#fingers crossed the read cut works on mobile this time lol

[burberrycanary]

Hi there! I am about midway through reading your story Lost Vocabularies and it is amazing!! The whole series has been so lovely, I’m obsessed with the way you write! The way that you convey the boys complicated emotions and capture all the little nuances of their dynamic has me feral!! Beyond even them the way you inject so much personality into the locations is so good, I feel like I am there!! So thank you for writing this lovely story 💕 I was wondering if you happen to have a list of all the books that Bucky and Steve read? I have been looking up a lot of them and adding them to my to read list bc they sound so interesting lol! On that same note, how did you decide what books to mention? Are they all ones that you have read or did you do research to find ones you thought they would like?

I’ve been coming back and rereading this kind and wonderful comment in my inbox over the last few weeks when way too many massive, stressful, time-sensitive things were all happening at once. 💕 But since I have a little breather between crazy periods, I get to dive in here as a treat.

Lost Vocabularies involved a lot of research, which I hope isn’t apparent because I didn’t want there to be any noticeable difference between the parts of the story that are based on places I’d been, foods I’d tried and books I’d read personally—and what was created purely based on research. Fingers crossed that the seams don't show!

In this series, we see both Steve and Bucky use art to process—helping them understand themselves and connect to the world again. Bucky is drawn to stories while Steve as an artist is much more visual, but the underlying impulse is similar. In the same way that you learn a lot by glancing through someone’s bookshelves, what characters read is interesting to me, and revealing. This version of Bucky is a very private person so these books offer a glimpse into his inner life. And as the POV character we get to experience all these things alongside Steve.

I’m not much of a sci-fi or fantasy reader so some of Bucky’s picks were a real challenge for me. But I wanted these to be grounded in the characters and the storytelling functions, not based on my own taste and opinions, though of course those always bleed through. 

Steve’s Reading List

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Bucky’s Reading List

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos by Steven H. Strogatz

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I’ve included some notes and commentary on why I picked each of these works under the cut.

The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands)

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Classic post-WWII dystopian sci-fi that focuses on society collapsing after a series of catastrophes that were unintentional but very much caused by people, which leads to a lot of the population becoming blind. Thematically this work engages with the loss of identity that people, both abled and disabled, face in the process of survival and a dark look at what happens after societies break down. How this applies to Bucky is obvious, but part of the argument of this post-Endgame series is that it applies to Steve, too. 

Also, there are huge mobile carnivorous plants. 

Fun fact: the opening of this novel is said to have been the inspiration for 28 Days Later!

Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion)

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

Alice Neel’s portraits are extraordinary, almost unnervingly vivid. In this story, Steve is familiar with her work as a fellow New York-based artist active in communist circles in the 1930s. She also worked for the WPA, producing wonderful street scenes that documented New York neighborhoods of the era. 

To be honest, I have so many questions about what Steve was up to in the late 1930s before his war mania of the 40s hits.

One of the core themes of this series is Steve struggling with what his body is for if it’s no longer for violence. Who is he if he’s not a soldier? What is his radically changed body if it’s not a weapon? How do you come home from the war?

In this regard, Steve and Bucky have all kinds of shared life experience.

So thematically I include Neel because of her startling gift for capturing personalities and bodies through a process of frank, earnest, truthful observation of the integrated completeness of body and self: this space that’s you. 

But a book of Alice Neel’s work with her sensitive portraits and fleshy frank nudes pulls him into flipping through page after page of these personalities and bodies, not idealized: seen.

Steve isn’t ready for that when he bumps into this big “impractical” art book in a holdover Barnes & Noble in Brooklyn, not when he’s still so shook up and adrift. But he will be.

There’s such empathy and radical humanism to her pieces. “People,” as she famously said, “come first.” I stand by the conclusion that Steve would love her work.

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft was relatively unknown in his lifetime—he died in 1937—but his stories were published in popular fantasy pulp magazines like Weird Tales and Astounding Stories, which is where Bucky would have come across his work. The fact that Steve recognizes Lovecraft by name means that teenage Bucky must have talked about what he was reading and the pulp stories he liked with teenage Steve, which is adorable—“this Lovecraft fellow, Steve, you wouldn’t believe the stuff he comes up with.” And Steve was paying attention enough to remember two decades and change later without the benefit of his serum-enhanced memory, which hurts my heart a little in the best possible way. 

That’s how Steve all these years and decades later is able to wordlessly toss this collection of H. P. Lovecraft’s stories at Bucky on a hot hazy stumbled-upon beach in northern Florida and watch Bucky’s whole face light up. 

And of course Bucky would view Lovecraft as a great beach read 😂

But this is the basis for something I’ve written into this series: Bucky excitedly sharing things he finds interesting with Steve—wanting to tell Steve first, Steve most. And although Steve is quiet, stoical and very self-contained, he’s paying a whole hell of a lot of attention.

Given that Bucky is canonically a Tolkien fan, I think the imaginativeness and ranging scope of Lovecraft’s complex, often interconnected stories would appeal to him. And, thematically, Lovecraft is distinctive for the era for having characters psychologically fragment when confronting these vast inhuman others. 

“The Call of Cthulhu” opens with:

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.

Steve and Bucky have each voyaged out a long way.

Trauma, in a way, is a form of terrible knowledge. You can heal but you can’t unknow things. 

Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation)

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

This is the first book in the series that we see Bucky pick for himself. And, wow, he picks a doozy with themes of multiple and unstable identities, invasive surveillance, manipulation, psychosis, and how individuals can get chewed up by larger systems, falling through the cracks of society. Dick was writing based on his own troubled experiences with southern California drug culture of the early 70s, but this work gets at much more fundamental darknesses that I think would speak to some of the horrors Bucky has gone through and won’t talk about, not even with Steve. 

Within the first few pages, we get this:

It was midday, in June of 1994. In California, in a tract area of cheap but durable plastic houses, long ago vacated by the straights. Jerry had at an earlier date sprayed metal paint over all the windows, though, to keep out the light; the illumination for the room came from a pole lamp into which he had screwed nothing but spot lamps, which shone day and night, so as to abolish time for him and his friends. He liked that; he liked to get rid of time. By doing that he could concentrate on important things without interruption.

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

Eggleston was an early pioneer in color photography and that fascination with color is very apparent in his work. I think this focus would grab Steve as an artist who doesn’t take seeing the full spectrum of color for granted. Even in the MCU’s thin action-film scripts, Steve comments on things that offend his aesthetic sensibilities even when that has absolutely no bearing on the situation at hand, from Stark Tower to Lang’s van.

Not even a world-ending crisis can keep Steve from going, wow, no, that’s ugly. I enjoyed running with that 😂

Steve’s view of Eggleston’s photographs shifts over the course of the series, reflecting what he’s feeling, from the fragmented and disconnected detachment—“isolated and off-kilter”— that he sees in them at the beginning that shifts to the passionate engagement in the world he finds in them later. 

Steve looks through the whole book of William Eggleston’s photographs again and at first the colors still roll over him like the shockwave of a distant explosion, all he can focus on. But gradually the subjects and compositions pull forward, too: monumentalized images of the everyday that at first seem neutral, the work of a detached observer. But the off-center framing of ordinary life is so deliberate as though everything might be important and where every detail deserves attention—that’s nothing like neutral. That’s not detached at all. You have to care a whole hell of a lot.

This mirrors the journey this post-Endgame Steve goes on. Because Steve Rogers should be a character who cares a whole hell of a lot, not what the MCU writers eventually reduced him to. And that’s what this fix-it is trying to fix. 

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions)

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

I love writing Bucky as a big fucking science nerd. His last night in New York and how does he want to spend the time? At a science fair with his best friend and a couple of pretty girls. So Bucky reading about quantum electrodynamics is delightful to me. The thing is, though, Bucky is a bright enough guy with a high school education. He’s not a genius—and the MCU is lousy with geniuses. But if Bucky wanted to learn a little more about all this quantum stuff he heard about in passing during some vague and very improbable sounding explanations, which by the way also allowed one of the few people still living who truly matters to him and the closest thing Bucky had left to family to fuck off to the past, well, Feynman’s QED isn’t a bad place to start in understanding some of this quantum stuff, at least. 

Feynman here is very much writing for a popular audience. His writing is conversational—the book is adapted from a set of lectures he gave—and his voice is witty, casual and surprisingly light, but at the same time Feynman is deeply invested in helping lay people understand quantum mechanics. The book opens with:

Alix Mautner was very curious about physics and often asked me to explain things to her. I would do all right, just as I do with a group of students at Caltech that come to me for an hour on Thursdays, but eventually I’d fail at what is to me the most interesting part: We would always get hung up on the crazy ideas of quantum mechanics. I told her I couldn’t explain these ideas in an hour or an evening—it would take a long time—but I promised her that someday I’d prepare a set of lectures on the subject.

I prepared some lectures, and I went to New Zealand to try them out—because New Zealand is far enough away that if they weren’t successful, it would be all right! Well, the people in New Zealand thought they were okay, so I guess they’re okay—at least for New Zealand! So here are the lectures I really prepared for Alix, but unfortunately I can’t tell them to her directly, now.

C’mon! Tell me Bucky Barnes would not be hooked by this opening. 

Thematically, and more seriously, the question of how could Steve do this? has two very different meanings. So far in this series Bucky isn’t ready to confront the harder version of that question which comes potentially with some very painful answers: how could Steve make that choice? Nope, he’s not ready for that. Instead, his brain unconsciously takes the easier way out: trying to understand quantum electrodynamics. 😂😭

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Bucky must have liked A Scanner Darkly, because he went for another Philip K. Dick novel. Today remembered mostly as the source material for Blade Runner, this bleak dystopian novel is set in the aftermath of a devastating nuclear war that destroys most life on Earth. The work has themes around empathy—who feels empathy and for what?—materialism and what really makes us human. 

I find it interesting how Sebastian Stan talks about The Winter Soldier in terms of someone who has undergone a process of total desensitization, which to varying degrees is deliberately part of the training of all soldiers. But rebuilding his core sense of empathy was one of the things Bucky chose to do as soon as he had any agency in that two-year period where he was on the run, which is remarkable. As a person who has been treated as though he wasn’t human and had his empathy forcibly stripped from him, I think Bucky would have a lot of complicated feelings about the enslaved androids who escape but are ruthlessly tracked down and killed. Some of these escaped androids are dangerous and do lack basic empathy—shown in the book by torturing and mutilating an animal—while other androids seem like ordinary people just trying to live their lives. 

I like that Bucky talks about the book with Steve later in the story, returning in my view to a very old habit of bookworm Bucky wanting to share what he’d been reading with Steve <333

“I need to find something to read next,” Bucky says after wrapping up his description of an imagined religion that involved plugging into a box to virtually suffer the existence of a man forever walking up a steep hill while struck by crashing stones. 

“Well, did the androids dream of electric sheep?” Steve asks.

“Who knows?” Bucky knocks into him gently as he takes the bowl Steve passes over. “They just wanted to be free. Though the free people just wanted to own stuff or plug into a box and suffer. So, you know, sort of a grim outlook. ”

“A little light, cheerful reading.”

“Hey, we live in a world where people write ‘Take back what’s yours’ in the streets and then smash up the windows. Dystopias don’t seem so far off the mark.”

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Another case of Bucky sticking with an author he likes! To me, this implies that Bucky has already read Feynman’s Six Easy Pieces, which explains some of the foundational basics of physics for a very broad and non-technical audience. Six Not-So-Easy Pieces is also drawn from Feynman’s famous Lectures on Physics, focusing here on relativity and space-time, but this work assumes a greater knowledge of math, hence the name. But as a legendary sniper Bucky must have a strong aptitude for math and anyway I just leaned into making Bucky an all-around nerd, because Bucky Barnes, nerd who grew up hot, is delightful to me. 

Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time are all on point for a post-Endgame fix-it, which I think should count as a not-so-easy piece in its own right. 

Throughout the series, we see Bucky using physical copies when he reads fiction, more or less from unconscious nostalgia: connecting back to memories of his younger self who was an avid reader of pulp magazines and cheap paperbacks. Once Steve gets him going with that first quietly tossed-over gift, Bucky always carries around a sci-fi or fantasy book in this series despite the limited space in his backpack. And this familiarity wouldn’t just be from his pre-war life since I figure Bucky would have gone for the Armed Services Editions that were distributed for free to soldiers. Bucky likely traded with other soldiers once he finished a book if he couldn’t get a new ASE distribution: trading in his finished novel for a new one is Bucky unconsciously falling back into another old habit.

But for non-fiction, Bucky is absolutely here for the Modern Marvel of being able to carry around as many books as he likes on his phone. I figure Bucky would have used public libraries during certain stages of his recovery when he was homeless and migratory since they are a place to get information that is consistently available in cities; and a warm, quiet place you can go with a minimal number of security cameras. I headcanon a middle-aged librarian who has a few streaks of gray in her dark hair—and who reminds Bucky of someone but he has no idea who—explaining what e-books are to this tall, gaunt, soft-spoken homeless guy with an eye contact problem. And this person who isn’t the Asset anymore and isn’t Bucky Barnes yet has the out-of-nowhere thought: huh, whaddaya know. That’s pretty neat.

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos: With Applications To Physics, Biology, Chemistry, And Engineering by Steven H. Strogatz

Isolated systems tend to evolve towards a single equilibrium and these equilibrium points have been the focus of many-body research for centuries. But life is generally not that simple because most systems aren’t isolated. Often the dynamics of a system result from the product of multiple different interacting forces and objects in these systems can change between multiple different attractor wells over time. Or as Strogatz puts it:

As we’ve mentioned earlier, most nonlinear systems are impossible to solve analytically. Why are nonlinear systems so much harder to analyze than linear ones? The essential difference is that linear systems can be broken down into parts. Then each part can be solved separately and finally recombined to get the answer. This idea allows a fantastic simplification of complex problems, and underlies such methods as normal modes, Laplace transforms, superposition arguments, and Fourier analysis. In this sense, a linear system is precisely equal to the sum of its parts.

But many things in nature don’t act this way. Whenever parts of a system interfere, or cooperate, or compete, there are nonlinear interactions going on. Most of everyday life is nonlinear, and the principle of superposition fails spectacularly. 

You can think of nonlinear dynamics as situations in which the sum of the parts is insufficient to understand the whole. This connects to multiple themes in this story as Bucky and Steve try to understand themselves, their lives and each other. But here Bucky is also just continuing to live his best life as a nerd with a strong intuitive knack for math, a high school education, an internet connection and a growing collection of science e-books. Or as Bucky puts it:

“It’s nice, though, like this smart guy is just talking to you but doesn’t assume you’re dumb because of what you don’t know.”

It’s touched on only very lightly in the series so far, but Bucky has a lot of complex feelings about higher education that relate to class, indirectly to sexuality, and go back to the experience of being the son of upwardly mobile working-class immigrants who were very bought-in on a traditional take on the American Dream.

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I picked this partly because I thought the title would grab Bucky, who has been a stranger in a strange land several times over. Thematically this midcentury sci-fi novel focuses on challenging social norms through having the main character, a human who’d been raised by Martians on Mars, come back to Earth as an adult. A best-seller in its day that was controversial for its rejection of Christianity, monogamy and the nuclear family, the work is very tied to the looming cultural changes of the 60s and 70s. 

The novel’s critical reputation has been steadily in decline for decades, but I think Bucky would find it interesting since he grew up within the traditional early 20th-century culture this novel satirizes and challenges—mores that this story’s version of Bucky didn’t unquestioningly accept but didn’t openly challenge, either.

Having Bucky pick this novel reflects the themes for the last act of this story that focus more on Steve and Bucky's different experiences as closeted queer men growing up in a deeply homophobic society. These experiences continue to shape and impact them and yet are also a past these two are coming to terms with and growing beyond. 

Fun fact: this novel coined the word “grok.”

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Of all the books featured in this series, One Mighty and Irresistible Tide is my top recommendation. This is an accessible, well-written history of a topic that haunts American history: immigration. The specific focus is the waves of legislation passed in the first half of the 20th century that tried—and often succeeded—in limiting who could legally immigrate based on the racial and ethnic hierarchies that equally haunt American history, right down to the foundation. 

In this series, I wanted to pick up the themes of social justice and immigration that were so vaguely and incoherently included in TFATWS. These themes are inherent in the Snap and Return plotline except that Disney does not want to touch any of these politics with a ten-foot pole. But I remain fascinated by trying to wrap my mind around what it would mean for half the population to vanish and then return five years later, catastrophically in both cases. It’s a huge, intricate, sticky, difficult world-building problem that’s inescapably political. 

Steve isn’t quite ready to dive into facing or helping to fix the problems of the post-Return world that his actions helped to create. But here we get to see Steve’s burned-out passion and conviction slowly rekindle as he reads about the complicated and often ugly history of American immigration—and he gets mad about it. Of course, he gets mad about it! This is my answer to the ludicrous idea that Steve Rogers could quietly sit out the second half of the twentieth century. 

At the same time, I can have compassion for Steve knowing he can’t keep going but not knowing how to help himself, only to be given the cursed monkey’s paw of time travel. And he fucks up. His actions have real and lasting consequences. But that doesn’t make the situation hopeless or mean Steve can’t try to repair the relationships he damaged or work to regain the trust he lost, assuming he’s lucky enough to be given another chance by people who love him but have been hurt by his choices.

One of the greatest challenges in writing this Endgame fix-it was accepting Endgame as the starting point of the story and trying to reconcile a character I love with the choices canon has him make. Over the course of these stories, the central point isn’t Steve coming back to Bucky. It’s Steve coming back to himself. Through a slow and painful struggle, Steve finds himself again—rediscovering his stubborn endurance, his compassion for others and his drive to set wrongs right. Steve stumbled, badly, but he gets back up. Because that’s who Steve Rogers is. 

And because of who Bucky Barnes is—his innate kindness, his warm-hearted generosity and his stubborn loyalty that isn’t blind but runs deep—that’s how these two characters come back to each other, after everything.

Deliberately, this series is the first hard-fought and hopeful glimmer in a long trudging process that can get so heavy to carry forward, day after day, but is shot through with moments of beauty and joy all the same. 

I can't go on; I'll go on.

In other words, to quote one of my favorite poets: what the living do.

[7classyantiquestores]

Citadel Survival Status

Does anyone on the Citadel make it out of the end of Mass Effect 3?

Considering the amount of time spent there through the series, this is a question that crosses my mind each time I see the Citadel’s ostensible destruction at the game’s end. As a result, I sat down and thought about it, to finally settle the question...for me anyways. 

The way I see it, the Citadel has three checks it has to pass to realistically survive: the initial invasion by the Reapers, time occupied, and the use of the Crucible.

Initial Invasion

First of all, the Reapers had to seize control of the Citadel by force. Force which they, of course, possess in immense quantity. Considering how easily they obliterated numerous other advanced defenses, things look pretty bad for the Citadel from the get-go. But the big thing here is this: did the Reapers actually bring full force to bear? Did they use total war fare? I’d argue they didn’t. At first, anyways. 

The main argument is the speed with which they took the station. The Reapers might be strong, but it took them weeks to take Earth, Palavan, and Thessia, and these could be considered ultimately less defensible positions than the Citadel. The Citadel is isolated in space, and if you collect all associated assets, it is outfitted with a robust C-Sec of many thousands, a well-prepared Citadel Defense Force (CDF), a civilian militia, and probably thousands of special forces from each race stationed to protect political interests. And this isn’t to mention the obscene numbers of refugees (not a small portion of whom were combatants like the Turians and Batarians), as well as mercenary groups and gangs who (although illicit) would be well armed. 

You get the picture. Although these forces could easily be overcome by the Reapers eventually, the fact is that without causing immense damage to the Citadel, the Reapers would be forced into fighting a ground war. No way they took total control like that in the amount of time shown in the game. More likely, their strategy would look a lot like Saren and his forces in ME1. Controlling the Citadel only means taking and holding a very small portion of it in the Presidium. Their forces would probably have been distributed thinly over the Citadel for crowd control, but ultimately the galactic armada collected by Shepard poses the greater threat, and deserves greater allocation of troops. 

Although the initial invasion and following ground war would cost the Citadel thousands of lives, the numbers could be minimized by time-pressed, distracted Reapers and a properly prepared CDF. 

Check Status: Passed

Reaper Occupation

The ongoing ground war would be further costly, but it’s easy to believe that the forces described above would be sufficient to cause the Reapers some pause. Maybe it’s reading into it, but even after its capture by the Reapers, the CDF still counts as a war asset. A logical conclusion is that the Reapers are fighting resistance from inside the station. In order to have resistance versus the Reapers, there must be a substantial number of survivors. It’s also logical to assume there would be “safe zones” designed into defense plans, where non-combatants could be more easily defended. This, plus full frontal assaults from Earth and Shepard’s armada would keep the bulk of Reaper forces occupied elsewhere. 

As a war of attrition, combatants in the CDF would suffer heavy casualties here, but maybe not as high as otherwise possible. And although Shepard is met by piles of bodies upon entering the Citadel through the Conduit, it is probable most or all of these are from Earth, not the Citadel, based on descriptions in the game.

Check Status: Passed

Firing the Crucible

This is hard to cover, especially since it can depend on the ending. In the Control ending, no damage appears to come to the Citadel at all, making this an automatic pass. In the other endings, however, it’s a different story. When the Crucible is used, we can see a number of micro explosions occur over the surface of the Citadel, and large portions break off, similar to the Mass Relays. No way around it, we’re looking at some pretty devastating losses right there.

That said, there are a few things going for the Citadel. As a space station, it’s sure to have numerous redundant life support systems. A shot in the Destroy ending gives a decent shot of the station, and it would appear that the damage, while extensive, is not complete. Large sections remain intact, not unlikely to still be protected with local life support, and if you look close, you can even see lights on in some buildings. Also in the Destroy ending, we see a totally rebuilt Citadel. This would suggest that the damage was bad, but not systematic, and that a decent amount of the population survived (partly because without the Keepers, it’s doubtful the station would run properly; plus, total death would make it too much of a heartache to re-purpose).

I’d say we’re looking at maybe half lost of survivors up to this point, maybe more, maybe less. It depends on whether the population was evenly dispersed across the area, or bunched in “safe zones” like mentioned earlier. If the latter, it’s possible larger numbers survived by virtue of chance - maybe that bit didn’t blow - or vice versa. 

Check Status: Passed?

TL;DR

Best case: 2/3 to 3/4 total population survival. 

Worst case: 1/4 or less population survival. 

In any case: There appears to always be a way for some Citadel inhabitants to survive. 

[5uptic]

hey fanfic spotlight again:)

arm candy by amsves (5up/Fundy, general rating, m/m | 300 words)

Summary: The first thing Fundy does after the stream ends is lean over and engulf 5up in his arms.

a chance encounter by mangoedges (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 450 words)

Summary: Who would have thought Apollo would find his soulmate now?

Desecration Smile by AllianettemiE5 (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: No summary.

She said to me, Oh Death / Come close my eyes by Anonymous (Apollo/Steve, general rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: Steve thought the words on his wrist were the coolest thing ever, but they just didn’t make sense. No, really; he even asked 5up–had called him in a possibly drunk state on his twentieth birthday, when a prickling sensation on his arm made him think that he was about to die, 5up, help, and was reminded drily that it was his soulmark, dumbass–and the best his smartest friend (self-proclaimed) could offer was, “Maybe your soulmate’s a poet?” Completely useless. Steve remembered hanging up on him, the click of his mobile cutting off his indignant exclamation. It was only the next day that he looked, properly looked, at his soulmark and tried to make sense of it. Nope. That didn’t work out either; he blamed the hangover. For the longest time ever, he just dismissed it as the universe fucking up. A slash in the middle of a phrase? Ridiculous.

why’d you only call me when you’re high? by LVTO (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1k words)

Summary: “I miss you,” Steve mumbles through the phone, and his voice has that soft, honest tone that it always does when he’s like this. 5up’s heart clenches. It’s these moments that keep him from leaving like he should’ve done four months ago, these soft-spoken truths that time and time again have him believing that maybe, maybe this time will be different. It never is. or 5up receives a phone call and ponders his life.

jealousy, jealousy by planetwitch (5up/Fundy, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words)

Summary: 5up and Fundy are best friends and have never crossed that line into something more. Until Fundy gets jealous at 5up's constant admiration for a certain 6 foot tall musician.

mimi's menagerie of the miraculous & the mundane by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.1k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: a drabble for the word of the day, every day, for 100 days.

5up & Co. Throw Yarn at a Wall (and more) by WhenTheFogClears (general rating, gen | 1.3k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Hafu neither confirmed nor denied, instead snatching the half unraveled ball of yarn out of his hands forcefully, a cheshire grin finding its way onto her face. Before 5up could clearly decipher the situation, she flung it at him, smacking him directly in the center of his face. or 5up loves throwing yarn at walls, and everyone else quickly picks it up from him. But in different ways.

Inside My Mind by SilverSprinklez10 (5up/Apollo, Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.4k words)

Summary: Soulmates are usually a blessing.  But sometimes, a soulmate connection can feel like a curse.

(2021, 190 x 172 cm, oil on canvas) by 5280ft (5up/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 1.9k words)

Summary: Nobody ever painted anything if they’ve never painted the way 5up closes his eyes when he laughs, how his slender fingers wrap around a new tube of paint, how his smile is all teeth and eye-crinkling. Cabanel’s Fallen Angel has curls, but they aren’t 5up’s, are they? Hyllas, in the nymphs, has fair and delicate hands but 5up’s are prettier, especially when he accidentally squirts paint everywhere and slams his palms on the table and goes “fuck!” Steve cackles until he can’t breathe.

