at Jose’s dramatics.

”That a yes?”

”That’s a yes.”

”Woohooo!” echoes off the walls of the dance studio and a moment later Brock is alone again to deal with the faulty device.

***

Brock’s done after just half an hour, or at least knows what the problem is. He also knows that he can’t fix it without additional parts.

Jose is already waiting for him on his couch, a large pizza on the table and the tv turned on. It’s much cooler up here and after the first couple of slices of pizza and Jose’s running commentary on the show they are watching, Brock slowly finds himself relaxing. It also helps that the fluffiest cat he’s ever seen, Thackery, is sprawled out on his lap purring loudly.

The couch is comfortable and he leans back. Jose is close enough so the scent of his cologne hangs in the air. After a while the scent gets stronger, when Brock’s head comes to rest on his shoulder. He fights to keep his eyes open, but is too tired to do so. Jose’s arm wraps around Brock’s shoulders and pulls him closer, then his fingers play with the sleeve of his T-shirt, tickle his skin. This should feel weird, because he’s not used to any kind of physical touch; But it doesn’t. It’s comforting and nice and Brock never wants this moment to end.

The last thing Brock is aware of, is when Jose’s other hand slides into his hair and massages his skull. Then he’s asleep, just forty minutes into the movie night and for once he stays asleep, right there in Jose’s arms.

***

When Brock wakes up, he is still on the sofa, still in Jose’s arms and there’s a blanket thrown over the both of them and wrapped around his shoulders. It’s a weird feeling to wake up for once without a headache, burning eyes or the overall feeling of doom all around you. He’s comfortable resting against Jose and he wishes he could stay like this a while longer.

”Fuck,” escapes him when he checks the time and realises it’s already half past five. He was supposed to be up over an hour ago. Quickly and quietly he gets up and takes a moment to wrap Jose completely in the blankets so he won’t get cold. He thinks about leaving him a note with a Thank you, but decides to just text him later. He really has to leave.

He parks his brother’s truck in front of his house, then runs over to his parent’s farm. He thinks about just running into the stable like this, but he needs other shoes at least.

”Where the fuck’ve you been?” His father screams at him as soon as he steps a foot into the house. Both his parents are up and sitting at the breakfast table.

”Working,” he lies.

”Working? The whole night? Which hussy have you been with? If ya get her pregnant out of wedlock, there’ll be hell to pay, you hear me!” Brock wonders if his father has already been drinking this early in the morning. “You not ruining my reputation!”

”I wasn’t with a woman! You know that Dan called me last night about the A/C at the studio. I’m not an electrician and was up all night trying to fix it.”

”You were at the faggot’s studio all night? Haven’t I forbid you to go there!” His father’s cane flies against his leg and hits him in the knee as he throws it his way.

”I was working there, earning money for Dan. What the fuck do you want from me? One second I’m supposed to take care of his business and the next I’m not allowed to see his clients? Which is it?” Brock yells back.

”Don’t you dare raising your voice at me!” His father’s voice is icy now. That’s when he always was at his most dangerous when they were younger. The most horrific beatings he’s got, always started with that voice.

Today, however, Brock isn’t scared of him. For once he’s slept, he feels rested and strong and he won’t be intimidated by his drunk of a father. Maybe tomorrow again, but certainly not today.

”Fine. So what is it? The money or not accepting work from people who pay for it?”

”You’re a disgrace, smart-mouthing me like that. Talking about working, when you haven’t even started your work here, because you’ve been hanging around this damned dancing studio. One should burn it to the ground and these faggots right along with it!” His father rages. ”And let me tell ya, the days when you’re being lazy and not pulling your weight are over! It’s time you get married and produce a couple of kids so you know what responsibilities are! No more excuses. And don’t you dare saying no when we find ya a wife.”

”Or what?” Brock’s voice is shaking with rage.

”Or you’re out of here. You can leave and never come back. And now go and feed the animals. I can’t stand the pathetic sight of you. Fuck off!”

Brock turns around on his heels and marches off, slamming the door behind him. ”Likewise,” he mutters as he makes his way to the stables. He can hear the animals already, they’re restless and hungry and that certainly is his fault and they shouldn’t be suffering because of him. He can’t let this happen again.

TBC

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #m/m au #slow burn #romance #angst #hot as hell and no ac #blackhighheels #tw religion #tw internalized homophobia

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phantasticworks · 5 years ago

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If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Eight

Hi everyone!! Thank you so much for all the love and support on these last few chapters, it means the world! I hope you all are staying safe and I hope this story gives you just a little bit of entertainment during these scary times!

read on ao3

Words: 10k

Summary: Dan and Phil begin to encounter some unforeseen issues with their foster situation.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, some angst

Something Dan hadn’t originally anticipated about fostering children during the summer months was the fact that he’d be responsible for them for every hour of every day. Without school to keep them occupied for at least a few hours of the day, Dan was left to be on standby. It wasn’t like he minded or anything; this is what he’d wanted, after all. Some days were just rough, is all, especially considering he still had to work a few days every week.

Working in education did have its perks, and in some ways summer break was a perfect example of one of those perks. However, he didn’t get the full break off like students. He, and the rest of the staff, still had to come in and work through logistical things and tidy up the school and prepare for the upcoming school year. Dan had prepared pretty well for the most part and had managed to get the majority of the work for the upcoming school year out of the way before the twins even moved in. Still, he did have to pop in a few days a week and help Louise with some things, and that’s where a few of the issues came up.

Dan really didn’t mind taking the kids with him on the days he went to work, and they assured him they didn’t mind playing quietly in his office or sometimes going into the teacher’s lounge with Louise’s daughter Darcy and playing games. But, some days he did wish that Phil had a more flexible schedule so that he wasn’t left with the kids on his own for such long lengths of time.

And eventually, when summer melted into autumn and he found himself spending more days at the school, he realized he was feeling like he was running on empty. Every day just bled into the other, and it felt like an endless routine of wake up, get the kids ready, take the kids to work, entertain the kids while working, and then take the kids home for their evening routine. As much as he was loving the decision he made, he felt a little like he might explode with all the stress of being their sole guardian most of the time.

His issue with this reached its breaking point on a Thursday.

He had gotten up early and trudged through making a quick breakfast for himself and the twins before going to wake them up, making sure they were quiet enough not to wake Phil, who didn’t have to be up for work for another two hours. Dan, wonderful housemate he figured he was, left Phil a coffee cup out with the kettle still on. In his flurry to get the kids ready and make sure that everything was set out for Phil, however, Dan completely forgot to make himself any coffee, a fact which he didn’t even realize until he’d already gotten to the school with the twins. They were trying their best to be quiet and play in the corner, but he caught himself asking them to be quiet more than once, more annoyed with himself every time for how horrible he acted without caffeine this early in the day.

Not only that, but the school WiFi glitched at some point, erasing all the progress Dan had made on the file he’d been working on. He’d come ridiculously close to swearing very loudly, and only just caught himself when he noticed the twins watching. Rather than risk them seeing his slight meltdown, he gave them some money and sent them to the teacher’s lounge to fetch some snacks.

As soon as they were out of his office, he reached for his phone and dialed the only number he even considered as someone who he could shamelessly rant to.

“Hey, love,” Phil says when he answers the phone. Dan can hear muted voices in the background, and he can tell that Phil is likely in a room with his coworkers.

“I’m about to fucking die,” Dan announces in lieu of a hello. He lays his head down on his desk, balancing his phone on his ear that way.

There’s only a brief pause before Phil responds, his voice a little hesitant. “What’s happened? Are the kids okay?”

Bless him for thinking of the children first. It makes Dan’s heart do a weird flippy thing, but then he’s back to being annoyed about his shit day. “They’re fine. Bored out of their goddamn minds, I’m sure, but they’re okay. My day is just sucking.”

“Are they in there with you? You need to watch your language around them, Dan.” The reprimand isn’t harsh or said with any anger, but immediately, Dan feels a prickle of annoyance under his skin.

“No, they’re not in here with me right now. And I do watch my fucking language around them, thank you very much,” he snaps, sitting up and glaring down at his desk as if it’s personally offended him.

After a brief flash of silence, Phil sighs deeply. “You’re being really rude to me right now,” he informs Dan, trying to keep his voice level.

Dan is a little surprised that he’s so bluntly addressed it, but some sick part of him is thrilled that he’s being given a legitimate reason to be mad now. Arguing with Phil is definitely an excuse to be mad. “I’m not ‘being rude’,” at this point, Dan puts Phil on speaker just so that he can make air quotes at him, “I’m just having a bad day, and I thought I could call and talk to you about it, considering you’re not the one parenting right now.” His words are scathing, but he doesn’t even stop to consider that Phil will likely take them to heart.

Phil’s quiet for a moment, and Dan can just imagine him sitting there, closing his eyes and trying his hardest not to get visibly upset since his coworkers are around. Even in his fit of annoyance, the image almost makes Dan smile. “Seriously?” His voice sounds full of disbelief.

“Yes seriously. I’ve been basically full-time parenting and you’re only ever around in the evenings.” He knows he should keep his mouth shut. He knows Phil is at work and so is he. But he still says it because he also knows that that’s exactly what’s on his mind and he feels like he needs to say it at some point.

Phil makes a huffing sound before speaking. “Look, I’m not arguing with you right now. We’re both at work. If you want to rant about your bad day you can but I’m not going to fight with you. We can have that conversation at home, Dan.”

Dan wants to push him just because he’s feeling contrary, but he knows that Phil is right and they need to postpone it until later. He’s just not ready to verbally admit it, and his hands are shaking for some reason, behaving strangely, and then they- hang up the phone. Of their own accord. Shit.

Dan hadn’t even realized that the door was open, the twins standing there staring at him curiously. He swallows hard, trying to swallow the anxiety crawling up his throat and making it hard for him to breathe. They never- seriously, never- ended their calls so abrupt. And he knew he was at fault, and the guilt was settling heavy in his chest, his fingers twitching with the need to call him back, fix this. Instead, he forces himself to smile at the kids, asking them what they’d gotten from the vending machines.

