#I'm doing better than last week physically though so I'll finally be able to return to the place where I go to be a productive human yayyy

[doubleedgemode]

super shitty mspaint doodle to check if I still got it in regards to drawing with just a mouse. The answer is no, and my hand hurts.

She started to run out of hair dye.

[nevermindirah]

🎁 🍬 🤔 🎨

🍬 Do you write for multiple fandoms? If yes, what is your favorite fic of yours for each fandom?

I do! Overwhelmingly TOG these past few years but I may still write more MCU here or there. My very favorite of my MCU fics is the one I'm afraid I may never write: Eartha Grit, in which Sam Wilson is a drag queen. How the hell to choose between my TOG babies I have no idea, so I'll pick one on impulse: every shutter click I wish was a kiss. We really knocked it out of the park with that one 🙏

🤔 Would you ever want to write something canon if you got the opportunity?

I have no desire to face any of the stresses of professional fiction writing, and I don't think that's where my skills are at, but I would leap at the chance to contribute to the story outlining that would result in Daisy Johnson officially returning to the MCU. They should've put her in The Marvels! She would have such interesting relationships with Monica and Kamala especially!! But since they didn't go this route I'm sure I can find other fun and exciting ways to get her on movie screens. Kevin Feige don't call me just accept my emails pls and thank <3

🎨 If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

I would die of joy and come right back screaming with delight if someone made fanart of my work. Two very different scenes pop immediately to mind. One: the moment in Wouf Wouf when Nile is enjoying a gentle wake-up cuddle with her wolfy bestie and its following moment where all of a sudden a very hot very naked human man is halfway pinning her to the bed. Two: Olympic gold medalist Nile and her hockey player doing something cute, like for example trying out a pairs skating lift. ok also Three: anything from every shutter click I wish was a kiss >:)

🎁 Have a piece of a WIP you want to share?

saving the best for last. have TWO snippets! <333333333

(fanfic writer asks!)

Meeka/Vincent

It has now been fully three days since Meeka has had a proper workout. This trip was supposed to include at least a little light mountain climbing! Snow is still piling up and at this rate she doubts she’ll get to do more than snowshoe a few meters to the airport taxi when it’s finally safe to leave the cabin.

Her circuit between her bedroom, the kitchen, and the far side of the living room with its cozy fireplace is laughably inadequate exercise. The lack of better options is starting to make her physically itch.

The summit organizers are doing their level best to continue with the planned events over video conference, but some of the delegates aren’t showing the same commitment to the summit’s success, and some of the unplanned moments of an in-person meeting that get people to see each other’s humanity across political difference are simply impossible to recreate online. Meeka is finding each session more frustrating than the last.

She was able to keep her one-on-ones with the principals from Haiti, Brazil, Bangladesh, and Vietnam, all of which went well, and she’s going to have an exciting follow-up call when she gets home with the leaders of Vietnam’s solar program. Both Egypt and Mexico had to cancel on her due to tension headaches from all the unexpected screen time. A video call from home in a week or two is just as good as a video call from nearby cabins they can’t leave on this frozen mountain, or perhaps better, without the frustration of cabin fever.

Last night’s video happy hour with some of her friends and their friends and a handful of new allies was decently amusing! Though a good portion of it was spent ragging on France, which brought one of the largest delegations to this trainwreck and yet had not a single representative at that afternoon’s Francophone countries roundtable discussion. Extraordinarily disrespectful.

Meeka declined invitations to social events tonight. Eye strain hasn’t gotten to her, thankfully, but her temper can only take so much frustration. She needs a break from screens. She needs to move.

When she logs off after the last of the day’s sessions and leaves her bedroom, she finds Vincent on the floor with Mila.

Sugar Daddy AU

(this is a rougher draft prose-wise but the vibes are there!)

“Boys, this is my friend Nile I’ve told you about.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Nile,” says Philippe.

Jean Pierre says a quiet hi but his lip is trembling. As they move into the living room and Booker offers Nile a glass of water, JP bursts into tears. Booker scoops up JP to comfort him, murmurs all kinds of reassurances. Philippe goes and gets Nile a glass of water.

Nile’s heart melts for this kid. She was only a year older than him when her dad was wounded in action and she recognizes the turmoil behind the responsible-kid exterior.

Nile asks him about his pottery and they talk about that for a little bit while Booker sees to JP. When things are starting to calm down, she tells Philippe that he was very brave and responsible tonight, reassures him that Dad’s home now and you can relax, it’s all going to be ok. Booker of course overhears this and melts over how great Nile is.

They’d had snacks at Astra’s party but ended up leaving before eating a real dinner, and the boys hadn’t eaten yet either when Joe started having trouble breathing, so now everybody’s hungry. Before either of the adults can really think through logistics or say the should-say things like “I can call you a car to the MARC station” or “I should probably leave y’all to it”, Philippe asks if Nile is going to stay for dinner.

“Yeah, Papa, can she?” JP adds. “We could watch a movie!”

The boys egg each other on about yeah! Let’s watch a movie! Booker sets the oven to preheat then asks if he can talk to Nile for a moment in the other room.

“I’m sorry to just invite myself over like this,” Nile says. “I should—”

“If you’d rather not stay I could—”

They both trail off and look at each other.

“What’s for dinner?” Nile asks.

Booker looks down, sheepish. “Pizza casserole.”

“I bet it’s delicious. You wouldn’t mind if I stayed?”

“If you want to stay, you’re very welcome.”

[inkofamethyst]

September 2, 2023

The worst part about all of this (and there are a lot of things I'm down about) is that I can't really even listen to the music that I used to use to calm me down. Austin Wintory's Abzu OST used to be a nearly foolproof fifty-seven minute ride into less anxiety. Comfort music. But now, after vgm was half of my personality for the last two years, it reminds me a lot of what I'm leaving behind (and can never return to). It hurts more than it helps.

I am officially moved in. There are a lot of things that could have gone better or smoother, but this is my first time moving into a non-school-affiliated place, so I'm giving myself grace (and praying that the electric company doesn't turn off our electricity this weekend so we can get that business sorted at open of business next week [edit: sorted!]).

Despite "being moved in" there's still a lot to do. I have to figure out what I'm going to eat tomorrow. And so much more.

I was really stressed out a lot of this week. I'll likely do a more positive recap of the week later, but. I cried on the way to the airport because I was just so overwhelmed by nerves. I had to fight the tears in the airport and on the plane because the TSA lady told me they wouldn't let me on the plane if I seemed too anxious. I felt better after the plane landed. I felt amazing when my parents arrived after a long day's drive (with a ton of my stuff in tow to move in). I started feeling anxious again this morning when it hit that they'd have to leave and I'd be alone again, but this time for twelve weeks and not just a few days. This whole day I've been slipping in and out of anxiety with the anticipation of their eventual departure. My episodes became more frequent as the time drew nearer. They did manage to soothe me enough for me to let them leave, but I'm still a really big bundle of nerves right now. I'm not even sure if I'll be able to sleep well tonight.

I know they're just a phone call away. But the physical distance and time span just seem so huge. And the pressure of where I am and what I'm doing and what this means for me and my family. It is decidedly not imposter syndrome, not now at least. It is most certainly a fear of the unknown.

Today I'm thankful for my parents. I'm thankful that they love me. I'm thankful for their help these past few days. I'm thankful that I can turn to them whenever for whatever. I'm thankful that they were willing to stay in my room with me until I gathered up enough courage to let them go. I'm thankful for their patience. I'm thankful that they know me. I'm thankful that they pay attention. I'm thankful for their support.

I'm also thankful that moving in went well. I'm thankful that I seem to have a solid roommate (who also has caring parents).

I've already decided that I'm going to have a countdown to when I go back home as a widget on my notion. I may not need it by the end of twelve weeks, but for now it may bring some comfort.

Ha, it's been a long time since I've written an entry while crying, it feels like. Down and anxious? Sure, often enough. Snotty and tearful? Feels like it hasn't been since senior year of high school (though I'm sure that can't be true). I don't feel that paralysis though, not really. Like yeah it's been several hours since I've eaten so I feel a little weak, but I know what I want to accomplish before school starts in a few days which certainly isn't a bad sign.

Tonight though? Bathe, change, bed, content. And, for my grand finale, nerves willing, sleep.

[kiridarling]

𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

request | Can I have royalty au (soon to be king bakugou) (and soon to be queen reader) , katsuki and reader are supposed to be getting married (not to eachother) but they end up sneaking around and doing IT with eachother so top!kats , exhibition , begging , dumbification and spanking THANK YOU💞💞

this lovely request was submitted for the kissing booth event (the rest of the drabbles come out soon, ahem :)) so, if this was your request, um...hAHA whoops.

katsuki bakugou | f!reader, royalty!au, infidelity, nondescript!fiancés, angst (gasp), fingering, exhibitionism, dumbification + more! minors dni!

— 3.7k words

“C'mon, princess...can I make you feel good once last time?

You're getting married.

No more ignorance is bliss, no more I didn't know any better—this is when you put all your childish antics to the side and fucking woman up, now in charge of the safety of your kingdom and its inhabitants and whatnot. So yes, you must snuff all your adolescent tendencies, and that includes sleeping with the Crowned Prince of the neighboring kingdom behind your fiancé's backs.

But, boys are stubborn. And stupid.

Ding ding ding!

"Excuse me, Everyone!" Your fiancé announces to the crowd in your dining room as he stumbles to his feet, spoon clinking against his glass. He nearly trips, but no one sees except yourself. "I would like to make a toast."

You frown. This wasn't a part of the rehearsal dinner.

"First of all, I would like to thank you all for being able to be with us tonight," he says, shoving the glass higher in the air. As red wine splashes over the rim, you think to remind him that isn't a toast, it's the beginning of a speech, but your comments have rarely deterred the man in the past. "As you’re all aware, this marriage is vital. Not only for our kingdom, but for the neighboring kingdom as well."

Your fiancé regards the Bakugou’s with a lift of his chalice. In the coming weeks, two arranged marriages will melt the four most influential kingdoms into two, and your fiancé and his family had the genius to throw a massive Gala to celebrate it. You wouldn’t be surprised if they got off to the idea of stretching themselves so thin their hair falls out at age thirty; they won’t even allow you to choose the type of dress for your wedding.

"I would also like to thank my lovely, lovely wife, for just being so... lovely.” Your fiancé chuckles, accompanied by an uncomfortable massage to your shoulder. The guests find amusement in how whipped he is as he gazes your way expectantly, conceivably wishing to see you swoon at the compliment. All you give him is a blank face. His elation falters.

"You know, when I first met this woman, I knew she was going to be the love of my life," your fiancé shakes your glare off. You purposely block out the rest of his story in favor of folding and unfolding your napkin again, puffing under your breath at the cheesy comment.

"Sap," you grunt to yourself, obviously. You don't expect anyone to hear, but there's a snort to your right. Your eyes lift from your lap—and straight into Katsuki's smug blood red ones. He winks at you from across the table and your eyes roll at that, though there's a small smile playing on your face that's impossible to hide.

"Isn't that right [Y/N]!...[Y/N]?"

You blink yourself back to life, eyes reluctantly leaving Katuski's hypnotic ones for the pair that make you nauseous, "Oh—u-um, yep!"

The place bursts in laughter and there's even a little smile dancing on Katsuki's face. He catches you staring so your eyes divert to your lap, but his remain a physical force against you for the rest of the night.

*selene — the greek goddess of the moon

The balcony is much nicer than the ballroom.

For one, it's the farthest place you could have gone from the commotion, all the way on the opposite side of the castle. It's a solid five-minute walk when you aren't in heels and a heavy petticoat, but it provides a lovely view of your front yard, subjecting you to watch the early-sleepers leave in their carriages to call it a night. Meanwhile, *Selene watches you from her telescope the moon with a sigh and a sad smile, because she's the only one who knows how completely and utterly alone you will be.

You glare at her—the goddess doesn't waver.

Bitch.

It's no secret that Gala’s like these get overwhelming—especially when you're the center of attention. You see Lord Shinsou (Earl) stuff the eager Lord Kaminari (Baron) into his silver-plated carriage before looking around to ensure no one saw, and blanche upon seeing your figure stood on the balcony. You salute so he knows his secret is safe with you, and relief washes over his face before he too hops into the carriage. What a scandal, you giggle.

Plenty of couples resign home after that; it makes you uneasy. You're unsure as to why, but you have the ever-increasing urge to nip at your fingernails until you don't have them anymore, and jamming the sharpest point of your heel into the concrete seems like the only proper way to release enough kinetic energy before you explode.

"He loves me."

He does, embarrassingly so—so what's the issue?

There isn't an issue; there shouldn't be. He reminds you how pretty you are and you compliment his influence. Neither of you are marrying down. You look good together. The kingdom's future power couple if you will, where you two supposedly mold the great future in your peculiarly young hands. There isn't an issue. You're the one for him, and he's the one for you.

The balcony door whines open. You don't turn around, praying whoever it is will see that it's occupied and turn the other cheek. Yet, the stomp of whoever's boots only grow louder until you’re adjacent to a shadow of a being, his chin lifted towards the stars. You catch a glimpse of blond hair, though dyed a pale white by the silver moon, and you two stand in a strangely comfortable silence, watching carriages roll out of your driveway.

The silence doesn’t last for long, though. It never does.

"D’ya always go disappearing like that?"

You frown. "What?"

"I don't fuckin' know," Katsuki grumbles—he has yet to look at you. Seems like Selene captures more than one person's attention tonight. "Blinked and you were gone."

Your frown only deepens, and you return your attention to the courtyard. "I didn't know you were paying attention."

The ash-blond presses his forearms against the railing for support. "I wasn't. He was."

Oh.

"Said he wants you to come back, so," Katsuki clicks his tongue, carmine red eyes finally flicking your way through the darkness. You don’t dare look at him. “You run off often, or what?"

"Tell him I'll come back in a second," you sigh, balancing your face in your hand. Katsuki says nothing, but he doesn't leave, and you hate that you don't mind.

Until he points towards a couple crossing the lawn and says, "Oi, that's the Duke from my fiancé's kingdom. Fucker tried to poison my dad for the throne—straightened him out real quick.”

"Why are you talking to me?" You snap like a cornered animal. Katsuki lifts an eyebrow.

"What? I can't have a goddamn conversation?"

"I—" your chest rises and falls with a reason to why he can't, but you can only come up with one—and you don't want to think about it.

"Listen. I don't like these things either, alright?" He huffs defensively, so defensively that you have to take a step back. "If I have the opportunity to get some fresh air, I'm gonna fuckin' take it."

You shrug, supposing it makes you one and the same. The wind blows, not harsh, but harsh enough to ruffle your gown, and make the gold jewelry decorating Katsuki's tunic jingle.

“So. I guess this is it, ain’t it?”

You sigh, “Katsuki, you know we—“

"Yeah yeah, that's all you fuckin' say," he growls bitterly, and you blink in a poor attempt to find where the animosity came from. His face twists in an ugly way as he sits his hands on his hips, nose scrunched to mockingly pitch his voice that doesn't sound like yours at all. "We can't, we shouldn't—"

"Because we shouldn't!" You nearly shout, and Katsuki jumps from how quickly you raise your voice. "Because—because if we get caught, we're fucked. And I can't go to sleep terrified that I'll wake up to an exposé tomorrow morning and get beheaded by the afternoon. So...please. Just stop."

Katsuki clicks his tongue.

"You don't love that asshole."

Your throat feels tight—much too tight to be comfortable, and your chest rises and falls with disbelief as you search for the words before you can talk again, eyes never dropping from the stars. You've had this conversation, fuck, you have it too often; often enough to know that he would say those exact words, and enough to know precisely what you'll say in response.

"I love him, Katsuki."

"No, no you fuckin' don't," the ash-blond chucks a laugh and it's nothing short of acrid, his words eating away at your skin more than you'd like them to. You sigh, resting your forearms on the railing too.

"I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Always gotta be so goddamn emotionally unavailable, huh?" He growls, glare set on the mountains presented in front of you. You feel his suit jacket hit your freezing shoulders, unaware of the cool temperatures until you feel the cloth brush against goosebumps. It’s your turn to laugh bitterly.

“Careful. People might think we’re getting married to each other.”

“One day you’ll let me fuckin’ live,” he grunts, and your eyes meet for the first time. His usual red is dyed a deep purple by the moonlight, their usual hardness traded for something much softer. “Can’t even give you a jacket when you’re shivering like a goddamn leaf in the wind.”

You give him a look of utter exhaustion because you’re tired—tired of all this running around and hiding, the secrecy. It eats at your insides like a caterpillar does a leaf, knowing that you go to sleep every night to a man who’ll barely touch you, but at the same time, feeling guilty that you don’t need nor want him to.

“Why are you here?”