Don't Take Me Tongue-Tied by AoDity, LovelyDayForIt (5up/Sleepy, 5up/Apollo, teen rating, m/m | 2.2k words)

Summary: "Sleepy found the ring by luck, something that matches his lover's graceful beauty that he could still afford. Twisted strands of thin silver with a little shimmering opal in the center, it was perfect." Aka: Sleepy's love for Five brought him heartache. If they try, there's still a chance the two could be happy.

implying that the ferris wheel's your body (and i'd really love admission to it) by homeward_bound (David/Hafu/Steve, mature rating, multi | 2.2k words)

Summary: Steve might be drunk out of his mind, but David's just really hot, okay? [or, steve propositions david, kind of. hafu and dumbdog bear witness to his lapse in judgement.]

mi casa es su casa by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 2.9k words)

Summary: Apollo's soulmate is cautious. Except, apparently, when it comes to coffee. Because, for the fifth time this week, Apollo wakes up to a burnt tongue. It's annoying. He can't really be mad though, because he has given his soulmate so much worse. The occasional burnt tongue is a meager act of penance, comparatively.

I love you too (I love you too) by some_spooky_shit_right_there (5up/Apollo/Steve, general rating, multi | 3.9k words)

Summary: Apollo comes into 5up's coffee shop. He always gets a cup of coffee and either a bagel or a croissant. He always seems tired, and he never comes in on weekends. Steve would really love to find out just who, exactly, he is.

i'm more fool than wise by 5fu (5up/Steve, unrated, m/m | 5.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Steven Suptic is a brilliant crewmate - ask anyone. Okay so don't ask Janet. Or Dk. Or Koji. You know what, don't even ask - it's pretty obvious he is. But when new recruit and stunningly intelligent 5up boards the Crewfu, Steve isn't so sure he can compete. Not that he cares. Totally. Absolutely. On their mission to gather intel on Polus and find out what happened to the previous crew that disappeared from the planet three years earlier, Steve may realize that maybe he was indeed more fool than wise - and maybe it wasn't a bad thing.

i was praying that you and me might end up together by Qupid (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 7.8k words, chaptered WIP)

Summary: Four years at Polus University. Four first weeks of school. Two strangers become two friends, and maybe even something more. Apollo hates being seen, hates having attention drawn to him, hates living in a world that feels like a game where everyone knows the rules except him. Steve thrives on attention, purposefully draws the gaze of everyone in the room, making his own rules as he floats through life. They're a match made in hell, but Apollo finds that when Steve looks at him, gives him nothing but attention, he doesn't mind being seen after all.

Long Journey Home by some_spooky_shit_right_there (Apollo/Steve, teen rating, m/m | 9.6k words)

Summary: Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue Feeling kind of blue, boys, feeling kind of blue Homesick and lonesome and I'm feeling kind of blue I'm on my long journey home

there’s so many ways to say “i love you” and i wouldn’t wanna waste ‘em (on someone who, don’t feel it too) by Dear_MaedaysUnwelcomedGhost (5up/Steve, 5up/Hafu, 5up/Ellum, 5up/Kimi, teen rating, multi | 13k words, chaptered)

Summary: Love was a strange thing, 5up found. It was everywhere. And not in the way it may seem. It wasn’t in the adverts of perfect couples with artificial lighting. It wasn’t in the glittery cards made by factories or the flowers sold at grocery stores. Not in the TV shows made to bring in cash and be thrown out, with couples who don’t have anything to hold onto but brief infatuation and physical attraction. But in the friendly smiles of strangers as they pass by. In a mother cutting fruit up for their child. Running a hand through the hair of your partner, as their eyes flutter close and to sleep. Helping a stranger pick up their dropped papers, asking for nothing in return. In the graffiti on the wall by the alleyway you walk by everyday to get to work. To the goods baked by small independent bakeries. Flowers planted in parks to make it just a little nicer, or the ones growing out of pavement cracks with determination.

Also!

GuardianPuppy‘s this city needs to be destroyed or at least painted in a different color collection.

spaded_ace’s Casino in the Sky collection.

5fu’s among all this pain collection.

FAQ:

Wait what is this: pretty straight to the point! i’ll regularly share crewfu-related fanfictions to this blog :)

How regularly is “regularly”?: great question! LOL. it depends on the flow of fanfics that get uploaded, which i do not have any control over, but i’m looking forward to do this twice a month. after all, it’s only me doing this and i often run on a tight schedule.

What’s the format like?:

[title of fic with link] by [author of the fic with link] ([main pairing(s)], [fic rating: eg, general rating], [relationship: eg, m/m] | [word count in k], [added prompt to specify if it’s complete or not])

Summary: [summary provided by the author. if it doesn’t have a summary, a “No summary” prompt will be put instead]

(What does WIP mean again?): Work In Progress :)

Why are you doing this?: from the beginning, my blog has hosted conversations about RPF (real people fiction) and crewfu pairings. this has evolved into people sending me updates about certain fics in the crewfu tags every now and then, but i wanna take the next step and just do these things myself. after all, i’m already lurking in the tags often to see the fics that get posted. as someone who is both a writer and a reader, i wanna appreciate fanfic writers and help out other people that want to read fanfic and consume more fandom content!

Will it be AO3 only?: well, ao3 has a very helpful tag system that makes finding fics incredibly easy, as well as allowing people with no accounts to like and comment on fics, so that’s the site i will personally look in for fanworks. but if there are any fics you’ve written or liked in any other platforms, such as wattpad, you can always contact me through my inbox (send an ask or a dm!), and i’ll make sure to include for the next fanfic spotlight :)

Does it mean you won’t reply to fic asks anymore?: yeah, i guess. since i’ll be doing the searching myself it seems counterproductive. but if i ever skip a fic or again, it’s in another platform, or you’ve posted/read the fic a while ago and you want to get more traction on it, hit me up and i’ll take it into consideration!

Will you read every single one of the fics on your list?: oh no. again, i run on a tight schedule, and also i have my own taste when it comes to fics. i won’t be reviewing fics or any of the sort, and my intention extends to simply sharing these fics to this page so people will have easier access to them :) that’s where ao3 tagging becomes SUPER useful!!!

So what’s the criteria for the way you’ll sort out the fics in your list?: word count, going from lowest to highest. in case of fics in other platforms, i guess i’ll put them at the top of the list. i’ll also be looking for fairly recent fics, so let me know if you want any old-ish fic to be included.

I see you talking mostly about 5up/Steve and Steve/Apollo. Can I still send/see other crewfu fics?: why yes absolutely! my goal is to push every fic which heavily features regular crewfu characters - 5uptic and supdog just happen to be very popular pairings. so, to give you a list: core 4 (5up, hafu, dk, steve), apollo, aipha, annie, janet, kimi, ellum, koji… you know the drill. it doesn’t have to be centered on a relationship, or about 5up in specific, etc. my only requirement is that any of the previously mentioned members are a central part of the fic or are HEAVILY featured in it (sorry, minecraft fics with 50+ tags who only mention 5up as an afterthought won’t make the cut :/).

Isn’t shipping Bad™?: well, it’s a little more nuanced than that. i will go out of my way to discourage and shame people who often violate CCs’ boundaries by acting like so and so has a crush on this person, or that this and that are Actually Into Each Other or secretly dating. any sort of tinhat bullshit is a big nono (think larries). but i run on the assumption that people who write rpf understand that what they’re doing is simply write a completely fictional story using real life personalities, and understand the boundaries necessary to do it - aka they’re not tinhats, they understand they can’t assume everything about CCs’ thoughts and personalities, they understand that what they’re writing is strictly fiction, they keep these works only in fandom circles, etc. (but again, it’s only one me doing this, so please be kind if i don’t happen to know that this person is Actually a tinhat or whatever).

show fic: NO. (seriously. i don’t feel comfortable putting my ao3 account out there. please respect my privacy on these trying times <3)

I REALLY don’t care about your rpf/fic talk: fair! i’ll be tagging every single one of these posts as “fanfic spotlight”, so just mute the tag using tumblr settings so you’ll never have to look at these! likewise, you can follow the tag if you want to keep up with it, or search it on my blog to look at the other entries you might have missed.

Hey, my fic is here and I don’t feel comfortable with it being shared over here: no problem! let me know as soon as you can and i’ll take it down <3

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 278: MOMO IN CHARGE

Previously on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan were all “SIR, THAT’S OUR EMOTIONAL SUPPORT SENSEI” and got really ferocious and made a very passionate attempt to blow Tomura up and it was great. It basically did nothing, but it was still great. AFO was all “COME HERE LIL BRO”, and Tomura was all “silly Sensei, you can’t just take over my mind and body just like that”, and he was very confident of this despite there really being no evidence to back it up, but okay! Gran was all “time to make the fandom mad at me” and grabbed Tomura by the collar and yelled at him about Nana a bit, and then Bakugou and Endeavor made an even MORE passionate attempt to blow up Tomura, which may or may not have done some actual damage. The chapter ended with Gigantomachia battling Mt. Lady, just kinda out of the blue, which is FINE, but she had better be all right, though!

Today on BnHA: Everyone is all “WAUGHH IT’S GIGANTOMACHIA” and running around freaking out about it. The U.A. alums all kick some ass, and pretty much everyone else not from U.A. does jack fucking shit. Mt. Lady, who I plan on naming all of my future children after, does her best to stop Machia but he keeps flinging her aside. Kamui Woods is all “here I come with Midnight to put Gigantomachia to sleep!” and is PROMPTLY FUCKING MURDERED!? by Dabi because he’s a flammable tree man, and so Midnight falls all the way to the ground and is badly injured. So then she’s all “well I better call the most competent person I can think of to fix this mess” and dials up YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO, who proceeds to take charge LIKE THE BOSS SHE IS, and mobilizes the rest of the kids. And honestly I have more faith in them than in any of the adults at this point, so yeah, you know what? Let’s do this.

so I am possibly a bit spoiled on this chapter because I did a “top five predictions” post earlier this week, and someone replied to that yesterday on Thursday saying that they were mostly correct. I don’t know exactly how close to the mark I was though, and in any case most of the predictions were just “so-and-so shows up, probably”, so it’s not too bad. we’ll see how it goes!

OH THANK GOD MY BABIES ARE SAFE

I mean, CLEARLY they’re all about to be in horrible danger, seeing as Jirou is about to inform them of the whole “THE BIG GUY EVERYONE WAS AFRAID ABOUT WAKING UP WOKE UP” thing, but in the meantime at least Kami and Toadette and Honenuki made it back to the group safely

also Kaminari’s use of “Jirou-Jack” here is fucking inspired and I want him to teach a class on nicknames. isn’t he the one who coined “Yaomomo” as well? this boy has a gift and it needs to be appreciated

so Jirou is all “SOMETHING REALLY BIG IS COMING”, and actually she says “INSANELY HUGE”, which if anything is still an understatement, hard as it is to believe

WOW

“A BAD GUY IS HEADING THIS WAY?? SOUNDS LIKE IT’S TIME TO ABANDON THE CHILDREN IN THE WOODS” kjlfakh okay you know what?? fine!! you weren’t even going to do anything anyway so let’s not pretend!!

holy shit it’s like Mt. Lady isn’t even there

look at those speed lines!! goddamn. I just felt this huge rush of empathy for Mt. Lady though. like can you imagine growing up with this super-destructive quirk, and managing to become a hero with it against all odds, and having to put up with the manga making fun of you all the time just because sometimes you have a tendency to DESTROY A LOT OF STUFF, but it’s not like you can help it!! but the upside has always been that when your quirk is on, you are fucking UNSTOPPABLE though. so even though it’s been a hell of a rough ride for you, it’s worth it because you’re a complete badass and the number of people who can beat you out in terms of sheer physical strength is probably in the single digits. and you’re working really hard too, and lately you’ve been moving up through the ranks and actually becoming a damn fine hero if I do say so myself (and I do), and it’s like, about time though?? like finally, finally it is all starting to come together for you. and then this snarling trashrock person suddenly comes stampeding along and you put your all into trying to stop him, and it doesn’t even do a damn thing. like, holy shit. that’s just not fucking fair and YOU DESERVE BETTER, MT. LADY

anyway so she’s still hanging in there for now though so let’s check in with our villain squad riding on his back

lmaooo they’re all “I don’t even understand what is going on here”

YOU GUYS, THIS IMPLIES THAT THEY WERE ALL PLUCKED OFF THE GROUND BY THE SCRUFFS OF THEIR NECKS AND THEY HAD ABSOLUTELY NO SAY IN THE MATTER OMG. like I’m picturing Spinner being held by his cape pinched in between Machia’s thumb and forefinger, and awkwardly trying to lecture him like a mom with his hands on his hips all, “BAD GIGANTOMACHIA! NO! NOOOUAGH -- !” and cutting off with a yelp as he’s dropped onto his back

and I am glad they got Toga some clothes! I like to think Gigantomachia grabbed those for her as well. so thoughtful

wow Skeptic actually wants to go back to Re-Destro??

color me legit impressed. I underestimated your loyalty my dude. and let me also just take this moment to extend my gratitude toward Horikoshi for leaving the rest of the MLA out of it because good fucking riddance to them, goodbye forever hopefully!!

I guess they’ll be needing Skeptic’s quirk down the line for some reason? maybe he is meant to be like a new, less out-of-control Twice. smdh y’all out here trying to replace your dead buddy like a pet goldfish

who is this “they” Dabi is referring to

do you mean the heroes? lol yeah I guess they’re pretty distracted by the literal fucking kaijuu you’re currently piggybacking on

SIGH

“the Jakku team must’ve made a mistake” BOY, I’LL SAY. you know what, don’t even talk to me about that yet. it’s still too fresh. suffice it to say that your suspicions are correct and things in Jakku are not very daijobu right about now

anyway here’s a closeup of this bubble person just cuz

they are everything and I want them to be my friend. also there’s a squid person a few paces behind them who can probably do anything a squid can do. or they might actually be a shark person, actually. I don’t know. either way I love them

GETEN PLEASE GO AWAY

WE ARE PHASING OUT THE MLA!! MOVING FORWARD IT’S ORIGINAL LOV ONLY!! I’M SORRY BUT YOU DIDN’T MAKE THE CUT. we already have an ice character so shoo

OH DAMN MY MAN CEMENTOSS HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HIS NONSENSE TOO AHHHH YESS

1) hey so Cementoss is legit terrifying who’d’ve thought

and 2), did Cementoss always have a mouthful of gigantic perfect teeth each the size of a slice of bread, or is this just something I’m only noticing now because I’m behind the curve. either way, let me just say sincerely, DKJDLKFJLSKJG

RE-DESTRO YOU GO AWAY TOO!!

@waywardfacegarden​ you asked the other day which are the characters I actually dislike, and this is one of them lol. he’s just a big ol’ prick, and on top of that has the audacity to not even be interesting in any way so as to balance it out. anyway so apologies to any Re-Destro stans out there but I basically spend every panel he’s in hoping that someone will punch him in the face hard enough to finally make him shut up

anyway so my man Edgeshot is here though, finally!! but of all the people for him to fight! this is a real predicament for me. the most soothing character in the series contrasted with the character who grates my nerves the most. Edgeshot’s sexy ASMR voice is gonna be drowned out by all of RD’s punching and self-important ranting in the anime and I’m lowkey devastated but I’m gonna pull myself together and read on

SPEAKING OF SELF-IMPORTANT RANTING

Edge, if you can liberate us from having to put up with his insufferable ass once and for all I will be so grateful to you. can you do this. please. for me

and it looks like some other boring MLA villains are following along behind Machia so I’m gonna need someone to kick their asses as well. please

-- YESSSSSS

okay so now I see what that comment on my prediction post was referring to lol. I did indeed have my fingers crossed that these two would show up again, and sure enough! THE GANG’S ALL HERE YAY

and Mt. Lady is being sumoed aside!

anyone want tonight’s lotto numbers. during this brief fleeting moment of having my predictions be actually credible, I would just like to say that Hagakure is the U.A. traitor. thank you and goodnight

OH NO KAMUI IS WORRIED

HE LOOKS SO PANICKED?? OUT OF THE BLUE I SHIP IT SO MUCH?? I keep forgetting they’re on the same team and stuff and wow, I need to calm down

LOL MIDNIGHT IS ALL “NO TIME FOR SHIPS!!”

I wonder if her quirk will actually be enough to take him down? this is something I’ve been itching to see for a long time, actually. just how powerful is she? we know her quirk is more effective on males than females, but is anyone actually capable of resisting it? imagine if she really did just knock Gigantomachia out after all of this buildup. that would be some god-tier shit omg, DO IT

(ETA: I am just going to assume that since Horikoshi had to go to elaborate lengths to take her out of the fight, this means that her quirk really was capable of knocking them all out. another tragic case of Too Badass For The Plot. y’all better respect Midnight.)

YESSSSSSSS

is she stripping. you know what -- don’t think about it. I won’t let you ruin this for me Horikoshi. Midnight’s gonna be a badass because the ladies are fucking ruling this arc and that’s all there is to it

NOOOOOO

DABI GET BACK HERE I JUST WANT TO TALK!!

oh thank god, she’s all right. BUT KAMUI ISN’T THOUGH DLKJSFLKSJDG??!

did Kamui Woods just... die

(ETA: okay but for real, is there an actual curse in effect on the Billboard Top Ten right now, though?? did one of them accidentally disturb the tomb of some ancient king??)

...

( ･ั﹏･ั)

oH MY GOD!?!

NOOOOOOO WHY ARE YOU SO QUICK TO SLEEP ON MAJESTIC, LET’S SEE IF THEY CAN DO IT!! GIVE US MAJESTIC GOD DAMMIT

(ETA: Horikoshi is seriously just yanking our chain at this point. when Majestic finally does show up, he or she better have the coolest fucking quirk of all time, that’s all I’m saying.)

okay how badly injured is Midnight here, though?? she just fell all that way?? DO I NEED TO BE REALLY MAD. I CAN WORK MY WAY UP TO IT PRETTY QUICKLY, JUST SAY THE WORD. I’M ALREADY HALFWAY THERE HONESTLY. WHERE’S KAMUI WOODS

!!!!!!!!!!!

AND JUST LIKE THAT MY ANGER EVAPORATES INTO THE NIGHT, YESSSSSSSSS!! MOMOOOOO

holy shit. “a quirk that can stop that thing,” she says. and goes and calls YAOYOROZU FUCKING MOMO y’all I am barely holding myself back from SCREAMING right now I...

you guys

you guys. if Midnight and Yaomomo team up to take down Gigantofuckingmachia using some sort of MOMO MADE A MACHINE TO SPREAD MIDNIGHT’S QUIRK strategy, or whatnot?? I will fucking die on the spot. you can end the manga right there. Kacchan you can keep your quirk I don’t even care

“IT MIGHT BE AGAINST THE LAW” lmaooooo insert John Mulaney “WE’RE WELL PAST THAT” gif here. holy shit. listen, that is fine. if anything it’s even better

WHAT THE FUCK

DO I NEED TO START GETTING REALLY MAD AGAIN!?!?! FUCKING WHIPLASH, IS WHAT THIS IS, BUT YOU JUST TELL ME WHAT SORT OF OVER-THE-TOP REACTION IS NEEDED HERE AND I’LL GO FOR IT

(((( ;°Д°))))

[GRABS HORIKOSHI BY THE COLLAR] listen, you. if you only just now, for the first time ever, gave us a lady hero actually mentoring another lady hero, which we have somehow NEVER HAD BEFORE in almost three hundred chapters, only for you to then KILL OFF THE MENTOR IN THE MIDDLE OF HER GODDAMN SPEECH TO THE MENTOREE, I will... there’s... I’ll... okay, listen. DON’T. THERE WILL BE A RECKONING. CAPSLOCK SUCH AS THIS WORLD HAS NEVER WITNESSED!!

ヽ(#ﾟДﾟ)ﾉ┌┛

I DON’T EVEN KNOW HOW TO REACT TO ANYTHING IN THIS CHAPTER AND I’M LOSING MY MIND OVER IT

so the other kids are all “what the fuck” and “so Momo’s in charge??” which, YES!!! IT’S THE ONE GOOD PART ABOUT ALL THIS SO DON’T YOU DARE QUESTION IT

MOMO NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO BE CRIPPLED BY YOUR ANXIETY, YOU CAN DO THIS GIRL I BELIEVE IN YOU

hell, it’s not even just an “I believe in you” thing, because it’s not just belief, it’s fact. you motherfucking can do this, you are the most capable and brilliant student in 1-A, you just gotta have faith and let yourself shine!!

so now there are some more panels of Machia running and the villains and heroes fighting, blah blah blah. and Momo screwing up her face as she makes her decision...

YESSSSSSSSS

my baby girl is all grown up and TAKING THESE MOTHERFUCKIN REINS and MOMO I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU JUST SAY THE WORD!!

lol she’s all “Jirou use your ears and scientifically calculate how long it’ll take him to get here”, and Jirou is all “I can literally fucking see him, he’s gonna be on top of us in like two seconds” WELL OKAY THEN

thank god there are no adult pros left to fuck this up. is that weird that this is a real and honest and completely sincere thought that just ran through my head? like, at this point if any of the adults were around I’d just be afraid of them dying honestly. but with the kids I actually feel real hope that they’re somehow gonna do this. of course it helps that unlike the adults they’re pretty safe from being killed off

also! way to represent the entirety of class 1-B there Honenuki lulz. sorry, The Rest of Class 1-B

OH MY GOD

MT. LADY I WILL LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU AS WELL!! YOU HAVE MY LOVE AND FEALTY!!

I’M STANNING HER SO HARD I’M GONNA EXPLODE SOMEBODY HELP!?!

JIROU SAYS THAT MACHIA HAS SLOWED DOWN!! YOU GUYS I’M ABOUT TO GET “MT. LADY FOR PRESIDENT” TATTOOED ACROSS MY FOREHEAD

lmao at Shouji using his power of “putting some extra eyeballs on my arms” to inform everyone that Gigantomachia is Right Over There and Very Big

good job Shouji

oh my glob I have so much love for Momo right now that it can’t even fucking be contained. brb wildly flailing my hands around a little to try and release some of this excess excitement

maybe Momo can be president instead and Mt. Lady can be the vice president

NO THE CHAPTER IS ENDING I’M NOT READY

AND JUMP IS ON BREAK AGAIN NEXT WEEK TOO, FML!!

okay!!

Kaminari is so fucking brave right now I just want to crush him in a hug?! we know he’s still scared!! look at his eyes!! and he was freaking the hell out earlier too, and now the situation is much worse! but he doesn’t give a fuck because his friends need him! he is ready to be a hero, my little baby boy is all grown up and I’m so proud??

Mineta’s face in the bottom right corner is everything. I know, I know, boooo Mineta, but that’s still the best face anyone has made in the entirety of this manga

Tetsutetsu’s out here all “I humbly request to also represent class 1-B” and Momo is all “okay fine I guess we can have two of you guys”

can we all just stop for a moment to appreciate how KamiJirouMomo is alive and well. like, we had interactions between all three of them in this chapter, in all possible permutations? do you know how happy this makes me?? I am vibrating with joy??!

I really can’t stress this enough -- I have no clue at all what these little soda can things are (anesthetic, I guess??? you know, like how you sometimes buy cans of anesthetic at the supermarket?? what do you mean you don’t do that??), or what they’re gonna do with them. I have like negative clues. but DAMNED IF I GIVE ONE SINGLE FUCK. the next chapter can be them all fucking hurling them at his face for all I care. THE DETAILS OF HOW SHE KICKS HIS ASS DO NOT MATTER!! GOOD MORNING TO YAOMOMO AND YAOMOMO ONLY!! MY MOMO ACADEMIA

[the-voltage-diaries]

You’re my Mocha Lisa - Eisuke Ichinomiya

Disclaimer: Coffee Shop AU. Also has shameless self insertion. It’s basically an indulgence on my part lmao.

Word count: 1860

Author’s Note: Congrats on the 1K, @leoamber66​​​! Here’s a li’l something as my congrats~ Also, thank you @akaiiro-yume​ for proof-reading this at like the last second LOL. P.S. Thank you for just like... existing. You pulled me out of my writer’s block every time, leove. Every time I couldn’t write, I remember you doing something - ANYTHING - which made me wanna write for you. And for that, I’m eternally grateful. Love ya.

“Are you certain?” I ask, dubious. I raise my brows at the woman standing on the opposite end of the counter for good measure while I wait for a reply.

Yuki - and I know her name not because I’m a stalker but because she comes here every morning, just saying - looks from her thoroughly rummaged purse up at me and blinks once.

Cute. Very cute.

“Absolutely,” she nods just as her fingers start sorting through the bills again. This woman has no idea how badly I hoped she was kidding, does she.

“So... a grande cup of black coffee. Will that be all?” I might seem all cool and calm on the face, but on the inside, it’s like I’m praying to her conscience to at least order a chocolate pastry to go along with this disaster. Or like a cookie. Heck, I’ll even give it to her for free.

“Yep.” She looks up again and smiles, and I can’t help but notice the way her heels don’t really do much to hide how adorably short she is. I find it almost endearing, the way she has to look up at me every time she needs to say something. It makes me want to ask her more questions just to get her to do that.

Wait. What am I even thinking? Focus on the damn order, Ichinomiya.

“Um, if you don’t mind me asking,” she begins while handing me the change, “how long have you been working here? I think I’ve seen you around ever since I started coming to this place.”

My brow twists into an uncertain furrow at that, not used to receiving any personal questions from her. I pause, tearing away her copy of the receipt, and take a glance around to make sure there’s nobody else to whom the question could have been directed. Much to my relief, there aren’t any other customers waiting in line, possibly because it’s still very early in the morning and the cafe is pretty quiet, to interrupt what could potentially be our small conversation.

But apparently, I take too long to reply and Yuki takes it as a sign that she’s tried to cross an invisible boundary. “You don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable, of course,” she hurriedly adds, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear in embarrassment. 