They’re sitting on the chairs in front of him, munching their crisps as Dan tries to work on retrieving the file, and the silence only gives Dan more time to think about how rude he’d been to Phil. He really was feeling the part of a housewife raising the kids on his own, but he really hadn’t meant to unload his anger about it right there on the phone. He knew he’d likely regret doing it later, and his stomach twists anxiously as he thinks about how hurt Phil probably was.

He’s tapping his fingers anxiously against the wood of his desk when he hears Amelia ask him a question. “Sorry?” He says, cringing at how his voice cracks. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrows at her questioningly.

Amelia points to his phone. “Was that Phil?” She asks curiously.

Dan nods, brushing his fingers over his screen. “Yeah.”

“Were you guys fighting?” She asks, all the innocence of a six-year-old wrapped up in such a loaded question.

“Not exactly,” Dan says with a shrug. “We had a… Disagreement, I guess. And I think I hurt his feelings.” He stares at his screen, wishing it would light up with a text from Phil, saying that everything was okay and just erasing all of this.

“Oh,” Amelia says, glancing up at him from her bag of crisps. “So, are you going to tell him you’re sorry?”

“What?” Dan asks, as if he hadn’t already thought of that.

Amelia shrugs, but before she can speak, Jaiden beats her to it. “We always have to apologize to each other when we hurt each other. Don’t adults have to do that too? Or are there different rules?” He asks, tilting his head curiously.

Dan swallows hard. So, this was apparently now a teaching moment, as well as an actual serious issue in his personal life. Great. “No, the rules are the same. Adults should say they’re sorry when they know they’re… not right.”

“When they’re wrong,” Amelia supplies helpfully.

Dan’s lips quirk up into a smirk. “Yes, when they’re wrong.”

“When you’re wrong,” She specifies pointedly, raising her eyebrows at him.

“Okay, okay, I get it, I’m going,” Dan grumbles, grabbing his phone and unlocking it. He honestly can’t believe he’s just been told off by a six-year-old but it honestly wasn’t that much of a surprise.

Waiting for Phil to pick up is honestly a little nerve wracking, but when the ringing stops, Dan almost wishes it hadn’t. “Philip Lester,” the voice answers formally.

Dan pauses. Phil never answered his personal calls like that, and Dan was pretty sure he had more than enough time to check the caller ID. “Hey, um… I wanted to tell you…” He trails off, unsure of how to say it. He catches Amelia’s gaze on him and his face flushes with embarrassment. He unsubtly spins his chair around to the side, dropping his voice to a whisper so the twins can’t hear him. “I’m sorry, for being an ass.”

“Oh, Miss Gellar, that’s really generous of you to call us personally, but trust me, no apology is necessary.” Phil’s voice is still professional, and Dan wonders if he’s on another call at the same time or something.

“Erm- Phil?”

“Yes?”

“Just- this is Dan. Not Sarah Michelle Gellar.” He’s still whispering, but he shoots a confused look over to the twins, who are trying and failing not to look like they’ve been caught eavesdropping. He lowers his voice even more and sinks further into his chair.

“Right. My apologies about the confusion,” Phil says, his voice deeper than it usually is when he talks to Dan.

Dan still thinks this is a little odd, and Phil’s response definitely didn’t make any sense, but he decides to just try and say what he needed to say. “Oh, uh, okay. Well, I just wanted to say I’m, um, sorry. I shouldn’t have been rude to you.”

“Well, Miss Gellar, like I said, no apology is necessary. I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you- as a producer at the BBC you know, since that’s my responsibility. To, you know. Make sure that you and your- your team are taken care of.”

“Um…” Dan suddenly realizes Phil is not alone, and even though he is the producer, his coworkers are probably not thrilled at their boss getting two personal calls on the job in one day. Dan nearly laughs at the idea that Phil’s pretending to have a phone call with the Buffy actress he fancies so much, but he manages to hold it in. “Right, well… I guess we need to just talk about this at home?”

“Yes, we can discuss this at a later date, of course. And if you’d prefer, we could continue this conversation via text- I mean email, if that would be easier for you?”

Dan nearly snorts. Subtly wasn’t Phil’s strong suit. “Sure, I’ll… I can text you.”

“Great! It’s always a pleasure to speak with you, b- Miss Gellar. Drive home safe, er- I mean, if you’re driving. Just, you know, be careful. As a general rule.”

There’s a small grin on Dan’s face as he plucks at the string unravelling on the arm of his chair. “I will. I’ll see you at home, yeah?”

“Right. I love you- your work. I love your work. I’ll speak with you soon!” Dan is trying his hardest not to laugh: if he laughs, Phil will laugh and that would ruin this whole thing. He just hopes his coworkers don’t give him too much shit about this call.