Katsuki clicks his tongue. His warm body settles behind yours, close enough to feel the warmth but not close enough to feel him. “You looked lonely.”

“I thought my fiancé told you to get me?” You ask, raising a suspicious eyebrow. Katsuki rolls his eyes, his arms settling on both sides of yours.

“He did. But I didn’t refuse the damn request either.”

“You saw my loneliness all the way from the ballroom. What an eyesight,” you scoff. Katsuki’s eyes narrow, but it’s clear he’s fighting a grin because you’re a little shit who loves giving him a hard time. The ash-blond’s chest rises and falls, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

“You know what I mean.”

You snort, tilting your head to the right. You suppose you do.

“And I’m marrying a bitch,” he adds to his list of grievances, his hands finding yours to gently play with your fingers. You nod in agreement. A bitch she is.

“And...I’m really going to fuckin’ miss you.”

It might as well pass for nothing but a breath, eyes trained on your held hands. His chest suspends like he has more to say, but his teeth tear at the inside of his cheek before he can. “I—fuck, I get it, okay? I’m a selfish asshole—“

“This doesn’t have to do wit—“

“And I really, really need to get my fuckin’ priorities straight. I mean, they are, just not in the way they should be.”

“Hey,” you chastise, shaking his hands for his attention. “You can’t control who you love, okay?"

Katsuki grumbles at that but you refuse, turning around to look him in the eyes.

"And neither can I.”

You let go of his hands in favor of pulling him down via his cheeks and giving him a big fat kiss on the lips. It’s peckish and brief, but it’s sweet and gets your point across. It's comfortable.

“The hell was that for?” Katsuki asks once you pull away. Though you see him struggle to hide a grin, eyes squinting more than they should.

“Easy,” you say, stepping forwards (as if there’s any space for that), “You looked lonely.”

Katsuki snorts, dropping his head, “Bastard.”

“And I’m being married off to an asshole,” you lament, pulling his face so close to the point you’re sure the strain on his back has got to be anything but sexy. He accommodates anyways—Katsuki always has; and night seems to suspend along with his baited breath as he waits for the next line, eyes shining with a painful hope you’re about to confirm.

“And I’m really, really going to miss you,” you say, shaking your head at how utterly true that statement is. Fuck.

The vulnerability slowly fades from his eyes at that, and Katsuki hums, clammy hands finding their rightful place around your hips.

“You shouldn’t call him an asshole, you know,” he says, face inching so close you can smell the champagne on his breath. “He means well.”

“I didn’t know you cared,” you quip back, raising an eyebrow. Katsuki shrugs, and you don’t realize he’s backing you up until your back kisses the cool railing.

“Well. I can’t help but feel a little bad,” he says cheekily as he inches closer, “‘Cause I make you feel so good, don’t I, Princess? Last time I checked, better than he ever could.”

You scoff at his audacity though it’s all good-natured, eyes preferring the moon over his heated gaze as he turns you around to face the courtyard.

“Ah, ah,” he tuts, redirecting your attention using a finger on your jaw, “Eyes on me, Princess. You look really fuckin’ pretty under the stars, y’know.”

You snort at the compliment, rolling your eyes.

“‘M serious. A fuckin’ goddess,” he growls, leaving wet kisses up the column of your neck. Your breath hitches as he reaches your sweet spot and sucks, and you’re swatting him away before he can leave a mark.

“I sai—“

“One last time, Princess,” he bargains lowly as his hot hands slide their way from your waist to your breasts, taking their sweet time. Katsuki hooks his chin on your shoulder. “Lemme—Can I make you feel good one last time?”

You’re nodding with a whimper before you can berate yourself for being so fucking easy, the thought of not being able to indulge yourself with this, with him, any longer tosses any and all resistance out the window.

“Good,” Katsuki hums, tweaking your nipples through the bodice. “‘M gonna pay you back for being so good to me, yeah? For puttin' up with all my shit."

You scoff, mouth dropping to tell him you weren't putting up with his shit, but then a warm hand lands on your thigh—somehow, he's found a way under your dress. The hand slides up inner thigh and you feel Katsuki's chest shudder against your back as he finally reaches where you need him most.

"K-Kats—"

"Shhh, you don't want them to hear us, do you?" He grunts, pulling your panties to the side. You shiver from the change in temperature, watching another Duke and Duchess of half-drunkenly stumble into their carriages for the night, before there's a crack of a whip and hooves beat towards the exit. It's only a reminder of how painfully exposed you two are—one glance towards the balcony and any onlooker would know exactly what's happening. You hate it.

You hate that you don't.

"Atta girl," Katsuki purrs, groaning as he inserts a finger. You shiver, the weight of his being practically trapping you against the railing. "Always so fuckin' tight. I swear that asshole never fucks you right."

Katsuki's never been an impatient man and fills you with a second finger awfully fast, chuckling when you bite into the meat of your palm to hold back a whimper. His hips start to grind against the puff of your dress and he groans as quietly as he can, carelessly shoving down the sleeve of his suit jacket to bite into your shoulder.

You let out a broken moan much too loud for this time of night and it prompts Katsuki's free hand to stuff an equal amount of fingers into your mouth. "Y'know, something tells me you wanna get caught. You want the whole world to know how much you fuckin' hate that bastard, huh?"

You choke as Katsuki slides in a third digit next to the second, the slap of his palm against your pussy becoming nothing but obscene as your slick accentuates the sound. His hips speed up against your ass and that's enough friction to have the ash-blond groaning, along with the spit that drips down his forearm.

"So dirty for me, Princess," his hips stutter when you push back, tongue laving over the bite mark you'll probably have to conceal in the morning. Asshole. "You wanna cum like this, don't you? You're gonna cum all over my fingers in front of the entire royal court. Dumb little girl, can't even keep her mouth shut to keep us from gettin' caught."

You jam your heel into the balcony concrete so hard you positive it cracks before you're coming all over Katsuki's fingers, nearly choking on the ones in your mouth as you release the loudest broken moan you have that night. Katsuki's hips stutter against you and you're positive he's filling his boxers from the airy moan that follows, and his hand goes limp in your mouth before it slides out completely.

Your chests balloon in unison, his body draped over yours, and as you two catch your breath under the moonlight, you can’t help but think how much you’re going to miss this.

"Run away with me."

"I—" he does this. He always does this. He makes you feel on top of the world, acting like everything's fine, and then he pulls this shit on you. You look everywhere but him, nearly scoffing in disbelief. "Katsuki—"

"C'mon, Princess," Katsuki scrambles to flip you by the waist until your back is flush against the railing again and he’s cradling both your hands in his semi-damp ones. There’s a look in his eyes you don’t like, and it makes your chest burn. "Across the sea, people are movin’ over there and I—I know someone there, okay? Someone we could stay with, maybe help us get back on our feet an-and I found a fuckin’ ferry guy to take us across, and I can even pay him a little extra, o-or you, or—"

"Katsuki," you give him a sad smile, squeezing his hands tight. There's hope, too much hope in his eyes and it's fucking blinding. "Running away? I—this is—we have an obligation, we can't jus—"

"It'll be fine," he insists, stepping forwards and squeezing you back twice as hard. You sigh."I—the two kingdoms can merge or whatever the fuck they wanna do and then we'll be—"

"Katsuki."

"I—fuck Princess, I don't beg but goddammit, I'll do whatever you fuckin' want, get on my knees, I ca—"

"You really want to know what I want?"

Katsuki freezes. It's the first time you've ever seen some semblance of emotion in him that isn't anger or lust, with carmine red irises swimming in unshed tears—and fuck, you hate the sight. You want to shoot yourself in the fucking foot for what you’re about to do, but it’s for the best. It always is.

"Love her."

Katsuki looks at you, and his face drops, chest shuddering.

"I can't."

You drop his hands in favor of holding his face, thumbing at the hot tears running as they fall. God, Katsuki’s pretty—too pretty for his own good and he doesn’t even know it. His unsteady hands find themselves massaging your ribs and your foreheads knock together. "You need to try. Love her as much as you love me, yeah?"

"'S fuckin' impossible," Katsuki says with a wet snort, shaking his head with eyebrows raised. You giggle, throat impossibly tight.

"Almost, then? For me."

Katsuki’s red eyes stare at you through the darkness. You have half a mind to look the other way, but you figure you owe him this if nothing else, and as he lovingly absorbs your being under the moonlight for the last time, you really wish you could take your words back.

"I'll...fuck. Fine. I'll try." Katsuki resigns with a shrug, shaking his head. You two sniffle in unison and you suppress the strange urge to pinch him. "'M not gonna try to get over you, though. Sorry, not sorry."

You roll your eyes at that but it's all good-natured, followed by a choke you struggle to hide as his arms coil around your waist, "Then I won't either."

A genuine grin spreads across his face, and it’s borderline giddy—and a stark contrast against the waterworks. "She finally fuckin' admits it."

"Figured it was about time," you give him a wobbly smile before your eyes flicker to his, red blurring from being so close. Selene looks upon both of you with a reminiscent sigh.

"I love you, Katsuki Bakugou."

Katsuki sniffs before he laughs; it's wet, and near bitter, and he pulls you so close your face nearly shoves into his chest. "Fuck. Fuck, you're an asshole, you know that?"

"This is when you say it back," you bargain, squishing his cheeks. Katsuki presses his forehead deeper into yours.

"I love you too, Asshole."

He speaks with a softness you've never heard and it's like a gunshot to the heart, and as his lips inch closer to yours as your hands slide to thumb at his ears. One last kiss wouldn't hurt, would it?

Until there's a whistle and the click of footsteps. You and Katsuki jump a mile apart.

"Oh, [Y/N]! You're still out here in the cold?" Your fiancé asks with a raised eyebrow, but it seems like that's only an afterthought as he turns to Katsuki to say, "Your wife’s found the alcohol."

"Great," the ash-blond groans, understanding the translation—your fiancé is piss drunk in the ballroom.

"I do recommend you take her home. She's making quite a mess of the eclairs. And her face."

Katsuki heads inside without giving you a second glance, and your fiancé gives him a solid pat on the way in before turning to you halfway through the doorway, "Are you coming inside, Darling?"

"In a moment," you say with a smile. Your hand never leaves the railing. "Just getting some fresh air."

"Alrighty, then. I'll be in the bedroom. Waiting~" he winks, and with that, he's spinning on his heel, and you're alone with the moon again.

You watch Katsuki guide his inebriated fiancé into the carriage lovingly, with a smile on his face that isn't quite the one he wears with you but close enough, whispering whatever pleases her at the time with a chaste kiss on the cheek. You feel comfort in knowing that he has someone to love and someone to be loved by. He doesn't look your way—not once.

It's not until they drive away that you realize you still have his suit jacket draped over your shoulders. You don't doubt he did that on purpose, either.

Asshole.

[chaos-writes]

Spoiled! A Rikiya Yotsubashi x reader fic

Warnings: so basically the reader gets called "little one" a lot. Call it what you want, but it is not CG/L (at least the kink side of it. It is more or less the therapeutics of it). There is a lot of softness and tenderness, and there is a bath scene. Not s*xual, but a bath nonetheless. Slight angst. Lots of comfort. Reader has a job (anywhere, doesn't matter) and there are descriptions of physical pain. It is so comfortable and fluffy that I have literally fallen asleep writing it. Twice.

Word count: ~2k

"Hey Rikiya, I'm home!" He was sitting on his squishy armchair, in gym shorts and an undershirt, hair down and sleepily flipping through the newspaper. He turned to look at me and gave a lazy smile. "Hello, Little One." I just got home from a long day at work and could quite literally pass out. "My nerves are shot. I had such a bad day today." His smile faltered a little, concern beginning to nibble at his expression.

He gently laid the newspaper he was holding onto the coffee table in front of him and motioned for me to lay on the couch next to his armchair. He sat a soft pillow down on the end of the couch closest to him. I layed down on the leather couch and took a deep breath. He stroked my hair a few times before planting a kiss to my temple.

"I know how hard you have been working lately, my dear. I want you to understand that it won't go unnoticed by me. You deserve so much, Little One. Now... what can I do to help make you feel better?"

"I would love to just rest. I barely have any energy left and every customer that came by had such an attitude and my boss was so mean today and- and..." tears welled and bit the corners of my eyes hard as my voice began to crack. Rikiya slid off the armchair and kneeled by my side, turning me onto my side and hugging me ever so tightly.

He then pulled me up and sat on the couch, having me straddle his lap and wrap my arms around his neck. I was only able to get a small glimpse of the tears shining in the corners of his eyes before I was enveloped in a pair if strong arms and given a warm soft chest to rest my head and cry into.

He spoke softly into my hair, "It's all right, Sunshine. It's okay to cry. I want nothing more than to take all of that pain away from you." He went on and rocked side to side as I silently sobbed into the crook of his neck and sniffled. "You're allowed to have these big feelings and show that you're having them. You're allowed to take up space and express how you feel. Let it all out, darling. Everything is going to be okay."

He held me until I no longer sniffled, cooing at and comforting me. He continued to encourage me to relieve all my worries from my mind. After what felt like ages, I sat up and he carefully cradled my face in his hands. "Are you okay? Do you feel a little better now?" Rikiya's tears dried and stained his cheeks now. His eyes spoke a million words of sorrow and shined brighter than I have ever seen before. I reached up to wipe his cheeks as gently as I could and rested my hands on his chest as I spoke.

"Yeah. I feel better. I dont know what made me do that, normally I can handle it..."

"It's alright, Little One," He said. He caressed my arms and waist and spoke, "You were probably bottling it up without realizing. You know it's always okay to come to me to talk, alright?"

"Okay. I love you."

"I love you, too, baby. Let's get you something to eat. You must be so hungry after such a long day." My hands traveled from his chest to my stomach. It's true, I thought. I forgot to eat…

I climbed off of his lap as he sat up and unlocked his phone. He pulled up one of those food delivery apps and leaned closer to me. "What looks good? Ooh, I know! How about pho? I think some warm food is what you need."

"That sounds pretty good right now. Can we get seafood rolls too?"

"I was just about to ask if you wanted some. I love those things!" He giggled and smiled his dorky smile at me. I giggled back. He placed the order and typed in the information.

"You know we can split it, right, Rikiya?"

"Nonsense. Tonight is about you, Little One. Don't worry about money or having to pay for food. You've dealt with enough today." He kissed my forehead and closed his phone.

"What do you say we watch a movie while we wait for the food? Your pick." He turned on the TV and flipped through the subscriptions. "How about one of those Tim Burton movies you like?"

"Yeah! What about The Corpse Bride?"

"Of course Dear!" He smiled widely.

About a half hour later, our food arrived. He walked out the living room, answered the door and thanked the delivery person. He returned with two small bags, one for each of us.

I started to slide down the couch to sit at the table, but Rikiya stopped me. He grabbed a cushion from underneath the table and took my hand in his. He gently helped me down onto the cushion and set up my food for me.

We ate silently with the movie playing in the background. I noticed in my peripheral vision that Rikiya was smiling to himself and looking at me every time I paid more attention to the TV rather than my food. 

He started to play with my cheeks and hair and smiled. He gingerly kissed my cheek and. I giggled and quickly dipped my finger in the warm broth. I swiped it onto the tip of his nose and we laughed. 

After a few moments of silence, he grabbed onto my hand and gave a reassuring squeeze. In that moment I knew I was going to be okay.

I ate slowly and savored every bite and slurp of those noodles. They felt so wonderful finally filling up my empty stomach and they warmed me right up. I have never felt so relaxed. 

As the end credits rolled around, I started to pick up all of the trash left on the table and collected it in one of the takeout bags it all came in. I hummed along with the soundtrack of the credits and wasn't aware of my surroundings in the slightest. 

I heard Rikiya get up from the table and felt his warmth as he sat himself behind me so that I sat between his legs. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me into a warm and comforting embrace. He nuzzled into the crook of my neck and pressed small, gentle kisses to my jaw and shoulder. I reached over and started rubbing and patting the side of his leg. 

We sat in a comfortable silence as the movie finally finished and embraced each other for a while. I leaned back into Rikiya. "Rikiya?" 

"Yes, Little One?"

"I'm starting to hurt again. The food and everything was able to distract me but now I need to actually relieve the pain..." 

"I have an idea. I'll run a warm bath for you and set up your favorite aromatherapy things. Does lavender sound good, Darling?"

"That sounds wonderful, Rikiya." I gave him a sleepy smile.

He helped me up slowly and sat me down on the couch. He grabbed a blanket off the armchair and draped it over me to keep me warm while he handled everything. He kissed my head ever so gently and got to work, walking to the bathroom and setting everything up. 

Rikiya laid everything out on the counter so it was reachable from the bathtub. Lavender and cedarwood lotion, gentle shampoo, conditioner, lavender bubble bath, and rosehip and lavender candles. He grabbed some fresh extra-soft towels out of the closet and prepared them to be thrown in the dryer about halfway through the bath. He poured the bubble bath, lit the candles, finished running the bath and dimmed the lights. It was sunset, so it was still light enough to be able to navigate the bathroom and the different products.