“That’s alright. And to answer your question, I’ve been working here since the place was established,” I answer honestly, without missing a beat. But god do I hope she doesn’t try to probe any further into what I said. That’d be a little embarrassing.

“That long? Wow...”

I scoff quietly, smiling. While she bites her lip with her eyes swimming in a pool of faraway wonder, I turn around to get started on her coffee. A certain calm descends between us, with just some light music playing in the cafe.

“It must be nice,” she mutters a little later, mostly to herself before speaking louder. “Being the only employee here, I mean. It’s so quiet in the morning. Feels calming, doesn’t it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

On the inside, I wince at the nonchalance of my response. I’d have loved to correct her that ‘No, I’m not the only employee here,’ but that’d make the explanation a little awkward.

Why? You’ll come to know soon.

After that, we fall into another quiet bubble of our own, and soon enough, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafts along with the air, touching every little cranny of the space it manages to cross.

If only I could add some damn milk into this bitter concoction...

Once the black coffee is read in all its biting glory, I pick up the marker to write her name on the cup. “Oh! It’s Yu-”

“Yuki, right?” I cut her off, smirking. “My memory is not so bad as to not remember the name of the one person who recites it every morning to me, you know?”

“O-oh... right..”

One glance in her direction is all it takes for me to catch an embarrassed red pop across her cheeks, and she bites her lip adoringly, directing her gaze away. I know I’ve said it before, but I find this woman absolutely adorable and her blush is probably the icing on the cake.

So, I decide to prod a little further.

“I hope you find it in you to actually finish this today,” I wink, handing her the warm cup. “It does take some effort to make, after all.”

“What... What do you mean?” She questions and I don’t miss the way her blush deepens. She knows what I’m talking about.

“Mm, I wonder.”

“Hey, I like black coffee, okay!”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Well,” I shrug, “I don’t exactly blame you.”

She gives up and huffs - of course, I find it endearing - and sits down at a table nearby, taking out her mobile to text someone - it better not be a boyfriend- wait why do I even care - with the drink in hand. I know what’s about to happen in less than a second and I keep an eye on her, thoroughly prepared to savour every second of it.

Yuki takes a sip of her drink and, almost immediately, makes a face like that of Baby Yoda provided he sucked on a lemon. It’s weird and shows blatant disgust. “Pfft,” I scoff, amused, but not loud enough for her to hear me.

The reason why I predicted this would happen is because she has been coming to the cafe and ordering black coffee every morning for the last three weeks, but every single time I catch her making weird faces as she sips it. Every single one of those times when I leave to check my mails, I come back to an empty cafe with a half-finished cup of coffee in her place.

I wonder, is she trying to look mature or something?

I’m still watching her quietly but reluctantly sip her drink when the door chimes, welcoming a new customer. The woman walks straight past the order station and to Yuki’s table once she spots her and sits down, sending a quick greeting her way.

Oh, so the one she was texting earlier was a friend.

Wait, why do I care again?

“So,” the friend begins, and I can’t help but overhear what she says. “Have you asked him out yet?” At that, my ears perk up. Asked who out?

“Would you be quiet!” Yuki whispers, glaring. She’s all fidgety and blushing.

“You haven’t, huh?” the friend smirks. “I saw him, he’s hot. Be quick, or he’s gonna be off the market soon.”

“Zela!”

“I’m being honest.”

“I know...” I pretend to wipe some of the glasses kept nearby when I catch her sending a quick glance my way, but my eyes or ears don’t divert their attention. “But what if he already has a girlfriend?”

For some reason when I hear the touch of desperation in Yuki’s voice, I feel a mild jealousy bite at me. After all, who IS this guy she wants to ask out?

“His name was Eisuke, right?” the friend, Zela, asks and for a second, I cease all movement. 

Was that my name I heard?

“Shut UP, he’ll hear you!” Yuki whisper-shouts, and I wait with bated breath for her to continue. “But.. yeah.. that’s the name.”

“Damn, the name’s just as hot.”

“ZELA!”

“WHAT?! I’m just appreciating the goods. Unlike a certain someone.”

The friends continue their banter, but I’m much too distracted by what Yuki said earlier to pay heed to it. My name isn’t so common, and I’m about a hundred percent sure I heard my name.

Does that mean she wants to ask me out?

The thought makes me smile, and I register the reason why I didn’t want her to have a boyfriend. I’ve been taking her order every morning, making an attempt to see her every single morning since the first time three weeks ago because I want to see her, even if it’s for a handful of minutes. I find her cute, and I definitely would want to see more of that gorgeous blush swim across those supple cheeks.

Wait, is that creepy? I hope not.

The realisation that she has an interest in me is a happy one, and I scoff at myself, waiting for her friend to leave her for like ten seconds for me to make use of this opportunity.

And apparently, the universe agrees because just then Zela gets up and walks over to the restroom, finally leaving Yuki alone. I quickly brew another cup of coffee and add the milk I’d been dying to add with three cubes of sugar. I walk over to her with the cup in hand, and she looks up in confusion. “Allow me to treat you to a much better coffee. Today, 6:30 PM in front of the Tres Spades.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” She mumbles and she absentmindedly grabs the cup.

“I’m asking you out on a date. That’s what’s going on,” I wink, and just then the cafe door chimes for the second time. "I better see you there, Yuki.”

“O-oh...” Another wave of red colours her cheeks before she takes a deep breath and looks at me, right in the eyes. “You will see me there, Eisuke,” she smiles.

“Glad to hear it.”

I turn around with a smile and see Zela coming back out of the restroom in my periphery. My gaze shifts to the person who walked into the cafe just moments ago, and I acknowledge him with a nod when I realise it’s another employee.

“Good morning, Mr. Ichinomiya,” he mutters, bowing his head a little.

“Wait, Ichinomiya?” 

The split confusion makes me look down at the ground with a smirk while I untie the apron and set it on one of the tables. I stay still, patiently waiting for the dots to connect in her head.

“Isn’t this cafe owned by the Ichinomiya Corp-”

Heh. About time.

“Oh god. Are you THE Eisuke Ichinomiya?” She whispers, shock lacing her tone like the most avid of blues. “Like, the owner of this place?” At that, I turn my head to look at her.

“Welcome to Ichinobeanya. I hope to see you again soon.” My lips curve up in a half-smile when I see how awed she looks, and without wasting another second I grab my jacket and make my way towards the door, sincerely hoping to see her again in the evening. “Don’t forget your promise.”

I’m pretty sure I hear her mumble, “I won’t...”

And it’s when I’m almost out of the door and onto the street when I think I hear Zela say “He gave you this new coffee, didn’t he? See, I’ve been telling you, you don’t need to drink that yucky black coffee to impress him!" 

An embarrassed "Shut up Zela!" is the last to reach my ears as I finally close the door behind me with a laugh, looking forward to the evening with an excitement akin to that of a child.

[spencerreidimagines]

Lovely Little Details

//Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: none

A/N: hey y’all, sorry for the late post!! This just a little coffee shop imagine that foreverrrr to get out of my head lol. Hope y’all enjoy! p.s. there usually is a read more link but I’m on mobile so this post is just gonna be left as is until I get my hands on a laptop :)

It was in a quaint coffee shop that Spencer had first laid his eyes on her. She was tucked into a corner, with her head low and her eyes steady. Her hands cupped a steaming coffee mug dotted with stars and hand painted constellations, as her eyes followed the wandering city-goers through the window beside her. A leather journal was splayed open before her; with a shift of her elbow, he caught a glimpse of the ragged manifestations of her thoughts.

He spotted lines and dots and creatures lining the side of her page, her sketches on the journal's edge were specific; definite. He followed along the coils and stray hairs that sprung from her high bun, the slope of her neck, the slight smile that rested upon her lips...

Spencer sighed and righted himself in his seat to face the nearly empty coffee cup before him; he had been staring, he realized. He clacked his fingers against the table as he silently hoped the splinted moment when they caught eyes hadn't been as noticeable as he felt it was.

A name was then shouted in the background, and through the bustle of the cafe he heard the soft kick of someones hasty steps. He'd held his breath as he ran through the incredibly slim chances that it might be that stranger from across the room, a slight knot curling in his stomach as he had no idea what to say to this woman if she decided to confront him. When he felt a tap on his shoulder, his face shriveled into a grimace before he fixed himself to face this stranger, his eyes soft and apologetic.

"I think this might be yours," a mild voice floated to his ears, "They handed me the wrong drink, then just gestured over here so..."

"Oh," he responded, surprised, before reaching to take the cup from her hands and nodding in thanks, which she waved away with an awkward smile resting on her lips.

"I also noticed you staring earlier," the beginnings of an apology began to push against his lips before she continued on, "Which normally would throw me off but, you're kind of cute, so I thought I'd just...invite you to sit with me for a while."

His brows shot up in surprise before he composed himself and checked his watch, thankful that he still had about half an hour before his lecture, "Sure," he responded as he began to gather his things.

"Alright," she sighed, donning an accomplished smile before she turned on her heel and crossed the room to return to her seat, nerves now beginning to fester in her core as she absently scanned over her notes to distract herself from the growing pit in her stomach.

‘what on Earth was I thinking?' she thought to herself before she stifled her thoughts as Spencer set his things along the back of the chair and sunk into his seat. He flashed her a courteous smile once their eyes met.

"I have to admit," he started, "I'm a little surprised that you'd invite me over here after you caught me staring."

“You know, I'm surprised myself," she admitted with a small chuckle, "I don't usually do things like this, but something about you caught my attention," She paused as her gaze flicked to his hands playing at his sleeves, he was fixing the watch to peek out of his tweed jacket, "do you have somewhere to be?" she asked.

“I have a, uh, lecture in half an hour," he responded, his voice stern and yielding against her open ears.

"You're a teacher?" she asked, brow raised in intrigue, to which he nodded with a shrug, "That explains so much about you."

"It does?" he asked, his head lightly cocked to the side.

"Mhm," she hummed, taking a sip from her mug, "You seem like the scholarly type." His eyes flicked to the side as he digested her oddly forward answer, "What's your name?"

"Spencer," he said before he quirked his brow to silently request for her own.

"(y/n)," her gaze wide and inviting, before she set her mug down with a soft clink, and rested her chin onto her hand, "So tell me about yourself, Spencer, there has to be more to you than teaching."

"I only teach lectures occasionally," Spencer flitted his eyes to the table, her unwavering attention slightly overwhelming, yet warm enough to keep his own tethered between them, "majority of the time, I work in the behavioral sciences unit, in the FBI."

Surprise and intrigue flashed across her features as she raised her mug to hide her gleaming smile, "Behavioral sciences unit, huh? So you study people?"

"That's actually a misconception," he began, "we investigate federal crimes through a behavioral lens. The creation of this department is actually a pretty interesting story," She nodded for him to go on, and as he spoke, (y/n) followed his hands as they fluttered about, "When it was first established, most of the general public didn't believe that serial killers could've had the capacity for compassion in their early lives."

"Well, in their defense, it's pretty hard to see someone as a compassionate human being after you've been a direct witness to the families that they tore apart," (y/n) responded, frankly, "So, what changed their minds?"

"The profiles started working," he said matter of factually.

(y/n) just nodded, a simple frown on her face as she digested his information, "It must've taken years for a turn around like that," she lowered her mug, "I can only imagine how hard it must've been to get that department off of the ground."

Spencer scoffed, "Yea, not many people liked to change their minds back then," he responded, accents of jest and spite dancing along his words, "So, uh, what do you do?"

"I'm an author," she responded, pride flashing across her features before melting into rested humility.

Spencer's eyes flashed before his tongue dashed across his lips, he could only imagine the worlds hidden away in her mind, "How long have you been writing?"

"Oh, I've been writing for years, and it was a challenge to find a way to get paid for it," she responded, dismissive yet firm with her voice, "nobody believed me when I said that I was going to open up the world through my words; make it seem more inviting and colorful than it's turned out to be."

He watched a storm roll across her gaze as she followed her rippled reflection in her mug, her finger lightly playing at the rim. "I know I probably just sound like every other starving artist out there," she chuckled, "but I've dreamt this big since I was a kid, so a couple of naysayers aren't going to stop me from doing what I love."

Spencer nodded, "I know how hard it is to be doubted by the people who are supposed to support you," an empathetic smile flickered across his lips, "it took my mother years to accept my career path."

"Oh, yea?" she asked, "I had no idea you could meet so much resistance in becoming an FBI agent."

Spencer chuckled, bashful, "Most of the resistance came from how young I was. The other training agents were nearly ten years older than me when I started."

(y/n) startled a bit, "Ten years? How young were you when you started working for the FBI?"

"Twenty two." He answered simply, and upon realizing her blase response, he quickly followed up with, "Most agents join the FBI in their mid-thirties."

"Oh, I see I have a genius on my hands," she jested, "somehow, that doesn't surprise me." She muttered wistfully, her hands interlocked under her chin. "The jacket, the hair, the wide intelligent eyes; you have scholar written all over you."

"You could tell that just from what I was wearing?" He asked, a mild wonder tinting his words.

"Mhm, writers study people too," she responded nonchalantly, "passers by present so many details of who they are on the surface."

He spared himself a glance as her eyes turned to the bustling city goers, drinking her in as much as he could. The white sheen of the snow covered sidewalks bounced off of her skin; she seemed to steep in the weak winter sun. He followed how her shoulders rose and fell with a wistful breath before she darted her gaze back down to her journal, her fingers caressing the page as kindly as the breeze that spins autumn leaves.

"That's how I make sense of the world," she started, "those little characteristics that no one pays any mind to make the world so bright for me, and I want to share that perspective with as many people as I possibly can."

Spencer felt the apples of his cheeks grow warm as he gathered the earnest hope held in her eyes while she cradled the page between her finger tips. Her drive to share her craft ran so deep; she was so open and honest.

Before he could get another word out, his watch beeped, drawing both of their gazes to his wrist; their half hour was up. The rising excitement in his chest deflated as he began to tuck his watch back into its place, “I hate to cut this short, but I have to go.” He said, apologetically, “When can I see you again?”

"I'm not going anywhere any time soon." An easy grin spread across her lips as she scanned her frenzied notes, “I like to come to this corner of the coffee shop whenever I have writer's block, and I usually don’t leave until I have a decent story on my hands."

Spencer's lips quirked up to a grin that matched hers, before he nodded and stood to gather his things.

"On the off chance that I do leave before you’re done lecturing," she started, grabbing a napkin and scrawling something across it, "Here's my number. I would love to see you again."

His grin widened as he took the napkin and pocketed it before gathering the rest of his things, “I’m glad you invited me over here,” he said bashfully with his hand gripping his satchel’s strap.

“I am too.” (y/n) responded, her hands cupping her mug once more, while she smiled softly, “now go before you’re late.”

With a curt nod and a gentle wave, Spencer turned on his heel, and made his way to the coffee shop doors, a slight bounce in his stride as he let his mind travel mere hours ahead of him when he could see (y/n) again. Her and her idiosyncrasies drew him in, and he could not wait to figure her out.

[ibelongtowrath]

Skipping The Previews - MLQC (Ling Xiao/Shaw) NSFW

Summary: You decide to go see a movie to take your mind off of everything that's going on in the world, but a sexy stranger thinks it's a good idea to take the seat right next to yours. Rating: Explicit! 18+ NSFW Relationship: Ling Xiao x Female Reader, Shaw x Female Reader, Tags: oral sex, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, fingerfucking, shameless smut, semi-public sex Word Count: 5,707

Read on AO3

Notes: I've been wanting to write something about Shaw ever since I've seen pictures of him & finally encountered him in MLQC and whew...I know he's going to wreck my Kiro and Gavin biases! I wanted to portray him as kind of cocky, since I got that kind of vibe from him, and I hope I managed to capture that essence here. Please keep in mind that I started writing this before movie theaters were shut & things began getting very serious. I was thinking of a scenario where the reader would be upset that Shaw sits directly next to her, and a reason that the theater might still be empty for them to fuck freely in lol. Please enjoy!

It’s midday Saturday, and the movie theater is practically deserted. Carefully, you push the handicap button with your elbow, allowing the doors to open so you don’t have to physically grab them. Everyone is supposed to be doing mandated social distancing, staying six feet away from other humans at all times, until they can get the spread of the virus under control. Going to see a movie in the midst of a pandemic is not the smartest idea, but you want to take advantage of being able to go out as much as you possibly can before we’re all in lockdown. A good science-fiction action movie will take your mind off of things, even if only temporarily.

Grabbing your favorite drink from the Freestyle machine, a Cherry Coke, you walk towards the theater the movie will be playing in. On your way there, you pass the mirror by the exit of the women’s bathroom, and take a quick peek at your reflection. You’re not exactly sure why you bothered with putting so much effort into your appearance when hardly anyone will see it. Shrugging and fluffing your hair quickly in the mirror, you turn back and continue walking into the theater.

You had picked the seat all the way in the furthest corner of the theater, away from everyone else. Even if there was no social distancing rule, you would have picked it anyway. You settle down into the recliner, the leather cold as it touches your bare legs. It’s an unseasonably warm March day today, and you’re wearing shorts for the first time since September. 

Pushing the button, you recline the chair virtually as far as it will go. The theater is completely vacant, and you pray it stays that way. There’s still about 15 minutes before the previews start, and you decide to pass the time browsing your Instagram explore page, watching makeup application videos and laughing at a couple cute and funny cat videos. You’re so fixated on one particular video of a rather chonky cat, you don’t notice the handsome stranger settling into the seat directly next to yours.

You had pushed the middle armrests up to give yourself more space, and when you hear the strange crinkling sound next to you, you’re confused, because you haven’t moved. Your eyes dart to to left, and widen in shock when they meet the gaze of a gorgeous stranger’s; an amber, honey-colored hue you can’t help but stare into. 

You try to keep your expression neutral, but he’s so attractive, it’s hard to keep your composure. His lavender-grey locks of hair fall messily, but carefully at the same time, over his face, framing it perfectly, some of his fringe falling into his golden eyes. You resist the urge to touch the locks of his hair, to sweep them out of the way, so you can better admire the beautiful flecks of gold and honey in that gaze. His purple and black hoodie, darker in hue than his hair, perfectly compliments the color of his eyes. He wears a black choker around his neck, and jeans that are messily, but intentionally, ripped at the knees. Several hoop earrings adorn his ears, a cuff hugging the upper cartilage of his left ear.

Breaking off his gaze, you feel yourself blushing furiously, the heat spreading to your cheeks like a wildfire. Thank goodness you put on a bit of foundation today, so he can’t see the furious rush of red that must be stretched across your face. You notice his hands, the right one wearing a fingerless glove, clutching his phone. The other is bare, a maroon beaded necklace decorating the wrist.

“Is this seat taken, love?” he asks, his lips turning up on one side, flashing you the cockiest grin you’ve ever seen. He knows the answer, obviously trying to provoke you. 

Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, despite feeling your heart  thump, thump -ing loudly against your chest, you turn your gaze towards the screen. An ad for an interactive mobile game is playing on the projector. 

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that,” the stranger says, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“In the case that you’ve been blissfully ignorant, which is probable,” you respond, gaze hardening on the screen before you, “we’re supposed to be staying at least six feet from other people.”

“Damn, you’ve got some bite.” He grins at you.

Running his fingers through his hair, he continues. “Yeah, I’ve seen the news. Been wanting to see this movie, though. I saw only one person had bought a ticket, so I bought the seat next to ‘em. I was hoping it would be next to a pretty girl. I was right.”

You turn to look at him, an incredulous look on your face. The compliment is flattering, but he doesn’t have to know that. You try to keep your best poker face on.

“And you thought that was a good idea?” you retort. 

It comes out with less bite than you intended, now that you’re looking at him directly. His devastatingly good looks are working their charm on you, and he picks up on it. The cocky smirk returns, a glint of something mischievous flashing in his eye. He knows you’re faltering, and he fully plans on persuading you.

“I thought it would be a good opportunity to get to know each other.” 

You can’t help but continue to stare at him, in complete awe of his audacity.

“Figured if you turned out to be some random dude, I’d just go sit in another seat. No big deal.” 

He shrugs, but that wild glint is still in his eye. In the pause that follows, he takes the time to look you over. His gaze lingers on your full lips, then drops to the swell of your breasts beneath your t-shirt. It continues downward, to the curves of your waist and hips outfitted in your favorite pair of short black shorts.

Feeling slightly self-conscious under the weight of his scrutinizing gaze, you unconsciously drop your hands into your lap and look down. You know you should get up and find another seat, or at the very least try harder to make him move. Some feeling you can’t quite place is anchoring you to your current spot. Is it...excitement? Is it arousal?  No. No way .

The previews should be starting in a few minutes, and you’re thankful for the coming distraction.

“Name’s Shaw, by the way.” His voice suddenly cuts through the silence between the advertisements on screen.

Crossing your arms, you look to your left. You decide it can’t hurt, telling him your name. 

“ Y/N ,” you tell him. “It’s nice to meet you, Shaw.”

“Likewise,  Y/N ,” Shaw replies. 

The smirk reappears, but more playful. It doesn’t quite match the look in those topaz eyes. The determination is still there, and you brace yourself for whatever he’s going to try saying next. You know, deep down, that his unrelenting perseverance, charm and good looks might just be your undoing.

Shaw reaches for something behind him. He pulls out an orange bag of Reese’s Pieces, slightly shaking it so the peanut butter and chocolate pieces clink together. He opens the bag, grabs a handful, and drops them in his mouth, his tongue sticking out to catch the pieces in case they fall. You can’t help but stare at the pink wetness and length of his tongue, wondering what it would be like to kiss him and feel it on your own…

Whoa, where did that thought come from ? you ask yourself, confused. Your face feels like an inferno yet again. As if sensing your thoughts, he audibly crunches the candy in his mouth. He swallows, and grins at you.

“Want some, pretty girl? Looking like you do,” Shaw asks, tilting the bag towards you. 

He knows you were staring, and not at the bag of candy.

“U-um...sure,” you stammer, poorly attempting to keep your composure. 

You hold out your hands, cupping them, fully expecting Shaw to pour the mini candies into your palm. Instead, that devilish glint returning to his amber eyes, he pours the yellow and orange candy pieces into his own hand. Confused, you feel your brow furrow slightly, wondering what he’s planning on doing.

Before you can react, Shaw closes the already short distance between you on the recliners. He pushes himself over and encroaches into your personal space. You feel the heat of his body next to yours, his jeans-clad leg brushing up against your bare skin. Your nerve endings feel electrified, your heart beating so hard, it feels like it could explode through your chest at any second.

Shaw leans in, as though he weren’t already close enough. His face is now mere inches from yours. You feel your eyes widen in shock. This close up, his eyes are even more mesmerizing. His skin is perfect, blemish-free, and his lips look so soft, so inviting…He lifts his gloved hand towards your face, fingers lightly brushing your jaw. Then, moving his hand up to your face, he strokes your lips gently with his thumb.

Nonplussed by his move, you feel frozen. You’re unsure of how to react. At the same time, his close proximity and the softness of his skin as he caresses your lips causes goosebumps to flare on your legs and up and down your arms. You start to feel the excitement building within. Giving in to the feeling, you can feel the arousal beginning to pool in your underwear...all caused by this handsome stranger. With a wicked grin, Shaw places his thumb between your lips, pushing against them lightly.

“Open wide, pretty girl,” he coos. 

You part your mouth at his command, your excitement unable to be contained. 

“That’s a good girl,” he murmurs. 

He takes his hand, fingers tilting your chin up. With the other hand holding the candy, he drops them in your mouth slowly, the pieces clinking together when they land on your tongue. He takes his hand away as you close your mouth and chew the candy, bursts of chocolate and peanut butter dancing on your tongue. You swallow, looking at Shaw again, just as the theater lights begin to dim. The previews are starting, and the theater is still deserted.

With that sexy stunt, you feel your chest beginning to rise and fall a little faster. You try to control your breathing. The tension between the two of you escalates with every breath. With that mischievous expression still on his face, Shaw reaches his hand out and cradles your face in his hand.

“Do you want some more, love?” asks Shaw, talking over the volume of the first preview that has begun playing on the screen. 

He runs his tongue over his teeth, almost taunting you. Fully aware of the dangerous double entendre in his words, you feel your arousal escalate, almost unbearable at this point. 

Instead of answering him, you gently grab Shaw’s hand, moving it upwards, towards your lips. 

Deciding to give him a double meaning of your own, you find yourself opening your mouth a bit wider, wrapping your tongue around his index finger. You close your lips around it. He tastes like the sweet candies. You run your tongue underneath his finger softly, then slowly pull it out of your mouth. 

You’re feeling powerful and sexy in the way Shaw is now gaping at you, completely turned on. His expression quickly changes back to his usual cocky, lopsided grin.

“What’s that you said earlier about being six feet apart?” he teases, leaning in towards your ear, so close you can feel his breath tickling the side of your neck. 

He lightly nibbles at the lobe, then moves lower. He kisses your neck, adding another gentle bite. You feel yourself shudder in delight. It’s easy to forget you’re sitting in a movie theater and someone could walk in at any second.

Shaw continues leaving red marks, from your jaw to where your t-shirt begins. He pulls the fabric down, revealing your shoulder, kissing and nibbling. You whimper, your excitement and desperation getting harder and harder to hide with every bite. You feel your nipples starting to harden against the lacey cups of your bra. Sensing your agony, Shaw lifts his head up and grasps your face softly yet firmly.

“Look at you. Getting all hot and bothered,” he coos, his silky voice causing your legs to tremble. 

His hand still holding your face, Shaw lightly turns your head towards his, then crushes his mouth against yours. It muffles your cry of shock, quickly turning it into a gasp of pleasure. You lean further into him, deepening the kiss. You bite his lower lip and cause a slight groan to escape from his mouth. You use this opportunity to meet your tongue with his, hungrily massaging them together. 