“Bye, Phil,” Dan says softly as he hangs up the call.

~~~

By the time they actually leave the school, Dan is more than ready to just curl up in bed and go to sleep. But he knew that Phil likely wouldn’t be home yet, so he resigned himself to making dinner and watching the kids on his own for a couple more hours, at least until Phil gets home. It’s not like he hasn’t already done it a few times, because he definitely has been, all summer, but after their brief argument earlier he still feels a little more bitter about it than usual.

“A little more bitter” doesn’t even cover his anger when he walks into the flat and hears the tv playing upstairs in the lounge, however. Dan is grinding his teeth as he sends the twins off to play and goes to drop his things off in the kitchen. The very idea that Phil was home and hadn’t bothered to let Dan know that he’d be home early absolutely pisses him off, and his blood is boiling as he makes his way upstairs to confront him about it.

Phil is sat on the sofa when Dan stomps up the stairs, his eyes trained on his laptop instead of the tv, which is playing Buffy in the background. He’s wearing his glasses for once, and Dan notes that he’s still wearing jeans and a t-shirt, which is likely what he wore to work. He doesn’t seem to notice Dan at first, but when he does, he sends him a small smile, seemingly not realizing the anger that’s bubbling up in him. “Hey,” he says quietly, shifting to fully face Dan.

“Yeah, what the fuck?” Dan seethes, crossing his arms. He doesn’t step any closer to the couch, instead choosing to keep his distance.

Phil frowns, moving his laptop to the coffee table. “What?” He asks, dumbly.

Dan rolls his eyes. He has the worst feeling, like he wants to just hit Phil for being so stupid and making him feel so angry over something that really isn’t even that big of a deal. “Nice for you to call and let me know you’d be home,” he says bitingly.

The only way he can really describe Phil’s expression is completely confused. “Well, I live here, so.” He shrugs, stupidly. “I didn’t think I needed to call and tell you my every move.” His tone is joking but Dan doesn’t feel like laughing right now.

Instead, he apparently feels like fighting. “How long have you even been home?”

“I don’t know, like, an hour or so? What does it matter, Dan?” Phil moves to stand then, and that just fuels Dan’s desire to fight.

Dan laughs without humor. “Nice,” he mutters. Shaking his head, he turns to head back downstairs.

“Okay, what’s going on? What did I do?” Phil asks, following him downstairs.

Of course he doesn’t know. Dan’s subconscious reminds him. And sure, he probably has next to no idea what exactly has set Dan off this time, but surely, he remembers enough of their earlier conversation to have some idea as to what it is.

“Do you seriously see nothing wrong with this?” Dan snaps as he makes his way to the kitchen. “With me working and taking the kids with me, and basically being the full-time parent?”

Phil stumbles into the kitchen after him, looking more surprised than he has any right to. “Wait, are you, like, serious about that? That wasn’t just something you were annoyed about because you were having a bad day earlier?”

Dan scoffs at this. “Yes, I was serious about it.” He walks to the cupboard and pulls out a box of rice, setting it down on the counter a little too harshly.

“Okay,” Phil says slowly, watching Dan move around the kitchen with a cautious look on his face. “Well what we aren’t going to do is throw a fit and stomp around the kitchen like a five-year-old, Daniel.”

Hearing his full name sends a flood of heat to his cheeks, fueled by the annoyance he feels at Phil for acting like the perfect adult in the situation. “I’m not acting like a five-year-old,” he snaps, shooting a glare at his best friend.

Phil crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, his eyes following Dan as he sets a pot out on the stove after pouring the water in. “Do you want to talk about it? Or would you like for me to give you some more time to pout about it first?” There’s a smile tugging at his lips, and Dan loathes it.

“I’d rather you not just blatantly make fun of me right now.” He pretends not to notice when Phil steps closer to him, instead waiting impatiently for the water to simmer. He feels like it should already be boiling, based on how hot his eyes feel looking at it.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says quietly. “I didn’t mean to be unkind.” Dan feels him bring his hands up to his back, and he tries very hard not to sigh when Phil begins pressing his fingers in, lightly massaging. “Talk to me, Dan. I can’t read your mind, you know.”

Stirring the water gives him something to do that isn’t thinking about Phil’s hands on his back, so he stares down at the ripples of water instead of answering straight away. Phil’s persistent, though, and doesn’t just drop his hands when Dan doesn’t answer immediately. “I watch the kids more than you do,” he eventually says, his voice quiet.

Phil pauses his movements, but hums and resumes them, bringing his hands up higher and closer to Dan’s shoulder blades. “You do,” he agrees. “But Dan… This was your idea, you know. I’m not saying it’s fair that you watch them more, but you can’t… you shouldn’t just get pissed at me. I can take them to work with me if you want? Like we can swap days on who takes them to work or something?”

Although his offer is genuine, and honestly a pretty good idea, something about Phil’s words make Dan’s skin prickle with annoyance. Maybe it’s something akin to guilt over the reminder that this whole fostering thing was his idea, maybe it’s something else. Either way, he finds himself leaning away from Phil’s hands, although the older man doesn’t seem to take the hint, his hands just trailing down to press against the small of Dan’s back.

Dan twists away, trying his hardest to get his point across. “Can you-“

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” Phil’s hands fall away, and he sounds embarrassed.

“Don’t apologize,” Dan snaps, reaching for the rice and pouring it into the pot of boiling water.

They’re both silent for several minutes, and Dan’s starting to think that Phil is probably just going to leave him to his thoughts when he finally speaks again. “Do you want me to take them to work with me? At least on the days that you’re working?” He asks, moving to lean against the counter beside Dan.

He doesn’t mean to laugh, but the sarcastic huff falls from his lips before he gets the chance to stop it. “Could you even handle that? Watching two kids on your own?”

He regrets it immediately, but Phil quips back, just as fast, “I reckon I could. It’s not like you’re an expert in the area yourself, Dan.”

Dan almost feels hurt by that, but he knows that’s completely unfair, considering what he’d just said. He shrugs, not meeting Phil’s eyes. He’s already started, might as well just keep throwing himself into this black hole of regret. “I may not be, but so far I’ve had a hell of a lot more practice than you. You’re barely ever even around them.”

“Huh,” Phil clicks his tongue thoughtfully, but Dan knows he’s only humoring him. He’s mad now, Dan can tell. He braces himself for whatever argument is likely to come. “Thanks a lot. It’s great to feel so appreciated, Dan. Thought you couldn’t do this without me?” Dan’s head snaps up at the choked sound of Phil’s voice, guilt immediately flooding him when he sees Phil staring determinedly at the wall on the other side of the kitchen, his jaw set differently than it had been five minutes before.

“Phil-“

Phil doesn’t let him finish. “It’s whatever.” He pushes away from the counter and makes his way to the office.

“I didn’t-“ Dan stops himself with a sigh. They needed time to cool off, and Dan knew that he couldn’t help things right now, especially since he knew he wasn’t feeling any less annoyed. He watches Phil leave the room, cringing when he closes the sliding door to the office slightly harder than was necessary.

With a groan, Dan slumps against the counter, forgetting the rice for now to just take a minute to feel like complete shit for his behavior. It was completely unnecessary, and he knew it. Maybe he should check in with his therapist soon. It had been a few months since he’d seen her, with everything that was going on, so maybe it was time for a visit to sort out all the nonsense in his head.

He’s mid-crisis when he hears the twins’ voices as they walk into the kitchen. He has just enough time to sit up and plaster a fake smile on his face before they step in, engaged in a conversation. Mia looks a little perplexed as she walks over to the table, glancing around as if she’s looking for something.

“Where’s Phil?” She asks innocently.

Dan cringes at the question. He didn’t want to be that parent that made the kids think that their parents were fighting, especially since he wasn’t even sure he could define their spat as that. Even though he and Phil weren’t their biological parents, it still hurt him to think that the kids were likely going to assume the worst from them if they weren’t on good terms, and that’s not the kind of impression he wanted them to have.

“He’s in the office,” he answers her question with a nonchalant shrug.

“Oh. Why?” She asks, curious as only kids are. He glances over at her, rolling his eyes when he sees that she’s pulled her feet up on the chair underneath her. He considers chastising her, but figures there’s no real point since they’re not even eating dinner yet.

“He’s got some work to do, I guess.”

“Oh.” Mia shifts around in her seat for several moments before she eventually seems to get settled. Dan braces himself for whatever question she’s about to ask next, already assuming the worst. “What’s for dinner?”

Dan can’t help but laugh at this, turning around to show her the pot of rice. “We’re having rice tonight.”

The twins seem content with this and sit at the table chattering aimlessly as Dan moves around the kitchen preparing their dinner. He wants to go talk to Phil and resolve the issue they were having, but ultimately, he decides it was best to just finish preparing dinner and maybe go talk to him then. So, he listens to the twins chat at the table as he cooks, occasionally chiming in with a comment or two. Eventually he’s done cooking and prepares the kids a plate each and fetches them each a drink.

“I’m going to go see if Phil’s joining us for dinner, but you guys go ahead and eat. I’ll be right back.” The twins barely pay him any attention, still chattering as they begin eating their dinner. He smiles at them before turning to go check on Phil, his stomach fluttering with nerves. He usually hated conflict and if that’s what was waiting for him on the other side of that door, he didn’t want it.

But, he has to own up to his actions and the consequences they had, so he knocks on the door lightly before sliding it open. “Hey,” he calls softly, leaning against the door frame, a little uncertain about whether he should enter or not.

Phil glances up at him from the computer, his lips held in a thin line. “Hi.”

His eyes seem to be avoiding Phil’s completely of their own accord. If shame was a laser, he would be shooting two holes in the wall above Phil’s left ear.

Dan gestures to the red chair they kept in the office at the end of the desk, silently asking if he can come in. Phil’s jaw shifts noticeably but he nods anyway. Closing the door quietly behind him, Dan takes a seat on the edge of the chair, staring down at his hands and fiddling with the engagement band nervously. “I’m sorry. For what I said earlier.” Dan takes a deep breath before shifting to look straight at Phil. “I was tired and upset, but I shouldn’t have said that to you. And I’m sorry I did.”

There’s a beat of silence in which Phil just studies Dan, looking on the verge of anger. Without even hearing a response, Dan can already feel his eyes aching with hurt. He blinks quickly, shifting his gaze away to try and cover up his emotion. But of course, Phil notices. He always notices.

“I’m not mad anymore,” he says quietly. “It was a dick move and you shouldn’t have said it, but I understand why you did. And you were right, so...” Phil trails off then, and Dan can only stare at him in surprise. Of course, he still thought he was right and the whole thing had been unfair up until that point, but he didn’t expect Phil to actually agree with him.

Something about this tips Dan over the edge and he drops his head to his hands when he feels the tears falling from his eyes. He felt completely ridiculous to cry about it, but since when was it a surprise that he couldn’t keep a handle on his emotions? His arm swipes at the wetness under his eyes as a watery Phil stands up in his hazy peripheral vision.

Phil takes a seat on the edge of the desk and before Dan even has a chance to apologize for crying, Phil’s wrapping his arms around him and pulling him into his chest. Dan releases a shaky breath as Phil’s hand comes up to card through his hair. “I’m sorry. This is a lot harder than I thought it would be, but I don’t want to fight with you,” he whispers, bringing his own arms up around Phil’s waist.

There’s a low rumble in Phil’s chest as if he’s laughing. Dan can’t say he finds the situation funny, but he was going to give Phil the benefit of the doubt here, considering Phil’s not the one who’s currently having a breakdown. “I know. I don’t want to fight with you either.” He’s speaking directly into Dan’s hair, but the words are just barely muffled.

Dan shifts so that he can press his eyes into the sleeve of his own shirt, rather than ruin Phil’s with his crying. “I’m sorry I’m kind of a mess,” he says softly.

Phil laughs out loud at this, pushing Dan’s curls off his forehead and pushing his head back to gain eye contact at the same time. His eyes are bright, and Dan feels that the worst of their arguing is likely over. “Kind of?” He teases.

Rolling his eyes and disentangling his limbs from Phil, Dan sits back, smiling a little. “Kind of. Maybe a lot.”

A soft smile is etched on Phil’s lips, and he shifts a bit closer to Dan. “We still need to talk about this, don’t we?” He asks, sounding resigned to it.

“I think so, yeah. We should probably have dinner first, because I don’t think I have the energy to fight anymore without food.” He says it as a joke, but Phil’s mouth twists into a frown.

“Are we going to fight more?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Dan sighs and runs a hand down Phil’s thigh to squeeze his knee gently. “I don’t want to. But that doesn’t mean we won’t.”

Phil glances down at Dan’s hand on his knee and lets out a sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a huff. “I’m done fighting with you, if I’m being honest. We need to figure some things out with the parenting thing, but I won’t fight with you about it.” His fingers come up to trace along the band on Dan’s left hand, his eyes following the movement.

He feels a smile tugging at his lips and he splays his fingers out across Phil’s knee so the older man can lace his fingers through his. “Okay. So, no more fighting. We’ll talk about it like adults.”

“Like proper adults,” Phil agrees, biting his tongue in a small smile.

“But first, food.” Dan shoves at him gently to get off the chair and out of his way, and Phil rolls his eyes playfully at this.

“Since we’re not fighting anymore, remind me to show you a meme later,” Phil comments as Dan pulls the door to the office shut behind him.

Dan huffs out a quiet laugh at this, shaking his head fondly when Phil quirks an eyebrow in question. “Okay. You can show me your memes after dinner.” He rolls his eyes dramatically before handing Phil a bowl from the cupboard.

“Don’t mock me,” Phil pouts, moving to fill it up with rice. “I don’t actually have to share my memes with you, you know. I can keep them to myself.”

With a shrug, Dan steps around Phil to grab two spoons, dropping one into Phil’s bowl before he moves to sit at the table where he’d left his own bowl earlier. “Suit yourself,” he says, glancing at the twins, who are both almost done with their food at this point.

“Do you guys want to see my memes? I found some good animal ones,” Phil asks the kids, and both of them nod enthusiastically.

Phil reaches for his phone, but Dan clears his throat, stopping his movement. “Not at the table, please?” He asks rather than demands, imploring Phil to put the phone away with a quirk of his eyebrow.

An apologetic smile is on Phil’s lips, but he nods and tucks his phone away. “Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He turns to the twins then. “We don’t eat with our phones out, but I forgot,” he says with a shrug before launching into questions about how their day was.

Something warm flutters inside him at the fact that Phil respected the phone thing without argument or even really a conversation at all. He’d have to thank him for it later. But for now, he joins in the conversation, trying to keep the panicked thoughts of the conversation they’d be having later out of his mind.

The kids talk about their day and the snacks they had gotten from the vending machines at the school, and Phil listens raptly, conversing with them easily. It makes the guilt in Dan’s gut rear its ugly head; clearly Phil did know what he was doing, and it wasn’t fair to say that he didn’t just because Dan had taken the task of watching the kids for the full day upon himself. It wasn’t like they’d discussed it beforehand, but he’d just assumed he’d be the one to take them to work with him and Phil hadn’t argued. Now Dan is starting to understand how important that communication would have been for them if they’d just thought to actually talk about everything in the first place.