I was laying on the couch, dozing off, when I felt a pair of hands on my blanket. Then, one was interlocking beneath my knees and the other around my back. I lazily opened my eyes and looked up at my carrier. He cooed at me and smiled. 

"So precious, my Sunshine."

I yawned and reached up to pet his cheeks while we were on our way to the bathroom. Soon enough, he stepped through the doorway of the bathroom and gently and slowly stood me up on my feet. 

Rikiya held onto my arms gently and spoke earnestly, "If you're okay with it, I'd like to stay in here with you to make sure you get to relax fully. The last thing you need is to worry about washing. You're in pain." 

"Okay. No funny business, though," I giggled. He smiled and shook his head. "No. No funny business. I just want you to relax. You had a hard week as it is." 

I undressed and got ready to get into the bathtub. Rikiya grabbed my hand and helped me down into the warm, inviting bath. I slid down and took a deep breath. "Perfect. You're such a wonderful being. So precious, so valuable, you're worth it all Little One... everything."

"You have no idea how good of a boyfriend you are, Rikiya."

He… winced?

He spoke carefully, "Thank you, I really do appreciate that. But something just isn't quite right with the term… boyfriend."

"Oh… did you have something else in mind, then?"

"What about 'partner'?" He smiled and caressed my cheek gently.

"That's fine. As long as we're both comfortable, I guess." I played with the bubbles and swiped some on his hand. He laughed and we both fell into a comfortable, sleepy silence. 

He grabbed the stack of soft towels he put out earlier and ran them to the dryer. He came back as quickly as he left and went back to kneeling next to me.

"Alright," he said, reaching for the different bottles. "Time to start washing."

He grabbed a cup, filled it, and began wetting my hair with the water. He filled the palm of his hand with some shampoo and gently lathered and massaged it through my scalp. He smiled and kissed my forehead. He tilted my head back and poured the warm water over my hair to rinse, continuing to massage in between pours.

He cleaned my hair completely of suds and oil and went to work on conditioning. He gently combed the conditioner through and worked it into my hair before rinsing throroughly. Rikiya then grabbed a wash rag and rubbed some moisturizing body wash into it. He rubbed my arms and legs and back, and continued washing me to his standard of cleanliness.

I continued to play with the bubbles and talk to Rikiya as the water cooled down from how long the bath had been.

"You're spoiling me, Rikiya," I said, petting his hair and caressing his cheek and neck.

"Well, that makes two of us, then. I feel so spoiled just being around you." He smiled and lifted the drain plug. I smiled and yawned. "Let's get you dried off and in some warm pajamas, okay?

"Okay."

After he dried me off with a warm towel and pulled on my pajamas, he guided me along and walked me to bed, which has been made, and complete with a cup of chamomile tea and heating pad waiting for me. He picked me up and gently laid me down. He pulled the fluffy blankets over me, tucked me in, and kissed my forehead.

Rikiya turned on the lamp and turned the bedroom lights off. He tugged off his undershirt and gently climbed into bed by my side. "I love you so much darling. You are my world."

"I love you too, Rikiya."

[poormeowmeowcollector]

First Kiss, But Not On The Lips

Pair: Tony/ace!Loki (platonic)

Warnings: mentions of insomnia, nightmares, panic attack, isolation and alcohol.

Notes: Basically, the idiots in love trope is my favourite. Tony is a bi mess, Loki doesn't care about a thing (or cares about too many things), Thor is a himbo and Steve is trying. Also, yes, Loki has the ace ring (and a pride flag in his room) and he legally cannot sit like a normal person. And Steve lost the bet because he didn't expect Tony to find out about his crush on Loki within a month.

Read on AO3

"You know what, I get it. We all deserve second chances and blah blah blah, but can't Loki redeem his name on another solar system? What about Jötunnheim? He did a genocide there too!" Tony argues. At least he moves past the redeem part.

"I told you they would not accept me," Loki sighs at Thor, trying to appear stoic. But Tony sees the disappointment in him. Because he knows how to spot it in the mirror.

"Fine, he can stay for a month as a testing period. But if he causes trouble, he's gone," Steve decides. He loves speaking out the decisions even though no one will disagree.

And Thor smiles widely and hugs his brother. But Tony can still see the disappointment in Loki.

~~~

Sleeping is hard while knowing he's in the same building. Tony expected it, but it's still annoying.

"You know he was a victim too, why are you so afraid?" He asks himself but no answer is given.

He knows he won't be able to sleep, and there is a broken suit waiting for him in the lab.

Well, if he's about to pull an all nighter, he better be productive.

~~~

Tony had gotten his all nighter on a schedule. He would wait until Steve is asleep, go to the lab, and return to his bed only one hour before Steve wakes up. Of course and they all noticed his dark circles and moodiness, but he would blame nightmares and get away with it. Not that he was lying.

And, apparently, Tony is not the only one with sleeping issues.

Thor was claiming that Gods don't need sleep or nutrition. But Thor is also a sleeper and eats every time like it's his last time. But Loki doesn't. He barely touches whatever food is placed in front of him or drinks a little water and he looks more sleep deprived than Tony. But no one has the guts to say to a thousand years old powerful cranky god to go sleep or to eat, not even Thor.

And he doesn't talk. It's been days since his voice was heard. Thor doesn't like it, but the few times he mentioned it or tried to get Loki to speak or take part in a talk, he only got a glare. And Tony still doesn't know how Thor still makes Loki even get out of his room.

~~~

Once again, Tony is working on a new suit, during his favourite inhuman hours. Because two things come out at 3am, the devil and Tony Stark.

But the first dude is not helping Tony with the non functioning leg that's driving him insane.

"It's not going to work," Someone comments from the lab's door. Who the hell is up that late?

"Excuse me?" Tony turns around, only to face Loki leaning against the door frame.

"Remaking the joint to resemble a human's is not going to work. You need less strength and more flexibility, probably even another material," Loki explains, staring at Tony. He makes a small nod. Loki then straightens himself and walks closer.

"You know about mechanical engineering?" Tony asks.

"Science, magic, it's all the same on Asgard… and I happen to be the Master of Magic, and therefore…" He trails off, something sad blooming in his eyes. Homesickness, Tony recognises with ease.

"Alright, so, how do you think we'll make it work?" Tony asks, a grin on his face. But instead of answering, Loki just lifts his sleeves and grabs a wrench.

Tony watches as Loki plays with the machine—he looks more like he plays than like he's repairing something—and uses his magic to change the elements on the materials, green glows appearing and disappearing. And, after the five minutes it took him, the leg is perfect.

"Wow…" Tony whistles. Loki grins and sits on the working table, spinning the wrench on his fingers.

"It will probably last for a millennium or two," He shrugs, like it's something easy. And Tony is more impressed.

And they go on with the suit, finishing it before it's time for Tony to go and pretend he's sleeping. And Tony would use this time.

"Well, I didn't know you're good at engineering," Tony trails off. Loki shrugs in response, again sitting on the table with his legs in lotus position.

"You never asked,"

"Yeah, sorry about that. You are just too…" He suddenly can't find the word.

"Cold?" Loki asks, raising his eyebrows at Tony.

"Reserved is how I would phrase it, actually," Tony responds, making Loki hum.

"You know what, nevermind. I'm asking now. What do you like? What don't you like? Just rumble about things," He decides, big brown eyes staring at Loki. And he responds with another shrug.

"I don't know… it is quite late, so I'll probably head to my bed. Good morning, Stark," He jumps up and leaves, before Tony can even think of stopping him.

Right, he's just waiting for people to ask…

"So… Do you remember the rumble offer? Cause it still stands," Tony eyes Loki. And Loki responds with a smile.

~~~

The next morning, Loki didn't appear. Thor explained that he crashed on the bed. And it must be the hell of a sleep because he got out of his room three days after. Again, while Tony was working on a suit.

"Hey, wanna help?" Tony yells at Loki as he walks outside of the lab. And Loki nods a yes and gets to work.

"Still not sleeping, Stark?" He asks, his smart eyes pinned on the helmet of the suit.

"No rest for the wicked," Tony smiles. Looks like he's more talkative now that he's fresh.

"Tell me about it…" He sighs. Then, he grunts a bit, probably gotten hit by some remaining electricity.

Tony hadn't noticed before how pretty Loki's smile is.

And Loki takes the opportunity and starts to talk. Tony learns a lot about Loki during the Great Rumble. Dandelions are his favourite flowers, thanks to the Æsir library he became an encyclopaedia of random fun facts (even took it far enough to share some), he's a cat person, he loves classical music or music without lyrics, and then he starts sharing some stories of him and Thor as kids.

But Tony notices other things too. He noticed that Loki's eyes seem to glow when he talks about things that make him happy, he moves his hands around, he has this cute little smile that makes his face shine. And when he talks fast, his Nordic accent slips out—just some trilled 'r's or some harder sounds—and he also has a stutter that slips out. And Tony finds all of those so beautiful, but he can't say it.

"Your turn," Loki says. And Tony freezes.

Because his mind is nothing but simping for Loki, right now.

"I… em… Ya know, I…" He mutters, trying to think of something. But, Goddamnit, those shining green eyes pinning on him and waiting are so distracting.

"I'm actually bisexual, but more attracted to women than men," He snaps, finally finding something. But what if Asgard is not so accepting? Earth is having issues with those things and those guys live in the middle ages.

"Oh, nice," Loki shrugs after noticing Tony's brief pause. And it's enough to relax Tony.

"And… Dammit, this is so hard… I like cheeseburgers?" He squirts. "I don't know, can't think of something right now… when something pops up, I'll let you know," He gives up and rubs his nose bridge.

"No worries, you're hot anyways,"

Loki grins after seeing how red Tony's face became. And Tony clears his throat in hope of containing himself somehow.

"Alrighty… How's the helmet going? Tony moves the subject away. He sees Loki short-circuiting for a long moment, before remembering what they are doing here and grabbing back the helmet.

"It won't let me fix it… whenever I try to do something to the source of the issue, I get striked," He answers.

"Have you tried plastic gloves?" Tony asks, not even looking up from the hand he's oiling.

"For the helmet?" Loki asks, his eyebrows furrowed at Tony.

"For your hands, you idiot!" Tony screams, his head snapping heavenwards. Why did he agree on this?

"Fine, fine… Norns, dauðlegir eru svo stuttir í skapi... —Norns, Mortals are so short tempered…" Loki mutters under his breath.

"You know JARVIS can translate from Old Norse to English, right?" Tony snaps.

Loki shrugs and leaps into the working table and walks across it with three big steps, jumping back down with grace and opening shelves to find the gloves.

"They won't fit," He yells at Tony.

"Whatcha mean they won't fit?" Tony yells back.

Loki jumps on the table again and ends right behind Tony.

"I mean, they won't fit. They're too small," He answers to Tony's ear. Tony has learned how much Loki loved climbing on furniture, so he just turns around instead of jumping around and cussing at the God.

"Come on… how big are your hands?" He asks. Loki grabs Tony's hand and places his palm against his own. Tony's fingers were beginning on Loki's second joints, his fingers long and thin. And Tony licks his lips, because he knows what big hands mean…

Stop being horny over deities, you idiot! It didn't end well with Jesus and it won't end well with this one too! The, usually silent, voice of reason reminds him.

"Maybe you can magic them into fitting…" He suggests. Loki nods and stretches the left glove with his right hand, a green light making it bigger as he slides his hand inside.

"Thank you, Stark…" He smiles and climbs back on the table, eyes pinned on the helmet as he's playing with the screwdriver. It's been two weeks since he came here, and he still uses only last names. But when Clint called him Odinson, Thor, Steve and the Hulk had to physically hold Loki from snapping the archer's neck. And no one dares to call him Laufeyson or even think about it.

"Hey," Tony snaps. Loki flinches at the sudden noise but composes himself right after. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare ya," Tony apologizes.

"It's fine… What do you want to ask?" Loki shrugs one shoulder, placing the helmet on his right and the screwdriver on his left.

"Why do you call everyone by their last name but don't want to be addressed as so?" He asks.

"I'm not anyone's friend, and first names feel too familiar for such a situation. And, I won't stay for a long time…" He answers, the livid glow in his eyes fading just so.

"And, your last name?"

"I don't have one…" He whispers, with what Tony recognises as shame in his voice. Tony frowns and walks closer, staying outside of Loki's personal space.

"But you're Thor's brother and he's an Odinson," He studied his words before speaking. The last thing he wants is to trigger Loki, even as an accident.

"On Asgard and Jötenheim, last names work differently. You choose the name of the parent who you are closest to and then add the -son, -dottir or -barn. But Odin and Laufey were not close at all, and Frigga could help but she chose to keep me at arm's reach. So, no last name…" Tony can see how Loki was trying hard not to show emotions, but he is so close to breaking.

"You know, with this logic, only Thor has a last name. Don't tell Steve, but Howard was a first class terrible father. Steve's dad abandoned him and his mother, after beating the poor woman. Clint's parents made him run away and go to the circus. Natasha was given her name in the Red Room, she doesn't know who her parents are. And Bruce's was violent too. The only people with decent parents are Thor and JARVIS." Tony should move the topic away, but he didn't. At least he tries to patch it up on the last bit.

"And Dum-E," Loki adds, with a barely visible smile. A fake one. Tony hears the robot's joints moving as he lifts his upper part.

"And Dum-E," Tony agrees with a smile, and the robot makes a few happy noises. Loki laughs.

"You know, he says he loves you," He turns to Tony.

"If that's so, he earned some nice oil," Tony grabs the oil and applies some to Dum-E's joint. It doesn't stop making those mechanic noises and when Tony is over, Loki's smiling at him from the table.

"He still says he loves me, right?" Tony asks. Loki makes a slight nod, not abandoning his small smile.

"And that you are the best dad," He adds. Tony laughs and pets Dum-E before heading back to the table. But he still won't get too close to Loki, he is very strict with his personal space.

Loki grabs back the helmet and starts poking it around with the tool, now ignoring Tony.

"So, you don't feel like talking, huh?" Tony asks.

"If you mean the topic you want to talk about, then no," Loki snaps, not raising his eyes. Tony nods, he knows better than invading Loki's personal space.

And Loki didn't open his mouth for the rest of the night. The next morning, he would pretend nothing happened, but Tony would see how something changed in him. How his eyes darkened and his face became colder.

~~~

The next night, Loki is even more grumpy. So, Tony avoids speaking, or making anything that has even the slightest chance to irritate him.

"You're scared of me…" Loki finally speaks, his voice soft like a whisper and his fingers playing with the black ring on his ring finger. Tony looks up from the metal glove he's making to stare at Loki.

"Should I be scared?" Tony asks, careful not to say the wrong words.

"You are too picky about what you do around me. Why not do that if not because you are scared?" He answers. And this is where Tony lets himself frown and talks without thinking.

"Maybe because I don't want to make you feel bad?" He lets his words come out without filters. And Loki raises his eyebrow at it.

"Well, you don't lie about it. But why are you so dedicated to this?" He narrows his eyes and crosses his hands, body leaning towards Tony.

And now, he can't answer. Why does he care so much? It's not that they're old friends like with Rhodey or ex-s but still friends like with Pepper. They're not even teammates. Loki said it himself, he will leave after the one month Steve gave him.

So, why does Tony care so much?

"Hmm, nice answer…" Loki snarls and looks away, playing again with the other hand of the suit.

"You're a cold son of a whore, you know that?" Tony spits, his eyes stabbing Loki. He now raises his glare again, but he looks more confused than before.

"I beg your pardon?" He blinks.

"I try to be decent towards you, okay? The reasons behind it don't matter. Could be fear, guilt, interest, it means jack. And you question me on how I dare be decent towards you and why and what I want from you! You know what, I have a question for you. Why can't you accept being treated as a normal person? Are you that messed up in the brain or you just love so much being alone and miserable?" Tony lets his thoughts come out as they are, not giving a care how much they will hurt Loki. But the moment he sees Loki's reaction, he regrets it.

The room gets cold enough for Tony to see his breathing. Loki leaves the tools and the metal hand beside him and locks his feet on a tight fatal position, his hands on his face and pulling some hair with enough strength to pull them out and his shoulders rising and falling too fast.

And Tony knows what this means… It means he messed up badly.

"Crap! Hey, buddy, I'm sorry. I didn't mean those things…" He sprints closer. Loki raises his hand towards him, a green glow erupting from it and sending Tony flying to the other side of the lab.

Loki mutters something to this in Old Norse, before jumping up and leaving, his feet shaking as he was trying to walk towards the exit. But he manages to vanish in the dark corridor anyways.

And this time, Tony definitely messed up the worst way possible.