Unable to hold back any longer, the titillating stimulation having completely drenched your panties, you break off the kiss. You can feel the excess saliva shining on your chin. You turn to face Shaw, stand up. Then, you swing your leg seamlessly and straddle him, feeling the hardness of his erection between your legs. The leather chair crinkles loudly as you move. He places his hands on your hips, hooking his thumbs through the belt hoops of your tiny black shorts.

“You bad girl,” Shaw taunts, hot breath tickling your ear. “What if someone sees?”

“Then they’re going to get a show,” you quip, silencing him with your tongue.

After a minute, or who knows how long - you’ve long since stopped trying to keep track of time - he pulls away from your hungry kisses, burying his head in your neck, kissing the sensitive skin. You feel Shaw start to lift up your shirt, revealing your lacy black bra. 

His hands run slowly, deliciously up your abdomen. It starts from your hips, tracing the curves of your waist, and finally reaches the band of your bra, slipping his fingers underneath the silky fabric in one fluid motion. Goosebumps dart across your skin at his touch.

His fingers dance across the skin under the band so deliciously, you’re aching for more. When they reach the cups, he pushes them up, your breasts bouncing and spilling out with the sudden freedom. The exposure causes your heart to leap from your chest, but thankfully, no one else is around. You’ve never done something so lewd in public before.

Continuing to kiss your neck, his hands cup your breasts, caressing them gently. Shaw pinches and rolls your nipples between his thumb and index fingers, shooting pleasure straight down between your legs.

He begins his journey of bites and kisses again down your body again, moving from your neck, and down to your breasts. You feel him tonguing your nipple, lightly sucking as his tongue dances across the sensitive skin. He continues with his talented fingers on your other breast. 

"Mph!” 

You moan, hardly caring about how loud you’re being. All the self-control you tried so desperately to cling onto has been washed away by the hands of a sexy stranger.

The possibility of being caught heightens the adrenaline pumping through your veins. Your desire now akin to a fire, every touch of Shaw’s on your skin only serves to stoke it further. Each nibble, each caress, sends jolts of electricity through your body. Your nerve endings feel as though they’re out of control, each stimulation causing more sensitivity. You bite your lip with the pleasure of it.

Deciding it’s time that Shaw shows some skin of his own, your hands reach up under his loose sweatshirt. Fingers moving delicately, you trace the taut ridges of his abdominal muscles. Taking your cue, he lifts the fabric, pulling it further up. It’s giving you - and anyone who might walk into the theater, for that matter - a full view of his perfectly-sculpted body.

You run your hands up and down the length of his abdomen, drawing heavy breaths from Shaw. His chest rises and falls more rapidly. You lean forward then, lips on his neck, sucking the skin into your mouth. Then, you move over his defined clavicles and pecs, returning the love bites he had so graciously gifted you not much earlier. 

He gasps in pleasure, placing both hands on your ass, barely covered by the fabric of your tiny shorts. He squeezes it as you grind your hips against his thighs. 

Shaw’s hands move to the button of your shorts, undoing it quickly and pulling the zipper down. Your matching black panties peek out from the opening. He pulls them forward slightly, then slips two fingers in. 

He ventures down slowly into your folds, the other hand gripping your inner thigh. A lewd noise escapes from your lips, and you hear Shaw’s breath hitch at the sound of your desperation.

You’re so wet, Shaw’s fingers slide up and down with ease. They linger around your swollen clit, begging to be touched. He teases it with his fingers, sending delicious waves of pleasure up your spine. 

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out, the sudden absence of them making you hungrier. Your desire is even more fierce. Your pussy is begging to be filled, and you can feel yourself clenching in frustration at having to wait.

Holding up his hand, you see the evidence of your arousal that coats his middle and ring fingers, slick and shiny in the light of the screen behind you.

“Naughty, naughty girl. Getting so turned on in a place like this.” 

He sounds so proud, so full of himself. You lean back slightly, placing some distance between your bodies. Looking down at the sizable bulge in his jeans, seeing that he’s quite obviously just as turned on as you are, you feel your eyebrows raise at him.

“I could say the same for you,” you purr, your voice as smooth as velvet.

Shaw looks at you then, drinking in the sight of you. Lips pink and swollen, your eyes, half-closed and shiny, glazed over with lust, your hair messily falling around your shoulders. T-shirt and bra pushed up, bare breasts bouncing with every movement. His eyes fall on the delicious pinkish-red trail of love bites leading from your neck to your breasts...all in this very public setting. 

He draws a sharp breath in, his cock straining harder against the constricting fabric of his jeans. Excitement is etched all over his skin. He knows he should stop, but he doesn’t want to, and he’s hoping you don’t want to either.

“What are you going to do about it?” Shaw tilts his head up at you, and you recognize the challenge in his words.

“You’ll see.”

Half of your brain screams at you to stop, to end this now before it goes too far. The other half eggs you on, telling you that you only live once. The metaphorical angel and devil sit on your shoulders, each giving you a reason to listen to them. Grinning, you decide to turn towards the devil, abandoning all common sense. The thrill and the pleasure are overloading your senses. All rationale and reasoning are being completely thrown out the window.

You find your hands on the button of Shaw’s jeans, unbuttoning them, and pulling the zipper down slowly. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down. After a few seconds, his fully-erect cock springs out. You widen your eyes in surprise at his length and girth. You’re a bit nervous about your ability to fit him, but you never back down from a challenge.

You grasp a hand around his erection, jerking him up and down a few times. You tease your thumb around the head, drawing out ragged breaths from Shaw. You remove your hand from his cock and, without a second thought, you stand up. Shaw watches you in anticipation. 

The rush is so satisfying, you never want it to end. You’re in complete shock at yourself for feeling like this. What happened to the careful, cautious girl whose motto was “better safe than sorry?”

She’s dead and gone now .

Feeling the adrenaline blazing a trail through your veins, you sink slowly to your knees in front of Shaw’s seat, your eyes never leaving him. His eyes widen, realizing what you’re about to do, and he scoots forward to the edge of the seat.

“You’re crazy!” laughs Shaw, teasing but obviously delighted. “Crazy, crazy girl.” 

You grin, accepting it as a compliment. The adrenaline rush gains more and more momentum. You can feel your pussy throbbing. Your black lacy underwear is completely soaked with the anticipation.

You lean in, grasping his length in your hand, jerking it up and down in slow, tantalizing motions. His pre-cum leaks out, and you dip your tongue into his slit, tasting and lapping up the salty fluid. Removing your hand from his shaft, you use your thumb to caress his head. You run your tongue over the length of his dick, back and forth, as though you’re tasting the most delicious ice cream you’ve ever tasted. 

Shaw looks down at you then: reddened lips, swollen and moist with spit. He inhales sharply, leaning back against the chair as he does so.

Sufficiently lubricated with your saliva, you breathe deep. You open your mouth, accepting his generously-sized dick into it. You’re swallowing around it, your cheeks hollowing with the effort. You’ve never deepthroated any guy as big as him before, and you feel your throat rebelling in protest at the new challenge. You manage to quell the gag and relax your throat muscles. 

His dick fully engulfed in the wet heat of your mouth and throat, you hear Shaw let out a ragged, breathy moan: 

“Fuck, oh, fuck…”

He leans forward again, threading his fingers through your hair. The sudden action forces his cock a little further down your throat than you’d intended. This time, you can’t control the small gag that escapes you. Tears form in your eyes; one manages to escape, and falls down your face. Thankfully, Shaw doesn’t notice, and you continue your movement: back, and forth, swirling your tongue up and down his shaft as you move to the rhythm of a song nobody else can hear. 

Having lost track of time, you continue. The loud music and explosions of a preview of some new action movie is playing behind you. You feel his dick twitch, knowing he’s close.

“F-Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, pretty girl…” Shaw groans, stroking your hair.

A few seconds later, Shaw finally releases, shooting hot white ropes down your throat. You move your head back, slowly pulling him out of your mouth. You grasp his length once again and slowly move your hand up and down. More of his cum leaks out onto your lips, dribbling onto your chin. He looks down at you then, riding out the final throes of his orgasm as you lick your lips with a grin. You catch the slightly bitter white fluid on your tongue and make a big show of swallowing.

Shaw sits back against the cool leather of the recliner, panting, trying to control his breathing. He grins, the corner of his lip turned up, feeling amused. He can’t believe you had the balls - no pun intended - to suck him off in the movie theater. He thought he would be lucky if he got your phone number, especially considering how cold you were to him at the beginning. Pulling his underwear and jeans back up, he stands up suddenly. He looks at you, still on your knees. 

“Stand up,” he tells you, and you follow his command, getting up slowly. You feel your legs shake slightly.

“Sit.”

You sit, in the same space Shaw had been sitting just seconds ago, the chair still warm from his body heat. Without warning, Shaw is now on his knees. Just as quickly, he starts pulling down your shorts and lacy black panties over your legs and feet, discarding them on the floor. You gasp in shock. That cocky upturned smirk returning for the umpteenth time, Shaw revels in your surprise.

“Just returning the favor, yeah?”

Before you can react, he forces your knees apart, spreading your legs. You whimper, slightly ashamed that you’re in this very compromised position. The hunger grows in Shaw’s steady amber gaze. Your pussy is now on full display, the fleshy pink skin coated in the clear fluid evidence of your arousal. 

Shaw begins by hooking his arms around the bottoms of your thighs. He slowly kisses the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moving closer and closer to where you want him to be most. Your desire feels like agony. It’s like a thirst dying to be quenched, a growling hunger aching to be quelled. After what feels like forever, you feel his tongue flicking at your clit. The sensation sends jolts of pleasure and electricity up through your abdomen and into your chest. 

“Shaw!” you hear yourself crying out his name, overtaken by the combination of pleasure and adrenaline. The fire spreads through your body like a wildfire.

Unhooking an arm from around your thigh, Shaw inserts two fingers into your pussy. They fuck you while his talented tongue works its magic on your clit, alternating between sucking and massaging. His fingers curl up as he plunges them in and out of you, massaging your g-spot. 

Shaw suddenly pulls away from you then, his voice husky. 

“Oh, baby girl, you’re going to be making a mess of that seat.”

He continues his song and dance of getting you off. The combination of his fingers and tongue is almost too much to bear, and you begin to feel the heat between your legs start to rise uncontrollably. You know you’re close, and can feel the pressure building. 

Within seconds, you feel the orgasm reach its crescendo, trails of fire burning from your hips up into your abdomen. Your heart pounds as you dissolve into the pleasure. At the same time, as though in sync, a loud gun “BANG!” sounds off, playing from the preview on the large screen. 

You arch your back, riding it out, savoring the delicious electricity pulsing through your most sensitive nerve endings. There’s a sudden gushing feeling between your legs. Realizing you just squirted for the first time, you clap your hand over your mouth in embarrassment and excitement. The fluid leaks down your leg, pooling on the underside of your thighs.

“You didn’t tell me you were a squirter,” Shaw quips, licking his lips. They’re shiny, coated in your juices. He flashes that gorgeous smile at you.

Figuring that you also weren’t aware based on your lack of response, Shaw stands up, silhouetted by the flashing lights of the screen at the front of the room.

“Think I sufficiently returned the favor, right, love?” he asks, leaning over you. 

Your tongues meet yet again, tasting each other on your lips. As he presses into you further, you notice he’s still hard. You glide your hand over the noticeable bulge, teasing him. He inhales sharply and groans into your mouth, then pulls away.

“Guess you’ve still got another round in you,” you hear yourself say. You immediately feel your face flush, shocking even yourself with your sudden boldness.

“Guess so,” Shaw replies, moving to sit down in the set of recliners to your left. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, his fully-erect cock springing out once again.

“You made a mess of that one, so why don’t we try another seat, yeah?” 

He winks at you, then lifts his hoodie once again to reveal his perfectly sculpted abs. He leans back, his dick resting up against them, enticing you over. You glance around the theater, still somehow empty. You then look back at Shaw, who sits patiently, waiting for your reaction.

The devil that’s still sitting on your shoulder whispers into your ear:  Do it. You’ve already gone this far, what’s a little further ?

You feel a grin forming on your lips as you walk over to Shaw. Pressing against him, you straddle his thighs. You tease his cock with your pussy, your wetness coating him. His breath hitches in anticipation as you hover over him. You slowly lower yourself onto his cock, the delicious feeling of his girth filling you up overcoming all your senses. He stretches your walls and you gasp, never having felt this full before.

At the sound of his moans, the feeling of a dark, sinful, rush flows through your veins. Adrenaline, raw lust and desire are controlling all of your actions. You roll your hips, and he groans louder, placing his hands on them as the dialogue behind you drowns out the sounds of your sins. You bounce up and down, moving to the tempo of a lullaby no one else can hear. He grabs your breasts as you ride him, drawing out a whimper of pleasure.

Shaw thrusts into you, matching your cadence. You lean into him, the two of you pressed together as you fuck without inhibition. The feeling of his cock between your walls is heavenly, and you throw your head back in ecstasy, hair hanging loosely down your back. 

“Hey,” you hear Shaw whisper suddenly, “why don’t we switch it up?” 

The words are breathy, as though it’s hard for him to speak and fuck at the same time.

“What...do you mean?” you answer, confused, though you’re finding it equally as hard to speak coherently.

“Stand up.”

Lifting yourself off of him, you do as he says. You’re in the back of the theater, and if anyone came in just then, they would see your naked behind, save for your t-shirt and bra pushed up as far as possible. 

Shaw remains seated for a few seconds longer. He reaches out behind you and squeezes your supple ass. Your naked, curvy silhouette is framed by the bright lights of the newest science-fiction action movie trailer, and he has never seen anything so sexy before.

Finally, he stands. You watch his movements carefully, your curiosity heightening. Suddenly, he moves behind you, gently pushing his knee between your legs.

“Bend over,” he instructs. 

You obey.

It doesn’t take long to realize what position he wants you in, and his hands reach out to grab your hips as you’re bent over the seat, facing the back of the recliner. You oblige him further by arching your back, deepening the angle for his maximum pleasure.

An initial wave of the fear and paranoia of being caught rolls over you, but you feel it ebb as Shaw begins slamming into you yet again, returning right back to the same rhythm where you had left off in your sinful lullaby. All of your attention is focused on him. His hands rest on your hips, guiding your movement as you push back into him. 

He’s so big, you can feel him filling you all the way. The heightened angle is allowing his cock to go so far, up to where he can reach no further, but thankfully it doesn’t hurt. Instead, you revel in the feeling. You’ve never been fucked by a guy who could slam all the way into you like Shaw does.

His hands grab your ass as you bounce up and down methodically. He moves them back to your hips, guiding them up and down as he thrusts harder and harder into you.

His dick slams into your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself on the verge of shattering once more. Not even seconds later, you hit your climax. The fire pools low in your abdomen. The buildup starts slow as the fire blazes to life, then transforms into a pleasurable inferno, shooting all the way up into your chest.

“Mph!” 

A cry of ecstasy tears from your throat. Riding out the final throes of your orgasm, your pussy walls clench tighter around his dick, causing him to gasp. The sudden tightening, a torturous yet delicious feeling, becomes nearly too much for him to handle, threatening to make him come undone sooner rather than later.

“Shit, I’m gonna…” Shaw rasps, barely finishing his sentence as he, too, cums, spilling into you.

Breathless and panting, you pull yourself off of him and stand up, your legs shaking so much you have to hold on to the seat in front of you to prevent yourself from tumbling onto the floor. Quickly, you reach down and pull on your underwear and shorts, a little bit relieved to be covered up again. Shaw is also breathing hard. He’s grinning at you as he buttons his jeans, then glancing to the seats to your left. There’s a few wet spots on the seat - the glaring evidence of your sin.

“You certainly made a mess, huh, Y/N?” he teases, leaning towards you, amber gaze burning into yours. “And not just the seats.”

Blushing furiously at the double meaning, you look towards the aisle.

“I-I’ll go get some paper towels,” you stammer, suddenly feeling the need for fresh air.

Running to the bathroom to clean yourself up, you return a few minutes later, several paper towels in hand. You wipe down the seat, hands shaking all the while. When you’re done, you ball up the towels in your hand, moving to throw them out. As you turn to leave, Shaw pulls on your arm.

“Hey, wait. The movie’s starting,” he whispers, holding you in his gaze. You turn towards the screen, and, just as Shaw said, the title screen of the movie flashes across. Something else catches your attention, and you look down to find another couple walking into the theater, whispering loudly about how they made it just in time.

You look back over at Shaw, and he flashes you that gorgeous smile, winking at you as you sink down into the seat next to him. He wraps an arm around you and you start suddenly, but sink into him. His touch is surprisingly comfortable.

“That’s definitely the best way to skip the previews,” he laughs, and you feel yourself smile, the devil on your shoulder winking at you and finally disappearing.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

I was just wondering how you chose the couples for your edit! I'm curious about the reasoning behind where you put Guangyao/Xichen especially! And Xue Yang and Xingchen! And Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing! And all of them hahahahaha

lol, ok, I’ll go line by line!

But for mercy sake, I will put it below a “keep reading”, if you are on mobile it’s a 50/50 chance you don’t get the option and just have to scroll.

—There are those who seek me a lifetime but never we meet,

Jiang Cheng & Wen Qing

I decided to put them here because I thought the line about always seeking love fits JC really well. Wen Qing was his Almost, and he lives as a sort of widow after her death. He has kind of given up on his entire life in pursuit of hatred and wrath.  

This line feels very tragic, and it works for them. I won’t get into the context of the riddle within the story because it’d make my answer too long, but there is an element of the context and the fact that this is the opening line of the riddle kind of feeling like a dark parallel.

—and those I kiss but who  trample me beneath ungrateful feet.

Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao

How different would things have gone if Meng Yao- at any point, even after helping Xue Yang escape The Unclean Realm- just… stopped. Stopped with the power grabbing and swallowed his ambition? Xichen loved him- that finger stroke in Cloud Recess was enough to prove that to me. And I do think that, unlike Xue Yang, Meng Yao was capable of love once upon a time.

I knew, looking at the rest of the riddle and what I planned for each thing, I needed a full ship in this blank, but really it’s wholly directed at Meng Yao. His are the ‘ungrateful feet’. He was given a gift and chose a dark fate instead.

— At times I seem to favor the clever and the fair,

Mian-Mian and her family

If at any point I didn’t use the ship I used in any of these lines, the only other ones I could think of would be Meng Yao and Qin Su, Guangshan and his wife, or Wen Chao and his ho. None of those are anyone I particularly want to hold up in a positive light.

Mian-Mian was fair to Wuxian at every step, and she was fairly clever in how she managed Zixuan and kept his ego in check for him (without ever getting territorial over him, she was a bro to Yanli and I love her for it). Mian-Mian was a good bean, and didn’t really fit anywhere else.

— but I bless all those who are brave enough to dare.

Jin Zixuan and Jiang Yanli

This is one of only 2 that I went into this knowing exactly what line they belonged to. Zixuan was always kind of afraid of Yanli. She was consistent in her dealings with him, but for him to actually man-up and realize he loved her took some bravery.

Plus he did it when Wuxian was- as far as the other Cultivators are concerned- in Feral Kitten Mode. So to court/marry/father a child on Wuxian’s sister took a hell of a lot of daring.

— By large my ministrations are soft-handed and sweet,

Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji

OK, so originally I was going to do this whole thing as a WangXian edit, then I realized the above line had to be Yanli and Zixuan and the below had to be Xue Yang and Xingchen, THEN I realized I’d have to add other couples so there is not a random Yanli and Zixuan/Xue Yang and Xingchen in the middle of a WangXian edit, and bit by bit they were whittled down to just one section.

In the original plan this would be Wuxian playing his non-Chenqing flute on the back of the donkey while Wangji led it, but I wanted a more powerful and peaceful scene. To me that is them watching the snowfall, which I also took as a sign of time passing.

IDK if there is anywhere in canon that really gets into it, but mentally I figured the “Present” arc covers about a year, including a winter spent in Cloud Recess. Just a soft and sweet break from the world on fire.

— but scorned, I become a difficult beast to defeat.

Xue Yang and Xingchen

This was the other one I knew had to be exactly where it ended up, which changed directions on the others.

Xue Yang and Xingchen are absolutely fascinating to me. Just– I could probably write an essay but I am containing it. What they had was in no way love from Xingchen’s perspective. Not just because he didn’t know it was Xue Yang- even if their history were erased, Xingchen always treated him as a friend.

Xue Yang the Rabid Cat though~~~ sociopaths cannot feel love, but they can get this sort of entitled possessiveness over something that looks like a sick, toxic, twisted kind of “love”. That “beast” just fits the line too well. Also the context of who is giving the riddle in the source text. Think Xue Yang but an all-powerful immortal queen who has enslaved a continent out of SPITE.

— For though each of my strokes lands a powerful blow

Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu

My initial thought for this one was Guangyao and Xichen but I loathe GIFsets that are too literal (except my “I love you, I said and then I stabbed him” one with these two, I made the GIF for that one because it takes the quote less seriously and I giggled).

Honestly these are the winners of “I really don’t want Guangyao/Qin Su, Guangshan/Whats-her-face, or Wen Chao/Ho”. I had no one else coming to mind couple-wise and of the few passages I hadn’t chosen people for yet, this one… was left.

Originally in the idea of doing the entire riddle as WangXian, this was going to be the Umbrella Scene. Specifically Wangji stepping aside and Wuxian racing past.

— When I kill, I do it slow.

The Yunmeng Trio

The context of the original riddle really was focused on romantic love as something this villain was fixated on. The original plan (and indeed it is still in my notes so it literally changed halfway through me making that GIF) was to do Wuxian and Wangji here. A cross-cut of them young and happy and the cliff scene.

I really didn’t want 2 WangXian if the rest were mixed though. There were no more romantic couplings, so I tried to think of the same idea of a cross-cut between early days and late times. I was giving up and had a fade half-made that was Wuxian laughing (taking off the mask he tried to scare Wangji with when they were young) and Wuxian’s cry-laugh on the roof of the Nightless City. I accidentally clicked too far over in the episode timeline and saw him screaming because of Yanli and was like “Hum….”

There was a decent enough wide shot of the Yunmeng trio, in Episode 2 there is the fun jostling shot, and I figured if you had to summarize what led from Caiyi Town to the Nightless City in terms of their dynamics, no matter what way you look the answer is “love” (which was my mentality for the two Wuxian’s faded together- what love turned him into).

 Yanli’s love of her family, Wuxian losing everything in his life he loved, and Jiang Cheng raw and raging because of the loss of the woman he loved and the impending loss of the sister he loves.

And then I got some DM’s after the riddle was posted asking about the answer, so I chose to make the WangXian GIF and attach it as the answer :)

[jlf23tumble]

Hi! Loved ALL your fic recs!! Do you read girl direction fics? And if so what are your favourites?

LISSSSSTEN, I love rec’ing fic, come ask me for fic recs all day long, my god, you don’t even know. I’ve read some great girl direction fic, but definitely not as much as I’ve read boy direction (sadly, I think that’s down to content in general, there’s just more boy direction than anything else). THAT SAID, I have faves, and I’ve asked some of my faves for their faves, too, so we’ve got you covered, bb! This got kind of long, so I��ll pull it under the cut…fingers crossed, ratcha fratcha, mobile version! 

Updated to say check out @girldirectionfest and @hlgirldirectionfics!!

Let’s start with objectlesson, aka @alienfuckeronmain, and maybe you’ve read ‘em already, but go read them again! I’m only slightly biased because I did the beta job on these, lol, but I also think one of the truly undersung themes in Phoenix’s girl direction work is the tremendous amounts of body positivity in all of ‘em):

The Daisy Chain series, 20k words total, 2 parts, E. Ten minutes later, an awkward, long-legged, curly-haired, so pale she’s reflective, and so obviously gay-looking Harry Styles is sitting shotgun next to Louis in a bikini, denim cut-offs, and heart-framed sunnies. (P’s first girl direction, and it’s so sweet and pure and PUBETASTIC in a way that anyone who’s ever worn a too-small bathing suit will instantly get)

Dream About That Casual Touch, 7.6k Words, E. And that was the first thing Louis noticed about her. Not her nipples, or not only her nipples, anyway, but the fact that she was so confident with her body and didn’t seem to care that her tits were sort of soft and floppy and uneven or that she had a little roll of pudge around her hips that poked over the top of her jeans when she wore crop tops. (A story of two terrible, fucked up dates before finally getting it right)

From Now Until Forever, 9k words, E. The girls go to Britney Nite and Louis wears Juicy track pants and Harry is not ok. (This one is borderline crack fic but only because it’s so fucking FUN, like, you can practically see the outfits, but it still has a tremendous amount of heart/emotion/heat)

In the Heat of the Night, 7.7k words, E. Louis is the only butch in London with a truck and Harry needs to move a couch. (Give this girl a trope like bed-sharing, and she will take it to the NEXT LEVEL)

Diamonds in the Moonlight, 16k words, M. The 70s au where Harry is a rich girl stuck in the suburbs who thinks she loves Shaun Cassidy, and Louis is the skater who breaks into her backyard and changes everything forever. (I dare you to read this and not immediately visualize a tender coming-of-age movie, like, it literally unfolds in your mind’s eye, it’s so VISUAL)

Holy, 6.6k words, E. Louis wants to eat burgers and smoke weed and be twenty three. She wants to wake up with Harry and spend the whole day in bed fingering each other because they finally don’t have to have goddamn acrylic nails for once. She wants to grow her pubes out. She wants to lounge around in a posh, red-velvet High Hefner robe. (One of the rare canon ones, and it’s so fucking good, maybe my fave? I imagine this very much WOULD BE girl Louis)

What a Heavenly Way to Die, 8k words, E. She’s thought about it a lot, and two big things seem to be holding her back, aside from the uncontrollable paralysis that overtakes her body every time she so much as tries to sneak a hand under the waistband of Harry’s knickers. (Another canon one, X Factor era)

Dreaming of a True Love’s Kiss, 17k words, E. Zayn is a no-nonsense career lady and Niall is the literal Disney Princess who uproots her life (and also teaches her a thing or two about birdhouses, and love). (Honestly, so sweet and cute and who knew we all needed ziall enchanted???) 