He doesn’t have long to stress over it, though, as everyone finishes their dinner and it’s time to send the kids off to take their baths and get to bed. Dan allows Phil to take over the process of making sure the kids have brushed their teeth after they’ve each taken a bath, which Phil seems more than happy to do. Taking advantage of the time he has alone, Dan cleans up the kitchen and makes sure the door to the patio is locked before heading to his bedroom. He’d go tell the kids goodnight whenever Phil came back. Which definitely wasn’t another way to avoid him and put off the conversation they needed to have. Of course it wasn’t.

“Kids are tucked in and waiting for you to tell them goodnight,” Phil says when he walks into their room a bit later. Dan is laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling contemplatively.

“Okay,” he mumbles before shoving his way off the bed. Phil settles himself on his own side, watching Dan as he leaves the room.

One good thing about the fact that the twins were now sharing a room was the fact that Dan only had to make one trip to say goodnight to them. When he walks in, they’re whispering across the room to each other, giggles piercing the silence. Dan just takes a moment to pause at the door, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning at the kids. “What’s so funny in here?” His voice is full of poorly-concealed laughter, but the twins both jump in surprise at the sound of his voice.

“Dan!” Amelia yells.

It’s almost 9pm. The neighbors might think he’s killing his children if they scream at this hour of the night.

It’s almost strange how quickly they’ve come to feel like “his children”. Or it would be, if it didn’t feel so objectively right to be with them day in day out. Everything with Phil aside, he can’t seem to remember what his life was like before.

He presses a finger to his lips. “You could deafen a fish right now, never mind our neighbors. Remember what we said about quiet time?”

“Sorry,” she says hastily, not looking particularly chastised. Then, innocently, “Did you come to tell us a story?”

Dan laughs softly, but shrugs, trying his best to brush off the moment they just had. “Sure, if you guys want one.” They didn’t always, but over the few weeks they’d been there, Dan had taken to offering a story every night when he tucked them in, usually after Phil had already gone to bed.

Jaiden sits up in his bed, leaning back against the headboard. “Can you tell us one about pirates?” He asks excitedly.

“Sure, bub.” Dan smiles as he moves over to sit on the edge of Jaiden’s bed. “Wanna come over here, Mia?”

The girl nods, scrambling out of her bed and over to Dan’s lap enthusiastically. Dan’s heart swells when she flops herself across his legs, waiting patiently for the story to begin. He hides his glee as he clears his throat, starting to spin a tale of pirates and magic and mermaids and horrible mocking parrots. The kids hang onto his every word, and Dan is almost as invested in the story as they are by the time he finishes it up.

“And that’s how Captain Susan saved the entire crew and all of the mermaids in the sea.”

Amelia yawns into his chest. “Good story,” she mumbles. Moments slide languidly past, and Dan feels as her breathing shifts from drifting to dreaming. He smiles down at her before he glances over at Jaiden, whose eyes are just barely open.

“You still awake, bub?” Dan whispers.

Jaiden tries to nod, but it’s clearly forced. “Mhm. ‘Nother story?”

Dan laughs quietly before shaking his head and moving to stand carefully, cradling Amelia’s tiny body to his chest as he carries her over to her bed. He tucks her in neatly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he moves back over to Jaiden. “I think it’s time for sleep, actually. I can tell you another story tomorrow, okay?”

“M’kay,” Jaiden mumbles, his eyes drifting shut. “Night.”

“Love you.” He looked asleep, but Dan could swear that he sees Jaiden’s lips twitch into a small smile.

After tucking the blanket up to cover his tiny arms, Dan leans down and presses a kiss to the child’s forehead. He can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut against the feeling of tears that are currently welling up, and he curses himself for being so sensitive and emotional.

He’s just stood up when he hears a voice from the door. “That was sweet. You’re sweet with them.”

Dan spins around, his heart beating rapidly until he realizes it’s just Phil. “Jesus, you scared me,” he mutters as he steps towards the door, to where Phil is stood casually leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed. Dan slips past him, gently pulling the door closed behind him after checking that the nightlight is shining.

Phil levels him with a soft look. “Sorry,” he murmurs. His eyes take on a different shade of blue in the shadows, and something about the color just seems to make him more approachable, warmer than Dan’s seen him in so long.

“I’m sorry,” Dan blurts out, unable to stop himself.

Phil spares a glance to the door to the twins’ bedroom, looking a little nervous that they might hear. “C’mon, we should go to bed,” he speaks quietly, gripping Dan’s elbow gently as he begins guiding him down the hall to their room.

Dan gently tugs his arm out of his grip. “No, I’d like to talk about what happened earlier.”

“We can, Dan, but we can do it in our room, yeah? C’mon.”

With a sheepish smile, Dan nods slowly before allowing Phil to guide him back into their room, his hand slipping from Dan’s wrist, only to fall to the small of his back. They’re silent as they enter the bedroom and crawl under the covers. Phil pauses before he lays down, tugging the band off his left hand and placing it onto his nightstand, along with his glasses. Dan flushes when he catches Phil’s gaze dropping to his own ring, quickly tugging it off and sliding it onto the tabletop beside him.

“So,” Phil sighs out, leaning back against the headboard rather than laying down. “Where should we start?”

Dan chews on his lip as he copies Phil’s position, pulling his knees close to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. “I almost wish we didn’t have to start anywhere,” he mutters bitterly, staring at the duvet cover with disdain.

Phil shrugs. “There’s a problem here, and we need to do something about that. So.” He leaves the word hanging in the air, clearly waiting for Dan to make some sort of decision.

With a sigh, Dan begins speaking quietly and quickly, trying to rush all his thoughts out at once. “I’m sorry I was an asshole. I don’t know why the hell I thought that would help, or why I thought it was okay. You’re doing your best, and I get that. I just…” he trails off, feeling at a loss for words.

They sit in tense silence for a moment, but then Dan feels a pressure on his leg. He glances down, seeing Phil’s hand gently stroking along his calf in a comforting motion. A few months ago, he might’ve been embarrassed at the affectionate gesture, or even just laughed it off, but tonight he’s not laughing. Tonight, he wishes there were more touches to lean into.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling unless you try to describe it to me, Dan. And I… I want to understand what you’re feeling, and why you say and do the things you do. But, I can’t read your mind, Bear.” Phil speaks so softly, with such understanding and patience, that Dan feels a bit sick, dizzy and nauseous with guilt for ever accusing Phil of not being a good parental figure.

Without any thought to the consequence for the action, Dan twists to the side, pressing himself to Phil. He scoots down so that he can wrap his arms around Phil’s torso, burying his face in his chest. He needed the comfort of his best friend, and he needed to feel like he hadn’t completely fucked everything up already. “I’m sorry,” he breathes shakily, his head spinning.

“Shh, Dan. Dan, listen to me. It’s okay. Yeah? We’re fine, we just need to figure out what to do to make this easier for us. I’m not angry.” As Phil speaks, he pets Dan’s hair gently, the motion just as soothing as his words, if not more so.

Dan tries for a laugh, to assert that he’s being silly, overreacting, and is abjectly horrified when all that comes out are a few traitorous tears and half a sob. “Sorry, sorry,” he flounders, still trying to shrug it off. “I don’t know why- “

Phil regards him fondly. “Stop apologizing for everything.” Dan’s not sure when Phil’s hands came to cradle his head, but he falls into the steady, warm touch, trying to refocus. The only thing he seems to be able to refocus on, however, is Phil’s mouth.

‘Stop that,’ He chides himself sternly. ‘Now’s really not the moment. Tell him the important stuff, please.’

“So-“ Dan pauses himself when Phil sends him a look. With a sheepish shrug, Dan turns his eyes to look down at Phil’s shirt, which, upon inspection, Dan realizes is his own space cat t-shirt. He can’t help a tiny smile at the fact that Phil has, once again, stolen his clothes, so he just rolls his eyes. “I felt like a single parent,” Dan mutters finally, after several moments of silence have passed.

“Sorry?” Phil responds, as if he hadn’t heard.

Dan clears his throat. “The past few weeks. I um… I’ve gotten used to sort of being on my own with the twins, and I… It sort of feels like I’m doing it alone.” The admission burns his throat, and he can tell it takes Phil by surprise.

“Oh,” the older man says eloquently. “So, like… You were well serious about most of what you said, then, huh?” He sounds offended.

“No, no, not most of it. Just… That, really. I said things I didn’t mean, but it was because I was stressed about that in particular.” Dan shifts so that he’s no longer resting his head against Phil’s chest, instead looking up at him. “I didn’t mean any of the other stuff I said to you,” he says firmly, holding Phil’s gaze as he says it, “And I’m really, really sorry.”

Phil hums at this, seeming to consider it. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel that way,” he says, crushing Dan with sincerity. “I didn’t realize that was what it was like for you, to be the one here with them full time.”

Dan shrugs. “It’s not like I said anything about it sooner.”

“You should have.” Phil’s voice has a bit of an edge to it now, and suddenly Dan isn’t so sure that he’s as calm as he’d seemed.

“I’m sorry,” Dan says again, so softly. “But in my head, I just thought it was easier on both of us if I just kept doing it. I thought…” He inhales sharply as it really hits him why he’d been so reluctant to tell Phil. “I wanted to be able to say that I could do it without you. If, you know, you do change your mind or whatever… I wanna be able to say that I didn’t just completely fail, you know?”

Phil leans away from him then, a hurt expression on his face. “Do you want to do this on your own? Is that… Please tell me that’s not what you’re saying, Dan.” His voice wavers, and Dan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“No! God, no. Fuck, no. Okay, no, I completely didn’t say that right. No, Phil. I don’t want to do this alone. I-“ his voice cracks, embarrassingly, and he quickly ducks his head down, pressing his face against Phil’s chest. He feels Phil stiffen underneath him, and it occurs to him that Phil probably would appreciate an explanation rather than cuddles right now. With a deep breath, Dan sits up, putting space between them.

“Care to elaborate, then?” Phil deadpans, looking confused, and a little annoyed.

Dan nods quickly. “I don’t want you to change your mind. I’d… I don’t know what I’d do if you did, but I’d really rather that you didn’t, okay? I just want to be prepared if you do, and I guess I felt like taking the majority of the responsibilities with the kids would just give me more practice. But, I don’t know, I guess since it’s been a couple months since they came to live with us, I’ve just realized that maybe… Maybe you’re not going to change your mind,” he breathes, struggling not to sound too hopeful.

He knows he’s failed just by the shift in Phil’s expression, emotion flooding over his face. “Come here, idiot,” he mumbles affectionately. Dan complies easily, scooting closer and allowing Phil to wrap his arms around his shoulders. “I’m not going anywhere. So, you can loosen the reigns a little, and give me some credit. I may not be around them as much as you are, but,” Phil shrugs then, as if he isn’t sure he wants to elaborate. “I’m good at things too, you know. Not always the same things you’re good at, especially with the kids, but I’m not entirely useless.”

“I know-“ Dan begins to protest, but Phil just shakes his head.

“I wasn’t finished,” he reprimands gently. Dan immediately shuts his mouth. They’d been seriously lacking communication recently, he’d let Phil talk as much as he damn well pleased now. “I know I can’t take over everything that you do, but I can do things to help out, you know. Like, there are things I can do to make the load a little more even between us. We just need to figure out how to even it out. Together.”

Dan nods slowly, his cheeks heating up at the phrasing. Unfortunately, this circumstance was not anything like the dreams he’d once had about he and Phil’s future, so that little part of Dan needed to take a seat.

“I have a suggestion, as a starting point,” Dan whispers into Phil’s shirt a few moments later, when the silence has become too much for him to bear.

“Yeah?” Phil asks, petting Dan’s curls.

Dan chews on his bottom lip for a moment, tilting his head to the side to do so, allowing his cheek to press to Phil’s chest instead. Before he speaks, he feels a swipe of a finger against his lips. He glances up at Phil with wide eyes, having parted his lips at the feeling.

Phil’s face is closer than he’d realized, and his gaze is trained on Dan’s lips, a frown stretching across Phil’s own. “Quit chewing on your lips, you’re ruining them,” he chastises.

His face burning with embarrassment, Dan mutters something about it not mattering since he wasn’t using them for anything anyway. Phil dutifully ignores this. “My suggestion,” Dan diverts the conversation back to that, causing Phil to raise his eyebrows patiently. “I’d like it if you got up with us in the mornings. So, you know… We can have like breakfast together and stuff. You know. All of us.” He didn’t want to come right out and say it, but ever since he’d found out they’d be fostering two children right at the start, he’d imagined lots of family meals, and his heart just thrummed every time he thought about it.

“Sure,” Phil agrees easily, his hand coming up to brush Dan’s hair up off his forehead. Phil had a certain penchant for touching Dan’s hair, and tonight it seemed especially prominent. “I’m usually awake anyway, so that doesn’t sound too bad.”

Then, Dan’s definitely confused, because he knows that Phil is never up before he is. “No, you aren’t. You’re always still in bed when I leave with the kids.” Dan wouldn’t push the issue, but he’s almost certain he’s right about this. And if he’s not, Phil is certainly getting better at acting like he’s asleep.

“Well, I mean maybe not every morning,” Phil concedes. Dan smiles triumphantly, but his victory is short-lived. “But typically, most mornings, I’m awake after you start getting ready. I can hear you singing in the shower almost every morning, so I usually stay awake until you’re out of our room entirely, then I sleep until my alarm goes off,” Phil admits sheepishly, looking a little embarrassed to admit it.

Dan’s surprised, and also a little mortified that Phil hears his horrible attempts at singing in the mornings. Rather than apologize or try to joke about it, Dan immediately denies it. “I don’t… I do not sing in the shower!”

Phil grins at him. “Yes, you do,” he says gleefully. “You were singing Celine Dion this morning. It was actually kind of lovely, you’re getting much better.”

Now Dan’s positive his face is flaming. Huffing, he rolls over, turning away from Phil. “Shut up!” He whines, inexplicably embarrassed. Phil had heard him sing a thousand times, but something about the fact that he’d just admitted to actively listening made Dan’s stomach churn nervously.

Without warning, Dan feels a warm body pressed against his back. He squeaks, but that doesn’t stop Phil from tossing his arm over Dan’s waist. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you, Bear. I won’t say anything else about your concerts anymore.”

Dan groans, hearing the smile in Phil’s voice. “Actually shut up, unless you want to sleep on the couch.”

Phil’s arms wind tighter around Dan, his breath coming out as a laugh against the back of Dan’s neck. “No!” He protests through his giggles. “I wanna sleep in here with you. I’ll behave, I promise.”

Dan ignores how coupley this feels in favor for elbowing Phil. “You’re crushing- my lungs,” he gasps, exaggerating his plight.

Another soft laugh, but Phil eventually gets settled so that they’re both comfortable in their cuddling position. It’d been occurring more often lately, this intertwined sleeping thing, but they typically weren’t so obvious about how they ended up in that position. Tonight, Phil didn’t seem to care to show affection, or to show that he wanted it, either.

Not that Dan minded, of course. He was perfectly fine with this. Cool as a cucumber.

“So, wake me up in the morning, yeah? If I don’t wake up on my own. I’ll make breakfast if you want, or help the kids get ready, or whatever you want me to do.” Phil promises from behind him, his voice low in their close proximity.

Dan tries to nod but stops himself in fear of smacking Phil in the face with his head. “Alright,” he says instead. “That’d be lovely, thank you.” He’s already slightly drifting off, but he’s almost positive he feels a pair of lips press to the base of his neck.

“Okay. We’ll sort out the rest tomorrow. Night, Bear.” Phil sounds just on the verge of sleep himself, unsurprisingly. They’d had quite a busy day, after all.

“Night,” Dan echoes before falling into a dreamless sleep.