~~~

For the next two weeks, Loki doesn't get out of his room. And it only makes the knot in Tony's stomach grow tighter. He asks Thor all the time how Loki is, if he eats, if he sleeps, if he needs something. It's a wonder Thor hasn't grown tired of the constant questioning. And the answer is always the same, "I don't know, he won't let me in,".

And if everyone on the tower has learned something about Loki, is that things are bad when he keeps Thor at arm's length.

Tony wants to go and check on Loki himself, but he bets his right hand that Loki will spit curses at him, and he has every right to do so. So, he has to settle down on annoying Thor and worrying with him.

"You know what? It's my fault," Tony admits to Thor the night before Loki leaves. And Thor furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

Tony explains everything that happened that night, and Thor smiles with sympathy and touches Tony's neck.

"You were right on your words, that's why Loki reacted like this. He doesn't want people to know too much about him… But he won't be mad at you." He answers.

"But, why do I care so much? We barely know each other…" Tony asks.

"Have you thought of love?" Thor suggest. Tony is about to smack Thor for saying something like this, but it makes sense.

"Do… you don't happen to know if he's queer, right?" Tony makes the big question.

"I know very few Æsir who are not your definition of queer, but Loki was never open about those things. You better ask him…" He shrugs.

Well, Thor has a point. But Tony can't exactly ask Loki what his sexuality is while he's like this. So, he better wait till it's time.

"Thank you, Point Break…" Tony pats Thor's back. And then, JARVIS yells at them that Steve wants everyone in the central room.

And there is everyone here, even Loki. Well, an emotionally drained and mentally exhausted Loki, but he's there.

"As you know, your month has passed…" Steve begins talking, his Captain Voice on. Loki nods and lowers his shoulders to appear smaller.

"I'll be on my way, then…" He mutters, voice low and breaking. Steve wants to smile, but Loki's reaction stops him.

"So, you don't want to be an Avenger?" He lets his Captain mask fall, eyeing Loki with worry. And every single one of the Avengers is now doing the same. Tony hadn't realised that this antisocial emo little God had become so popular.

Loki lets his lips make a smile so big Tony bets it hurts like hell.

"You mean I can stay?" He asks, his voice now louder and livid.

"Can't see a reason to kick you out," Steve smiles too.

And Loki drags him to a hug tight enough to break the poor soldier in half, smiling like a sunbeam and rumbling thank you again and again.

"Alright, can you let me breathe?" Steve wheezes. Loki makes a small oh sound and lets go of the hug.

"Sorry, Steve," He hums, not breaking eye contact.

"Steve? Where's the "Rogers"?" Clint asks, his eyebrows raised and his hands signing along even though he wears his hearing aids.

"Well, since I'm about to stay, there's no point in calling you with your last names, is there?" Loki shrugs.