I Must Confess (I Still Believe), 44k words, M. Harry is the new girl at an all girl Catholic Girl’s School, and Louis is the unattainable, dashing senior who changes her forever. (The author notes on this one still break my heart, aggressive sighing)

…and this one isn’t strictly girl direction, but it’s girls around One Direction, and it’s so brilliant, my god: Snakes and Stones, 1.4k, E. If you call a girl a snake enough, sometimes she becomes one. Her legs lengthen and fuse, her pupils shrink to slits.

Next up, Blake, aka @newleafover. They haven’t written too much girl direction (at least compared to their fantastic boy direction work), but what they’ve done is outstanding (as per usj):

Something in the way she mooooves, 11.4k words, M. Harry is a veterinary science student who’s failing all her science classes and a softball-playing lesbian who runs away from the ball. She chose her major because of her love of cows. She joined the softball team because of Louis. (Do I have a soft spot for this one because it takes place where I went to school? Maybe so! It’s a great read to boot!!)

The Ballet Direction series, 22.9k words, 3 parts, M/E/T.  Harry is invited to practise her Snow Queen solo in a post-class rehearsal with Louis Tomlinson, who is only the most beautiful, charming, talented ex-Sugar Plum Fairy in the whole world. (There are about 25 things to love in this series, and it was such a sweet one to work on!!!!)

I’m putting the rest of my recs here in no particular order, and they aren’t necessarily my top picks by each author, but each author has written a lot of amazing girl direction stories, so I suggest reading their latest ones below and diving deeper:

The Changer and the Changed, @homosociallyyours, 59k words, E. It’s the spring of 1977 and Harry Styles has just moved to New York City after graduating college. She knows she’s a lesbian. She just needs to figure out how to meet other lesbians.

lend me your thoughts, @pattern-pals, 9.9k words, E. Louis and Harry approach sexual discomfort by fantasising about being watched.

Kiss the Girl, @hazzabeeforlou, 48k words, E. Featuring girl love, ancient rituals, sea lore, and perhaps the most beautiful treasure in the entire ocean.

Make the Yuletide Gay, @flowercrownfemme​, 9.7k words, T. A Christmas In Connecticut AU in which Louis is a mommy blogger, Harry is a pop star, and nobody’s really what they seem. Featuring a lot of lying, tons of domesticity, some badly faked heterosexuality, and a few Christmas kisses.

all down your shoulders and back, eleadore, 5.3k words, E. Non AU. Harry and Louis are cisgirls. Everything else is more or less the same.

Massive shoutout to Kim and Phoenix for rec’ing me their faves; anyone tagged here, jump in and recommend more if you want!

[eldritchsurveys]

420 (ayyyy).

Hello :) Do you like to use a lot of smiley faces online? >> Not a lot, but I do use some.

Which instant messaging service do you use, if any? >> Discord. Tumblr also has an IM feature, but it’s not very good IMO. I hate that tiny little window.

What are your opinions on Justin Bieber? >> I don’t have any opinions on him. He rarely crosses my radar.

On December 21st 2012, if the world starts to go down, what will you do? >> I don’t remember what I was doing. I was in Colorado at that time, and that’s really all I remember.

Do you Facebook creep / Myspace stalk? >> No.

Is there a celebrity you're obsessed with? Who? >> Not really. There are celebrities I like looking at and ones I like watching in movies and such, but I’m not obsessed, just interested.

Do you look at yourself in any reflective surface you pass? >> Usually.

What theme is your calendar? >> I don’t use calendars. 

Is there anyone famous born on your birthday? Who? >> Most certainly, but I don’t know who.

Do you have a background on your cell phone? Of what? >> My lock screen is this Gunship album cover because it looks so fucking cool, and my home screen is a shot of Quentin Oliver Lee as the Phantom of the Opera.

Have you ever watched the clock tick a full minute? >> Yeah.

Is there anyone you know who kind of looks like you? >> No.

Do you wish you had a twin? If you do, do you wish you didn't? >> No.

Which lollipop flavor is your favorite? >> ---

Do you still enjoy coloring with crayons? >> I never enjoyed colouring with crayons.

If someone came up and randomly hugged you, what would you do? >> Flip my shit and probably hurt them.

Are we really getting lazier with all the technology advances these days? >> Possibly. But I can’t be bothered to care about that.

What was the last movie you saw in 3D? >> Probably a Marvel movie, I don’t remember now.

1-ply 2-ply or 3-ply bathroom tissue? Or does it matter? >> 2-ply seems sufficient. I hate the really soft stuff (it leaves particles behind, for one, and it’s bad for the plumbing, for another) but 1-ply is a little too spartan.

Have you ever tried out products at a kiosk at the mall when they ask you? >> No. I avoid those kiosks with the ruthlessness of someone who’s lived in a big city and knows how to avoid canvassers and panhandlers and everyone else who wants my attention (and money).

Do you ever wish you got more actual letters in the mail? >> I don’t really care. If I wanted to get letters that badly, I’d find a penpal and start sending some.

Have you ever knocked/rang the doorbell, then ran? >> No.

Do you take the bus often? >> Not often, because I don’t go out often, but I usually take it whenever I go out by myself.

Do you like serious people or ones with a sense of humor? >> I like people who can do both.

When you read a happy scene in a book, do you find yourself smiling? >> I mean, sometimes, probably.

Have you ever went to the movie theatres by yourself? >> I often do.

Is one of your main reasons for going to the beach to check people out? >> No.

What food do you absolutely despise? >> Bananas.

What is your favorite genre of music? >> I don’t have one.

Do you shave? >> No. I trim occasionally, but that’s all.

What is your opinion on the Twilight saga? >> I think people should feel free to enjoy it without being ridiculed by people with superiority complexes. Also, lay off the fucking author already.

Which celebrity will you always think is good looking? >> I don’t know, tastes are always liable to change.

Do you use twitter? Do you twitstalk a lot of celebrities? >> No.

Have you ever taped your fingers together? Doesn't it feel weird? >> No.

Do you like the squishy feeling of clay or mud beneath your feet? >> No.

What is one habit you wish you could cut? >> Picking at my lips. I’ve tried so hard to stop but nothing works.

When was the last time you used the bathroom? >> About an hour ago.

Do you have an accent? >> To someone, I’m sure.

Do you clean your house? >> I clean part of it.

How many tabs do you have open right now? >> Four.

Is wearing a lot of makeup being pretty or cakefaced? >> ...

Do you care about the Olympics? >> I don’t.

Do you ever wear headphones but then don't listen to anything? >> Yeah, when I’m using them to block out environmental noise.

Do you have a Youtube account? >> I have a Google account, which automatically is a Youtube account.

Do you know anyone who collects pins? >> No.

Do you enjoy taking pictures? >> Not as a hobby.

Do you ever video chat with people? >> No.

Have you ever tried Chatroulette or Omegle? >> I think I tried them once, but it didn’t interest me.

Are you a sports fan? If so, what sport(s)? >> No.

When did you stop trick-or-treating? Or do you still go? >> I’ve never done it.

Can you bake a good cake from scratch? >> I’ve never tried.

Can you bowl? Good? >> No.

Do you wish your life was like a movie sometimes? >> No, because that really wouldn’t make any sense.

Do you just smile or make silly faces/poses in pictures? >> Most of the time I don’t do anything, unless I specifically feel like making some sort of pose.

Do/did you ever like the books you have/had to read in high school? >> I only liked one -- Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Do you live in a small town or a big city? >> I’m not sure what Grand Rapids qualifies as. It definitely ain’t a big city, though.

What is your cell phone carrier? >> Boost Mobile.

Do you have any stuffed toys? >> Yeah, a lot of them.

What was your favorite childhood toy? Do you still have it? >> I don’t think I had one.

What song fits your mood right now? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever had a pet fish? >> No.

What internet browser are you using? >> Chrome.

Do you have a lot of bookmarks (internet)? >> Not a lot, but I have a good number.

Are you doing anything fun this weekend? >> I don’t know yet. Probably not.

Do you have any big plans for the upcoming summer? >> Winter is what’s upcoming, and no.

What did you do last New Years Eve? >> I don’t remember.

Plaid, stripes, checkers, or polka dots? >> Plaid.

Do you join a lot of fanpages on Facebook? >> No.

Can you curl your tongue? How about in a clover shape? >> No.

Is there any TV show that you get extremely excited about? >> Yeah, a few. I’m excited about The Good Place and Superstore coming back for their fall seasons.

What kind of lotion do you use? >> Aveeno.

Have you ever squeezed a zit and popped its nastiness everywhere? >> No, I hate the very idea of zit-popping.

Have you ever bit your cheek, and then bit it again in the same place? >> Yes, and god it’s awful.

Have you ever had a bath with a sibling/cousin when you were little? >> ---

Would you rather not eat or not sleep for 24 hours? >> Not sleep.

Do you ever actually take cold showers during the summer? >> No.

When was the last time you played on a playground? >> I don’t remember. At least a few years ago.

Do you like the really spinny rides at amusement parks? >> Not really.

What's your opinion on facial hair? >> I don’t have an opinion about that.

Have you ever gambled at a casino? >> No. I’m pretty sure just stepping inside a casino would send me into instant sensory overload.

What's your favorite thing to shop for? >> ---

Duz it bothar U wen Pplz tYPe Lyyk th!s ?!!one?!!?? >> People don’t really type like that anymore, so.

Do you know someone really thin who eats a lot (and doesn't puke it up)? >> No...?

Do you make a wish at 11:11? >> No.

What was the last present you bought for someone? >> I bought a couple of small things at Vault of Midnight (a comics/games store) that I thought would be good as stocking stuffers. I have a hard time with stocking stuffers so I figured I’d start early and collect things over time.

Aren't pad and tampon commercials just ridiculous? >> Most commercials are ridiculous, honestly.

Do you use a wallet or just put money in your pockets? >> I use a little zip pouch as a wallet.

Do you like your ID picture (whichever ID you have)? >> Not really, but it’s not a big deal.

Do you do online gaming? >> Yeah.

What was the last thing you put in your mouth? >> A toothbrush.

Who were the last people you hung out with? >> Some people from the West Michigan Geeks meetup group.

On a scale of 1-10, how attractive do you think you are? Honestly? >> No.

Do you think you have a good sense of humor? >> I mean, it works great for me.

Lmfao, Lmao, Rofl, Rotfl, Lol, Haha, Hehe, other? >> I use lmao a lot.

Have you ever tried to count grains of sand in your hand? >> No.

What does your ideal partner look like? >> ---

Do you ever have to write your name on food to keep it from getting eaten? >> No.

Do you have a friend you still hang with even though they're annoying? >> No.

What is one thing you've always wanted to do? >> *shrug*

[mendespideys]

don’t freak out | p.p.

Pairing: peter parker x reader 

Summary: when peter parker knocked on your window past midnight on a school night, he asked you not to freak out. so you asked him to give you a list of reasons not to 

Warnings: a flustered peter parker, a gay mj, mentions of injuries and sharing a bed but no sex

Words: 3.1K+

a/n: this is my submission for @gab-spidey’s 2k writing challenge. everyone go read her stuff, she’s amazing!! i had the prompt: “give me a list of reasons not to freak out”

also, i have no idea how a dislocated shoulder works or how exactly you fix it. i’ve only ever broken my collarbone lol

also also, this is my 200th post 

my masterlist

The first time you heard the sound, you ignored it. You rolled over in bed, your eyes too drowsy, and you knew it was late. Telling yourself you had just imagined it, you forced yourself to fall back asleep, which, admittedly, wasn’t too difficult. 

You heard the tapping sound again, clearer this time, and rolled out of bed with a groan. Turning on the small lamp on your desk, you looked around your bedroom trying to locate the sound that was starting to make you slightly uncomfortable. 

The sound appeared again, and you furrowed your eyebrows, walking closer to the window. Pulling back the curtains, you were startled by a pair of dark eyes looking at you. It was dark outside, but you could see enough of his features to realize it was Peter Parker. 

Hurriedly opening your window, you stepped aside and he slipped himself through slowly, wincing at the movement. He landed on your floor with a soft thud, his breath hitching as he did so. In the dim light from the lamp, you noticed the nasty bruise forming underneath his left eye. You gasped involuntarily. 

Peter stood, clutching his right arm against his torso. You looked at him, waiting for him to explain why he had knocked on your window past midnight on a school night. You barely even knew the guy. The two of you shared three classes together but had never really talked. You knew he hung out with Ned and MJ, and you knew he had left Liz by herself at homecoming sophomore year. 

“Where did you- how did you get up here?” You asked quizzically, well aware that the balcony did not reach your window. 

“Don’t freak out,” Peter said, his eyes silently pleading you. 

“Give me a list of reasons not to freak out,” you stated, your voice and pulse rising. “I barely know you, yet here you are knocking at my window in the middle of the night, which, by the way, is too far from the balcony. You’re hurt, badly, and I still don’t understand why or how you’re here.” 

He stared at you, studying you as you stood in front of him in your pajamas. You felt his eyes on you. Suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed, you crossed your arms over your chest, desperately trying to hide the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra. 

You watched incredulously as Peter unzipped his hoodie slowly. Seeing the familiar red and blue suit, your eyes widened. He looked back up at you, watching as you processed the new information. 

“What happened to you?”

“When I got my powers or tonight?” Peter asked for clarification, a half-hearted teasing smile tugging at his lips. 

“Both,” you moved toward the window, closing it quietly. “Either. Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be going to the hospital?”

The bruise underneath his eye was definitely going to take a while to heal. He also had a small cut on the bridge of his nose and you noticed he was still holding his arm steady. 

“It got a little rougher than intended,” he explained, shrugging, but immediately regretting it. He groaned, pursing his lips in pain. “I got him though. I came to you because I know you study with the trainer at school. You know your way around sports injuries and stuff.”

“Exactly, sports injuries,” you raised your eyebrows at him, to put emphasis on the obvious. “These injuries are not something you would get during a game of soccer.” 

Peter chuckled softly, and you glanced at your alarm clock. You were surprised to see that it was almost one in the morning, suddenly feeling energized. Just now realizing what he had said, you turn back to look at him. He’d been watching you?

“Do you think you could help me though? My shoulder is killing me.”

Silently, you get to work. You help Peter take off his jacket and then his suit, wincing at the sight of his flattened shoulder. Deciding to take care of his minor injuries first, you gently brush your thumb over this bruise to make sure there are no broken bones or fractures. 

Peter sat silently as you inspected his nose. You were unsure if it was because he was in pain or not. Your silence came from still trying to comprehend the information. Sharing three classes with Peter, you had often seen him abruptly running out before the bell had even rung. Him being Spider-Man would definitely explain that. 

“Okay,” you mumbled, straightening your back to take a closer look at his shoulder. “Your humeral head is prominent and your forearm is internally rotated.” 

“Which means?” 

“Your shoulder’s dislocated,” you stated with a slight shrug. 

The boy sat on the bed in front of you groaned softly before meeting your eyes. The few exchanges you had with Peter mostly included homework clarifications and a few comments, but you had never actually looked at him. 

You knew a majority of your classmates classified him as a loser. You had often heard the name Penis Parker being called out teasingly in the hallways. The horrible nickname was mostly used by Flash Thompson. You knew the two of them were on the academic decathlon team together, so you assumed he was just jealous of Peter.

“Can you fix it?” 

Your eyes widened, looking at him in disbelief. “I-I’ve only ever seen it done. I’ve never actually done it myself.”

“I’ll be your first try then,” Peter smiled cheerfully, and you realized he was oblivious to what he was asking. 

“Peter-”

“Please? We both have school tomorrow. The only other person who knows is Ned and he passes out at sight of blood, let alone a dislocated shoulder.”

“You should really go to a hospital-”

“I can’t!” he exclaimed, his expression softening as soon as the words had left him. “That was uncalled for, sorry. I just- I can’t afford to go to a hospital. Aunt May already has two jobs and she doesn’t know what I do when I’m not home-”

“First of all, stop interrupting me,” you stated sternly. “Secondly, it’s gonna hurt.”

Standing behind him to get better leverage, you grabbed his shoulder firmly. His body tensed at the touch of your cold hands, and you tried to ignore how warm his skin felt underneath your fingers. He relaxed as your hands grew warmer, nodding his head once. 

Briefly, you went through the steps in your head. You could feel your heartbeat increase as the realization of what you were about to do dawned on you. How Peter trusted you to do this was beyond your comprehension. You were only a seventeen-year-old girl after all. 

“On the count of three. One, two,” you counted down, your grip tightening, before popping his shoulder back into its correct place with a sickening crack. “There. It hurts less when you don’t expect it.”

Sitting back, you were surprised to see that Peter didn’t appear to be in much pain. You crawled off the bed silently, standing in front of him. You could feel his eyes tracing the length of your legs, and you cleared your throat while putting one leg in front of the other.

Peter looked up at you, his cheeks flushed faint pink. He knew he had been caught staring. It was your turn to watch him as he tried moving his shoulder, grinning widely at his mobility. 

“It might be sore for a while,” you informed him, once again crossing your arms across your chest. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough superhero stuff for the night and would like to go back to sleep.”

Peter didn’t seem to take the hint at first, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he sat deep in thought. You took the opportunity to study him again, wondering why you had never really noticed him before. You quickly pushed the inappropriate thoughts away. 

“Can I stay?” 

You widened your eyes at him, looking at him doubtfully. Momentarily, you wondered if this was what Peter was like outside of school. Maybe he wasn’t a huge science nerd like the rumors said but rather a confident player. It didn’t really seem like him though. 

“Stay? As in spend the night? Here? With me?” you asked for his clarification, not really needing it. “I don’t think MJ would like that.”

“Look- MJ?” 

“Yeah,” you answered simply, furrowing your eyebrows. “I thought you and her-”

Peter cut you off with a laugh, covering his mouth when you narrowed your eyes at him. You didn’t understand what he suddenly seemed to find so amusing, but you needed him to shut up before your parents heard him from down the hall. 

“No,” he croaked, still trying to recover from his laughing fit. “Me and Michelle are not- no. Besides, she doesn’t, um, like boys.” 

Oh.

You had only seen her a few times, mostly she would be wherever Ned and Peter were. You thought the girl was quite pretty, prettier than Liz who you knew Peter had had a crush on. You guess that would explain why she always hung out with the two boys. 

“I- look,” Peter started, his expression softening. “I told my Aunt May I was staying at Ned’s tonight anyways. I guarantee Ned’s already asleep and I’m already here. I-I would sleep on your floor, of course, and I would be out of here before you wake up.” 

He looked flustered, seemingly just realizing what he was asking. You stifled a giggle, finding his embarrassment kind of endearing. You felt kind of bad for him, understanding what kind of predicament he was in. If you had come home with bruises and cuts, you knew your parents would ask questions too. 

Sighing in defeat, you gave him a nod. “Okay.”

His eyes opened wide with genuine surprise, fumbling to get off the bed. He found his way to the end of your bed, picking up a beige Jansport backpack you hadn't noticed he brought with him. Pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, he grinned up at you innocently. 

Telling him the bathroom was the next door over, you went to your closet to find the spare blanket and pillow. Sitting down on your bed, you waited for him to return. Processing all of this new information and spending more time with Peter than ever before had made you tired. Your brain had been going haywire and you weren’t too sure if you had really processed everything. 

Peter opened the door quietly, popping his head through first before the rest of his body followed. You had to stifle a giggle at his science pun shirt, finding it particularly amusing. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the uncooperative curl falling into his eyes. You watched him silently. 

“Well,” he glanced at your clock. “I guess we should go to sleep.”

He sat down on the floor, unfolding the blanket you had left out for him. Tucking yourself into your own covers, you looked at him again as he attempted to get comfortable. Even though you would never admit it, how Peter Parker didn’t have a girlfriend was beyond you. 

“Peter?” 

He stopped squirming, slowly turning to meet you. You squinted, trying to read his expression in the dim light. 

“Yeah?” 

“You can, um, share my bed with me? I-I don’t feel comfortable making you sleep on the floor,” you suggested softly, grateful that the dark was hiding your blushed cheeks. “Besides, you forgot to turn off the light.”

He had been reluctant at first, and you wondered if it had been a mistake to suggest the idea in the first place. Then, with a tired sigh, he stood from his spot and walked toward the small desk. Once the light was out, you didn’t see him until his weight shifted the bed, startling you. You kept silent as he wrapped himself in the baby blue blanket you had given him.

Your eyes were getting heavier by the minute, and suddenly it felt more comfortable than awkward to be sharing your bed with Peter. You listened to his even breaths, wondering if he had managed to fall asleep already. The bed shifted again, and although it was dark, you knew Peter had turned to face you.

“Thank you,” he whispered softly, only continuing after you hum to let him know you were awake. “You should sit with us tomorrow. At lunch. I’m sure MJ would like having another girl there.” 

“Sure, Spider-Man,” you mumbled back, praying he could hear you as the exhaustion took over and lulled you to sleep. 

When you woke up the next morning, Peter had kept his promise. The light blue blanket was folded neatly at the end of your bed, and if it hadn’t been for the vague smell lingering on the pillow, you might have thought it was all a dream. Ignoring the pleasant smell, you put on a pair of black denim shorts and a random crop top you had found in your laundry basket. On the way out of the door, you grabbed your Midtown sweatshirt and shoved it into your backpack. 

The walk to your high school suddenly seemed longer than usual, and you silently prayed to miraculously gain superhuman speed. Once the familiar gate came into view, you could feel your heartbeat quicken. You scolded yourself, walking among the crowd of other students. Peter was sitting in his usual spot when you entered the classroom, turning his head as soon as you stepped foot inside. He gave you a nod, grinning, and you smiled back, taking your own seat. 

The next two periods went even slower. Your two other classes with Peter was after lunch. You had also forgotten to bring money for lunch, so you were desperately trying to hide the loud growls coming from your stomach. When you walked into the cafeteria, you came to a halt, wondering if Peter had been genuine when he offered the invitation. 

“Y/N!” 

Ned grinned as you wandered closer to them. Peter wasn’t there yet, and you wondered if his Spider-Man duties had come up again. Michelle looked up from her sketchbook, giving you a nod with a tight smile. You sat down next to her, placing your phone on the table. 

You shared one class with Ned as well, and you figured that’s where he knew you from. He quickly started a conversation, firstly asking for help with the homework the teacher had assigned. You clarified it for him, easily understanding why he and Peter were best friends. 

“Hi, guys,” Peter’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. 

He sat down next to Ned, placing his lunch tray on the table. Ned greeted him, finishing copying your notes from yesterday’s math lesson. You studied Peter for a second, realizing he was wearing the same blue hoodie as last night. His bruise was almost completely gone and you wondered if he had borrowed his aunt’s makeup or if he healed that fast.

You bit your bottom lip, forcing yourself to ignore the smell of the food. It was with no success, however, because not even two seconds later, your stomach made the loudest groan in existence. At least that’s what it sounded like to you. Peter heard it too, furrowing his eyebrows questioningly. 

“If you’re hungry, why don’t you have food?” 

“I forgot to bring money,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at him. “It was kind of a rough night last night.” 

The two unknowing friends looked between you and Peter, obviously sensing the awkward tension. Peter squirmed under your stare, his cheeks flushing slightly. Although you would never say it to him, he looked extremely cute. Michelle cocked an eyebrow, closing the pad in front of her. 

“Did you guys hook up last night?” 

Peter choked on the sip of juice he had taken to compose himself, coughing loudly as Ned gently patted his back. You whipped your head to study the girl next to you, silently praying your cheeks didn’t look as hot as they felt. Usually, you were rather confident, but the thought of you and Peter affected you more than you wanted it to. 

“What- no!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

The two of you spoke at the same time, the awkwardness only growing stronger. Your eyes flickered to Peter, silently asking if she knew, and he shook his head. Michelle looked between the two of you for a moment before shrugging and taking a bite of her sandwich. 

“It was just a question. Geez,” she mumbled, her mouth still full of food. “I just wondered since you guys are all weird and stuff all of a sudden. Something happened between you guys since she’s sitting here.” 

“Here,” Peter offered, his voice coming out raspy from coughing. “Take half of my sandwich. I always grab another one at Delmar’s on my way home from school anyway.” 

You began to protest, but he insisted once more, and you gave in. He watched you until you took a bite, smiling proudly. You swallowed, relishing the feeling of the food entering your system. You immediately felt better and awarded him with a thankful smile. 

The three of you kept up the conversation for a while, and you wondered why you had never hung out with him or Ned before. Michelle pitched in an opinion or two, and you instantly grew fond of the girl too. You were finishing the last few questions of your homework as Peter and Ned were watching a video on Ned’s phone. 

“Are you guys watching that stupid Spider-Man again?” Michelle muttered, not even looking up from her drawing. 

Ned and Peter looked at each other before looking at their friend, shaking their heads quickly. All four of you knew there was no point as the news anchor continued the story about how Spider-Man had stopped what would have turned into a huge chain collision. 

“I think Spider-Man’s pretty cool,” you admitted, giving Peter a teasing grin as his head whipped up to look at you. “I might even consider sharing my bed with him.” 

Michelle rolled her eyes, playfully offering you her middle finger. You knew she had hoped you would take her side, and truthfully, if you hadn’t known it was Peter, you probably would have. Ned looked between you and Peter with wide eyes, eventually narrowing them at his best friend who just couldn’t seem to stop blushing. 