~~~

School starts back mid-September, and by then, Dan and Phil had gotten into a routine with the kids. Dan still took them to work with him on the days that he worked, which increased the closer they got to the beginning of the academic year, but Phil had been consistently waking up to be with them in the mornings. Sometimes, he’d even silence Dan’s alarm and allow him to sleep in some while he got up and made breakfast and started getting the kids ready for the day. Dan especially enjoyed those days.

But now the beginning of school was on the horizon, and the house was a flurry of buying school supplies and sorting out schedules. With the kids in school, it would be much easier to take care of them, as they’d only have to watch them before and after school, as opposed to watching them while trying to work. He was beyond relieved for this, but also a little nervous, on the twins’ behalf. Starting at a new school was always scary, no matter how old you were, so he was more than a little worried about how they might adjust.

So, in an effort to minimize the grievances they might have about starting at a new school, Dan had spoiled them a bit when it came to buying their school supplies. Phil had been a little less than amused.

“Daniel,” Phil had called from the kitchen, sounding confused but also annoyed.

Cringing, Dan stood and opened the door to the office, leaning out the door and looking across their lounge to where Phil stood, staring at the array of shopping bags in bewilderment. “Oh, hi. Welcome home, babe.” The pet name slipped out without his conscious permission, but Phil didn’t seem phased by that.

No, his focus was still on the shopping bags. “What are these?” He asked, gesturing at them with a quirked eyebrow.

Dan pursed his lips, staring at the bags contemplatively. “They look like shopping bags,” he said, shrugging innocently.

Phil settled him with a deadpan look. “Clearly. But what do they contain? You went school shopping, yeah?”

Dan pretended to be surprised. “Oh, yeah! Yes, we did. That’s school supplies.” He nodded, as if that answers Phil’s question completely.

As he starts to pull the office door closed, Phil protested. “Dan! What-“ he rifled through the bag nearest to him, pulling out a pencil box with a look of confusion on his face. “What is this?”

Biting his lip, Dan shrugged. “A dinosaur pencil case?” he offered.

Phil stared at him. “A dinosaur pencil case,” he repeated. Dan nodded, and Phil returned to rifling through the bags. He huffed and pulled out several different things. “Crayons, colored pencils, and markers? What the hell do they need all three for?” He demanded.

“For art class! They need different mediums to choose from to cultivate their artistic side!” Dan had explained hurriedly. He just hoped Phil stopped looking or else he’d find- oh no.

Out of one of the smallest bags on the table, Phil had pulled out Dan’s proudest purchase from the day’s shopping. He had known that it was a little silly, and that Phil would likely be a little annoyed, but he couldn’t help himself. They were just so cute!

Evidently, Phil doesn’t share this sentiment. He had stared at the boxes closely, his eyes not leaving them as he spoke. “Dan,” he’d said carefully. “What the hell are these?”

Dan chewed on his lip, contemplating not answering at all. “Mini first aid kits?” He finally responded when Phil’s gaze met his.

Phil let out a deep sigh through his nose. “And why the hell,” he paused. “Would our six-year-olds,” another pause. “Need them?”

After a brief pause, Dan answered. “They might, um… need a plaster?”

Sighing, Phil had put them back on the table and turned to face Dan with an unamused stare, crossing his arms. Dan couldn’t help but walk over to him, holding up the first aid kit so he could look at the back.

“Look, Phil,” he’d said in a sweet voice. “They have Trolls plasters. Trolls. I couldn’t just not get them.”

Phil had stared at him, his lips in a straight line. “You could have bought them a single pack of Trolls plasters,” he deadpanned.

Dan had shaken his head, holding them closer. “But not these Trolls plasters.”

After a brief stare-off, Phil had rolled his eyes and raised his hands in defeat. “Whatever, I don’t care. I said I’d let you do the school shopping. You did the school shopping.” He shrugged, tugging the box out of Dan’s hand and tossing it to the table before stepping closer and wrapping his arms around his waist. Dan had been a little surprised, but he’d hugged him back, resting his chin against Phil’s shoulder. Phil sighed, squeezing gently before pulling away a bit. “Wait, I gave you my card to go shopping.”

Panicked, Dan tugged himself closer to Phil, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah, you know, it’s fine, they have everything they need for school now, so-“

Phil twisted around to look at the bags on the table. “How much did you spend, Dan?”