"Alright, you know what we need? A party. Who's with me?" Tony claps his hands and yells, glad to see everyone agreeing.

~~~

Apparently, being an alien God makes you hold your liquor a lot. Tony knew about Steve, but he didn't expect those two to have this stamina as well.

But Thor has started losing his balance and yelling at everyone how much he loves them in Old Norse and Loki's accent and stutter are showing, but he is just sitting on the bar and watching over the chaos.

This is your chance. He's happy and drunk enough, what could possibly go wrong? Tony thinks and stumbles towards Loki before he sits on a tall stool.

"So, are you having fun?" He asks, smiling at Loki and sipping on his scotch. It's fine, he's done this countless times before and he can do it now.

"It's quite nice, yes…" Loki hums, now turning to face Tony.

"And, em… Sorry about the other night… It was too much, should have been midler on ya," Tony mumbles, trying not to lower his eyes and break eye contact. Loki makes a soft nod.

"It's fine, you don't have to apologize… And you were quite right about some things…" He gives Tony a small smile as he talks, making him relax his shoulders a bit a mouth a thank you.

"And I wanna tell you something… I also talked to Thor about it… And I think… No, I'm pretty sure I have a crush on you. And, that's why the care and stuff…" Tony rumbles, his eyes big as he searches for reaction. But Loki stays untouched.

"I am… flattered… But I'm also asexual," He breathes out, staring back at Tony for a reaction.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't want to make it uncomfortable…" Tony rushes to apologize. Couldn't he see the black wedding ring? It's a symbol of asexuality!

"You know, things can work out platonically. I mean, you do start to grow on me…" Loki responds, smiling just a bit.

"Really? I mean, you don't mind?" Tony grins at the response, his eyes big at the God. Loki shrugs.

"Yeah, If you are okay with not getting laid with me…"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Tony gives Loki an ear to ear smile and grabs his right hand, kissing gently the black ring.

Loki's cheeks and ears get bright red and he bites his lower lip. Tony is quick to let go of his hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable…" He chunters, now lowering his glare and playing with his glass.

"It was… nice…" Loki whispers, most likely to himself. But Tony still snaps his head up.

"Seriously?"

"Yes… And…" The red blush appears back in his cheeks as he fidgets with his sleeves. "It was the first time someone kissed me…"

"No way!" Tony exhales.

"I know, embarrassing…" Loki bites his lip again, breaking eye contact.

"I'm actually honoured. Not a lot of humans had the chance to steal the first kiss of a God, you know," Tony grins, hoping the joke is not that bad.

Loki reacts with a snorting sound and a light punch on the ribs, that sends Tony straight to the floor and makes the glass scatter in pieces.

"Oh, dear, are you alright?!" Loki squirts at Tony.

"I think I need a safeword…" Tony grunts.

He is sure that Loki will grimace on the joke, but instead, he giggles like a highschool girl.

"Most definitely yeah," He sighs, handing over an identical glass with the one they broke.

From the back of the room, no one sees Thor laughing as Steve sighs at the view of Loki and Tony and handing over the twenty dollars of the bet.

[cherryblossomstars]

II. Navy (W. Ushijima)

Taken from my AO3 series of one-shots & reposted here

Pairing: Ushijima x F!Reader

Word count: 1,446

Genre: Fluff, birthday fic

Summary: Aoba Johsai's volleyball team has never been able to defeat the Great Ushiwaka of Shiratorizawa. Their manager, however? She can bring him to his knees in mere seconds.

Or, Ushijima Wakatoshi is helplessly in love with Seijoh's Ace's twin sister, and the Aoba Johsai VBC is not appreciative of it.

Previous | Next

It's no secret that Ushijima Wakatoshi is a baby when it comes to matters of love or any emotion that comes with showing affection. His movements on the court are lithe, careful, and precise. Mistakes rarely happen when he's playing his beloved sport, and errors will almost certainly never happen if he's at his peak concentration- then he's at a completely different and untouchable level. He has a degree of grace and beauty on the court that a professional figure skater would be jealous of (not to mention his incredible stamina).

And yet, when it comes to you, he may as well be an infant struggling to walk. It's messy, he's not sure what he's doing, and sometimes he gets hurt trying to figure it out. He knows you, that much he's sure about. You've both known each other for years now. So why, why is it so hard to figure out something to do for you on your birthday?

Around the holidays and on his birthday, he would always tell you not to get him something. He's not a big fan of presents. If he needed something, he'd simply ask his family and then in 1-2 business days, bam. The item in question would be at his front door. And yet, every time, you've still found a way to give him something meaningful.

In the three years he's known you, you've given him a scrapbook, a jar of reasons you love him, and, his most favorite gift of all, a volleyball with everyone's signatures on it. Not just his team's, but other teams as well. People from the Fukurodani, Johzenji, Nekoma, Itachiyama, hell, even Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. You'd somehow managed to coerce Oikawa into signing it. When he'd asked about Oikawa, you'd simply shrug and say "he owed me one". He decided not to press any further. While some people opted to simply write their name on the ball, others wrote little messages too. Iwaizumi Hajime had written a simple happy birthday, while Tendou had to be stopped by you from practically taking up the entire damn ball, a story told to him by his teammates later on. He even cracked a small chuckle imagining your small figure trying to restrain Tendou Satori of all people. He also learned that Oikawa likes to sign his name with a star next to his signature. Ushijima thought it was tacky, but it fit his personality well. Every year you didn't have a physical present for him, you'd take him out on a date or give him one of your homemade bentos.

He was not a fan of presents, but he's certainly grown to look forward to receiving yours.

Yet, every year, he struggles to figure out what to get you. In the past years, he'd given you something simple, but nice or something you just happened to need at the time. One year it was a phone, since Oikawa had accidentally broken yours that year. Ushijima had to visit Oikawa himself and convince him not to buy you a new phone, since Ushijima would be the one handling it. After some debate, Oikawa finally gave in. Another year he'd gotten you a simple silver band, one that you keep on your index finger. He rarely sees you go out without it on, something he's found very pleasing. It brings a sense of satisfaction to his mind when he sees it on you.

Perhaps it was the weather, he rationalized, that was getting in the way of his ideas. Or maybe it was the fact that he had another practice match coming up soon, so he was also coming up with game plans in the back of his mind. He needed to focus. Ushijima was normally ahead of things when it came to plans with you, but he's been so busy with volleyball these past few weeks that he hasn't been able to buy you your gift yet. And now it was six in the evening on a Friday, and he still wasn't sure what to get you for your birthday tomorrow.

He grumbled under his breath, he'd just have to swallow his pride and ask for help. He took out his phone and called the first person he could think of- Tendou. You two were good friends, after all.

"Helloooo? What's up Wakatoshi?" Tendou sang.

"[Name]." He said.

"You're gonna have to give me more context than that." His friend pointed out.

"We're celebrating her birthday tomorrow and I'm unsure of what to get her."

"Something sweet. She's got a pretty awful sweet tooth after all."

"I want something she can keep. Something that will last."

"Oh wow. What a doting boyfriend. Hmm... Well I don't think she needs anything right now... Oh! Why don't you just give that ace from Seijoh a call?"

"...I do not have his number."

"I'll text it to you. Later." And with that, the line went dead.

Damn. He had to ignore his pride just to call Tendou, but Iwaizumi? That was a different level. He'd do it, though, because it's for you.

Ding!

Tendou: It's +81-XXX-XXXX-XXX

Tendou: good luck~ (*´ I `)ﾉﾟ(ﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Ushijima: Thank you.

Should he call or text? Maybe texting would be the better option. You never answered any unknown numbers, who's to say your twin wasn't the same way? He gave your brother a contact before sending a text.

Ushijima: Hello, Iwaizumi. It's Ushijima. Do you have any good gift ideas for [Name]?

Iwaizumi: dude how'd you get my number?

Ushijima: Tendou had it.

Iwaizumi: cool. follow up question: why does he have it?

Iwaizumi: nevermind. not sure I wanna know.

Ushijima couldn't help but think about how you and your brother text the same way.

Iwaizumi: dunno. she likes meaningful gifts i guess. maybe an album? or a scr:"//ad39E

He furrowed his brows in confusion. A what?

Iwaizumi: sorry. oikawa made a grab for my phone. i was gonna say maybe a scrapbook.

Ushijima: I don't know how to make those.

Iwaizumi: painting?

Ushijima: I am bad at art. What are other people getting her?

Iwaizumi: im getting her a new video game for her switch. oikawa's getting her concert tickets to that band she likes so much. yahaba and kyoutani pooled their money together and got her a bunch of new clothes. kunimi's giving her $20. the rest of team pooled their money together and got her a new tablet. i know the players from fukurodani, karasuno, johzenji, nekoma, itachiyama, and inarizaki got her stuff but i dont know what.

Iwaizumi: wait actually those twins from inarizaki got her a stuffed animal and a box of cookies from a bakery she likes

Yahaba and Kyoutani got her clothes... A lightbulb lights up in his mind.

Ushijima: Thank you. I know what to give her.

Iwaizumi: yea no problem

Ushijima went to the shopping district for no reason, then. He went back to his dorm, stepping inside and immediately opening his closet.

"Figured something out?" Tendou greeted from his bunk.

"Yes." He responded, taking one of his sweaters off from a hanger and holding it out in front of him.

Tendou raises his eyebrows in shock, "she's gonna be swimming in that."

"Yes, but she likes to take my volleyball jacket all the time. She says it smells like me, so I may as well give her this one since she can't keep the volleyball jacket." Ushijima holds in front of him a large maroon sweater with the word Shiratorizawa printed in white on it. It was bought to fit him and all his 189 centimeter glory.

"She'll love it."

"Why are you giving this back to me? I gave it to you." Ushijima tilts his head slightly.

You stood in front of him holding out the sweater he had given you for your birthday a few weeks ago, neatly folded in your hands. You felt your face grow hot in embarrassment. "It... Doesn't smell like you anymore. There's no point if it doesn't feel like I'm close to you."

He's quiet for a moment before taking the sweater from your hands. "So you are returning it?"

You can't look at him in the eye, "for now. I want it back, of course. Just... wash it or something with whatever laundry soap you use and give it back so it smells like you."

He smiles softly at you and presses a light kiss to your forehead. He doesn't look like someone who could be soft. His sheer strength on the court and his powerful spikes on the court can attest to that, but he can't help it when it came to you.

"I love you."

Fin.

[kickingitwithkirk]

A Kiss Upon Your Shoulder

Pairing: Alpha!Sam Winchester x Omega!Trouble Lacroix (OFC)

WC:3536

Warnings: 18 + only: kissing, humping M/F, intercourse, cursing, mention of addiction, angst

A/N: For @saxxxology #saxxxology vol.1 writing challenge

SONG PROMPT: Off My Mind-my favorite on the album

A/N: Set season 14 during Dean Winchester's possession by Apocalypse World's Micheal. Timeline extended and some events altered from series. I borrowed title from song lyrics.

*no beta- all mistakes are mine.

*GIF not mine

The sound of the bunker door closing reverberates through the room.

Several of the hunters around the map table stop what they're doing to watch an unusually tall Omega with long, smoky pink hair braided in a loose plait and wearing hunters garb descend the metal staircase halting at its bottom.

Sam Winchester is sitting at the far end of the table alternating between his phone receiving updates from hunters out in the field and the laptop looking for clues in the search for Dean while strategizing with Mary and Bobby their next move froze disbelieving his eyes.

“Sammy,” the Omega hesitantly says, her lightly accented voice startles him out of his stupor.

Batten down the hatches Sammy boy, Trouble just done walked back into my life… Dean used those exact words years ago introducing him to this Omega, never knowing how true they would turn out to be.

But not for him.

Sam's eyes shift into a fiery glow as his inner Alphas outrage surfaces at this imposter trying to pass itself as his long gone Omega.

“What fucking game are you playing at?” Sam gets up growling, stalking towards her pulling his demon blade.

“Sam wait!” Mary hollers at her youngest son knowing all too well the damage Sam can inflict under normal circumstances but in the state of extreme stress he’s currently under doesn’t want him to do anything he’ll regret.

The Apocalypse World hunters glance at each other perplexed having never before seeing an enraged Alpha, unsure what they should do.

After their arrival to this reality Sam gave them a crash course on life here, including the multiple genders of humans, Alpha/Beta/Omega, their confusing hierarchies and how they relate to each other.

The Alpha/Omega intricacies and nuances were still hard for them to comprehend since all of them were Betas.

The Omega cast her eyes down in deference to the large Alpha. “I'm here abo...” she doesn't finish speaking as he wraps his hand around her throat, slamming her back against a support column. She seizes his wrist as her eyes snap up meeting his glaring back before tilting her head as far as she can to the right exposing more of her throat.

Sam cautiously leans in, running his nose along her neck. The unique scent of winter, perceptible only to the Alpha under the scent blockers she’s used triggers memories he’s diligently repressed to keep this Omega off his mind come flooding back. The blade clatters loudly on the floor in the now silent room.

Wrapping his arms around her nuzzling into the curve of her neck he sucks on that spot he knows drives her crazy. Biting her lip she tangles her fingers in his long hair drawing him back up, running her tongue over his lips seeking entrance that he grants swirling his tongue around hers.

Someone's wolf whistling snaps them out of acting couple newly presented teens caught by their parents being very naughty.

“Hmm, not sorry,” she whispers nibbling on Sam’s ear making him quiver.

“Behave,” Sam mutters back taking a deep breath and subtlety adjusting himself before turning around to deal with everyone's reactions, not really ready to answer the inevitable questions.

Scenting his anxiety she twines their hands together offering a reassuring squeeze.

They’ve drawn quite a large audience from the library and adjoining hallways. People are elbowing each other grinning, whispering among themselves about their Chiefs and strange woman's reactions to each other then necking in front of everyone.

Mary stands there, arms crossed with the patented mom’s not amused look.

Sam huffs out an embarrassed laugh. “Everyone this is Trouble Lacroix, she’s my...she's an old friend.”

“I’m just an old friend after everything I went through for you?” Trouble snaps and Sam growls a warning at her tone but fuck it, she was right.

When Dean introduced them they were both junkies. Sam drugs of choice were demon blood and the power it gave him. Trouble’s was whatever made her forget her hunter fathers dominance over her as an Omega.

By the time they both got clean Sam found he could love again and she had learned to trust the Alpha in him wouldn't hurt her like others had. Sam swore during his next rut he would claim her as his Omega.

A week before he said yes to Lucifer and the subsequent showdown at Stull Cemetery he went into rut.

At their secret rendezvous, an old hunters cabin in Arkansas with his rut over Sam hadn’t claimed her, saying he couldn’t damn her, that this was his last chance to, unlike Jess, save her from certain death.

Trouble stood at the cabins window overlooking a small lake silently crying, unable to respond. The Alpha scented her sadness wanted nothing more than to comfort his Omega but all he could do was to kiss her shoulder, as he’d always done before leaving that last time.

Almost a decade later Sam can see the damage his refusals done in her sorrowful eyes.

“You kiss all your old friends like that?” Bobby quipped sarcastically eliciting a few laughs and breaking some of the tension.

“You look like Bobby Singer but you...resonate all wrong,” Trouble remarks as her light colored eyes surveys the others in the room finally coming to rest on Jack. “A Nephilim without Grace?”

“Yes, he is,” Mary answers crossing over to stand next to Jack, “how can you know that?”

Trouble shrugs “I’ve always been able to perceive things that are outside the normal spectrum.”

“You can what?” Maggie asks confused.

“The Omega can see that you’re out of tune with this reality,” Castiel states tipping his head to the side studying her, “she also possess other abilities.”

“I don’t need them to see your a dick.”

“Trouble,” Sam warns knowing she’d picked that up from Dean.

“Sorry, Angel of the Lord.” She half ass apologizes.

“And you suddenly show up here out of nowhere because?” Mary tersely inquires in her Alpha voice. Sam bristles unhappy that another Alpha, even his own mother, thinks they can question the Omega.

Releasing Sam’s hand she steps closer to Mary taking the same stance staring her straight in the eye. “I’ve seen Dean.”

Trouble tells them everything about her encounter with Dean in Nova Scotia, where she’s been the last two months.

They question is why he let her live when he’s killed others he has had contact with, another piece in a puzzle not making sense.

Sam asks her to stay but she turns him down, telling him it's safer for her to keep moving. He counters what better place is there for protection than in the heavily warded bunker?

She reluctantly agrees but only until Dean returns.

Mary makes it vehemently clear it’s problematic having an unclaimed Omega stay.

Sam reminds his mother that he is a mature Alpha, been making his own decisions without her input his whole life and with the daily suppressants he’s taken for years can control his instincts.

That got Mary’s back up, ready to argue with her youngest son, reminding him the Omegas already made the unmated Alpha act out. Bobby pulls her to the side and somehow he convinces her that the Omegas will be an assist in finding Dean. She doesn’t like but relents. Trouble is to stay in Dean's room, his Beta scent will help cover hers more to mollify Sam and a physical space between them for Mary.

Sam's frustrations over having not found Dean yet and his personal anxieties were intermittently fluctuating. The stresses he’s under, hardly eating, barely sleeping a couple hours a day while keeping track of people out on cases and figuring out how to help Jack adapt to not having his powers. Then there’s Nick, the mere mention of his name makes Sam shudder, let alone the traumatic physical and emotional memories dredged up by their face to face interactions.

Thankfully, there hadn’t been any real drama between Mary and Trouble. They’ve avoided each other as much as possible in the bunker.

It was really late or early, depending on how one looked at it, and Sam was still setting in the quiet library, waiting for the last couple of hunters to check in. “Sam, you’ve been here for hours, go to bed.” Trouble softly remarks as she walks up behind him gently running her fingers through his hair.

Sam closes his eyes enjoying her touch. “Just waiting on Maggie and Sharon to check in then I'll go.”

She snorts snagging his phone when it sounds, “Who you lying to? OK, their at the one star for the night. Everyone's accounted for.” Sam reaches for his phone and she dodges typing before handing it back and walking off.

“Cas is what...the hell that’s happening!” Sam gets up going after her.

“Bobby’s idea so go bitch to him mister ‘cause technically your off duty for the next twenty-four hours.” Trouble says unintimidated with him following her fuming, “Your exhausted Sam, you need a break so quit fighting and let us help.”

She stops at the shower-room door. “First, go bathe, you reek Alpha, then meet me in your room.” Sam goes from pissed off to aroused in three seconds. Trouble scents him, “Yeah right, it’s Netflix and chill...” She remarks them gives him a mischievous grin sashaying off.

Sam had been making courting overtures towards her, even though they were on a time limit, hoping he'd be awake long enough to make the most of this opportunity.

After the much needed shower Sam heads to his room in nothing but a low slung towel tosses it with his clothes into the dirty laundry hamper. Trouble came in carrying a tray of food locking the door behind her stops, inhaling sharply at the view of a completely naked Sam. He shivers as her eyes rove over him.

Sam’s not as bulked up as he was a decade ago, a leaner version still possessing a well defined upper body leading down to his flat stomach, the sharp v of his hips and those long legs. And between those legs...Swallowing hard and flushed Trouble moves setting the tray down on his bedside table as he hastily pulls on sweats and a grey t-shirt.

“Your three episodes behind in that series, figured you might want to watch it.” Trouble says grabbing his laptop and crawling onto his bed pulling up what he had been watching. “Have you seen it?” He asks sitting next to her.

“No, first your gonna eat,’ she gestures towards the tray with tomato rice soup, crackers and fruit, “then you can catch me up.”

By episode three Sam had eaten everything on the tray, brushed his teeth and was sacked out. Trouble shut the laptop down and placed it on the desk.

Turning out all the lights but a bedside one she slips back in next to Sam picking up the book she brought from the library. She’d been reading for awhile when Sam rolls over in his sleep, one leg landing between hers, arm draped across her waist and his head on her shoulder nuzzling into her neck murmuring, “back in my bed.”

As consciousness slowly filtered through the haze of extended sleep two things simultaneously get Sam’s attention, the cool scent of the Omega he’s spooning and his morning wood trapped between them.

“Must’a been a good dream,” Trouble yawns rolling onto her stomach, the sheet sliding down reliving her long legs and lower cheeks peeking out under her oversized T-shirt burying her head in the pillow mumbling “I was gonna leave after you fell asleep.”

Running a hand up the back of her thighs he pushes till she parts her legs far enough for him to touch her outer folds feeling how wet she already is before slipping two fingers into her tight channel. Trouble moans as he them slides deeper, making her wriggle against the mattress seeking friction against her clit. Sam crawls over wedging a knee between hers.