It dawned on you then that Ned knew, too. Why wouldn’t he? Those two boys spent all their time together and it made perfect sense that Peter had confided in him. You quickly made a mental note to ask Peter in chemistry as you grabbed your backpack and slung it over your shoulder. Walking toward the door just as the bell rang, you look over your shoulder. 

“See you in class, Peter.” 

[honeylikewords]

Hey, K, I know it’s been days but you still feel like infodumping about Spiderverse? :o

pettyprocrastination said to jonedwardbernthal:Hello yes I loved into the spiderverse with my heart and soul please info dump I require sustenance

YES I DO WANT TO INFODUMP ABOUT SPIDERVERSE THANK YOU FOR ASKING

okay okay so i’m gonna put this all under a cut for those who haven’t seen the movie and wish to remain spoiler free, and i’ll also put a couple images so that mobile users (who sometimes automatically see the post, apparently?) to warn them to scroll past!

(pls enjoy my crappy ms paint warning banner ghskhgdk)

SO FIRST OF ALL I WANT TO SAY that genuinely, this movie changed my life. I have never been as excited or happy about a movie as I was with this one, and can find few (if any) flaws with it. I would have to be hyper-nitpicky if I wanted to point out anything wrong with it, but overall, I gotta say, this movie inspired me, made me cry, made me laugh out loud, made me shake and jitter with excitement.

I should point out that, yes, the visuals can be kinda jarring, especially for sensitive people like me who react to flashing stimulus and abrupt movement very poorly, but I honestly LOVED the visual aspect of the film. The character design is incredible, the animation is so unique and stunning, and every single person has this wonderful individuality in the way they look and move that it just blows me away. This movie is already a frontrunner for an Oscar in the animation category, apparently, and it’s easy to see why.

The writing is also impeccable, with a quick pace and genuine humanity to it, and it feels so bright and alive! The way people talk is so full of character and personality, and Miles’ codeswitching is adorable and fun to listen to, and everyone has such a special and unique personality that comes through how they speak. The voice acting is INCREDIBLE and the array of the cast is SO awesome and I LOVE everyone who was in it!

I literally am so excited about everything that I’m having a hard time keeping this post linear and sensical, but I just! Love it so much!

Some people criticize the film by saying that it’s not really the “first black Spiderman movie” because Miles “shares the spotlight”, but, honestly? That didn’t come across to me at all. This movie felt entirely centered on Miles. Yes, Peter B. Parker played a big role, but, like, every movie has supporting characters and co-mains. I understand the frustration, but that’d kinda be like saying that Captain America: The First Avenger isn’t Steve’s story because Peggy gets screentime and so does Bucky. But I also do get where people are coming from and I find the frustration very valid.

But I LOVE all the spider-people, and they didn’t actually overwhelm the movie. Peni, SpiderNoir, and SpiderHam all took backseats. They were fun additions, but didn’t ever detract from the experience of this being Miles’ story. Even Gwen didn’t derail the film, or even Peter B.! They all stayed in their lanes and moved Miles’ story along, more like the wheels propelling him than roadblocks obfuscating his progression. 

I loved every one of the characters, and I got so attached to all of them; Miles’ family really stands out to me, because they are such strong and loving characters, and it is so, so sadly rare to see loving black families portrayed like this. Jefferson, Miles’ dad, is allowed to be flawed without ever crossing the line into “bad dad” territory. He’s allowed to be wrong but still love his son and be doing the absolute best for him. Even Miles’ “bad” uncle, Aaron, made me cry and love him. When Aaron died, I was horrified (mostly because, I mean, god, we really did not need to see another black man getting shot by a white guy...), but they also never demonized Aaron, or downplayed the tragedy of his loss. He was heroic, even in his mistakes, and I think that was really noble on the part of the storytellers. 

The movie just feels so lived in and loved and human, and you can tell that it’s just a work of art and love and passion. It’s a game-changer. I legitimately consider it the best Marvel movie ever made, on par with Black Panther in terms of artistic value and importance. It’s the fun of Thor: Ragnarok and the art and significance of Black Panther rolled into one, unique, amazing bundle that has forever set the bar for how I want movies, especially movies intended for families and children to be.

“Anyone can wear the mask” means something. It may sound like a cheesy cop-out, but it means that we don’t have to look up to Perfect Pillars Of White Heroism as our standards. It means black children from Brooklyn are heroes. Jewish people are heroes. Women are heroes. Asian people are heroes. Even Miles’ parents are heroes, and it shows the wide gamut of good people and what we owe to each other. While neither Rio nor Jefferson Morales-Davis are “superheroes”, they are legitimate heroes, doing their part to make the world a better place.

Also, check THIS:

Just saying!

Anyway, moving on; the jokes in the movie are awesome, and my family has been throwing them back and forth ever since we saw the movie. SpiderHam’s t-pose ascension into the black hole and “keep this, it’ll fit in your pocket” had us in tears. SpiderNoir and the Rubik’s cube? Incredible. Peter B. crying in the shower? Artistry.

AND NOW FOR ME TO TALK ABOUT THE AFTER CREDITS SCENE BECAUSE I HAVE BEEN HOLDING IT IN FOR S O   L O N G

When I read that Oscar had a cameo in the movie, I needed to know. It was the only spoiler I allowed myself to know about, and when I heard he was going to be Spider-Man 2099/Miguel O’Hara, I flipped. I read nothing else about the scene, and wanted to go in blind, but I researched Miguel and, well, you know, I fell in love!

His scene was SO good and SO funny and I LOVE Miguel SO much, you have no idea. I am SO excited for him to be in the next movie (fingers crossed!) and can’t wait to see more of him. I do hope they give him more screen time, because he’s a great character, and because it’d be amazing to have a Latino Spider-Man AND a Afrolatino Spider-Man! And because, you know, more Oscar is always ideal.

I love, love, love Miguel, and Oscar was so funny (he has amazing comedic timing and such great range, omg), and I am desperate to see more of him. I haven’t stopped bombarding my poor friend Cydney with love and affection for Miggy in, like, two weeks. I’m sure she’s sick of it by now. Also, I kinda wanna write stuff about Miggy, lowkey, as self-indulgence, but for now I’ll just keep that foolishness to myself lol.

Miguel O’Hara Is My Boyfriend Now ghdkhgkldhg

Anyway, the movie is chock-full of amazing things, both from an artistic/cultural standpoint and from a Marvel-fan standpoint: so many easter eggs and little surprises, so much amazing writing, so much amazing character design, just!! So! Good! Please go see it immediately, because I’m itching to see it again and don’t know how I can resist going in for a second watch.

Also, Peter B. Parker is Jewish and it’s canon and if you want to step up and fight me about it, feel free to, but I will kick your ass. I will. Know this. Jewish Spider-Man FOREVER, FOOLS. No one is allowed to thirst after him if they also ignore his being Jewish or disrespect it, so if you wanna love him, you gotta love his Judaism too, or I’ll fist-fight you behind the Denny’s at 3 am and knock you the hell out.

also john mulaney’s cussing outtakes for spiderham are the funniest thing on earth and i’m crying 

OH and I have the art book for the movie and everything is so *kisses fingers like an Italian cook* B E A U T I F U L! And the soundtrack? BOY I TELL YA I was listening to it for WEEKS in advance even when there were only three songs released and some of those tracks are, like, incredibly powerful, whooh. 

Anyway GO SEE SPIDERVERSE. I LOVE IT. ALL OTHER SPIDER-MAN MOVIES ARE DOOKIE BY COMPARISON.

I have more I could say but I’m so excited I’m bouncing around and going hog wild dgkgdhgkg i love spider verse

[loxxxlay]

Whumptober ~ October 6th ~ Betrayed

Summary: After a series of ill decisions, Thor gets himself into a dangerous and humiliating situation. One from which there seems to be no escape. [Part 2/4]

Tags/Warnings: (for this part) super duper fucked-up noncon, Amora is perpetrator, Thor is victim, thor whump, love spell, referenced noncon drug use, very violent GoT-level threat is made, victim-blaming, subtle sexism, bc somehow Thor still manages to be an ass :')

Author’s Note: Wow, so like, this is absolutely disgusting. I'm not even joking lol. :/ I had to pause in the middle of writing and think 'really? am i really going to post this'? And even now I'm just... idk guys... :/ Shakes head at myself. Read at your own risk. That said, I feel like I've done worse to Loki... Something about it being Thor exponentially increases the level of my shame, I guess. :P

(For mobile users, there is a read more cut.)

Parts: [1] 2 [3] [4]

[Read on Ao3]

In a half-sleep, something is dragging Thor to the bottom of an ocean. Chains rattle at his ankles and arms, and they tug on his weight, draining the strength from his muscles. His bones feel liquefied, rendering his limbs useless as they flap formlessly. He aches for breathe. The dream is drowning him slowly, and though helpless, Thor fights with all his might. He struggles to swim to the surface and escape this torment—because something is wrong, something is wrong, and he’s in danger.

Adrenaline throbs in his skull, and the aching reverberates through his sinuses and jaw. Thor unclenches his teeth, and that’s when he wakes from the dream. His body weighs heavy on the mattress beneath him, and every muscle feels shredded to scraps. His eyes are shut, and he can’t open them, he can’t—

And he’s drowning again. Fighting for consciousness. His head pounds.

After an age, his eyes blink open, and the haze of grey light morphs into shapes and shadows. Ears ringing, Thor blinks again. The muscles of his eyelids have to fight for it, but Thor can finally distinguish the chandelier above his head and the window across from him. It’s—it’s his chandelier. His window. His bedroom.

For a moment, Thor thinks he is safe. Then he tries to move his arms.

They’re locked into place. His ankles, too.

Thor blinks frantically now. His breath comes in short, choked gasps, and he struggles against whatever bindings hold him down. They don’t budge, they don’t even make a sound, and when Thor uses all of his might to lift his head to look, he sees that they’re made of magic. Green glowing patterns of a spell snaking around his limbs.

More alarming—he’s naked.

“It’s about time you woke,” Amora says. “I’ve been waiting for more than an hour.”

Thor jerks his head towards the sound and finds her sitting to the side of the bed. His vision swims before he can catch her expression, but he recognizes the shape of her arm—elbow resting on the armrest and hand supporting her chin. Her legs are crossed at the knee, rather than the ankle, and Thor thinks, ridiculously, that it’s not the proper way of a lady.

“Wh—” Thor’s throat convulses on the word, and it takes a moment to cough and clear his throat of the too dry phlegm. “Rel—ease me,” he croaks, “th—is instant.”

“Hmm,” she says. “You sound rather thirsty.”

Thor snarls, but she has already leaned forward and pressed the edge of a prepared glass to his lips. He seals his mouth shut to the water (and whatever drug it may contain) and breathes frantically through his nose—waiting for it to be over.

“It’s just water, dear,” Amora encourages him. With her other hand, she strokes loose hair out of his face. “I already have you where I want you. Why would I poison you twice?”

Thor hesitates for a moment longer—but he’s thirsty, so thirsty, and he’ll need his voice if he has any hope of calling for the guards. So Thor parts his lips and allows the cool liquid to trickle down his throat. He drains all of the water at her urging, and when he is done, he feels worn. Exhausted. His head lulls onto the pillow, and he waits to regain his strength. He’ll need it.

Besides. She hasn’t done anything to him. Yet.

“Nothing to say?” An amused smile coats her tone. “No questions whatsoever?”

Thor clenches his jaw.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I waited,” Amora says, and her hand moves from his hair to stroke along his bare chest. Thor shudders. “I would’ve liked to be done with it while you were sleeping. It’s rather unflattering to watch a man shiver and squirm with fear. I much prefer a consensual arrangement.”

Her hand dips to his abdomen, and Thor’s heart hammers so hard that his chest feels too full—like he’ll explode. He opens his mouth and breathes shallow lungfuls of air.

“Yes,” Amora says with a sigh. “That’s exactly the reaction I dislike.”

Her hand lifts from his body, and Thor calms, even if only slightly.

Amora leans back, out of his line of sight. “But, you see, certain spells require certain requirements to be met. Your brother is a sorcerer, so you must have at least the most basic understanding of such things.” She waits, but doesn’t seem particularly disappointed when Thor doesn’t answer (or move). “The spell I’d like to use requires your awareness. You must be conscious for it. You must know what is happening. A safeguard, perhaps—to allow the subject to defend himself.” She shrugs. “Easy to work around.”

It’s then that Thor starts to comprehend what she means to do to him. The sense of danger evolves into something primal—raw, undiluted fear—and he starts to shake, as if the room’s temperature has dropped to freezing.

It gives him the urging he would need to shout, but—but she still hasn’t done anything yet. She isn’t touching him.

Thor fears to test it.

Keep her talking , he thinks. Keep her talking until dawn if you have to. Until a servant steps in, or—or someone.

He looks at her, and his vision is clearer now. She still wears her green dress embedded with diamond-like jewels and golden trim. Her hair, flawless as ever, has been released from its bounds and flows freely down her shoulders. Golden hooped earrings hide behind her the locks of blonde, artfully matching the amulet tucked between her breasts.

Thor quickly averts his eyes to her face. He won't fantasize of her anymore.

“Yes?” she says, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Are you finally going to speak?”

Swallowing, Thor clenches his hands into trembling fists. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

Amora blinks, as if stunned. Honeyed laughter pours from her lips, girlish and quiet. “Why, isn’t it obvious? I mean for us to court,” she says, eyes lit with desire. “I mean for you to be so besotted with me that you ask for my hand in marriage. I mean for us to marry and for you to endow me with children, so that I might mother your heirs.” She leans forward, and cruelty slants across her eyebrows and hardens her lips. In that moment, she looks utterly repulsive. “And when you are King, I mean to whisper in your ear for every law, every command, every decision—and I mean for you to listen without question.”

Thor thinks of the euphoria he felt in the great hall. He thinks of his father’s approving nod and his mother’s pleased smile. He thinks of the way he felt with Amora’s hand cupped in his as he led her through the steps of a dance—he was so entranced with her, so hypnotized. And his feelings had been real.

A lump clogs up his throat, and his eyes start to sting. “You didn’t need to do it like this,” he says, quiet and still very scared.

“I beg your pardon?”

Thor steels himself. “It didn’t have to be like this,” he repeats. “Tonight—when we were dancing. You had me. I was enamored with you. I was wrapped around your finger before the first song even finished.”

Amora stares at him with faint bitterness, but she does not speak.

“I would have courted you. After a while, I’m sure I would have married you too. Eventually given you children freely. And you know it. I know you do.” Thor swallows the lump in his throat and wills tears away. “We might have been happy together. Why would you—why do it like this?”

Amora’s chin lifts. The corners of her mouth tilt down, and her jaw clenches in a way that ages her. “You think I didn’t try it your way?”

Thor frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It figures you wouldn't remember.”

Without warning, Amora rises to her feet. Thor braces himself, but she merely strides across his room and stands at his window, overlooking the city below. Her hand plays with the silky curtains, and moonlight glints over jeweled bracelets encircling her wrists. Thor wonders if she’ll take them off, before—before—

“It was years ago,” Amora says. “We were much younger, and I fancied you. I was friends with your brother at the time, too—a superficial friendship, of course. I only hoped to get closer to you.”

While she’s not looking, Thor inspects the bonds at his wrists, but it’s hopeless. He knows nothing of magic. Instead, he searches for something, anything within reach that he could use as a weapon.

“You paid me no attention, of course,” she goes on. “I was young and ill-mannered and it turns out your brother was more of a pest to you than a brother. My friendship with him wasn’t doing me any favors. Still—I tried once.” She looks at him over her shoulder, and Thor pauses his search. “I asked if you would take a walk with me through the gardens. It was late spring. I hoped you would find it beautiful—the same as I did whenever passing through.”

Thor blinks at her. He doesn’t remember any such interaction. There are faint images of her, younger and less refined, yes. Images of her running around the palace at Loki’s side, as well. But he can’t think of a time that they had ever spoken—before yesterday, at least.

“You laughed at me,” Amora says and smiles at him.

Once he sees it, Thor is struck with the realization that all of her other smiles have been insincere.

“You were too busy for girls like me, you said. With my talent for magic, you thought I’d make a better match for your brother.” She turns her head back to the window. “I was so enraged. I wanted to make you pay for it. I wanted to make you love me. I searched through countless books and scrolls, searching for the perfect spell to ensnare you.”

Thor finds one of his daggers on the nightstand to his right, but—with the bindings on his wrists, he can’t reach it. Not even with his teeth.

Unaware of his struggle, Amora laughs to herself. “Revenge is a petty, petty thing. It never lasts.”

Thor manages to stretch himself far enough for his nose to brush against the corner of the nightstand. The dagger is mere inches away.

“I’m older now. I don’t take chances anymore. I don’t allow for risk.”

She turns, and Thor is forced to give up his struggling.

“And,” she finishes, “I find that the promise of power is a far better motivator than revenge.”

Amora takes a step forward and stops at the foot of the bed. Thor’s body freezes. Her face is silhouetted—he can’t read her expression—and no matter how he angles his head, he can’t look at her without seeing his disrobed cock at the bottom of his vision. He can't tell if she’s looking at it, too.

“So, My Prince? Do you understand why it has to be this way?”

Thor clenches his teeth together so hard that it reverberates through his skull.

Amora waves the silence away. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. It's going to happen either way.”

Her figure descends upon him. The folds of her dress collapse over his legs, and the mattress dips as her knees plant on either side of his hips. She leans forward, and her glinting green eyes and button-shaped nose come into stark focus, highlighted by the glow of the moon. One of her hands plants on his pillow to hold her weight, while the other caresses his cheek.

“You’ll be good, won’t you? You won’t cry or shake too much? I wasn’t lying before. It truly spoils the mood.”

Thor opens his mouth to shout for help.

As if expecting it, Amora’s hand drives into his jaw, and her other hand snatches the dagger he’d been trying to reach before. Thor shakes with tension—his wrists and ankles are still bound and now he can’t speak, he can’t breathe —and he watches as Amora tips the edge of the blade against his cock.

Instantly Thor falls still.

He tries to reason with himself: if she followed through with it, then she would be executed. Castrating him ( castrating him, Thor thinks again in horror) won’t stop him from calling for help, and it won’t stop the guards from bursting inside. He would suffer irreparably, but she had already said his suffering would bring her little satisfaction. It wouldn't be worth her life.

She’s bluffing , he wants to believe. Just do it. Just call for help.

Patiently he waits for her to lift her hand.

“Oh, you’re adorable. I can see you’re thinking so very hard,” Amora says, mockingly sweet. “But you're not being clever enough. See, dear, you know that everyone saw us spend an entire evening together. You know they saw us holding hands and dancing and slipping out to the balcony. You know that, don’t you?”

Thor squints, trying to understand where she’s going with this.

“And everyone saw us sneak away to your room. In fact,” and Amora waves her hand at their surroundings, “we’re in your room right now. So, dear. What do you think everyone would assume? If the guards burst in and found me sobbing at the base of your bed having lashed out at you in self-defense—what would they see? What would they think?”

Thor’s blood turns to ice. He wants to let loose a roar loud enough to summon everyone in the entire realm. He wants to sob into his hands.

“So? Are you going to be good for me?”

There’s nothing he can do. Nothing he can do but nod.

“I’m glad,” she says, “that we could reach an understanding.”

After releasing his mouth, Amora carefully sets down the knife out of his reach.

The worst is in how his body betrays him.

Amora casts no spell. She does not drug him. She merely unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor—showing Thor the freckle over her left breast and her nipples, pink as her soft, glistening lips. She merely runs a finger over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, around his cock, but never touching. She merely kisses his chest. And his abdomen. And the bones of his hips.

That’s all it takes for heat to shudder down his spine, for blood to race down, down, down from his head, for his cock to rise, hard and needy and burning.

At last her fingertip draws the line of his length and lingers at the head. Thor’s hips jerk. He lusts.

“Don’t do this,” Thor breathes as she removes the rest of her undergarments. “You don’t have to go through with it. You can still—you can still stop.”

Amora gives him an amused look. “And you would not tell a soul, I presume?”

“I swear it.” Thor’s blood sparks as her entire hand palms between his legs. As a second hand curls around his cock and teases him harder. His back arches. He writhes with desire. “Please,” he gasps. “Please, I swear I won’t tell anyone. It will be like nothing happened. Please, please, just—just don’t—”

“I told you, Your Highness. I would like to believe this is consensual.” She gives him a hard look. “Don’t sour the mood.”

That’s all the warning he has before she sinks onto him. It’s utter horror. It's utter bliss. Thor feels her thrust, and his hips meet in tandem. His body betrays him hundreds of times with needy, rupturing moans, and Thor squeezes his eyes shut and lets himself enjoy it. He wants it to stop—but it won’t stop, she’ll won't stop, and he’s fighting a losing battle trying to pretend that he’s not hard and that she’s not beautiful.

Moans of her own fill his ears. She thrusts harder now, letting him penetrate deeper and deeper, and each thrust shoots a cry through her lips. Hair tickles his chest, and Thor opens his eyes to find her lips inches from his. The muscles of her face are clenched into tight lines of ecstasy, and her entire body is caving into each arc of pleasure.

Thor thinks he could strike her now, with the bone of his forehead. But it would do nothing. Nothing but delay the inevitable.

He just wants it over.

Her breasts press into his chest, and her nails dig into his arms. The contact sears through him, and he chokes— good, good, good —and he feels something sparking within him. Something fierce and electric and uncontainable.

Amora’s cries become soft, irregular gasps. She almost sounds like she’s in pain. Her breath beats into his chest at the pace of his heart, hot and damp and on his bare skin, and—

Thor comes.

His spend shoots inside her, and his ears roar with pleasure. Vaguely he notes, Amora’s hands fly towards his face, and light with a green aura that pierces his field of vision. The spell, he thinks, as his mind devours the static of his senses.

“There,” she says, as if to herself, and the bindings from his wrists and ankles disappear.

Thor lies, stunned, for exactly one second.

In the next, he lunges for the dagger she discarded on the mattress. Just as his fingers curl around the hilt, just as he whirls towards her, sick with a longing to plant the dagger in her chest, Thor feels the thought evaporate. He sees her face, a smile, gentle eyes, her arm draped over his shoulder, fingers stretching to caress his hair—and he wonders why he would ever want to hurt someone so beautiful, someone so perfect.

Part of him rebels—no, no, she held you down and raped you, she r aped you—but it fades under the bewilderment that he had ever wanted to say no.

“Now, my dear,” Amora says, and she sounds like an angel, “will you put that down please?”

Immediately Thor lets the dagger slip from his hand. He would slice his own veins if he thought it would please her.

“Thank you, dear. I really appreciate it.”

She leans down to kiss him, and this time, it's his mind, not his body, that betrays him.

[imnotinclinedtomaturity]

Love Yourself (Chapter 14)

title: Love Yourself summary: A lot of things about Dan’s life are pretty great. He gets to make the music he wants, he’s got a great fanbase, and his manager is his best friend. A few things about his life suck a bit more. He’s currently lacking inspiration, he’s rather lonely, and he’s stuck in a rut. Dan’s been going to the same coffee shop for years. It’s quiet, it’s quaint, it’s near his home. Most importantly: none of the employees give a shit that’s he a world-famous singer. Things change when he meets the new barista. chapter words: 17k story words: 105.3k (so far) chapter: 14/? rating: m warnings: language, alcohol, sex mentions, some bi/homophobia genre: singer!dan, coffee shop au, barista!phil, slow burn [[ao3]] [[first chapter]] [[previous chapter]]

a/n: can you believe i’m posting a 17k chapter? because i can’t. a massive thank you to @auroraphilealis​ for reading this mammoth of a chapter MULTIPLE TIMES for me and helping make it better.

also: before you send me an ask about using a read more, i did, they just don’t always work on mobile and there is nothing i can do about it :( take it up with tumblr lol

Dan didn’t entirely trust Isabella to not chase after him. The second Dan was out the door, he was desperate to put as much distance between himself and Isabella as possible. As much as he truly hated exercise, Dan practically sprinted away, paranoidly glancing over his shoulder every couple of feet to make sure that Isabella’s signature clack clack clack wasn’t trailing behind him.

Instead, he waited until he was five blocks away from Isabella’s building before he slowed to a fast paced walk and pulled out his phone. Dan was ready — he was ready to be fucking done with Isabella in his life, and he was ready to move fucking forward with Phil. When he opened his phone, he was determined to do just that.

Jesus, he had six missed calls from Adaline. For a moment, Dan had forgotten about Adaline’s emergency phone call. Just as he swiped away the notification, another call came through. Dan pressed the decline button — he’d call her back in just a minute.

He had something else to do first.

Riding the adrenaline high of finally, finally doing what he wanted to do, Dan opened twitter and — fuck. He’d left the app open on the picture of Isabella. Knowing that she’d fucked that model, that the mark on her neck was from another man, didn’t hurt as much as Dan had thought it would. It fucking sucked, of course.

After all, cheating was the one place where Dan drew a firm line of what was acceptable and what wasn’t. Honestly, he was more upset about the fact that he’d been cheated on, than about the fact that Isabella had been the one doing the cheating. He hated her, he hated her for a lot of reasons. He hated her for the way that she used him, for the way that she manipulated him, for the way that she cheated on him.

But above everything else, he was just glad to be done with her.

Replies were rolling in, most of them tagging both him and Isabella, and, weirdly enough, a few tagging Phil as well. Deciding his mission could wait a moment, Dan clicked on Isabella’s name, his finger hovering over the unfollow button.

If he clicked that, if he actually unfollowed Isabella, people would surely notice. People would undoubtedly piece together the scandalous picture with the fact that he’d unfollowed his bloody girlfriend and know.

Know that they’d broken up.

Dan didn’t give a fuck. He’d meant what he’d said to Isabella. He was done. The fallout of breaking up with Isabella didn’t phase him, fans could think whatever the hell they wanted to — most of it would probably be right, anyway. With a surge of defiance, Dan smashed the unfollow button.