“Let’s not- what do you want to do for dinner?”

~~~

A few days later, Phil had a day off work, and it just so happened that it was on a day that Dan really needed to go into work and help Louise with some administrative things. Despite the fact that they’d been sharing the load a whole lot more lately, Dan hadn’t left the twins alone with Phil for more than an hour or two. He was looking at probably a span of six hours that he’d be at work, leaving Phil to keep the children alive all by himself. To say that he was nervous was an understatement.

“And they have their snacks and everything downstairs, but make sure you don’t let them have too many before dinner. The first aid kit should be in the bathroom, under the sink. Oh, and make sure you-” Dan’s instructions are interrupted by a heavy sigh from beside him.

He glares at Phil, who’s giving him a bored look from where he’s sat on the sofa. “Dan, honestly, you need to just relax. Everything is fine, I promise. I’ve got this.” He smiles then, clearly trying to be reassuring.

Dan wrings his hands anxiously. “Are you sure? I can- I can take them with me if you’re not sure. I don’t mind, and actually yeah, let’s-”

“Daniel, if you finish that sentence with anything other than a cheerful goodbye, I might have to smother you with a bath towel.”

A little startled, Dan glances at Phil, chewing his lip contemplatively. “Goodbye?” He says, although it comes out as a question.

Phil rolls his eyes before standing up, moving over to gently push Dan in the direction of the stairs. “Yes, goodbye, see you later. Be safe driving, I promise you we’ll be perfectly fine here. I’ll text you every hour and let you know how things are going, but if you don’t leave now, Louise might actually murder you when you get there.”

Dan allows himself to be guided to the stairs, sighing deeply in defeat. “Every half hour?” He suggests hopefully.

Phil settles him with a clearly unamused look. “Every hour,” he reiterates.

“Fine,” Dan huffs. “But you better not kill my kids,” he says playfully, stopping and turning just enough to grin at Phil.

The older man rolls his eyes. “Our kids,” he shoots back before leaning in and pecking Dan’s cheek. “Go, goodbye, you’ve got things to do, I have children to spoil.”

“Do not fill them with sugar, Philip Lester.”

Phil sticks his tongue out at him as Dan starts down the stairs. “You’re not the boss of me, Howell. You’re just a co-manager.”

“I’ll co-manage your mum,” Dan calls, grinning when he can hear Phil sputter, clearly offended. “Bye, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“That doesn’t give me very many options, Dan!”

“Shut up!”

#phan #phanfiction #foster parent au #foster parent #bbc producer!phil #school counselor!dan #parent!phan #parent!au #friends to lovers #best friends #bed sharing #fake relationship #fluff #light angst #comfort #arguing

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manchestereyes · 6 years ago

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proved us right (when you proved them wrong)

summary: Dan arrives home from Pride, but Phil isn’t the only one waiting for him.

rating: G

word count: 1.7k

Read on ao3

Dan is still riding his high, ears ringing softly from the force of all the screaming when he walks through the door.

“Dan? Is that you?”

The sound of his name brings a practiced smile to his lips, a smile that melts all over again when he sees who it’s coming from.

Behind his eyes, a kaleidoscope of rainbow and glitter and pure delight plays before him. But it’s the massive multicolored balloons and streamers and sparkles (so many sparkles) exploding throughout the lounge that truly makes his heart burst.

It’s all Dan can do not to scream with laughter and run straight towards Phil, falling into his arms and allowing himself to appreciate this normalcy.

But then, from behind the balloons--

“CONGRATULATIONS, DAN!!!”

Face after beaming face pops out at him and through his tears, Dan almost doesn’t recognize everyone. A Gaga song booms out from somewhere in front of him, garnering some whoops from the tiny crowd.

He should’ve known. Of course Phil would do this. Of course he knew the best way to stave off the overwhelming ache that came with falling back to earth after a day spent in the fluffiest, most glorious clouds. Dan could kiss him right now--yes, even in front of all these people.

To nobody’s surprise, Bryony is the first to tackle him in a massive bear hug. Pink and purple hair tickles his chin and the exposed chest above his v-neck but Dan couldn’t give less of a fuck. He can feel her shaking against him and once she finally pulls away, isn’t at all shocked to find tear tracks cutting through her glittery cheeks.

With her simple white t shirt tucked into a pink, purple and blue skirt flowing down to her knees, she’s never looked more like a unicorn. And Dan adores her for that.

“Mate, I’m so fucking proud of you. I can’t--I don’t even have words.” Her voice, choked with tears, makes Dan want to pull her into another hug but he stops himself before he can shed any more sequins.

“It’s all thanks to your support, you know.” He means that. Cheesy as it is, he’s not sure he could’ve ever done this without her. Or anyone else in this room.

She just smacks his arm with a “Don’t make me cry again, Howell,” before grabbing a plastic cup from Phil with a grateful smile.

Phil then catches Dan’s eye with the softest of grins and Dan’s just about to reach out and thank him when two brunette heads of curls come bounding into his field of vision.

“Holy shit, you guys came out here for this? You really didn’t have to--”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, my friend.” PJ pulls Dan in for a friendly pat on the back, his nails sparkling in the light. Sophie’s the next to hug him, the rainbow fringe from her crop top swaying back and forth as she bounces on her toes.

“Goddddd Dan, I can’t even tell you how thrilled I was, scrolling through my phone all day!” she squeals. “How long has this even been, like ...ten years? Eleven, twelve, fifteen years in the making?”

“Too long,” Dan sighs, once she lets go. “But also in a weird way, it feels right on time?”

“As it should,” PJ says, just as a sharp ping! draws his eyes back down to his phone.

Across the room, Dan waves to Martyn and Cornelia, crossing over in two large strides to throw his arms around them both. Martyn’s drink sloshes in his hand and Cornelia sways to the beat against him, her musical laughter filling Dan’s chest with warmth. They’re all wearing huge grins and Dan can’t stop himself from gawking at Cornelia’s bright rainbow halter dress.

“Holy shit, Corn, you look like a walking pride flag in that thing. Where did you even find that?”

“You like it?” She does a twirl, crimson red curls bouncing all around. “I found it online like a year ago, knew it would be perfect for celebrating my brothers in law!”

Dan rolls his eyes, but on the inside, he’s glowing.

He barely has time to process this all, though, as two incredibly familiar faces appearing a bit out of place in the back corner catch his eye, and Dan’s heart stops for a moment.

The rational side of him says this shouldn’t be such a shock, that he should be grateful they came anyway--and he is, of course. Yet there’s still a part of him that clams up in fear, seeing them in this context.

Yet despite all that, he takes a deep breath, pushes that fear to the side, and offers them both a shaky smile.

“My, Daniel, your Phil sure knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he?” Nana winks before folding her arms around him. It’s not nearly as enveloping as her hugs were when Dan was a child, but it’s warm and soft and lovely all the same.

To his surprise, Dan’s grinning ear to ear when he lets go. “Wow, Mum, Nana, I--thank you guys so much for coming, you know, you totally didn’t have to--”

“What, you think I’d miss my oldest son finally living free and embracing his whole truth? Are you mad?” But his mum is laughing, the pure joy in her face nearly too much for Dan to handle.

Hell, all of this is too much to handle. Almost. It burns in Dan’s chest and behind his eyes and goddamnit, he’s close to tears again and now he has to suck in a long breath through his nose and focus on a green balloon for a few moments.

“You have heard from Adrian, yes?” Mum asks, drawing Dan back to the moment. “Because I know things aren’t amazing with you guys, but--”

“Hey don’t worry, he texted early this afternoon. It was...really nice, actually.” Dan smiles at the words now stamped in his memory. It’s not like he needed approval from his little brother who was always better than him in every way but, well...it’s nice to have that acceptance and support. He needed that today.

Still, did he really have to worry? Of course he’s had all these people by his side all along. And so so so many more, some of whom he got to say hi to today and countless others who were just faces behind screens, their comments and tweets littered with hearts and exclamation marks and rainbow emojis.

He knows in the back of his mind that support is unconditional. Yet he can’t bring himself to believe this, no matter how often he’s reminded of it.

Perks of being the annoying kid, he supposes.

Then the Gaga song fades into Brockhampton and Dan can feel his limbs loosening already. Blessedly, the smiles come just as easy as the tears, if not easier.

It isn’t until everyone’s left that he finally gets a moment with Phil. They were both so occupied at the party, but Dan doesn’t mind. In fact, he far prefers for this moment to be all theirs.

“Hey, thank you for this. So much. You know, I think this was exactly what I needed after all that craziness,” Dan says, running his finger along the rainbow glitter sprinkled on the coffee table.

Phil shoots him a huge smile as he snatches up all the drinks. “Of course. I can’t take all the credit, though. This was actually your mum’s idea.”

Dan can feel his eyes bugging out at that. “Wait, seriously? I have to thank her, oh god, do you think she’s even up?”

Phil reaches across the coffee table to slap Dan’s hand away from his pocket. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. She said your happiness today was thanks enough. She and your nana just had to see you after such a historical day.”

“Oh shut up, it’s not historical, it’s--”

“Were you the one on Twitter today, Daniel? This was seriously monumental.”

“I--was it really?” For the first time that day, it hits him how little time he spent on his phone. Yeah, he was texting Phil every chance he could, but that doesn’t count as using his phone. He’d barely had a chance to scroll through his mentions or even see what else was going on in the world. Maybe that’s why he felt so free.

“It was. Just don’t let it get to your head.” Phil smirks at him, and Dan makes a face.

There’s a layer of love underneath it, though, as there always is where Phil’s concerned.

The music’s been off for a while now, but Dan sways to the beat stuck in his head anyway. He eventually catches Phil’s eye, and that grin is so soft and sweet and wonderful that Dan just has to pull him in, tucking his head into Phil’s shoulder as they dance to a song only in their heads.

In the back of Dan’s mind, that inevitable heaviness is creeping in, but it’s not so bad this time. Maybe because all the buildup was just as great as the real thing.

He remembers with a smile the hours and hours spent on this very floor last night, a rainbow of sequins spread before him as Phil’s dumb jokes and comments had Dan shaking so hard with laughter he almost couldn’t finish the jacket. Eventually he did, way too late of course, and Phil had wrapped him up in the biggest, happiest hug.

The anticipation may have fizzled by now, but in every other way, this moment feels exactly the same.

And just like last night, he disregards the mess (that’s something post-coffee Dan and Phil can deal with) and dances with Phil all the way back to the bedroom.

Of course he’s grateful for all the love and support he experienced today and the euphoria that came from it, more than any of those people will ever know. But at the end of the day, these secret moments, the time that belongs to only him and Phil, is what he lives for.