“Sam..we..sho..shouldn’t.”

Pulling his fingers out Sam moves straddling her legs, pinning them closed as he sits on her thighs stroking himself, using her slick as lubricant. Grasping her hips he starts rutting his cock between her ass cheeks.

Grunting, Sam shifts picks up momentum and with her under him, even like this, knows he’s not gonna last long. “Fuc..fuck Trouble..gonna cum…” Sam jerks back fisting his cock rapidly, cumming on her before falling forward and catches himself with one hand next to her, breathing hard. With his other hand Sam runs his fingers through his spending's rubbing it across her back.

Trouble pushes up onto her elbows looking back at him, “Dude, are you scent marking me?”

“Maybe.” Sam replies with a smug smile.

“So gross, Alpha.”

Sam was beyond frustrated and feeling sick on his drive back from Atlanta. The rumored sighting of Dean end up being a bust, another one of those crazies he’s sick of wasting his time chasing. Switching off the radio that's making his headache pound harder making him wish he was home already.

Trouble, utilizing her abilities, was able to help eliminate some of bogus reports. Unfortunately, when any of them got to close, Dean disappeared.

The last time she had him, he created some kind of feedback knocking her unconscious. Cas checked her over, telling Sam she would be fine.

When she woke up Trouble tells them she’s seeing Dean doing strange experimentation on different types of monsters using Archangel Grace and it scares the hell out of her.

That was Sam’s breaking point. He stormed through the bunker in full Alpha mode from the infirmary to Deans room, packed her duffel and hauled it to his room. Even Mary knew better than to get in his way this time.

Sam couldn’t get her off his mind anymore now he had her back in his bed. She allowed him hold her whenever they slept together but wouldn’t permit anything else since that morning.

The Lebanon City Limits sign was a welcome sight. Sam was sweating, shaky and just wanting to get home.

He arrived at the bunker wondering what the hell he had caught. Mary greeted him with a hug and frowned catching his scent. Sam played it off, saying the Beta who had one too many hits of the brown acid was ill and he must have caught it.

Another hunter handed him a bowl of soup and bad news about some gypsy vamps attaching truckers. He had them set up checkpoints and sat down to hack the traffic cams. Mary gripped his arm concerned as he’s typing but he says he‘s good. She didn't believe him but doesn’t push knowing he wasn't gonna stop.

Six hours later as he left Nicks room he felt a massive surge go through him, no longer able to ignore what was wrong and it was his own damn fault.

Sam had forgotten his suppressants and for the first time in years was going into rut. He made it to the end of the hall before passing out.

Cas had been by his friends bedside since Sam was found unconscious in one of the hallways days ago. He had been able to temporarily bring Sam's fever down and gave him sedatives to help him rest but with his age not being mated and having gone years without a rut his biology was demanding only cure, his chosen Omega.

Cas had called the Omega only getting her voicemail, left a message and began sending multiple texts.

He explained to Bobby that Mary had to leave the bunker, not only for her safety but the Betas also living there, unsure of how Sam will react to having another Alpha present when his Omega returned. Bobby found a case in Oregon that would occupy them for at least a week.

So Cas continued to do the only thing he could and watches over his friend.

Sam woke groggy from the sedatives to the strong scent of an Omega in heat pulling him to full consciousness.

Rolling onto his side he finds Trouble lying next to him naked, covered in a light sheen of sweat fitfully sleeping.

Moving to spoon her from behind he grips one leg hooking it over his rocking his hips sliding his engorged cock through her dripping folds, Half asleep she whimpers pulling out of his grip, drawing both legs to her chest. Rumbling in discontent Sam scoots behind her again, lines up and buries himself in her tight heat making her moan with pleasure, her cunt stretching around him.

Sam pulls out and hauls Trouble onto her hands and knees spreading her legs wide and sinks back in till his hips are flush against her ass. Feeling her relax around him Sam grasps her waist so tight bruises already forming and growling at the sight of his cock sliding in and out of her slick cunt he starts pounding his hips rapidly.

Trouble reaches out grabbing the headboard to stop Sam from shoving her into it since he has six inches and nearly seventy pounds on her and is running on his instinct to mate.

Sam's knot starts to swell he continues thrusting wildly wrenches her hips up, forcing her to arch her back more as he grunts ramming the now fully engorged knot into her cunt locking them together and falls over her back, rolling his hips as she clenches him cumming.

Sam pushes himself back upright pulling her with him, flush against chest seizes a fistful of her thick hair bends to bite deeply into her neck making Trouble cry out loudly and cum again.

As they counterbalance each other Sam runs his tongue over his mark cleaning off the seeping blood helping the wound seal up faster before shifting to lay them down on the mattress.

Feeling the tug of his knot Trouble clenches tightly around him again, sending another orgasm rippling through Sam, releasing more of his seed into her.

Sam wraps his arms around Trouble, their bodies trembling from the exertion and a feeling of immense peace he’s never had before settles within him. He places a kiss upon her shoulder as it dawns on him he’s finally being to call her his omega.

“It's just every time I think about ya know its a..its like a nightmare. I can't eat, can't sleep, it’s always just there watching.” Dean bitched as they’re walking through the hallways.

“Dean, it’s just a beard, I’ve been a little busy lately” Sam remarks back exasperated and relived to have his brother back giving him a hard time.

“Yeah well, that’s not an excuse ya know, ‘cause a.. Duck Dynasty called and they just they want it all back.”

“Some people say I look good.” Sam proudly states almost telling him why he’s really kept it.

“No..no Sam, no people say that.” Dean shakes his head.

“Duck Dynasty is a step up from Dr. Sexy in some peoples opinions,” Dean turns to counter that insult disbelieving his eyes like Sam did weeks ago.

Trouble’s leaning against the wall now sporting titian tresses that rival Rowena's.

“Good to have you back Dean,” She says giving him a hug, “and I like the beard.” Walking over to Sam she pushes him against the wall wantonly kissing in front of Dean.

Breathless, Sam touches his forehead against hers running his fingers along the flannels front, “I was looking for this shirt the other day ‘mega.”

“Hmm, my bad, suppose I need to be punished Alpha.” She teasingly remakes biting her lip as Sam purrs low in his chest sliding the shirt off her shoulders.

“You’re back together?” Dean blurts out in disbelief interrupting them.

Sam turns pulling Trouble with him, her back flush against his chest reaches up moving her hair revealing his mark.

Dean looks between them, “fucking took you long enough Sammy,” he barks before continuing down the hallway grumbling, “there better not be any more surprises.”

Sam nuzzled into her neck breathing in the new honey-vanilla scent mixing with her naturally cooler one reaches down placing his large hands protectively over her womb where their surprise is resting tenderly kissing her shoulder.

[vaultgirl2077]

“What’s the point of picking up that junk?” MacCready complained as Maya examined the charred remains of a file at the reception desk.  

He’d been like this all morning and her patience was wearing thin. 

He didn’t want her to investigate the distress signal they picked up. 

He didn’t care that he woke up every creature from HQ to Med-Tek in some vain attempt to shoot away his nerves. 

He didn’t even care about scavenging for caps or valuables along the way - the final confirmation to Maya that he was not as okay as he claimed. In the many weeks they’d been travelling together, she’d never seen the mercenary this focused, or this scared.

“I’m just trying to find any more information on this ‘Prevent’ so Curie can study it.  It was a research drug, so anything we can find out about it will be good to know before we give it to Duncan, right?” Maya retorted, a little sharper than she’d intended, before placing the file back on the desk. It was only a sign-in register but her point remained valid all the same.

“Ah Monsieur MacCready, you are exhibiting symptoms of extreme agitation and anxiety. May I suggest the administration of a minute dosage of Med-X to assist you in this mission?” Curie asked eagerly as she floated by. 

By the time the chem had been dispensed - MacCready had already angrily barged past them into the offices at the back of the building. Shots and curses could be heard bouncing off the walls in the distance and Maya couldn’t help but wince as she readied her gun.

“We’d better go and make sure he doesn’t get torn apart in there. I’m sorry he’s being so...difficult, right now. He’s just worried about his son.”

Curie nodded in acknowledgement and followed behind her companion. She understood the logic and reasoning of a father being concerned over the welfare of a sick child. She understood the physical signs of worry and the effect it had on a human’s psyche. But she did not know what it felt like. She did not understand why her attempt to relieve him of this problem was not what he desired. Logically, it made no sense. So much of human behaviour made no logical sense to Curie. Over two centuries of studying them and she still did not understand what it meant to be a human. Something that bothered her more than ever now she was around so many different human beings every day.

The infestation of ferals guided them from the executive’s terminal on the third floor, all the way down the research centre’s subterranean levels where the elusive cure was apparently stored. 

MacCready barely spoke a word to Maya unless it was encouraging her to hurry up when she, Curie and Dogmeat lagged behind him on the way to the laboratory. Curie,  herself, was quieter than usual too and it made the atmosphere particularly more sombre - An impressive feat, especially when taking into consideration that the entire building had spent the last two centuries as the eternal resting place of Med-Tek’s more unfortunate employees; the poor souls who had been trapped here when the bombs fell had succumbed to the radiation instead of being granted the sweet release of death.

There were many fates worse than death in this world, but turning into a feral ghoul was one that Maya feared most.

The last of the frustrated screams echoed out from the lab by the time Maya and Curie had caught up, leaving only the frustrated heavy breathing and cursing of their companion as he attempted to search the debris for his promised goal. MacCready was the most impressive shot she’d ever witnessed anyway, but today the anticipation made him especially efficient, something she understood probably too well in her own search to save her son. It was making him reckless too.

In fact, MacCready had been so wrapped up in clearing out the ferals with almost vindictive haste, he’d completely overlooked the bright, red, auto-injecting syringe that lay in plain view on the abandoned workstation.

“Mademoiselle! Is that the item we are looking for? The cure for Monsieur MacCready’s child?” Curie had noticed the chem at almost the exact same moment Maya did.

“I think so, Curie. Can you take a look at it for me to be sure?” Maya replied, picking it up and examining it closely. 

From the opposite corner of the lab, half way through ripping a drawer open, MacCready heard the robot’s announcement and had started to make his way back over to them. 

When he saw that Maya did indeed have the injector in her hand - it was the first time she’d seen those big blue eyes light up all day. 

“We did it… holy crap, we actually did it! We just gave Duncan a fighting chance to live.” He exclaimed as he took the cure from Maya’s hands and pocketed it. Even then, he didn’t move even an inch away from her, a detail that Maya couldn’t help but register despite not wanting to. Before she could finish scolding herself for letting herself think such ridiculous things when it came to a married man - MacCready placed a trembling hand on her arm. 

“I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to pay you back for this… I owe you big time.” 

Maya shook her head incredulously in an attempt to avoid his piercing gaze. 

“Mac...This is a friendship, not a business contract. All I care about is curing your son.” 

MacCready refused to let her look away. With one hand he cupped her cheek and forced her face back him, with the other he took her hand.

The surprise of his touch forced her to turn and face him, making the lack of space between them that much more highlighted. Immediately she felt her ivory cheeks flush and her heart started to race.

“I know you do.” He sighed with a dopey smile and moved his head in closer, so close that the impact of his breath sent shivers down her spine. “I'm just used to people taking rather than giving. Maybe one day I'll realize that you're different.” Before she could answer, he’d bridged what little remained of the gap between them and connected their lips.

It was clumsy and almost forceful in his haste. Not bad… just different than what she was used to.

Maya didn’t pull away, too stunned that he’d finally broke the tension between them and kissed her to really respond at first. So many questions flooded her mind and none she could bring herself to ask, the most prominent one wouldn’t stay quiet in her mind - “What about your wife?” The one he’d mentioned back in HQ. She was about to push him off and actually ask it when he did the job for her. Just as abrupt and unexpected as the kiss had started, MacCready pulled away and ended it without a word. Before any awkwardness could form, Dogmeat and Curie returned back to them after sweeping the laboratory for anything useful. 

“Madame, we discovered a small storage unit of medical supplies and I took the initiative to annex anything useful for our mission. May I suggest we leave this place if we have found what we are looking for? My systems are detecting high levels of radiation in these laboratories. Caution is strongly recommended.”

“Don’t worry about it, Curie, we can go now. The last step is to get the Cure to Daisy in Goodneighbor.” Mac smiled at Maya and started to make his way to the elevator.. “With her caravan contacts, she's the only one I trust to get this to Duncan on time.” He glanced back at his slightly stupefied companion and cocked his head to encourage her to follow. “This is the last favor I'm going to ask, I promise. Let’s go.”

“G-Goodneighbor? Right. Sure! Let’s go!” Maya nodded confidently and composed herself before following in his wake. 

Even though her heart was still racing as she awkwardly took her place next to him in the elevator, one thing was perfectly clear by the time they got back to the surface and left the building: He did not want to talk about what had happened between them. 

Though she was still confused and shocked from the last few hours with him, she kept her mouth shut and acted as if nothing had happened as they made their way to Goodneighbor. It was much easier for both of them right now if they silently accepted that the kiss had been a mistake and had only occurred because they had got caught up in the moment.

[devaigh]

The Winner ~ Chapter 6

AN: I apologize for making you all wait on this chapter. There has been a lot going on, not only in the fandom, but in my rl as well. For a while, I seriously contemplated not continuing this story at all.  In the end, I decided to bring it back and tell the story I set out to do in the beginning. Some changes have been made but I think they worked for the better. So Enjoy!

Previously: 1 2 3 4 5

Jamie Fraser had been a lot of things in his lifetime. He was a son, a brother, a friend. He had been a Soldier, fighting in wars he had no say in, long campaigns that had nearly taken his own life. He was forever marked with the scars from his time in the service, leaving him far more broken and battered than he had ever been in his youth.

But soldier was only one of his roles.

Jamie had been a lover, a husband, and… a father.  He was a man reaching for a dream. A man chasing a ghost. Always out of his reach, he Longed for the missing part of his fractured soul.

And here she was.

Claire. The one who haunted him. His Sorcha. All this time she had been there, locked in the recesses his mind, holding on to the secret of their shared love. Their daughter.

Oh how bitter was the taste of regret.

He raised his glass to his lips once more, the burn of the whisky sliding almost unnoticed down his throat. A rushing noise sounded in his ears that had nothing to do with the sea outside beyond the beach. His eyes searched for her, as they had from the moment he arrived. He couldn't help it, his heart knew the tune of its mate.

But she was avoiding him.

He had to find a his way back.

For Brianna.

For his heart.

She needed air.

Seeing him, knowing he was here.

She could feel herself trembling.

Taking a deep breath, Claire gathered herself. Pasting a smile on her face, she faced the crowd once more. “Please enjoy your meal, and thank you all again for coming.”

Applause erupted around the room as she stepped down from the platform.

“That was wonderful Mama.”

Bree caught the look in her mother’s eyes as Claire made her way back to their shared table.

“Mama?

“Hmm?” Claire looked up, reading the concern on her daughter’s face

“Are you okay?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” Claire reached out, cupping Brianna’s cheek. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Oh. Nothing darling. Nothing you need to worry about. I just need a bit of air.”

Brianna frowned. “Are you sure Mama?”

“Absolutely I’ll be right back. Stay. Enjoy your party.”

And with that, Claire turned, maneuvering around the tables towards the open French doors.

She could still feel his eyes on her. 

*  *  *  *  *

"Must you go?" her words were muffled, as she pressed her face closer against his chest. A dull ache in her fingers reminding her how just how tightly she clutched at his shirt, willing him, to stay.

"Aye Sassenach. Ye ken I must."  He pressed a kiss into her curls. "I dinna want to go. I dinna want to leave ye, but ye ken I have no more say in the matter."

"I wish you could stay."

"Sassenach, Look at me".  A gentle tug under her chin brought her eyes to meet his. She saw the tears she fought against so desperately reflected back at her. She felt the gentle brush of his thumb, as he wiped the streaks under her eyes.

"Ye know I would stay with ye if I could. But I promise, mo nighean donn, That I'll come back to ye. I give ye my word. This isna forever."

Claire sniffed, "I'll hold you to that, soldier."

"Aye," He said, with a smirk. "I ken ye will."

FINAL BOARDING FOR GATE C7.  The crisp, voice blared over the intercom, breaking their small, perfect bubble within each other.

Claire pressed closer. "No! I'm not ready!"

"I have to go, Sassenach."  He took hold of her wrists, easing their grip as his large hands enveloped hers. His fingers traced the curve of the simple metal band she wore on her right hand. A promise, it was a hope of their future. One day, he swore he would replace it with the ring she deserved.

He kissed her forehead, then her nose, at last finding her lips, tugging at the roundness of hers with his teeth, willing her to open herself to him. She met him eagerly, each pouring into the other their fears, the acceptance of their parting.

Claire pulled back with a gasp, willing air into her lungs as she opened her eyes once more. He smiled. Bring her hand to his lips, he kissed her ring, and she gave a short nod.

"Tis only a year, mo chridhe. I'll be back, by the time ye graduate." He smirked. Save me a seat.  Just dinna forget me."

She huffed. "As if I could."  

"I need to go. Write me, if ye like. I'll try to call ye when I land."

Then, with one last, quick kiss to her lips, he was gone, thought the terminal and out of her sight.

She didn't see him again for almost 20 years.

* * * * * 

His damn glass was empty again.

He had seen the way her eyes widened when she saw him. The way her teeth caught her bottom lip.  The invisible chain that bound them together, forgetting all others around him. One heartbeat. One moment.

Yet it felt like forever.

He had no right to claim her, that much he knew, and it killed him. Whoever Claire was now, Jamie knew she was more than he deserved.

More than he ever deserved.

As he made his way towards the bar in search of a refill, he paused at the sudden vibration in his pocket.

Pulling his phone out he glanced at the screen for only a moment.

Not now.

He wasn't going to think of that just now. There were other matters on his mind. With a roll of his eyes, he ignored the call, and, drink forgotten, he made his own way to an empty table, his eyes searching for his daughter's face.

He should probably tell her.

She needed to know.

But would she understand? 

* * * * * *

His memory had gotten better over the years. Large gaps were still present, but for the most part, he had recovered well. The pain was still a problem, Jamie figured he would never fully be free of it. In the early days, when he was confined to his bed, his back still raw from the numerous surgeries he had more than enough time to think. To wonder. To try to remember what led him to be in that damn white-washed room in the first place. How he had hated his sterile prison.

It was three years he was confined to that ward. First, it was due to the physical scars that bound him; his back flayed open and raw. Then there was his leg, with the twisted scar that had nearly killed him. Finally, his hand. Crushed beneath the heavy stones of the crumpled building he hit as he was blown skyward. While he, laying prone amidst the rubble, was rendered immobile from his injuries.

He had remained there, floating somewhere in the murky depths of this realm and the next. For what felt like hours, he rocked into cycles of sleep by the screaming of those still alive. Half buried in the remains of his convoy, Jamie had not been aware of when he was found. Then, when the weight pinning him into the dust was lifted,  the pain surged over him, forcing the cries from his lips that alerted the rescue team to his survival.

Looking back, it was the combined weight of the building and the bodies of his team that had sheltered him. Pressing on his wounds, keeping him from bleeding out. The fever brought on later in the too-bright hospital almost finished what opposing forces could not.

It had taken months for his physical wounds to heal. Nearly a year of intensive therapy and endless testing finally allowed him limited freedom. He praised the days he was able to stand on his own. Cried when he could walk unassisted. Anything that kept him from the confines of his whitewashed prison was worth a celebration. Days turned to weeks, then months. His strength returned at a snail's pace, yet Jamie kept pushing, past the point of exhaustion. Yet while his physical wounds started to improve, his mental healing had taken much longer.

There was a dream he had, most nights, of a woman. The most beautiful mess of curls, framing her face, soft ivory skin, and glowing amber eyes. Her laughter, like bells, rang in his ears, the sound of her voice was a drug to his senses. But who was she?