That felt good.

But not good enough.

Fuck Isabella, fuck her being in his life and having even an inkling of control over him.

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He clicked the gear next to her name, pressing Block @IsabellaDeLaRenta before he could change his mind.

That felt really good.

At least now he wouldn’t have to see whatever bullshit she pulled and would be relatively sheltered from the inevitable drama.

But that wasn’t what he’d come on the app to do.

Dan tabbed over to his DMs. Phil’s name was right at the top of the list.

Dan could do this. He was on a roll of doing rash and brazen things tonight, he might as well fully commit. He’d been holding back from this, because it felt like a definite step across a line, a line that he wasn’t willing to cross. But now, the line was gone. He was free to do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He didn’t let himself overthink the message. It didn’t matter how it came out. It could be flirty or blunt or a little bit aggressive, it didn’t matter. So he wasn’t about to spend thirty minutes crafting it.

Daniel Howell: text me about drinks tomorrow 07712345678

Well, it probably could have stood to be a little less abrupt, but whatever. Dan’s point was made. Isabella was gone and there was no longer anything stopping him from texting Phil, from having Phil as an actual contact in his phone.

Okay, next thing.

Deciding it was time to call Adaline back, Dan switched back to the phone app, but quickly got distracted once again. The third person down on his missed calls list was Izzy D.L.R <3.

Fuck that. Dan tapped on her name, pulling up the contact page.

Should he edit the name, or just delete her entirely?

It seemed stupid to keep her number in his phone just for the sake of it potentially, someday being useful. What did Dan care? He couldn’t imagine a single situation that was worth the emotional weight of keeping her number in his phone. So instead of just deleting the heart, Dan scrolled all the way to the bottom and smashed the delete contact button, quickly accepting the annoying are you sure?

Yes. Dan was very, very sure.

Fuck, that felt heavenly. Having that last little bit of Isabella completely gone from his life — knowing that he didn’t have her number anymore, knowing that if he wanted to talk to her at all that he would have to unblock her on twitter… it all felt like this very definitive wall between them.

He liked that wall.

Okay, now Dan could focus on calling Adaline back. Dan tapped back to his call log, happy to see Isabella’s name gone, and clicked on Adaline’s name. The phone didn’t even make it through a full ring before a sharp voice answered.

“Daniel. James. Howell. I’ve been calling you nonstop for forty-five minutes,” Adaline greeted him sternly.

“I know, sorry, I couldn’t answer.”

“Wasn’t the whole point that you needed to answer so you had an escape? I was beginning to think you died.” Adaline sounded annoyed, but Dan could hear the concern laced in her voice as well.

“Chill out, Mum, I’m alive,” Dan joked, high off the fact that he was finished with Isabella. No amount of irritation from Adaline could phase him now — not while he was this happy.

“Fuck off,” Adaline grumbled, never pleased to be compared to their mother (even if she was one of the sweetest women alive). “What the hell was happening?”

“Well, see, I was out to dinner with Isabella originally. And then I ended up back at Isabella’s—” Dan just about gagged on the name, which, judging by Adaline’s giggle, didn’t escape her notice. “I didn’t want to, um, you know.” Dan coughed awkwardly.

“So you thought faking an emergency would be better than just saying no, like an adult?”

“Look, I didn’t want to dig myself into an even deeper a hole. I had these grand plans to take her to breakfast tomorrow and dump her, but I knew if I pissed her off too much tonight, she wouldn’t agree to see me before she went back off to wherever the fuck she’s planning to go tomorrow.”

And thank god that Dan had successfully broken up with her before she jetted off to Vancouver, or Switzerland, or Melbourne — or wherever the fuck she’d said. He wouldn’t have been able to bring himself to end things over the phone — or worse, text — and he couldn’t imagine suffering through that relationship for another second.

Adaline was quiet for a moment.

“What do you mean had plans? Please don’t tell me you changed your mind,” she begged.

“Er, well, sort of,” Dan stumbled, a little charigned.

“Are you fucking serious? Don’t make me get on a bus and come smack sense into you,” Adaline threatened. “God, I thought you’d finally figured out that you were dating a total bitch.”

“No!” Dan interrupted fiercely. “I mean — I did! She’s a bitch! I get it, loud and clear. Everything’s fine.” Dan did his best to console his sister. Everything was fine — it was more than fine at the moment, all things considered.

Dan stopped at a crosswalk, pushing the walk button repeatedly. He could feel his excitement, his energy, his complete exasperation with the entire situation itching beneath his skin. “I broke up with her tonight,” he continued. “That’s why I didn’t answer.”

“Wait, on Valentine’s Day?” Adaline screeched, utterly scandalized. “What the fuck, bro?”

Dan took a breath, ready to defend his actions, but Adaline cut him off.

“Look, I wanted you to break up with her as much as anyone else, obvi, but I thought you were determined to be the good guy or whatever. Which, you know, would mean waiting until it’s not the day of love?!”

“It’s a long story, and I don’t want to get into the details. But if you go on twitter, you’ll get the gist of it.”

“Okayyy, should I go look now or…?” Adaline trailed off. Dan could hear the faint do do do doooo of her computer starting up in the background.

He didn’t particularly want to deal with Adaline’s reaction to everything on twitter at this moment in time though.

“Later’s fine.” Dan rubbed his hand down his face. “I actually have a different favor to ask you.”

“Someone’s needy tonight.”

“Shut up, you act like I do nothing for you.” Dan pulled his coat tighter around his body — jesus it was cold tonight.

“Fair enough, what’s up?” Adaline asked more nonchalantly than Dan had anticipated, given the drama of the evening.

“Do you have any plans this weekend?” Dan asked tentatively as he stalled at another street corner, looking back and forth for cars before he carried onward, carried himself towards home, towards the comfort of his own bed.

“Um, I might have a date tomorrow night, but I don’t know.” Adaline sounded just uncertain enough of her plans for Dan to interject his own life into them.

“How attached are you to going on it?” he asked bluntly.

“Not. Why?”

Thank fuck, Dan thought. “Well, you know Phil, the one from —”

“Twitter and the coffee shop, yeah, I know Phil.”

“Oh. Right.” Dan felt himself blushing and was glad that it was dark and no one was around. Of course Addie knew about Phil, Dan talked about him constantly. “Well, I like him,” Dan blurted out. He held his breath, waiting for Adaline’s reaction. It wasn’t normal for him to have actual feelings for someone new so soon after a breakup. Having grown up in the same house as Dan, Adaline probably knew that better than anyone.

But her response didn’t come.

“I mean, like him like him,” he added when Adaline still didn’t say anything.

“No shit,” Addie shot back. “ Are you going to say anything new or…?”

“You knew?” Dan asked in surprise as he pulled open the door to his building. The warm air of the lobby felt heavenly against his cheeks, and Dan almost felt guilty for the wave of frigid cold he must have let in.

Almost. But right now, he was feeling too high off all of his decisions to feel too bad about anything.

“Dan, I’ve watched you date how many people? I’m not an idiot,” Adaline said, interrupting Dan’s thoughts. Dan jottled a little, trying to think back to what Adaline was talking about, and blushed when he realized.

“Oh,” he muttered dumbly. He gave a short two-fingered wave to the doorman as he power walked to the lift, eager to be in the comfortable safety of his own flat.

Dan was silent the entire lift ride, trying to process what it could mean if Adaline realized that Dan properly liked Phil. If Adaline knew all the way from Wokingham, had Phil caught on, too?

Although, Adaline had watched him cycle through relationship after relationship, fuckbuddy after fuckbuddy. She wasn’t that young while Dan was living at home, and he’d never been particularly subtle about it. Somewhere along the way, Adaline had developed a knack for picking up on when Dan was interested in, well, fucking someone.

Maybe there was hope that Dan’s interest wasn’t quite that obvious to Phil.

“So what about Phil, this boy you like like?” Adaline prompted teasingly when Dan was silent too long for her liking. Even though Dan had brought the subject up, he had no idea where to begin talking when it came to the topic of Phil.

Or, at least, he had no idea how to talk about it without just gushing.

“Hang on,” Dan murmured when the lift doors opened. He sat his phone down on the table so he had both hands free to shrug out of his coat, letting it fall somewhere in the foyer. There were more important things to deal with right now that being tidy.

Dan picked his phone back up, finally having decided what he needed to say first. “Well, objectively,” Dan explained, with just a hint of annoyance at his own conclusion shining through, “I know I need a bit of a break from dating before I just go for it with Phil.”

“I’m sorry, did I hear that right?”

“Before I date Phil, I know I should take a break from dating,” Dan repeated a little bit louder, in case the connection was weak.

“That’s what I thought you said.” Adaline sounded stunned.

“Yeah…”Dan tugged roughly at his tie on his way to the bedroom, trying to get out of this damn suit, this damn night as quickly as possible. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being weird? You’re the one that’s being weird. I can’t believe that Dan Howell is going to take a break from dating?”

“Fuck off, it’s not that big of a deal,” he grumbled, his free hand trying to undo his belt.

“It’s a huge deal.” Adaline corrected. “I literally can’t remember a time when you weren’t at least sleeping with someone.”

So maybe she was right. Maybe Dan had never gone a full week after a breakup without sleeping with someone new. And maybe Dan had always made an effort to have someone in his life, whether it was a relationship or a… fuckbuddy.

Dan sighed, not able to be really annoyed since Adaline was technically right. “I know, okay. But that’s the thing. I don’t want Phil to be just sex and I’m afraid that if I try to date him right now I’ll fuck it up.” Adaline made a sympathetic sound. “It matters, okay? I want to do this right.”

“Okay, so how is all of this rolling around to needing a favor?” Dan could tell by the amusement in her tone he was already probably going to win.

“I kind of asked him to get drinks tomorrow. And it’s not, like, a date, I’m sure. I asked him before Izzy and I broke up. But now that I’m not with Isabella anymore, I’m not sure I trust drunk, horny me to not drag him back to my place and fuck him.” He put Adaline on speaker and set the phone on his dresser.

“Y-you’re fucking rid-ic-iculous,” Adaline managed to say through loud laughter. Her laughter was contagious, and Dan found himself unable to control his own giggles as he realized just how bloody absurd it was that he was asking his little sister — who he used to babysit all the time — to essentially babysit him.

“You’re not wrong.” Dan agreed, once he’d gotten his own laughter under control. “But — ugh this is so childish. I want a chaperone to make sure I don’t do anything dumb.”

“Get Louise to go with you.”

“I don’t actually trust her to stop me. I think she’s rooting too much for me and Phil that drunk-Louise would probably actually try to whore me out to him.” Dan glanced down at his hands as they unbuttoned his shirt and, for a split second, he imagined they were softer, paler hands.

Fuck. No he really couldn’t be trusted to be drinking around Phil alone.

“So you want me to trek all the way into the city, just to have drinks with you and your crush in order to stop you from doing anything stupid,” Adaline deadpanned, not bothering to hide just how ludicrous she thought Dan was being.

“Not just to have drinks. You can stay over, obviously, and we’ll do something on Saturday.”

“Hmmm, tempting.” Adaline considered it for a moment. “Wait, a second.” She sounded suspicious.

“What?” Dan asked warily.

“Last time I checked, you’d sworn that you weren’t going to introduce us to anyone that wasn’t serious.”

“One, I said I wasn’t bringing anyone who wasn’t serious home and I’m not bringing Phil home, and two, we aren’t dating — yet,” Dan retorted, throwing himself onto his bed with a content sigh. It felt so good to be back home, especially knowing that tomorrow, he’d wake up and not have to pretend to care about Isabella anymore.

“I see how it is, you’re playing the technicality card.” Adaline’s smug teasing was beginning to make Dan worried that she wouldn’t actually agree.

“Look, will you do it or not?” Dan snapped impatiently.

“A chance to watch you drunkenly embarrass yourself in front of someone you like? Obviously I’m coming.”

“I resent that,” Dan muttered, but Adaline kept talking over him.

“But you get to figure out what we’re telling Mum and Dad. And Phil, for that matter, because I assume you don’t want to tell him that you made your little sister travel an hour just to come babysit you.”

“You’re the best Adaline. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll book you a ticket and forward you the confirmation when I hang up.”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow you fucking idiot.”

You’re a fucking idiot, Dan thought back at her bitterly, because Adaline had already hung up.

*****************************

It was half past ten, and while Phil didn’t usually sleep until closer to three, he was already getting ready for bed. He figured if he was going to feel somewhat sorry and pathetic for himself, he might as well do it while wrapped up in his green and blue check duvet.

He’d never been the type to really buy into Valentine’s Day — normally he didn’t care if he was single or not on the holiday. But this year, the date had felt a little like a slap in the face.

Dan’s visit to Beans and Grind, had been lovely — for the most part. No matter what day it was, Phil would always savor any time he got with Dan, but he had been particularly grateful to get a few hours of Dan’s undivided attention today.

It was just that, well, it had left him wanting more.

To be fair, Phil knew that there was no amount of time that he could have with Dan that wouldn’t leave Phil wanting more. Looking back, Phil couldn’t identify when he’d gone from simply enjoying spending time with Dan to craving it and dreading its end.

Phil, could, however pick out the exact moment that he’d realized that his feelings for Dan were so much stronger than a normal crush.

It had been a cold day filled with snow flurries and gusts of wind. Phil honestly hadn’t expected Dan to come into the coffee shop — if Phil hadn’t have had to work, he certainly wouldn’t have left his flat. But just an hour into Phil’s shift, when the snow flurries had been at their heaviest, Dan had waltzed in, wearing a fluffy hat and an oversized coat. He’d brought his laptop with him, but he’d never got around to opening it. Instead, he’d ordered a hot chocolate, demanding that Phil drink one with him. It had taken a few sips of the hot beverage before Dan had finally felt warm enough to shed his massive coat, and when he had —

When Dan had taken off his coat, Phil had seen what Dan was wearing.

Phil’s jumper.

Out of all of the that clothes Dan owned, for some unfathomable reason, Dan had chosen to wear Phil’s pugs not drugs jumper — a jumper that was so unbelievably different from Dan’s normal aesthetic that Phil had originally worried Dan wouldn’t even wear it as an alternative to his own soaked shirt.

And yet there Dan was, wearing it for no apparent reason other than because he’d wanted to.

Dan had curled up on his chair, somehow, and gotten lost in conversation with Phil. He’d looked impossibly young and cuddly and comfortable, and Phil had known right then that not only did he want to see this version of Dan again, he wanted to see every version of Dan.

God, Phil was so fucked.

Valentine’s Day just sucked this year. The things that he had done — work, see Dan — hadn’t sucked, sure. But the whole day left a rotten taste in his mouth. Left him bitter about the fact that he’d gone and fallen for someone who wasn’t available.

Trying to minimize the agony of the day, Phil had completely avoided the internet all day, other than his brief DMs with Dan that morning. He just hadn’t been in the mood to deal with the constant love love love that was sure to be everywhere, and figured it was safest to hold off until tomorrow.

But at quarter to midnight, when his laptop had died and Phil was too lazy to go across the room to find the television remote, he gave into the temptation. How bad could it be?

The first thing he noticed when he opened up twitter was that he had a new DM from Dan that he’d somehow missed — he must have cleared the notification on accident. The second thing he noticed was that he had approximately a thousand mentions. Which wasn’t a crazy amount for him — not by a long shot. But usually, any significant amount of mentions was preceded by something from him, and he had been completely silent today.

Maybe some of his followers were just wishing him a Happy Valentine’s Day? In the past, his followers had started hashtags on his birthday or a holiday — maybe they had done that again?

The temptation of knowing what the hell was going on somehow overrided Phil’s perpetual desire to talk to Dan. Hesitantly, Phil clicked on his notifications, and scrolled through his mentions.

@AmazingKendra: @danielhowell i get that @IsabellaDeLaRenta is pretty but have you seen @AmazingPhil

@DanIsTheMan64: @danielhowell tbh your smile looked more genuine in that picture with @AmazingPhil last week

@DieDanellaDie: @danielhowell fuck #danella. i’m fucking disgusted with @IsabellaDeLaRenta and you can do better. i only ship #phan now @AmazingPhil

There had to be some kind of context to these tweets. Phil kept scanning, trying to find someone who included something more helpful in their messages. Finally, he found one that tagged someone other than him, Dan, or Isabella.

@iHowellForDan: @danielhowell did you see the @Tatler picture? Just move on already (preferably to @AmazingPhil)

Phil knew about Tatler. They were a gossip website that he’d been featured on one too many times to have any respect for, but he was desperate to figure out what the hell was going on.

Well, that seemed as good of a place to start as any.

Phil’s stomach was clenched in a tight knot as he clicked on @Tatler. He had no idea what to expect.

Fuck they tweeted a lot. How many people ran this account? It couldn’t possibly be just one. The gossip website was far too massive for its own good. Each tweet felt like a shot in the dark in the hopes that something would land them some hits.

It look a moment of scrolling to find anything that might be relevant and then — shit. That was it. That explained at least some part of what was going on.

There was a very risque picture of Isabella on a beach in some random dude’s arms. According to the magazine, the picture was taken just two days ago.

The nerves in Phil’s stomach turned to guilt. He’d been hoping, praying for Dan and Isabella to break up. But he’d never wanted it to be because of something as serious or cruel as Isabella cheating on Dan, and, well, that’s exactly what this picture looked like.

Wait, shit.

Dan.

Was Dan okay?

Phil couldn’t even begin to imagine how Dan might be feeling right now, if that picture had any truth to it, if Dan had seen it.

Phil abandoned his quest to figure out what the hell was going on in favor of opening the DM from Dan. If Dan was upset and had messaged Phil about everything that was happening — whatever that may be — Phil wanted to be there for him.

The message wasn’t Dan freaking out, though. In fact, it didn’t seem to have any connection to what was happening on twitter at all.

Daniel Howell: text me about drinks tomorrow 020 2436 8532

It was short and simple, but it made Phil’s heart soar. Actual Dan Howell’s phone number was sitting in Phil’s twitter inbox. He hadn’t even had to ask for it.

Part of Phil wanted to continue stalking twitter, to read through all of the available tweets to figure out what the hell was going on. But if Phil had learned anything through being in the public eye, it was that more often than not, whatever the public was assuming to be true on twitter was either wildly off base, or a gross oversimplification of things.

Besides, he’d rather hear about whatever was happening in Dan’s life from Dan himself. And now, Phil had a much more efficient way to get a hold of him.

Maybe it would come across as eager, perhaps even too desperate, since the message had only came in an hour and a half ago, but Phil didn’t care. He copy and pasted the number into a new text message, only to stare blankly at the screen.

What the fuck was he supposed to say?

Did he mention the shitshow that was happening on twitter? Did he ask about how Dan’s Valentine’s Day was? Should he ask if there was any truth to the picture of Isabella?

Phil opted to ignore all of the questions he had — at least for now — and send something more casual, allowing Dan to take charge of the conversation and say… whatever he wanted Phil to know.

Phil: This already seems like a more efficient method of communication than twitter -Phil

Even though Phil knew Dan was a night owl, he didn’t expect Dan to text back instantly. It was, of course, still Valentine’s Day, and just because Dan had a moment free on his phone earlier, didn’t mean he still did. Plus, even if Dan was home, he probably wasn’t attached to his phone like Phil was.

Boy, was Phil wrong.

It took less than a minute for Dan to reply. And reply. And reply.

Dan: hey there stranger

Dan: i agree. it’s too easy to miss messages on twitter

Dan: now i can just shout at you. much easier.

Phil chuckled. And to think that he had been worried about coming across as too eager. Meanwhile, Dan was sitting somewhere triple texting Phil.

Not that Phil was complaining.

No, Phil was sat in bed at midnight, staring down at his phone, smiling like a complete idiot because of a boy. How was it that Dan was able to make Phil this flustered, this happy from halfway across town?

He felt like a lovesick teenager — and was half tempted to call up his best friend to help him draft a text message like he was fifteen again.

That was ridiculous, Phil realized. He was twenty-goddamn-seven years old. He could message back a cute boy on his own for fucks sake.

He wasn’t sure what to say though. He started typing, trying to figure out the best response.

I know, twitter was a pain — delete.

How was tonight? — delete.

So you want to —

Phil’s third attempt to write a message was interrupted by another text from Dan.

Dan: you still up for drinks tomorrow?

That message wasn’t hard to respond to, at least. A smile snuck its way onto Phil’s face. He felt more like a teenager getting asked to a school dance than he cared to admit.

I am if you am

That made it sound like Phil was being dragged out to drinks with Dan — which was definitely not the case.

Delete.

Absolutely

That sounded a bit too eager, right?

Delete.

Phil tried again, and ended up settling on something that probably still counted as too eager in most people’s books, but, well, a lot of Phil’s actions so far could probably be considered as too eager.

Phil: Of course! What time are you free?

Dan: anytime after 7 works for me

Dan: one small thing though

Oh god, Phil’s heart dropped into his stomach.

A million possibilities rushed through Phil’s head. Had Isabella put her foot down about Dan spending time with Phil? Had Dan realized how flirty their relationship was and gotten uncomfortable? Was Dan going to want to bring Isabella along for drinks?

This was it, Dan was going to find some way to force a line between them. He was going to invite Isabella or remind Phil that he was a man in a committed relationship or tell Phil that he was one hundred percent straight.

Phil took a deep breath and forced himself to respond as naturally as he could.

Phil: What’s up?

The three typing dots seemed to flash in time with Phil’s far-too-fast heart. Dot, dot, dot, thump, thump, thump. What the fuck was Dan typing? Why was it taking so long? What did—

Dan: i just found out today that my sister is coming into london tomorrow. do you mind if she tags along?

His sister. It was just his sister.

Phil let out the breath he was holding, relief coursing through his body. Dan wasn’t trying to build some wall between them, Phil wasn’t being pushed away. Dan just wanted to bring his sister to drinks with them.

A sister that it took Isabella almost a year to meet, a self-satisfied piece of Phil’s mind added without his consent.

Phil: Sounds great! Where do you want to meet?

Dan: do you know harolds? it’s like a block over from b&g

Phil: Yeah! Emmalee and I have gone there a few times. Sounds good! Meet there at 7?

Dan: great xx

****************************

The next day went by far, far slower than Phil wanted it to. He was anxious to get through his meetings with the BBC and his manager, Marianne, so that he could finally get to the part of the day where he got to see Dan.

Dan, who a whole mass of people on twitter were speculating might be single now. Dan, who had given Phil his number right after a risque picture of his girlfriend had leaked. Dan, this boy that Phil was more than a little enamoured with and who might, just might, like Phil back.

And Phil wasn’t just getting to see Dan, he was getting to have drinks with Dan.

But the day seemed to absolutely drag on.

The day’s meetings at the BBC had been longer and more frustrating than normal. Overall, Phil was incredibly lucky. He was one of the first internet creators that the BBC had taken a risk on, and the success of his weekly radio show had not only opened the doors for dozens of other internet creators to work with the BBC, but had also allowed him to be granted a frankly ridiculous amount of creative freedom.

However, his shows producers had recently been pushing for Phil to do a special one-time show with a guest co-host — preferably someone with a strong musical background. They’d said it was to broaden the audience that listens to BBC Radio shows and, for some absurd reason, they’d thought Phil’s show would be the best place to start. They were really pleased with the younger demographic Phil’s show had reached, but were hoping to introduce new listeners — who were supposedly more interested in music than the internet — to his show.

Phil understood their point; the radio station was first and foremost about music, and his show (as well as several that had started after the success of Phil’s) focused much more heavily on other things. It made sense that they would want to have a special episode (or maybe even two, as they had hinted at) with someone who knew more about music than Phil did, someone that appealed to a different demographic. It would attract new listeners to the show who were interested in the special host — listeners who would potentially turn into more devoted listeners of BBC Radio.

The producers weren’t particularly picky about who Phil invited onto his show— in fact, they had thrown several big, exciting names at Phil. They seemed fairly confident that they could secure a one-time appearance from anyone performing in the Live Lounge in the upcoming weeks. The producers had also offered to reach out to people from other parts of the music industry, if Phil preferred. As he walked back to his apartment, his mind was still reeling at some of the names they had suggested.

And it was great. Phil knew he should be ecstatic about this kind of opportunity, flattered that the BBC had thought that his measly little radio show was the right place to start gaining a new demographic. But the fact of the matter was, Phil was too fucking awkward to have a co-host he barely knew — especially a famous one. When it came to interacting with people, Phil was a mess. At least when he did collabs, he was able to edit out all of his awkward social interactions. But live? Live, he would be forced to endure his viewers mocking his social ineptitude for weeks.

He just wasn’t very good at interacting with people he didn’t know, and he didn’t need the whole world to see that.

So Phil had tried his best to fight them, to lay out why that might be a horrific idea. At the end of the meeting, though, they had made him promise to think about it, and if he came up with anyone he would collaborate with — anyone at all — to email his producers as soon as possible, and they would try to set it up.

Unlikely, Phil scoffed. He was fairly certain that there was no way he was going to feel comfortable hosting some bigshot that he barely knew on his show.

Because of all of the conflict, Phil’s meetings took longer than he anticipated. By the time he got home, he barely had time to change and have a quick bite to eat before he had to head out the door to meet Dan.

************************

Phil, who always did his best to be on time, showed up to Harold’s at 6:58, knowing that there was absolutely no chance that Dan was there yet. If Phil had learned one thing while getting to know Dan, it was that Dan was basically incapable of being on time.

Surely, it had to annoy a lot of people in his life, but Phil found it to kind of be an endearing quality. The more he got to know Dan, the more he realized that Dan was always late because he had a tendency to get wholeheartedly wrapped up in whatever he was doing, which usually caused him to misjudge how long he needed to get ready, or how much time he needed to allot for travel. That was just how Dan was, Phil had discovered — an unbelievably passionate person.