Well, actually…

He thinks back to the parade, how much joy he’d experienced in those moments, how he’d felt more Dan than he had in a long time. How the people he was once so terrified of were now the ones he ran over to so gleefully (and thankfully), how they’ve now become an extended family of sorts. How beyond incredible that all felt.

How he knew instantly he just had to experience it again, in whatever way he could.

Come to think of it, maybe now he can live for both.

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic #phan fluff #pride #family #introspection #claire writes

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themiscyra1983 · 5 years ago

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The Elephant In The Room

Let me preface all this by saying I do not have time for assholes. If you come at me with insults and contempt, I will block you.

The other day on Twitter I said the Harry Potter books aren’t good. I said this to a friend but I guess some people just keep an eye out for whatever Harry Potter shit pops up on Twitter and/or the algorithm just likes to spit in people’s eyes because hoooo boy people saw and lost their minds. I blocked two people over it because they decided to be assholes, and had a somewhat terse conversation with someone who was more politely insistent before going, finally, “I’m glad you find joy in something I no longer care for” and putting an end to the conversation.

It’s no particular secret that I’m in the fandom, and prior to J.K. Rowling going full, ‘no plausible deniability here’ transphobe, I’d bought my share of official merch. Frankly I should have stopped that sooner, but it took getting figuratively slapped in the face multiple times before I finally admitted Rowling’s ignorance carried a distinct air of willfulness and malice. Anyway I still HAVE the stuff I bought before, the Ravenclaw crap, the wands I was collecting (no more of that, I fear, though I’d hoped to pick up Tonks and Ginny’s wands at least before I brought an end to it), the Ravenclaw goblet I was gifted from a friend who bought it before JKR passed the plausibly just clueless horizon. There is still much in the world that I love, but much of that love comes now from the creations of others, and I cannot in good conscience spend money in ways that directly benefit Rowling’s financial empire.

And the Harry Potter books are not, in my view, good books. I’ve felt that for a while now. I’ll go a step further: I think they’re dangerous stories to tell children; I think I would be uncomfortable reading them to any children I might have. They are not stories that should be viewed without a critical eye. I loved them as a teenager. I’ve grown more uncomfortable with them - and, as with Twilight, far more comfortable with how critically thinking fans have transformed the work - as time has passed.

This actually has very little to do with the fact that, well...Rowling is not the best writer. Listen. I’m a Power Rangers fan. I’ve watched every incarnation of Star Trek, and every single movie. I have no problem with trashy fiction. You will find me rooting around in the garbage with the finest raccoons. But that is part of it, yes; there are flaws in the craft of it, and I don’t feel that, inherently, we needn’t judge children’s fiction by adult standards. I would argue that the very BEST children’s fiction is also excellent by adult standards. But this is the least of my concerns.

Here are my actual concerns.

Rowling wants credit for declaring Dumbledore gay after the fact, for saying Hogwarts is a safe space for all students in ways not reinforced (and in fact actively contradicted) by the text, for cheering the fan-created same-sex marriage of Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, but she doesn’t want to take the creative risks that go along with that. When she had the opportunity, with the Fantastic Beasts movies, to make that subtext text, she and her cronies outright declined it. At every opportunity she has shied away from actually putting her high-minded ideas to the page. This is a cowardly choice at best.

Further, Dumbledore’s only canonical love interest (and it is not clear whether the love was requited) was a pretty fascist with whom he fell in, politically, for a time. I get it, we’ve all had crushes on terrible people. But this is literally his one and only love, requited or not, and after he defeats Grindelwald he is left to pine away for the remainder of his days. The one gay love story in the books - if you tilt your head, and squint, and accept Rowling’s word for it - is a tragic one that leaves one man in prison and another celibate and alone and, increasingly, a manipulative bastard who upholds the status quo.

There’s nothing wrong with a tragic love story. I’ve enjoyed quite a few. But when this - THIS - is what you hold up as a triumph of representation, in the absence of ANYTHING else...no. No cookies for you.

Let’s also talk about how I don’t feel Rowling wrote Dumbledore or approaches him with a critical eye. There is NO excuse for leaving a child in an abusive home. No, fuck your blood wards. You’re telling me that Albus Dumbledore - ALBUS DUMBLEDORE - could not devise protections better than leaving Harry with abusive relatives who despised him and everything he stood for? Then, too, when Dumbledore did intervene in Harry’s life, he did so with full knowledge that he was setting Harry up to be a sacrificial lamb, AND WITH THIS SPECIFIC END IN MIND. None of this is acceptable. Dumbledore is a fucking manipulative, abusive bastard who uses people and throws them away, and the fact that it WORKED OUT for Harry does not absolve him of his crimes.

Moving on, and bear in mind I’m still getting my steam up on this whole rant: Seamus Finnegan. Seamus Finnegan is the one canonically, obviously Irish character in the books, named quite stereotypically, but more importantly, in the books and movies, is shown to be interested in (a) liquor and (b) making things explode. He’s REALLY GOOD at making things explode. Do I need to explain why it’s problematic for the one Irish character to blow things up all the time? He also does this in defense of UK wizardry’s status quo, so, you know, even if you were all IRISH FREEDOM FIGHTER YEAH, I assure you he is not that guy.

There is an entire species of sapient magical creatures who exist solely to serve witches and wizards. Hogwarts is run on slave labor and most of the finest wizard families hold slaves. But it’s all right! Only one of them has ever, in the context of the books, wished to be emancipated, and everyone else views Dobby as a weirdo for wishing to be free, and paid for his labor. Dobby, incidentally, later lays down his life for the wizarding savior who tricked his master into freeing him. The only other emancipated house elf we see in the books, Winky, spends her time in a state of drunken depression, rendering her useless and scarcely capable even of caring for herself. She wished to remain enslaved, do you see, and was helpless without the benevolent guidance of her master.

There’s fan work that has tried to address this by exploring a mystically symbiotic relationship between house elves and wizards and witches, and yes, yes, J.K. Rowling is drawing on European folklore here, but let’s not give her credit, okay?

Goblins. Goblins! Goblins have a long history of being antisemitic stereotypes to begin with (hence why I have seen multiple Jews on Tumblr push back HARD on ‘goblincore’), but J.K. Rowling just...right. They’re short, ugly, have hooked noses, generally look like antisemitic cartoon figures. They are locked out of power but control all the wizarding world’s banking, and do so in very usurious ways, for example charging wizards to hold their money, etc. Now this might be an interesting commentary on how Jews have historically been oppressed and forced into fields that goyim felt themselves too ‘pure’ to work in, were it not for the fact that Rowling’s fantasy Jews LITERALLY AREN’T HUMAN, and more, ARE ACTUALLY GREEDY, CONNIVING, AND WILLING TO BETRAY YOU AGAINST THEIR OWN SELF-INTEREST FOR PERSONAL GAIN. FUCKING GOBLINS, MAN.

Then there’s the travesty of Magic in North America, which disrespected the intelligence of Native Americans (none of them figured out you could point a stick at something to make the magic go until white people showed up to help, apparently, but don’t worry, they’re really CLOSE TO NATURE and GOOD AT NATURAL MAGIC), disrespected the beliefs of specific peoples (no, skinwalkers aren’t just misunderstood shapechanging wizards and witches smeared by the greedy and ignorant, you’re whitesplaining actual mythology to the people who hold it sacred), made the ONE wizarding school in America white with an appropriated Native veneer, and generally just...Did Not Get America. As bad as the UK Wizarding World is, Rowling demonstrated complete IGNORANCE regarding the long history of what we now call North America, ignorance of even modern American culture (there’s a reason why American fans particularly tend to ignore the idea that wizardry is locked down tight behind a wall of secrecy here), ignorance and disrespect toward Native populations, and an unwillingness to do the research necessary to do this shit right.

There’s more. There’s blood purity, and gender politics, and Severus Snape’s portrayal, and all kinds of shit that grates, and I’m just tired.

Writers make mistakes. it happens. But Rowling does not recognize her mistakes. She does not seek to make amends. She just barrels on with her shitty opinions, regardless of who she hurts.

it is at the point where I am no longer even willing to thank her for graciously allowing us to play in her sandbox. We don’t need her blessing; the OTW has done far more for fanfic than she has. And it is, indeed, beginning to grate on me that people constantly try to apply Harry Potter metaphors to real life and real politics. As my friend Doc often says, find another book.

I love butterbeer (or at least the knockoffs available outside the Universal parks), I still read fanfic sometimes, I still like to play with ideas like the Harry Potter movies as performed by Muppets, with Dan Radcliffe as Snape and Tom Felton as Lucius. I’m glad the movies brought us a generation of actors, mentored by performers like Alan Rickman and Maggie Smith and so many others, who have gone on to bigger and better things. Much of my merch is packed away, but I still hold on to some of it because it has new meaning for me in light of fanwork, or because (in the case of my Ravenclaw hat and scarf) it’s warm, winters here are cold, I don’t want to buy new shit, leave me alone.

I am accustomed to seeing fans turn trash into treasure. I’ve tried to do it myself. But I feel, quite strongly, that the original text in this case is trash. it is radioactive, stinky trash. You won’t persuade me otherwise, and I’m done apologizing for it. If Rowling wants me to respect her and her work again, she’ll have to earn it, but I’m very trans and she low-key hates my kind, so even if I weren’t a random reader I wouldn’t be holding my breath.

And I really, really need to emphasize to you all that it is okay if people don’t like a given work of fiction. It is okay if people HATE that piece of fiction. You don’t need to change the minds of everyone around you. You absolutely will not succeed in doing so. Please, I’m begging you, make peace with that - and please, I’m begging you, even if you like something, try to consider it critically.

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fauvester · 6 years ago

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thanks to @soundwavereporting for encouraging me to Write my Humankaiju Rodorah Truth

Rodan swam into the waking world way past when he usually got up for work. He had a moment of panic, thinking his alarm didn’t go off, but then he remembered – weekend, Saturday morning. He’d been out Friday night, a one-man celebration of finally getting his grades from his Master’s program back, finally.

Tasted sour. His mouth. Gross. He swallowed thickly and cracked his eyes open.

His studio was bleary and bright. Someone must have opened the shades; he had a new basement apartment and liked to keep them closed to deter anyone from looking in. Hey, he’d gone home from MI with someone, hadn’t he?