Why did she visit him in his dreams?

Four long years after his deployment, Jamie was transferred to a rehabilitation facility outside of London to assist with his recovery. It was there that he had met... her.

Geneva Dunsany.

His Wife.

Geneva was the daughter of the man who had given Jamie a job. One major part of his therapy involved horses, caring for and grooming them. The facility was home to a large stable where therapy animals were kept and often trained. Horses were in abundance and extra help was always welcomed. Jamie didn't mind the work. It was a task that relaxed him, and he felt a sense of peace, from the riot of thoughts in his clouded head.

What had started as a bi-weekly visit to the stables led to a small part-time job for Jamie. He found peace working with the animals. He spoke to them in Gaelic, allowing him to speak his mind without worry. The warmth of the stables and the quiet solitude he found within did wonders. In fact, the more stable his mind became, the more tasks he was given. Soon he started to feel more like himself again, though his memory still had large gaps.

There were unfortunate times where he suffered from relapses. Headaches still plagued him, seeming to split his skull from one end to the other though now they were rare. In the moments where his mind tried to reset itself, Jamie could see his mystery lass,  drifting in and out of fragmented memories, her voice fading from thought.

Finally, he had been allowed to go home. To Scotland. With him came his young bride, and they had briefly stayed at Lallybroch before settling into their own home.

It was happy, for a time.

Then the dreams returned.

Crisp, cool sheets, the warm scent of honey and chamomile, a pleasant hum wrapping around him, a voice he knew but couldn't find. A laugh, rich, full and bright.

Like light.

The feeling of something brushing his cheek, cool fingers, soft as silk, and that voice, a whisper, calling out to him, teasing his senses just beyond his reach.

Lips, teeth, and tongue worshipping his scars. Chills running down his spine as he whipped around, desperate for a look at the one who touched him, the one he craved.

The lyrical sound of her laugh.

He would jerk awake,  soaked to his skin, his heart hamming in his chest. Eyes wide, he would stare at the ceiling above him listening to the sounds of the one who lay next to him.

Wondering why everything felt so...

WRONG.

[let-them-eat-rakes]

RED REALITY (part 1)

(my longest post yet.)

Item #: SCP-3001

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: To prevent further accidental entries into SCP-3001, all Foundation reality-bending technology will be upgraded/modified with multiple newly developed safeguards to prevent Class-C "Broken Entry" Wormhole creation. While knowledge of SCP-3001 is available to personnel of any level should they wish to learn about it, research and experimentation with SCP-3001 and its associated technology is strictly limited to personnel of Level 3 and above, with special clearance designation granted from Sites 120, 121, 124, and 133.

Description: SCP-3001 is a hypothesized paradoxical parallel/pocket "non-dimension" accessible through the creation of a momentary Class-C "Broken Entry" Wormhole.(1) While believed to be an infinitely extending parallel universe, SCP-3001 is almost completely devoid of any matter and has an extremely low Hume Level of 0.032,(2) contradicting Kejel's Laws of Reality with the relation between Humes and spacetime. This phenomenon causes matter inside it to decay at an extremely low rate, and damage that would otherwise prove fatal does not impede any biological/electronic function; simulations suggest an organism can lose more than 70% of their body's tissue and still operate normally, as long as at least 40% of the brain remains. However, prolonged exposure will cause said matter to gradually approach SCP-3001's own Hume Level, resulting in severe tissue/structural damage as the matter's own Hume Field begins to disintegrate.

SCP-3001 was initially discovered on January 2, 2000, at Site-120, a facility dedicated to testing and containing reality-bending technology. Dr. Robert Scranton and his wife Dr. Anna Lang were Head Researchers at Site-120, and were developing an experimental device, called the "Lang-Scranton Stabilizer" (LSS).(3) Dr. Scranton was transported to SCP-3001 after unexpected seismic activity damaged several active LSS in Site-120 Reality Lab A.

Initially presumed dead, Dr. Scranton has survived in SCP-3001 for at least five years, 11 months, and 21 days. During this time, he was able to record his experiences and observations within SCP-3001 through a somehow still functioning LSS control panel, which was also brought into SCP-3001 with him through the Class-C "Broken Entry" Wormhole. These recordings were later recovered upon the panel's sudden return, an unexpected side effect from testing improved reality-bending technology; these logs are the basis of SCP-3001 study. Despite new technologies being developed, retrieval and re-integration of Dr. Scranton has been unsuccessful. His current physical and mental states, if he is still alive, are unknown. [Further information on Dr. Scranton's possible retrieval is under Ethics Committee review.] Transcripts of Dr. Scranton's logs are below.

[No discernible/coherent dialogue can be heard from Dr. Scranton for the first eight days. He cycles through periods of panic, confusion, and anger throughout, and it seems he was attempting to navigate SCP-3001 to find a way out. He finally moved close enough to the recording log on the eleventh day, though did not notice it was operating for several more hours.]

…

Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19, 1961.

Favorite color, blue.

Favorite song, "Living on a Prayer."

Wife… Anna…

Anna…

Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19, 1961.

Favorite color, blue.

Favorite song, "Living on a Prayer."

Wife, Anna. She has green eyes. I love her very much.

Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19, 1961.

Favorite color, blue.

Height, 178 cm.

Weight, 85 kg.

Wife, Anna. Anna, I'm sorry.

Name, Robert Scranton. Age, 39. Birthday, September 19, 1961.

Favorite color, blue.

My wife's name is Anna. We got married August 12, 1991.

I hope she got out okay.

Please let her be all right, please let her be all right.

Robert, Scranton. 39. Anna, blue, wife. Please… please, God, please…

Anna… Anna… Anna bo banna… Anna bo banna…

What the… what the hell is that? [It is assumed at this point Dr. Scranton noticed the flashing light of the recording module.]

What the fuck, this thing's actually recording?

[Metallic clang heard.]

[Voice is highly agitated and panicked.] My name, is Robert Scranton. Yeah, yeah, my name, is Robert Scranton, former researcher at Foundation Site-120. It has been… I don't know, actually, I… I can't remember. I… I estimate it's been ten days, but, I-I-I don't, I can't… Oh God, can anyone hear me?! I-I-I don't know what's happened, I-I don't know where I am, and-and, please, please is anyone there?! Hello?! Anyone?! ANYONE?!

No one can hear me. Oh God, oh God, oh God. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Why the hell is this thing even working, it can't be working, it SHOULDN'T be working, so what the hell?! I need to — God, I need to, I need to… see, how… long can I talk here, I think there's a-a-a cap or something on the recording log, and I-I-I can't see anything, I can only see the red light blinking on and off, I can't see any of the switches next to it…

I'm really hungry.

Thirsty, too. I think I should be dead from dehydration by now, but… I don't know.

Hi, little red light. Can you talk to me? Can you talk to… Anna, for me? Hello?

I found the controls.

Two weeks, three days, forty-seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes.

Two weeks, three days, forty-seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes.

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes.

Two weeks, three days, seven hours, and fifty-eight minutes.

Oh… Jesus.

ERROR WITH PLAYBACK, ERROR WITH PLAYBACK. ERROR WITH PLAYBACK.

Wherever the hell I am, I'm pretty sure now that… I don't need to eat to stay alive. It hurts… a lot, but… at this point I don't think I'm gonna die… So… I'm gonna… I'm gonna take my time… I guess. I… Maybe some sort of miracle will happen and I'll get out. Heh. Keep dreaming, Robert. Yeah, I'm… I'm tired, I'm gonna sleep.

Three weeks, four days, nineteen hours.

I have a picture of Anna in my pocket. I almost forgot. Little red light, let me see her face, please? Just a little bit, I just… I just want to see her a bit.

Hi, Anna, I'm still here, I'm still here. I'm coming back, okay?

Two months, four days, three hours.

… Hi. Robert here. Yeah, I-I haven't really recorded much to hear in the past few weeks. Ha. Hahahaha… Hahaha… huh… huh…

Sorry, gotta keep it together. Breathe.

I've been… I've been busy. Trying to learn more about the place I'm in. My prison. My kingdom all my own. Heh, King Robert. God, I stink. Is there even air in this goddamn place? Stinky King Robert, king of GODDAMN NOTHING FUCK.

…Sorry, sorry. I, I gotta keep this professional. I'll… I'll come back when I'm feeling rested.

… Okay, here goes. [Inhales then exhales deeply.]

My name is… Robert Scranton. I am a former Head Researcher of Site… 120, a Foundation facility dedicated to studying various reality-bending SCPs, for the purpose of developing more advanced countermeasures towards such threats.

For the last… red light, speak to me,

Two months, eight days, sixteen hours.

What red light said. I have been trapped in what I believe to be an empty pocket dimension. Alone. Yeah… alone. All alone.

I'm calling this place SCP… I don't know, I can't remember where we are, screw it. I don't know what's happened in the past… red light, please, again.

Two months, eight days, sixteen hours.

But… no one else is around to argue, and at this point… I'm just talking into this control panel to keep myself together. I… I need to keep a record. There might be some poor bastard in the future who ends up like me, and… if this ever actually makes it out… maybe, maybe I can help stop that from happening. That's all I have going for me right now, and I really need something to go for, hahahaha…

…So, yeah, Robert… Scranton… documenting a new SCP for… future research purposes. That'll have to do. Here we go!

- Close.

…

Two months, eleven days, ten hours.

Item number, SCP I don't fucking care.

Object Class, Euclid, I guess, but I don't know, I might update this in time. I need to explore more.

Special Containment Procedures, god I sound so much like a shrink right now… Um… I don't know if we could… contain wherever I am. It's… definitely not on Earth. To be honest I don't know where it is. I… I think it has do something with the Stabilizer prototype… I'll explain that more later. Okay… um… yeah, wherever I am, I don't think it can be contained much as… created. No, no, that's not the word I'm looking for. Um… entered. Yeah, entered is better. I came into this place because of some really bad reality-bending accident and… no, no, Robert, don't be like that yet, you don't know if there's no exit yet. Ooooh… livin' on a prayer… halfway… there. Ahem.

Two months, eleven days, eighteen hours.

So… wait, no, Description, Robert, stick to the format… This place… It's some sort of reality gap, I think. It's dark. Really dark. As in, this little red light that shows my words are actually being recorded is the only visible light in this entire place. I can't see my hands, and I can barely see the control panel here. I've had to basically use the light as a center, and remember how many steps I take and in which direction. I haven't gone past a hundred yet. I'm too… I'm too scared to. Heh. I wonder if my hair is turning white, right now? I can't even see what color it is anymore. Speaking of which, my head has been a bit itchy recently. If I don't concentrate on it, it's fine, but I feel this… tingling all over my face. I'm not sure why.

Two months, fifteen days, four hours.

Okay… hoooo… I-I need to relax for a minute, Jesus, god, shit. Holy… shit, shit, shit… I… just discovered a new property of this place. All this time, I've been thinking I might be walking on… some sort of… flat ground, if you will. I kept eye contact with little red as far as I could see, and it seems I could walk in a straight, flat path. Jesus, my head is buzzing right now, I think the adrenaline is still kicking… But, if my hypothesis is correct, and this really is some sort of reality… void, then there shouldn't be anything to walk on. Now that I think about, the whole time I've been in here, it's felt like… I'm walking, but I'm also swimming through something. And this something is thick, and form-fitting, it has this… pressure, which I know isn't the correct term, but goddamn it, this place makes no damn sense and I'm doing my best to understand it, okay?!

God… Sorry.

So, the best analogy I can come up with is… it's like I'm walking through really thick black gel. There's enough tension to keep me on a… "surface", but if I… imagine myself pressing down hard enough, I can descend. Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, I think… I think I need to test this more, I'll be back.

Two months, seventeen days, two hours.

Navigation is largely affected by… conscious impulses to travel in a certain direction. So, this definitely isn't a complete reality gap, at least according to mine and Anna's theories. If-if it were I wouldn't have been able to move at all, since space wouldn't have existed. Holy shit, okay, okay, this makes a lot more sense than it did before, great, great job, Robert, you're getting there. …Come to think of it, I should've realized that sooner when I was able to move in a flat plane to and from little red. It also explains why I'm not dead from dehydration or hunger yet, time barely passes in here. Okay yeah, so, I stood right next to little red, and went straight… "down." Okay, from here on out, imagine little red as the origin of a 3D space. I went straight… down, right, yeah, and then… and then I was then able to come back "up" to little red again. I've also been able to "fly" above red. Movement in here is slow, like I said, gel analogy, best I can describe it by.

Two months, twenty-two-days, three hours.

Reporting back for another update, red, SIR! Hahaha, come on red, lighten up. Ha! Pun not intended… Come on red, crack a little smile, it's funny!

…

… Fine, whatever. Ahem.

This place still seems like it barely follows Kejel's Laws of Reality Parameters. And by barely, I mean, really just barely. I'm pretty sure my math is right, but… hold on, I'm gonna check again…

Jesus. Yeah, yeah, pretty sure it's good still. Okay, this place… if we're using the standard Hume scale, I'm pretty sure I'm in a reality where the Hume Field is… point zero… four… ish. Yeah, really, really, really fucking low, so… Like I said above, space-time exists on a very minuscule scale, so my biology is not getting shot to hell and back because of any malnutrition, but that also means… I… I'm actually not sure what that also means…

…

Adding on from the last entry. I'm… I'm not sure how my biology will react in such a low Hume concentration, actually. I mostly worked with higher than average Hume Fields, and the reality benders we tested never had a Field lower than 0.8. This… this is gonna be a first. An all-time first. I remember Site-133's "Prommel Killer", they called it that because it broke the previous theory about the lowest limit of Hume concentration. Really expensive, really weird machine that brought down a small area to 0.4. 0.05 is… yeah.

I was lying. I was lying, last log… I… I'm lying to myself. My own body, and… little red here too… We're about the realest things in this place. And that means… over time… the Hume field's going to want to… equalize, and… I'm… I'm gonna go for now, I have some… some calculation to do again. Red, Anna, take note I'm using Kejel's Second, Third, and Fourth Laws, got it? Use… use 0.05 as the surrounding, my external field as… somewhere in between 1 and 1.4, use the Second Law's error estimation correction, and my internal as… as… as… shit. I'm not done yet.

I am real. I am super-real. Super duper real. Ultra real, the realest guy in a world of no-real.

You have no sense of humor as usual, red. I'm talking about the LSS, red. When we got sent here, I think… I think our reality got cranked up a notch. Red, didn't you pay attention in class? Hey, don't get fucking smart with me, red. Okay, the point is, the LSS surge got us up to… to…

Two months, eighteen days, seven hours.

No, red, not even fucking close, you must've converted Kejel's Third Law equation wrong. Because of the malfunctioning LSS we got blasted by, we're somewhere in between 2.2 and 3.6. Yes, that's good red, that's very good, because that means we have more time than we thought to… to… yes, red, before we fucking DIE, okay?!

Two months, twenty four days, five hours.

About three years. Four, if… If I don't interact too much. If… If I had had an LSS here, I could maybe stretch it out to… eight, maybe, that's best case scenario… But I have… I have to… I… know… but… but… three years. Three years, then it's past the point of no return. Ha. Hahahahaha. I should… I should definitely figure something out by then. I think I still should be pretty good for a while… At least… no, no, I won't be in here that long… I'll definitely figure something out…

Anna, what would we do with a case like this? I need your help, honey. That… that tingling I've been feeling… That's my Hume Field diffusing… My… my reality fading… Three years. I need to stabilize myself within three years.

I've been thinking… Anna and I, we had this theory… Even though the Hume Field is low, it's still a Hume Field. And precisely since it's so low, Hume diffusion should take quite a while. Now if… if I could… contain… recycle the fields, keep the diffusion from spreading too thin, I could… And I could also maybe… it's only a theory, but… It's worth a shot. But that means…

Hey, red. I… I'm gonna have to go for a bit. I want to test something, and you can't come with me. I… I'm sorry. No, no, red, I'm really, really sorry, I want you to come, I do, but… if we're together the diffusion will increase faster… We both need as much time as possible. I need to figure this place out more, and you need to make sure you keep all that info in your head. It's… red, come on. You- you'll be fine red, I know you will, you're tough. A lot tougher than me… it'll only be for a bit, red, but I need to see if I can find a way to keep us alive a bit longer. Maybe even get us out of here. If I can contain enough field, I can… I can maybe even get us out. No, no I'm not sure, but I need to find out. Red, we're talking about possibly escaping, okay? Yeah, it's a gap. A gap should have an end, like a… like the walls of a canyon, understand? I need to find a wall, and then, and then I can…

…

I'm sorry, red, I hope we're still friends when I come back.

…

I'm… I'm going now… I'll see you soon.

…

- Close.

Six months, ten days, five hours.

Hello again, little red. It's been a while.

You know… thinking back… I don't know what the hell I was so excited about. This place is… god, this place. This place is is fucking… hell.

There's no end. It just goes on. And on. And on.

I traveled in one goddamn direction for two, damn, months. God, I'm so fucking stupid, why did I think I could get out? I'm thinking like those old European shits that thought the end of the world was at the horizon. Fucking stupid, Robert, stupid, just-just- GAAAAAAAAAAAH—

If I let myself fall down long enough would I eventually hit a bottom?

Ten months, 28 days, 15 hours.

There's no bottom. And fuck you, red.

I'm sorry, red, don't go out, I'm sorry I turned you off, come back, come back, please—

… I turned 40 today. Happy birthday, Robert.

I was adopted, did you know that? Yeah, my parents left me in a box on the side of a street. Got picked up by some American couple, which explains my not-so-Chinese names. I don't even know my original last name. Just thought I'd share. How about you, red?

Anna and I met on-site in 1988. God she was beautiful. She still is. It was our eyes. She has beautiful eyes. My eyes are grey, they're boring, but hers… God they're beautiful. Do you think… Do you think she's still worried about me, little red? Is she looking for me?

You know, red, you're a great listener. But I never hear you talk about yourself. Come on, don't be shy, there's no one else around, right? Hahaha, right? Hahaha… hahahahaha…

"I'm sorry, Robert, I'm afraid I can't do that." Hahaha, red, you're hilarious.

Were you married? Kids? Any family at all? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Come on, red, I won't judge, just… talk to me, please. God, my head hurts. And my feet feel like they've been asleep for forever.

I worked at a comic store as a kid. So much cheaper back then, and I got free stuff at the end of each week. I liked Spiderman the best.

I was in a box, side of the street.

I… what the fuck… no. No. No, no, no, no, no, no, red, have you seen my picture? The picture red, Anna's picture, where is - come on, come on, where-where- Anna! ANNA! ANNA! Where did - no, no, no, no, no, please, please no, anything but, PLEASE.

It's fading, she's fading, she's fading, please, Anna, no, please, come on, sweetie, stay here, it's too soon, it's TOO SOON, my math isn't wrong, it's NOT WRONG, YOU SHOULD BE FINE. ANNA, ANNA, I can't hold you, come back, Anna, sweetie, honey, Anna please, I need you, I need you, please, please, don't go, I'm here, I'm still here. RED GET HELP. Anna, please, please, don't go, don't -

Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. Black hair, green eyes, 160. [Dr. Scranton repeats this for three hours.]

Anna and I got married in '91. We couldn't really get the nicest suit and dress we wanted because of work, but, damn, we both looked great. Anna looked better, of course. We just danced, and danced the whole night, got the whole week off. Even a job like mine lets you enjoy your honeymoon… So, come on red, open up, put 'er there, high five. Come on. Come on, red.

One year, two months, twenty-seven days.

…

…

AAAAAAA—

[The next recordings only play the control panel's automated voice giving times, with intervals of one to three days, with several month-long gaps in between as well; also intermixed are Dr. Scranton's sobbing, screaming, and mumbling. These recordings continue until the time reading reaches two years, seven months, and 28 days, after which they cease to pick up any sound until two months later.]

[jestbee]

Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Eleven)

Title: Ships that pass in the night (Chapter Eleven) Tags: Alternate Timeline, AU, Slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers Words: 4480 Summary: Dan and Phil are YouTubers. The catch? They’ve never met, and Phil doesn’t want them to.

Author’s Note: After a short break, this is back! Thanks for sticking with me, I’ve really missed this :D

[AO3 Link]

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven] [Chapter Eight] [Chapter Nine] [Chapter Ten]

The videos come out over the next four weeks. Dan visits often. When one is uploaded they’ve developed a sort of ritual of waiting for each other to watch them and Dan will text Phil sometime in the evening, or he won’t, either way he’ll show up. Phil ends up giving him the code for the downstairs door because it’s easier to just let him in when he knocks than it is to buzz him up since he knows he’s coming anyway.