Oh, yeah. That explained it. He rubbed his eyes vigorously and squinted, looking up. The other side of his bed was empty, but from behind the hastily erected folding screen that separated it from the living area he could hear someone moving around.

Last night – he’d gotten the email after almost six months of negotiating with the Dean’s office while he was still at work, checking his phone waiting on his COSY to autoresolve (old-ass software they were using. No manches.) He’d actually jumped up and whooped in excitement, which would have been embarrassing if anyone besides Ques was there.

He’d texted Goji and Mothra to see if they wanted to go get something to eat in celebration, but the latter said she had plans and the former rarely had her phone on her and didn’t respond. Anguirus was visiting family, and Rodan wouldn’t stoop to hanging out with Baragon if he was the last guy on Earth. So he clocked out and went down the street to Monster Island Bar alone.

His lab building was only a couple miles from the center of Monsuta, on the other side of it from the beach. He could get everywhere on foot or on his motorbike.

So with an extra spring in his step he’d locked his bike underneath the streetlamp outside the bar and headed in for a drink. He hadn’t had a chance to go out since the incident with his old apartment; between the thrill and razor’s edge of fear watching the old place burn to the slow and excruciating process of getting arrested, thrown in a holding cell for a weekend and then told that he was getting let off, he’d been sort of on edge for the past few weeks.

“Relax, ‘dan,” Goji said when she picked him up from the Correctional Facility, clapping a broad hand on his shoulder. “You got off this time when you could’ve been in jail for the rest of your life. People like us don’t get chances like this. Enjoy it.”

He couldn’t, though. He was still taut as a live wire. How did he slip through the cracks? He’d had a lapse of judgment. The place he’d lived for years was being sold out from under him to some foreign developers who’d rip it up and turn it into luxury condos and price Monsutans out of it with impunity, and damn it, Rodan wasn’t going to let that happen.

Having access to the chemical components of any commonly used explosive substance was definitely a job bonus at his lab. Not like Ques cared enough to keep inventory of anything. She was too busy being bitter and feeling sorry for herself.

So his old place had burned – exploded, actually – and Rodan was caught, of course, because who else, and then someone had decided to let him go.

He knew how things worked around here. Someone did him a favor, and now something was expected of him. He owed someone a debt, someone powerful, and he didn’t like not knowing who it was, or what they might conceivably ask of him.

It just made him jumpy.

So anyways – he’d decided to go out that Friday to loosen up after a very confusing and challenging couple of weeks, throw down a few beers.

He’d got himself the cheapest bottle MI carried, his usual, and nursed it in the middle of the bar as the other patrons trickled in for their usual Friday libations. MI was what Mothra would call ‘homey’; there was pool, if you cared to challenge Battra; the tvs weren’t too loud that you couldn’t hear the 80s music channel; you could sit on the patio if you didn’t mind that the whole place was a wrought-iron tetanus ward waiting to be established. When Rodan was alone he mostly liked to drink in silence and futz with the candles at the bar. His new basement apartment was an absolute dustpan and he wasn’t in any hurry to get back there.

The bartender’d tapped him on the shoulder and he’d spun around, thinking that he’d fucked something up, but she handed him a glass of something clear and beautifully garnished instead.

“From the guy at the end of the counter,” she said. “It’s the best we have on shelf.”

He looked, not caring about subtlety. There was a guy at the end of the bar, ensconced in a corner and half in the shadow, leaning against the wall like a shadow himself. He had a phone in his hand, scrolling slowly, and he was looking over at Rodan with a practiced and incredibly precise casualness. Damn, he was good looking. Not his usual type, given, but tall and sharp and sort of weird looking in the face but in a very Fancy Model way. In the warm electric lights Rodan saw his eyes glint.

And he was looking at Rodan. With the slightest smile, an it’s-there-if-you-want-it-to-be smile, looking appraisingly, like he was evaluating Rodan and didn’t find him wanting. He stopped scrolling, clicked off his phone, keeping their eyes locked, and cocked an eyebrow. Are you coming over?

Rodan took a sip. Expensive tequila. So the guy didn’t just have good taste in clothes. The stranger watched him. Rodan licked his lips, tasting salt and mellow cool alcohol, and then brought the glass a half dozen seats over to sit next to the man who bought it for him.

Rodan, in the present, internally curled up and kicked his feet with glee at the memory. He’d picked up plenty of people at bars back in the day, but he was rusty in that department now. Besides, he was used to being the initiator in those relationships. It felt nice to be attended to, and the guy – Kevin, was it? Kyle? – had attended to him in every conceivable way that evening, and then later that night.

He was Scandanavian, here for work, he hadn’t had a chance to visit the famous beach yet but he was looking forward to it, he liked his drinks on the rocks. He had shoulder-length blond hair but he wore it up; his lips were a little too wide for his aristocratic face but that made it interesting enough to look at. He had long, slender fingers and he knew how to use them. He had a tattoo of a dragon on his hip. He spoke Spanish, among other languages, and liked classic metal too.

Rodan, in the present, rolled up to sit. No hangover, thankfully, just tired. He reached under the bed and grabbed an undershirt, pulling it on as he stood up and knocked at the screen. It felt silly, but he didn’t want to intrude if Kevin was still there. God, he hadn’t had a one night stand in a while, this was excrutiating.

“Hey, are you still there?”

A moment. “Your shower doesn’t have a curtain, you know this, yes?”

“Oh, yeah. Haven’t had time to unpack it. Sorry.”

A chuckle. “No, I’m sorry for waking you up so early. My body tells me I’m a morning person, my head doesn’t agree, though.” God, that accent! On the other side of the divider, Rodan found Kevin in his little kitchenette. To his embarrassment, his houseguest was washing his dishes, dressed only in Rodan’s almost knee-length sweatpants and his mother’s laundry apron.

“Oh shit, don’t worry about that! I swore I washed them yesterday, you really don’t have to, dude.”

“Not at all, I made pancakes and thought I should clean up afterwards. As a thanks for letting me stay over!” Kevin smiled brightly at him. God, he should really make sure his name was Kevin.

He looked damn good in just Rodan’s sweats and apron.

“Pancakes?”

“And coffee. Your machine was making noises – I found a press, though.”

“Where? Did you take apart my entire kitchen?”

“Ech, I’ve been up for a while. I didn’t want to leave you without seeing you though. I thought it would be rude.”

“Most people would’ve left a note and dipped. I’m used to it.”

“Well, if you didn’t want to see me, at least now you have pancakes, so it is a net-gain, yes?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Rodan assured him. “It’s nice, I mean. I’m glad you stayed. Just not used to decency, I guess. And thanks for the pancakes.” Kevin dried his hands, finished, and Rodan pulled him against himself by the waistband of his pants. He barely came up to the man’s shoulders.

Rodan looked up and Kevin smiled down at him, then ducked down and gave him a quick, dry kiss that Rodan felt through his whole body like a little sparkly shockwave. His body remembered last night.

Something on the other side of the room buzzed. Rodan smacked his own ass on instinct even though he wasn’t wearing pants with back pockets and Kevin pulled off his apron and scrambled around to the couch, where he’d left his coat the day before.

He fished his iphone out of his pocket and answered it in an unintelligible language. His tone started light and easy but went flat and businesslike as the conversation went on. Rodan helped himself to some pancakes, deciding to eat them rolled up with his fingers and dipped in butter as he listened to the waterlike vowels and slurred consonants from the living room.

Kevin hung up, pursing his lips. “That was my work partner. I have a conference call in a little bit to prepare for, so I’m going to head out.”

“On a Saturday?”

“It’s still Friday over where those partners are.”

“Huh, wow. Your place is really global, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and growing bigger all the time.” He smiled beatifically and gestured to Rodan’s room.

“Yeah. What did you say you did again?” Rodan asked as Kevin pulled on his clothes.

The Scandanavian smiled at him, snapping his brilliant gold hair into a bun. “Oh, it’s all very vague. Financial analytics, insurance. Some international shipping. Real estate.”

His tone was light and pleasant but something in the air between them felt suddenly strange and heavy. They looked at each other over the bar of Rodan’s kitchenette, the scientist and the stranger and the chemistry between them.

Kevin stood up, breaking the moment, and gently took Rodan around the waist. “I put my number on your bedside table,” he said. “I will be here for a few weeks, perhaps; if you’d like to spend some time together, call me. I’d love to.”

Rodan reached up and traced a thumb over his high cheekbones, the corner of his mouth. His washed-out-blue eyes followed, amused, and Rodan pulled him in for another deeper kiss.

“Okay, fine, I guess I can call you,” he said after they broke apart. “But you’ve set the bar pretty high this time. I’m going to expect a continental breakfast.”

“Oh, no, next time we are staying with me, where there are shower curtains,” Kevin said, and kissed Rodan on the top of his mssed-up head. “And I look forward to it.”

Later on, a few miles away, Sander calls his brother back.

“How long does it take to case a place so small?” Richard groans in Danish.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” San says, running his hand over his face where he swore he could still feel Rodan’s thumb. “Besides, he has just moved in, he doesn’t have any useful papers out. I think Ni will have to find them online.”

“Mmh.” That was Niels, on the conference call.

“He’s an interesting one, though. I think he’ll be worth our time.”

“Ech, I don’t care about that, I just care about how much of a problem he’s going to be for us.”

“If the big construction worker won’t keep him in line, then I can keep him busy,” San responds. “I think you’d like him. He’s fun.”

“Nobody fun lives in a ground floor apartment,” Ni again.

And then the line devolved into a discussion of the apartment complex on the street over from the one that Rodan had burnt down and San started the car again, heading back for their penthouse downtown.

He felt good about this city, this project. The last few had left him cold. He wondered if he’d lost his spark for their game - it had felt scarily mechanical. They’d been going through the motions, town after town, breaking down and rebuilding rotely while checking their watches. But this time…

He thought of the little firestarter, his bright dark eyes and his scarred hands, his quick confident tone and the quiet little noises he made. Maybe he’d found his spark again.

#godzilla tag #humankaiju #i hope this sort of makes sense if it doesnt i dont give a hoot though #i just wanted to put something down and disgorge my ideas #but i have SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT HUMANKAIJU RODORAH.......#San gave Rodan a fake name for kicks #so Rodan still thinks his name is Kevin lol #San is like Yes... An American Name........... Kevin #rodans apartment shenanigans (c) Sa

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