There are a few times, after the video has finished and they are plunged into the quiet darkness of Phil’s flat, that they move on to other videos, or a DVD, or video games. Prolonging the moment when Dan has to leave as though neither wants it to come. Dan sleeps on his couch a few times, and he’s always there in the morning.

It’s cosy and warm and Phil is getting to used to it, which is dangerous, especially when he knows it has a shelf life. Their video will be uploaded soon, and then there’s the wrap party for the whole group, and then they will have run out of excuses and Phil will have to deal with these feelings he has once and for all. To get over them, or to burn away with them, he hasn’t really decided.

PJ, at least, is the same as he always is. He drops round too, complaining he hasn’t seen Phil in ages and carting with him some weird card game that Phil can’t really get his head around but is trying his best at.

He’s just lost another hand, sat cross-legged on his living room carpet opposite PJ at the coffee table when there is that ever-familiar knock at his door. Phil gets up immediately.

“Expecting company?” PJ asks, his face surprised at how unsurprised Phil’s is.

“It’ll be Dan,” Phil explains with a shrug

“Dan?” PJ repeats. “Dan Howell?”

“Yeah.” Phil forgets that this is strange and unusual behaviour for Phil Lester.

“Since when does Dan Howell drop by your flat?”

“Um… since… you know, we worked together on the project. It’s just for that community thing, we watch the videos together when they’re uploaded. He’s probably here to watch tonight’s I forgot to tell him you were over. Should I have asked him to cancel?”

“No,” PJ smiles, his eyes twinkling with something that might be pride, but Phil has no idea what he has to be proud of, “the more the merrier.”

With a short nod, more to himself than to PJ, Phil goes to answer the door.

Dan doesn’t wait for an invitation inside, simply barrels in, chatting non-stop as he drops off a carrier bag in the kitchen.

“I think you’re rubbing off on me,” he says, disappearing around the doorframe and out of Phil’s view.

Phil has no choice but to follow, just to keep up with whatever the heck it is Dan is going on about.

“Some guy on the tube on the way over here was quacking. Actually quacking, like a duck. I thought it was just you that attracted strange people but honestly…”

He keeps it up, the constant drivel of commentary, drifting from the kitchen once he’s deposited his bag, and heading to the living room.

“Is it catching do you think? The attracting strange people thing– oh. Hi. You’re PJ.”

Dan is in the doorway and turns his head back over his shoulder to look at Phil.

“Wow. I'm… such a dick. I totally didn’t know you had company. Because I just presumed didn’t I? Wow. Sorry. I'll… leave you to it.” He takes a few steps backwards but Phil moves up behind him and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be silly,” he insists, “We were just playing this weird game, you should join us.”

“That okay with you?” Dan asks PJ.

“Sure mate, the more the merrier,” PJ repeats, looking around Dan at Phil with an amused expression.

Dan gives Phil a last look of apology and then crosses the room to sit down opposite PJ on the carpet.

“What are we playing?”

Phil smiles at the two, they make a good picture, like a dream sequence of what his life might be like if he socialised more. Friends gathered and comfortable in his flat. But it’s like he’s watching it from the outside, too stuck in his own head to really immerse himself in it.

PJ begins to explain the rules of the game and while Dan’s brow furrows slightly, he nods as if he understands. Phil hesitates only briefly before taking a seat next to Dan, crossing his legs so that their knees brush, even though there is really no need for them to. PJ crooks and eyebrow over Dan’s head as looks down at the cards, Phil pretends he doesn’t see.

They play a few hands and Phil still doesn’t really understand the game, but he has an excuse for not really paying attention this time. PJ and Dan get along famously, laughing and fondly chiding each other in a free and easy way Phil envies with every fibre of his being. They haven’t socialised much before tonight, Phil knows, but he thinks they’ll leave as friends. It warms something in him to think of the two closest people to him getting along. Which says something about him if he includes Dan stand-in-friend-for-the-sake-of-the-internet Howell as one of the people closest to him.

“I brought beer,” Dan says suddenly, as if just remembering, which is a new development, because he doesn’t usually.

Were they meant to drink it alone? Did Dan bring beer for him and Phil to drink while watching the latest youtube community video? It wouldn’t be entirely strange, he supposes, but still, it’s a novelty and for some reason it sends Phil’s mind wandering to imaginative places. So much so that he doesn’t catch himself as he watches Dan leave the room, a small sigh escaping him as he disappears.

“Phil,” PJ says, knocking him from his trance.

“Um, yeah? Sorry, what?”

“Phil…” PJ looks kind of mad, the space between his brows shrunk into a dipped line, harsh and judgemental, “I said you should make friends with him not fall for the guy.”

“Wha-what?” Phil stammers, “What the hell are you… talking about?”

It’s a token protest at best, because PJ doesn’t look like he’s believing it and Phil isn’t putting much emotion behind it.

“Oh god,” he says instead, dropping his forehead into his hand. Their voices are low, dipped so that Dan can’t hear them.

“On the one hand,” PJ is saying, “I mean… it’s great that you're… you know, getting out there. But… Phil, come on, is it wise? After everything that–”

“No, no, no” Phil says, his hands waving wildly in front of PJ’s face as if trying to push the words back into his mouth, “No no no. We’re not… He doesn't…. No.”

“Okay,” PJ says finally, patting ineffectually at Phil’s hands to get them to stop, “Like I said, I’m glad you’re getting out there. You know, not that long ago you wouldn’t have been able to… you found it difficult. But… I mean Phil, another YouTuber? Really?”

“I know,” Phil says, shaking his head and dipping his eyes, not even wanting to see how pathetic he is reflected in PJ’s expression. “I’m dealing with it. It’s all over soon anyway and then it won’t matter. Like you said, maybe it’s just the start of me like getting out there a little bit… yeah. After this… I can… you know… move on to something… better.”

PJ only gets as far as nodding in reply before Dan is back in the room carrying three glass bottles of beer. It isn’t the horrible kind that Phil usually hates, the ones he gets stuck holding at parties, it’s the light Mexican kind, laced with tequila or similar. He’s jammed a wedge of lime into the rim of the bottle and Phil knows the sour will mix with the taste of the beer and tequila and end up tasting quite nice.

They play a few more hands of the game while they sip, and Dan fills the awkward silence with his large, brash personality and Phil is thankful for it because he has no idea what he would say to either of them right now. His head is full of PJ’s disapproval, because of course this is all a stupid idea, given his history, and he’d honestly turn it off if he could but one look at Dan, sweeping the fringe from his eyes with the back of his index finger while staring down at his cards and Phil knows it’s hopeless. Just the sweet curve of his mouth twisted into a slight frown at a bad hand is enough to flip Phil’s stomach over.

PJ leaves soon after, needing to get home to Sophie, and Phil walks him to the door.

“He’s a cool guy,” PJ is saying, “Just… be careful.”

“You know I always am,” Phil sighs, “Too careful. Isn’t that my problem? You’re always saying that is my problem.”

PJ nods, “I know. Maybe some of that caution has rubbed off on me. Mostly I just don’t really understand because … well, Dan is very out-there isn’t it? Social media wise. I thought that’d be the last thing you wanted.”

“It is,” Phil insists, “I don’t actually… look, I’m not going to do anything. It’s an infatuation, he’s cute or whatever and I’m dipping my toe in.”

“If you say so Phil, looks a little more than a physical crush to me though mate, you’re fairly gone on him.” “I can’t be,” Phil shrugs, “can I? Another Youtuber? Please… there are so so many reasons why that is the most insane thing I could possibly do. And anyway, Dan would never… it’s not like that.”

“I’m not arguing with you on any but that last point,” PJ says, “He’d be a fool not to. Just…”

“Be careful,” Phil repeats, “I know.”

PJ nods, hugs him very very briefly, staying out of Phil’s space in a way he appreciates when he’s feeling this prickly, like his skin might erupt into flame, and then he leaves.

He returns to the living room and to Dan who immediately begins expounding on how much fun the game had been and how good it was to get to know PJ a little more and–

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes I’m fine.”

“…okay.” Dan says, his eyes narrowing briefly, “If you say so. You want to watch the community video now?”

“Yes.”

They watch the video, and then a few more. Dan slides closer to him on the couch, their legs pressed together from hip to knee even though there is more than enough room for them to sit with space between them.

Eventually they end up with animal videos and autoplay taking over their choosing of them and Dan is wavering between awake and asleep and Phil silently pulls the blanket from the back of the couch like he always does.

“I should go,” Dan whispers into the darkness that has fallen over Phil’s living room.

“If you want to,” Phil replies, moving to put the blanket back again.

“I said I should” Dan clarifies, “not that I wanted to. I’m not good at making wise decisions when I want something. I’m trying to get better at that.”

Phil doesn’t try to make sense out of Dan’s tired babbling, instead just passes the blanket to him and Dan does nothing but hug it to his chest. He can make out Dan’s profile in the light of the laptop, the curve of his nose, the dip of his dimple thrown into stark relief in the harsh glow.

“Me too.” Phil says finally. Knowing that Dan is not a wise decision, but he keeps making it, over and over.

“You’re always careful,” Dan insists, sleepily.

“Maybe I’m trying not to be,” Phil breathes, the words only barely there on his exhale. “Or I’m not as good at is as I used to be.”

There is a beat of silence, thick, heavy and loaded with suggestion. Dan turns his head to look Pil square in the face, his eyes soft, and Phil thinks if there was ever a moment that something could happen it would be now. Something rises in his chest, dangerous and reckless, like the pull to the edge of a building, making him want to tip forward just to try something for once, to put himself out there. But it passes, and he tries not to feel too disappointed when Dan lays backwards, stretches out on his couch, kicking out at him lightly.

“Go on then, get out. Let me sleep.”

Phil laughs, letting the lightness of it ease the dull throb of pain in his heart and stands. He closes the laptop lid, tucking it under his arm and leaves Dan to sleep. PJ is right, he needs to be more careful, this is starting to get out of hand.

–

He’s more restrained after that. Heeding PJ’s advice and his own nagging conscience telling him how stupid he’s being and he begins to school himself back into the realms of AmazingPhil. Perhaps, he argues with himself, if he can just be the person he’s supposed to be, the one that Dan likes from the internet, the one that can give him all the things he wants, the follow count and the recognition, Dan might stay.

He’s aware how crazy that sounds, how close it is to falling into a repeat of behaviours that have gotten him in trouble before, and how he’s prolonging the thud thud thud of painful longing in his chest by wishing Dan will stay close by, but that pain is the only reminder he has that he’s still capable of feelings at all. He’s scared that without it he’ll go back to how he was before, friendless and isolated, and now he’s had a taste of what it could be, easy and carefree, he wants more of it.

It’s easy to slip into the persona and if Dan notices, it is only in the small glance of a frown every now and again when Phil makes a particularly off-kilter comment more suited to his channel than how they’ve been recently. He doesn’t offer comment though, simply gazes at him or else flicks his eyes to the side to avoid it. Phil watches it happen but doesn’t do anything to correct himself because at least Dan is staying, for now.

Phil is tweeting, too. Giving little glimpses into their times hanging out and Dan replies regularly. The fans are going crazy over the ‘domestic’ nature of them and speculation is rife. It’s pretty accepted in their corner of the internet that the 'surprise’ video at the end of the month is going to be theirs, so by the time the day arrives the hype online is intense.

“This is going to change things for us,” Dan is saying excitedly.

He’s in Phil’s flat again, on the side of the couch that is slowly becoming his and Phil has even bothered to buy snacks his time, something Dan had teased him about because as far as hosting goes Phil hasn’t been great up to this point.

They’re not on the laptop this time, instead Phil has hooked up YouTube on his TV for the occasion, wanting to bring a little bit of something special to the proceedings seeing how he’s convinced this is the last time Dan is going to be in his flat, the project is over, they don’t need to hang out anymore.

“You think one collab is going to have that much of an effect?” he asks, fishing a Dorito from the bowl on the table and crunching on it happily.

“I think the amazing video you made is going to showcase your talent and increase your subscriber count, yeah.”

He says it so casually, as if bestowing the praise is easy for him, effusing from his being like water, drenching over Phil, cooling him.

“The video we made,” Phil corrects, shaking his head, trying not to allow the compliment to take root there, “the concept was your idea, really.”

“But I couldn’t have done it without your amazing filming and editing skills, Phil. You’re truly talented, you could direct big movies one day.”

Phil feels his face colour and he shoves at Dan’s arm to distract himself, “Shut up.”

“I’m serious,” Dan insists, laughing so that his whole face lights up and Phil wants to take it in his hands and swallow it down.

“But your story telling was what made it great, you have a real knack for the way you put words together… maybe you should write the movie script. Or star in it. You’re great at acting. I’d let you have creative input on the cinematography too.”

“Cheers,” Dan says, eyes dancing through the sarcasm. “I’ll just do all the work and you tell them where to point the camera? Seems like a fair split!”

Phil imagines then what it might be like to work with Dan on something bigger, a larger project that combines their talents into something their audiences could enjoy. He thinks about how that would mean getting more of Dan’s attention, more of his time, more of those smiles aimed directly at him, so wonderful and bright he could go blind from it.

He tries to remind himself not to get too attached to them, because this is ending tonight. This is the last time.

They refresh the page once more and the video is there, their phones chiming in perfect sync as they each receive a notification.

“Here we go,” Dan says.

Phil just nods and clicks play.

Watching the video in this space is strange. They’ve seen it before, countless times, played back on Phil’s computer while they edit, but this is different. They aren’t perched on separate chairs for one, but are as close together on his couch as they always are. And they can’t make changes, if they see anything they don’t like this time, it’s out there for the world to see.

“I’m glad we didn’t change anything,” Dan says in a hushed tone, doing that thing where he reads Phil’s mind a little bit. “I’m glad you talked me down from my crazy neuroses about it.”

Phil huffs a laugh, because the thought that he can help anyone with their issues is astounding, because he can’t sort his own out so he’s no idea how to do it for anyone else.

“The video is great,” Phil assures him again, doing the impossible and reaching out to pat at Dan, meaning to go for his arm but finding his hand drop on his knee. Dan doesn’t visibly react so he probably gets away with it.

The story on screen is once again tugging at him. He watches as Dan’s character is lit solely by the glow of a laptop screen, head surrounded by a duvet. It’s the perfect depiction of a lonely teen watching YouTube for solace. It will resonate with the viewers in a great way, but Phil too understands that longing to be apart of something.

His own character going about the business of making videos, scrolling through twitter and then, yes, noticing the lonely teen finally. Then a montage, a series of Tweets, Skype Calls, Text Messages before finally… a bustling train platform, Phil stationery by the stairs and Dan making his way across, slow at first and then at a run, almost colliding with him.

“You’re real,” Dan had said, which hadn’t been in the script but had been a better line than the one that they’d planned. Phil grins, wide and happy and they turn, heading off for whatever adventures await them.

There’s a final shot, a video Dan’s character has made finally being uploaded, Phil looking on supportively, so the cycle can start again. This doubles out to screen after screen, thumbnail after thumbnail, depicting the growth of the community if everyone encourages each other, reaches out, works together. It doubles and doubles until the screen is impossibly covered in screencaps, Dan’s lost amongst the crowd, the colours of them forming the YouTube logo which sits for a second before the screen fades to black.

“God,” Dan says when it ends, Phil reaching to stop the next video from playing.

“Yeah.”

“I sort of wish…” Dan starts before trailing off.

Phil pokes at him, a pointed finger sinking into the flesh of his upper arm. “What? You seeing editing mistakes?”

“No,” Dan clarifies, turning his full body, hitching one leg up onto the couch so that he is leaned in towards Phil. “I just sort of wish that something like that had actually happened sometimes. Like, I was that guy, watching YouTube by myself in my room. It would have been nice to meet someone back then, a good friend.”

Phil nods, because at the time Dan is talking about he could probably have done with a good friend too. Something a little more honest, innocent, something not tearing him up from the inside.

“I do too,” he agrees, “I wish things were different. But hey, you got into YouTube anyway!”

“I did,” Dan nods, “I procrastinated the hell out of it, and I probably could have done with something as encouraging as that but… I got there eventually.”

“I’m glad,” Phil says, honestly. “Twitter time?”

Dan nods and pulls out his phone.

They spend some time replying to fans on Twitter who have seen the video, answering questions about it and saying that no, short films isn’t something they’ve done before but yes they’d enjoyed it. Someone asks if they’d ever work together again and Dan is diplomatic in his answer that he loves collaborating and is always open to people with great ideas. It doesn’t really answer whether he’d work with Phil again specifically, but Phil doesn’t press the issue because Dan is a master at saying only exactly what he wants to on social media, and nothing more.

They give up after about forty five minutes because they can’t possible answer everyone, as much as phil would like to, and it’s beginning to descend into the 'phan’ side of things and Phil knows those interactions are best left well alone. They don’t even need to discuss it.

When they’re done Phil reaches for the remote to put something else on, it’s the same gesture he’s done a bunch of times so he’s mildly surprised when Dan begins to stand.

“I should go,” Dan says.

“Should?” Phil asks, bravely, “Or are?

Dan’s face relaxes into a kind of smile, it is one for all intents and purposes but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes in the way that Phil is used to. Instead, they look flat and sad.

"I am.”

“O-Okay.” Phil says, standing as well, “I'll… show you out.” Which is stupid because Dan knows where the door is, he knows all the corners of Phil’s tiny flat by now, he’s spent time here enough.

The walk to the door is like a funeral march, a slow plod to the end of all of this, there are no statements of 'see you tomorrow’ and no promises of anything else nestled between them. It’s done, and as much as Phil might have longed for this moment a month or so ago he finds that it’s sitting heavy on him, like a stone.

“This is it,” Dan says, redundant because Phil knows what his own front door looks like.

“This is it.” Phil repeats.

Dan shrugs into the jacket over his arm, running a hand distractedly through his hair, shuffling and fidgeting, doing everything not to meet Phil’s gaze until finally, he takes a breath, looks like he’s decided, and looks up.

“Thanks for… everything,” he says, “I had a really good time on this project.”

“Yeah…” Phil hates the sound of his voice, it’s wispy and pathetic, all tangled around those pesky feelings churning in his chest so that it can’t come out the way he intends, “me too.”

There is still no suggestion of anything more, and Phil wants to say 'let’s do it again’ or even something as flimsy and intangible as 'see you soon’, he wants to say these because he can’t say 'stay’ or 'don’t go’.

Instead he says nothing more, because on top of the thin way his voice is stretched, he can’t trust what words would come out were he to attempt anything at all.

Dan slips into the silence, leans forward, arms extended. They wrap around Phil’s shoulders unexpectedly and pull him close. He doesn’t keep himself bent away this time, presses against Phil’s body tightly, toes nudging at the tips of Phil’s own and Phil can hear the rush of breath escaping him in his ear.

He doesn’t know what to do, simply goes with his instinct, with his want, and curls his arms around Dan’s waist, holding him tighter, trying to communicate something, anything at all, just with the touch.

“Take care,” Dan says as they part, and this is worse than goodbye. Goodbye could mean 'later’ it could have anything bundled into it. 'Take care’ is final, and it stabs into Phil’s chest, the warmth of Dan’s body long gone, and takes root.

“You too.”

Phil feels himself drift as Dan takes hold of the door handle, sparing him another little glance as he slips into the hallway and then a small, casual wave, as if nothing is wrong even though it feels like Phil’s world is crumbling away.

He watches as Dan rounds the corner at the end of the hall, memorising the soft curve of his shoulders, the broad expanse of his back. He lets the image sit for a while, closing the door to his flat and wandering back to his living room to gaze at the space Dan has left on his couch, wondering how long it will take before he stops thinking of it as belonging to him, before he stops expecting him to show up of an evening.

It’s done, he tells himself, it was great while it lasted but it’s time to start the business of getting over it. Like PJ said, it was just a way for him to get out there a little bit, he’s proved he can do it, it’s time to move on to something a little wiser, something that doesn’t scare him beyond belief… something that doesn’t make his heart beat wildly and his palms sweaty and his head float. Something that doesn’t make him as happy as Dan might have. It’s time to just let it go.