So when Phil walked into Harold’s two minutes early, only to be greeted with, “Hey, Phil! Over here!” he understandably had a moment of panic. For a moment, Phil was convinced that a fan just happened to be in the same bar where Phil was about to have drinks with Dan Howell.

But then his eyes found the person shouting at him, landing on none other than Dan himself, who was seated with his back to the door. He was peeking out over the edge of a tall booth he was tucked into — a small, four-person booth in the back corner.The bar, with its dim lighting and slightly dodgy atmosphere, already lent itself to anonymity, but the far back booth, with the flickering light and high walls, practically screamed leave us alone.

It was exactly the booth Phil would have picked out, and not just because he was hoping to avoid the scrutiny of his viewers for the evening.

Fuck, Phil shouldn’t be thinking about that. He had no actual evidence that Dan was single — twitter was notorious for getting facts wrong. And even if Dan turned out to be single now, this wasn’t a date. When Dan had originally asked Phil to get drinks, he was literally on his way to a Valentine’s Day date with this girlfriend. Plus, Dan’s sister was getting drinks with them. If that didn’t scream this isn’t a date, Phil wasn’t sure what did.

But still, Phil felt a spark of happiness that he couldn’t quite squash when he thought about the fact that Dan had selected the most intimate booth in the bar.

Phil made his way over to Dan’s side, dodging around all of the empty tables. “You’re here,” he said in lieu of a proper greeting when he got to the booth.

“Yeah, you spoon. Of course I’m here.” Dan had a smirk on his face, but his eyes reflected genuine happiness. Whatever Tatler was insinuating about Isabella must not be true, not if Dan currently looked this happy. Phil tried not to feel too disappointed. Above everything else, Dan had become one of Phil’s best friends, and Phil shouldn’t be rooting for his heart to get broken.

“I just meant, you’re early,” Phil teased.

At the end of the booth, Dan’s coat was hanging on a hook — it was the one that Dan claimed made him look like a wraith, but Phil would argue just made him look kissable.

Phil pulled off his much brighter coat and hung it over top of Dan’s.

Assuming the second drink sat next to Dan belonged to Adaline, Phil started to move around to the other side of the table, prepared to sit across from Dan, but Dan caught him off guard when he grabbed onto Phil’s sleeve and pulled him into the booth next to him. The full, fruity looking drink was pushed towards him.

Dan nodded his head and raised his own drink in a quick cheers motion.

Phil wrapped his hands around the cold drink, pulling it in front of him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.” He tipped his drink towards Dan, mimicking the cheers, but way less smoothly. Unlike Dan, Phil nearly sloshed a bit of the drink out. Smooth.

Dan sent him an unimpressed look, but Phil could see the humor dancing in his eyes. “I’m capable of being early, Philip.”

“Really?” Phil cocked an eyebrow. “Because I’ve never seen it.”

“Shut up,” Dan swatted his arm, twisting around a bit in the booth so he could look at Phil properly. Dan’s leg came up to rest on the booth between them, his ankle tucking under his opposite knee so that his shin was pressing against Phil’s thigh. “You don’t know everything about me.”

“No, but I’d like to.”

Phil’s face flamed up, heat burning his cheeks when he realized what he’d just said. Shit, something about being around Dan made Phil confess all of his desires — even the ones he probably shouldn’t tell Dan about. The only salvation was the fact that Dan’s cheeks turned equally red, and his gaze suddenly dropped to his knee, which nudged Phil’s hip softly.

Phil thought he heard Dan mumble same under his breath, but he wasn’t sure. He was never sure of anything when it came to Dan.

Except for the minor detail that Phil was very, very sure he was head over heels for this boy.

“So,” Phil cleared his throat, trying to restore some sense of normality to their conversation. “I thought you said Adeline was joining us?”

“She is. Um,” Dan’s eyes flitted to his phone, which was resting face up on the table. “Her train was delayed, actually. That’s part of why I’m early. I realized she was going to be late like fifteen minutes ago and I figured you were probably on your way, so I just told her to drop her bag off at my place and come down and meet us.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have minded waiting if you wanted to pick her up,” Phil insisted.

“No!” Dan almost shouted, before widening his eyes bashfully at Phil. “I — she’s a big girl. She’s capable of getting a cab from the train station to my flat and walking one block. It’s fine.”

Phil took another sip of his drink. “Okay, then. I’m excited to meet her, but I’m not heartbroken to get a little bit of time alone with you.”

Dan’s eyes widened, and for a moment Phil was worried that he’d said the wrong thing, that he’d finally found the imaginary line between them and leaped over it. But his worries were assuaged when Dan let out a tiny whine before collapsing forward, his forehead falling onto Phil’s shoulder. Trying his best not to disturb Dan, to not make him feel like he needed to move, Phil twisted his head a bit so he could look at Dan. From what Phil could see of his face, Dan was smiling bashfully, his dimples and red patch on full display.

This time, Phil was confident that he heard Dan mumble me either — he could feel the vibrations of Dan’s voice against his arm. Phil could get used to having Dan’s head on his shoulder, maybe even tucked in more securely, his breath wafting over Phil’s neck instead of his arm. Dan rested there for a moment, before leaning back up. The red spot on his cheek had subsided some, but the dimples were still prominent. Phil was glad for that, he hadn’t seen those dimples nearly enough lately.

“So, um,” Phil fumbled, still not quite composed after having Dan so close. “How late is Adaline?”

Dan sat up a hair straighter, as if the reminder of his sister had pulled him out of something. The way his leg was pushed against Phil’s, and how close his drink was to Phil’s, still left Dan very much in Phil’s personal space, though.

“She’ll be here within the half hour, she wasn’t delayed that much.” Dan took a long drink out of his glass, and the topic of his sister seemed to melt away. “So,” Dan poked Phil in the ribcage, “Tell me about your day.”

Shrugging, Phil took another sip of the fruity concoction. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he liked it a lot. Dan normally drank bitter things — who the heck drinks a triple espresso with only one sugar? — but Phil prefered his drinks sweet. He was glad that Dan hadn’t ordered him whatever dark liquid was in his own short, round glass.

“It wasn’t particularly exciting, I worked most of it.” Phil couldn’t keep the frustrated edge out of his voice. He wasn’t quite over how much he’d clashed with the show’s producers today — it was rare, so Phil didn’t feel particularly equipped to deal with creative differences.

Dan looked unconvinced, his lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. “Your work is exciting though,” he pouted. “What did you do?”

“Not Fridays,” Phil grimaced. “I always have loads of meetings,” he explained. “I have my weekly radio show planning meetings with the BBC today, which was…” Phil rolled his eyes and took sip of the drink as he searched for the right word. “Stressful.”

Dan’s glass — and the fingers wrapped tightly around it — pushed against Phil’s arm as Dan’s other arm slid across the table, his head coming to rest in the palm of his hand, his eyes staring widely up at Phil. “Why’s that?”

“Just, you know,” Phil waved vaguely, “Pressure from the bosses about things.”

Dan groaned, straightening up a bit so that he could take a sip of his drink. “I know what you mean. What are they giving you pressure about?” His eyes narrowed, a smile threatening to break out on his mock-angry face. “Do I need to go kick someone’s ass?”

“No, no,” Phil laughed, blushing a bit at Dan’s overprotective attitude, even if he was joking. Phil busied himself with another drink while he figured out what he wanted to say to Dan. “It’s just, you know, publicity type stuff?” His voice ended like it was a question, and Phil lowkey hated himself for that. He had no reason to feel weird talking to Dan about fame-related things, which usually made him feel insufferably pretentious. But if there was anyone in Phil’s life who would truly get it, it was Dan.

Dan stared back at him with raised eyebrows — not disbelieving, just curious — prompting Phil to continue. “I have the radio show, right?”

“Yes, which I finally got the chance to listen to and it’s wonderful,” Dan interjected with a playful smile. “I think your voice was made for radio, it’s hot. Although, the fact that you livestream your face doesn’t hurt either.”

What in the fucking —

Phil took a large gulp of his drink, unsure of what the hell Dan was getting at. Sure, Dan was flirty sometimes, but he seemed far more forward than usual today. Phil glanced at Dan’s drink, which was nearly empty. Was it possible that Dan was tipsy already? Tipsy Dan had been flitier than usual, after all. But Phil didn’t remember Dan being a light-weight. Surely three quarters of a drink wouldn’t push Dan to the point it had taken three drinks to get him to last time, right?

Maybe Dan had drank something else sometime before Phil had arrived?

“I — uh, thanks,” Phil stuttered, very flustered, completely incapable of saying anything more intelligent.

“So what about it?” Dan prompted, knocking the knuckles of his fingers against Phil’s when Phil didn’t carry on with his story.

“We’re having a bit of a… creative difference,” Phil offered in way of explanation. He didn’t want to bore Dan with the details of his story. Dan looked interested now, but Phil wasn’t sure if Dan genuinely wanted to know every intricacy of Phil’s life (like the way Phil wanted to know the intricacies of Dan’s).

Dan shook his head, bringing the amber liquid to his lips for another swallow. “That’s the fucking worst. What happened?”

Apparently, Phil had underestimated Dan’s interest. The question didn’t sound insincere. It sounded like Dan actually wanted to know about Phil’s problem, that Dan actually wanted to support Phil.

“They’re pushing for me to do a special show with a guest host — preferably someone who knows more about music than me — so that they can, quote, draw in a new listener demographic or something.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Dan cocked his head. “So you’re against this idea…?”

“A little,” Phil confirmed with a shrug and another drink. “I don’t want to see disingenuine — and maybe more importantly, I don’t want to make an ass of out myself on live air by being awkward because I barely know my co-host.”

Dan hummed as he drank the last swallow of his drink. “Would you feel differently if it was someone you knew?” he contemplated.

“I guess,” Phil shrugged. “It would at least feel less fake, and I’d probably feel less uncomfortable.”

Dan waved his hand in a gesture that seemed to say so what? “What’s the hold up, then?”

“I’m a vloggy youtuber, it’s not like I really have any work connections I can try to force into collabing on me with this.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Dan looked at Phil blankly, a slightly annoyed tint to his eye.

“What?” Phil asked, confused, after a few beats.

In explanation, Dan circled his hand around his face wildly, looking at Phil like he was an idiot.

“You’re going to have to be more explicit, Daniel.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Gee, if only one of your non-work friends just happened to be in the music industry,” he said, resting his chin primly in the palm of his hand.

It took Phil a second, but he finally caught on. “Oh — oohhh! Would you — like — do you think you’d want to —”

Dan stared back with raised eyebrows and an expecting expression. “Yeah, dumbshit,” he said, finally. “I mean, I highly doubt that radio is my undiscovered talent, but I’d try it for you.”

“You’d — for me —?” Phil stuttered ineloquently.

“Of course, you spoon. I’d love first row tickets to AmazingPhil, even if that means embarrassing myself on live radio.”

“I’d feel bad,” Phil waffled. “It’s a huge professional favor, and I’d want to give something back. I’m absolutely rubbish at all things music, though, so it’s not like I could repay you at all.”

“Trust me, Phil, you do plenty for me. Both personally and professionally. If anything, I owe you a favor.”

Phil blinked blankly at Dan. What the fuck does that mean? Phil wracked his brain, trying to think of a single time where anything he had done had even remotely helped Dan professionally.

Phil was so concentrated on trying to figure out what Dan was implying that he almost forgot to respond.

“Um, if you’re serious,” Phil spun his glass awkwardly in his hands, “I’ll speak to them. They seemed pretty open about who I had on the show.”

With the hand that wasn’t cupped around his short glass, Dan reached up and ruffled Phil’s hair. “Of course I’m serious, anything to help you silly goose. Talk to them, and let me know what they say.”

“Thanks, Dan!” Phil smiled back, suddenly far more excited about the prospect of a guest-host than he had been that morning. “So how was your day?” Phil asked.

“Uneventful,” Dan shrugged. “I slept in, which felt great, and then I was surprisingly social for a bit, before managing to work some this afternoon.

The conversation that Phil had overheard between Dan and Louise had made it sound like Dan had big breakfast plans — plans that were big enough to require some sort of debriefing with Louise. But if Dan slept in before socializing, did that mean breakfast — whatever that was supposed to be — didn’t happen?

“I feel like I’m actually making progress on this album.” Dan continued, obvious to Phil’s confusion. He was smiling, though,, and Phil could see the passion building as he started talking about his music. “When Louise set a deadline of half the album before Germany, I thought she was insane. But at this rate, I think I’ll be okay.”

Phil managed to control his surprise at Dan’s lack of mentioning anything more exciting, but only just. Was work only thing Dan had done today — or was that all that he was willing to share with Phil? Phil wasn’t sure if Dan’s dramatic sounding breakfast plans potentially falling through was a good thing or not.

Phil sighed, trying to shake off his confused thoughts, and turned to his drink again, quickly finishing it. When he’d regained his composure, he turned back to Dan, “So you actually went outside and socialized today?”

“Meh, nothing big,” Dan said indifferently — he certainly didn’t make it sound like whatever social activity he’d done was noteworthy enough to mention. “I knew we were meeting for drinks and Adaline was coming, so I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time to hole up in my house and work.”

There was no way Phil could continue pushing about Dan’s morning — not after Dan had turned the subject to work a second time. At least not without it being painfully obvious that Phil was fishing for details. He took Dan’s lead and switched topics to Dan’s music, genuinely curious about how his work was going.

“Were you writing again today?” Phil asked, trying to show that he was just as interested in Dan’s work as Dan was in his.

“Yeah, the song I was working on the other night, you know, the one from skype? I think it’s coming together. Up until today I just had snippets of lyrics but I’m pretty sure I made it into something coherent, something that flows and actually matches the melody.”

“That’s awesome, Dan!” Phil beamed, proud of Dan’s accomplishment. “How are you feeling about the album so far?”

“Amazing, actually.” Dan’s fingers tapped excitedly against his empty glass. “It’s not what I set out to do, but I’m somehow actually writing a concept album.”

“Wow! What’s the concept?” Phil blurted out before he realized that Dan might not want to — or might not be able to answer that. “Or is that top secret?” he added, giving Dan an easy way out of the question.

“It not top secret, per say,” Dan started before his attention suddenly snapped away from Phil, turning towards his phone. Confused, Phil’s eyebrows shot up, his gaze following Dan’s.

Adaline: did I miss you and loverboy at home bc i’m here and i don’t see you

If Adaline was here, and she knew she was meeting Dan and Phil — which presumably she did — loverboy had to refer to Phil… right? The rational part of Phil’s brain tried, really tried, to keep his hopes in check, to not think too wishfully, but the part of Phil that was completely infatuated with Dan was positively screaming.

With a message like that staring Phil in the face, it was almost impossible not to get his hopes up.

Quickly, Phil averted his gaze. He may not know what that message meant, but he did know that he was definitely not meant to see it. Fortunately for him, Dan was too preoccupied by the text and popping his head over the back of their booth, peeking back towards the door, to realize that Phil had seen it.

Phil ducked around their booth as well, looking towards the entrance and trying to who Dan was looking for. A younger girl was standing near the entrance, her eyes scanning through the crowd.

Dan’s knee nudged insistently against Phil a few times. “Budge over and let me out, will you?” Dan asked.

Phil nodded numbly, not fully processing anything that was happening, his attention still focused on loverboy. Eyes and mind glazed over, Phil slid out of the booth, letting Dan slip out behind him. Phil watched as Dan strode over to the door and enthusiastically enveloped the young brunette in his arms. When Dan leaned out of the embrace, he didn’t pull all the way back, instead wrapping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her over to the table.

“I missed you, you know,” Phil heard Dan say as they came within earshot.

“It’s been like a month, Dan,” the girl responded, elbowing Dan in the ribs.

Dan shrugged, not looking embarrassed at being called out on his feelings. It was cute, seeing Dan so happy to see his sister. It reminded Phil of how he felt when he saw his brother after a long separation. Phil knew that Dan hadn’t been as close with Adaline as Phil had been with Martyn while they were growing up, but he also knew that Dan was determined to build a better relationship with his sister now that she was older. It looked like he was doing a good job.

Dan led her to the other side of the booth before hovering at the table’s end between them.

“Yeah, well,” Dan sighed, rocking back and forth on his feet, “It’s been a long month.”

“So it would seem.” Dan’s sister, Adaline’s, eyes flickered between their empty glasses, and Phil wondered if she was thinking about the fact that they had both already been on the same side of the table when she arrived. Lord knows it was on Phil’s mind.

With a look of intent, Adaline’s attention switched to Phil, her eyes quickly flickering back to Dan with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m being rude,” Dan apologized, nervously arranging the mop of curls on his head. “Phil, meet my sister, Adaline. Addie, this is my — um, Phil.”

The tips of Dan’s ears turned red, a matching spot coloring his cheek. A wide, cheeky smirk took over Adaline’s face. It was a smirk he’d seen before; Dan had flashed him that same expression countless times.

My what? Phil wondered, his cheeks flushing to match Dan’s. Surely Dan wouldn’t have cut himself off from saying friend. So what had he been about to say?

“Good to meet you, Phil,” Adaline was saying. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The red spot on Dan’s cheek deepened, and Phil could feel his own cheeks heating up to match it. “I — yeah. I’ve heard a lot about you, too.”

“Awww, are you bragging about me, big brother?” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, I can’t help talking about people I care about, okay?” Dan took a small step back from the table.

Shit, the both of them really needed to stop saying things that made Phil’s heart skip. At this point, he wasn’t sure if there was blood left anywhere in his body other than his face.

“So,” Dan broke the silence in what he probably hoped was a smooth interruption (it wasn’t). “Who wants what to drink?”

Phil pointed to his glass. “I liked whatever this was.”

“Okay, another Dark ‘n Stormy.” Dan snapped his fingers, making a lame finger gun at Phil. “Sis?”

“Whatever you’re having?” She suggested tentatively, her order coming out more like a question than a request.

“Right—” Another awkward finger gun. “I’ll be back in a moment, lads. Behave.”

Phil felt an internal moment of panic at being left completely alone with Dan’s sister after such a brief introduction. Apparently, his wariness wasn’t unfounded.

“So you’re Phil?” Adaline questioned the moment Dan was out of earshot, an impish look on her face.

“Y-yes?” Phil stuttered back insecurely, spinning his empty glass in his hand for lack of something better to do. Everything Phil knew about Dan was telling him not to trust the mischievous expression Adaline was fixing him with.

“Dan somehow forgot to mention that his lovely new friend Phil from the coffee shop was AmazingPhil.” A wide smirk took over Adaline’s face — a smirk Phil had seen before, on Dan.

Phil wasn’t sure just how worried he should be about the fact that Dan’s sister apparently knew who he was. Phil had told Dan countless things he had no desire for his viewers to know, and he had no idea how much of that information Dan had shared with his sister. Phil wholeheartedly trusted Dan, and recognized that if Adaline came from the same family, she was probably trustworthy too. But the fact remained that he didn’t know her. “I —”

He had no idea what to say.

“It’s fine, I saw through twitter beforehand, so it’s not like it’s a surprise. Don’t worry, I’m not a crazy fan or anything.” Adaline was much more nonchalant than Dan had been when he’d found out about Phil’s channel. Did that mean Adaline didn’t care, or had she just been exposed enough that it just wasn’t shocking anymore?

“Oh… have you, like, watched my videos?” Phil fished, trying to get a read on how potentially dangerous this situation might be.

“A few. I found your channel through PJ’s a few months ago and happened to see a few. Imagine my surprise when I found out you were the guy that was suddenly tweeting at my brother.”

“Er — yeah. Dan about had a heart attack when he found out,” Phil chuckled.

“I know,” Adaline laughed mercilessly at her brother. “He called me up in a fit the next day.”

“What a nerd,” Phil said with a roll of his eyes and a soft chuckle. He was pretty sure that his fondness for Dan was seeping into his voice, but he was well past the point in their friendship where he had any hopes of controlling it.

Luckily, Dan saved Phil from the embarrassment of Adaline potentially calling him out on his soft spot for Dan by Dan coming back, precariously balancing three drinks in his hands. He sat the fruity drink in front of Phil, pushed something clear and bubbly towards Adaline, and slid a half-full cup of amber liquid back towards his original seat.

“Let me in, Philly,” Dan smiled, tapping much more rapidly at Phil’s shoulder than was necessary.

“I’m moving, I’m moving!” Phil insisted. “You impatient little brat,” he added under his breath.

Unfortunately, his jab seemed to be heard by everyone at the table. Dan smacked him playfully upside the head.

“Oh look, he knows you already,” Adaline teased.

“Fuck off, Addie,” Dan said as he slid across the bench, stopping halfway to the wall so that he was still very much in Phil’s space when Phil sat back down. Absolutely nothing Dan and Phil did seemed to escape Adaline’s notice; her gaze was concentrated on the space — or rather, lack thereof — between them. Phil shifted nervously under Adaline’s scrutiny. He wasn’t sure what to make of how closely she was watching them.

“I thought I asked for the same thing as you?” Adaline questioned, letting her attention drift from the minute distance between them to just Dan.

“Yeah, but I’m drinking Jameson neat and I figured one of us needed to keep their head on straight,” Dan answered with a pointed look.

“Fine, fine,” she grumbled back, taking a sip of whatever Dan had passed her.

“Don’t worry, loser,” Dan quipped. “It still has alcohol in it. Plus, I figured you might like that better, seeing as you’re like Phil here and don’t care for bitter drinks.”

“Right, I’m sure giving me a weaker drink was a totally selfless, caring choice.” Adaline looked skeptically at Dan, who anxiously passed his glass back and forth between his hands.

Phil took pity on Dan and decided to change the topic, taking the focus off him for a moment. “So, what are you doing in London?” he turned with a smile to Adaline.

“Err…” Adaline mumbled shiftily, her eyes darting to Dan.

“We’re doing a uni tour tomorrow,” Dan supplied. Really smoothly.

“That’s awesome! Which uni?” Phil knew that Adaline was important to Dan and he wanted to show that he was interested, that he could get along with Dan’s family.

“Imperial,” Dan said at the same time that Adaline answered, “Middlesex.”

“Um…” Phil uncertainly looked between the two of them. Had one of them gotten confused? Did they suck at communicating? What the hell was happening here?

“We’re touring two!” Dan said abruptly, looking a bit like a deer caught in headlights. “Middlesex in the morning and Imperial in the afternoon!”

Adaline nodded along quickly. “Yeah, yeah. I’m, um, trying to decide which I like more!” Something about the way Adaline said it sounded fake, like she’d decided that on the spot. But why?

Regardless, Phil decided it was probably best to drop that conversation, since it seemed to have sparked a weird vibe between the siblings. “I’m going to run to the loo,” Phil said, hoping that the tension would dissipate before he got back, and that maybe, just maybe, he could have a moment to think rationally without Dan touching him and causing Phil’s thoughts to scramble.

Dan tugged on Phil’s sleeve, catching his attention. “Will you get me a water while you’re up, Philly?”

“No problem. Adaline?”

“No thanks, I’m good.”

“Be right back,” Phil grinned before he turned away.

He only got a few feet from the table before he froze, realizing that he had no idea where the loo was here. He glanced around, searching the walls for a sign.

“Adaline!” Phil hear Dan hiss. “Since when are you interested in bloody Middlesex?”

“I’m not!” she whispered back. “I panicked and said the first school that came to mind!”

Phil spotted the bathroom sign and slinked away, hoping to not draw any attention to how close he still was to the table.

So he’d been right — there had been some weirdness when they were talking about why Adaline was in London.

But if it wasn’t for touring a uni, what was she here for?

**************************

By the fourth drink, Phil could feel the rum loosening his tongue — something he should probably be concerned about, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about. In his tipsy state, he turned to Dan and finally asked a question that had been plaguing him since yesterday.

“So, how was breakfast this morning?” Phil drawled, looking curiously at Dan.

Okay, it wasn’t the exact question he’d wanted to ask, but it would hopefully still get him the answer he was seeking.

It wasn’t until Dan’s eyes narrowed suspiciously that Phil remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know about breakfast. All Dan had said was that he’d “socialized” this morning.

“I didn’t realize I’d told you I had breakfast plans,” Dan said in a tone that made it clear he definitely knew he hadn’t told Phil about his plans.

Well, fuck.

“I — um, so.” Out of the corner of his eye, Phil could see Adaline’s eyes bouncing back and forth, back and forth between him and Dan. Phil scrambled for a moment, trying to find something he could say to cover his arse. But his tipsy mind couldn’t land on a good excuse before his tipsy tongue took over. “Look, cards on the table. I might have overheard you and Louise talking yesterday.”

Phil wasn’t sure what he was expecting from Dan — maybe him to be angry that Phil had been eavesdropping, maybe a chiding remark. He definitely wasn’t expecting Dan’s eyes to widen all the way and a look of panic to cross his face. But that’s what he got.

“The whole conversation?” Dan looked well worried about something.

Oh, you know, just the part where Louise was demanding to meet some guy in your life and you wouldn’t let her into the coffee shop. And the small part where you both were freaking out about whatever the hell your breakfast plans are. But no, no...

“No, why?” Phil said instead. If the look on Dan’s face was anything to go by, Phil should definitely not confess to how much he’d overheard. Which was… interesting, given the content of it.

A wave of tension appeared to wash out of Dan’s body, his shoulders untensing and his fingers unclenching from his glass. “N-no reason.”

Phil didn’t believe that for a moment. He’d let it slide though, for now at least.

“Breakfast didn’t happen though,” Dan said cryptically, not elaborating oh why breakfast didn’t happen or what breakfast was supposed to have been.

Adaline, for her part, was starting at Dan just as studiously as Phil was, which led Phil to believe that not only was breakfast something Adaline knew about, but he was right in his suspicions that it was supposed to have been something.

Phil knew he probably shouldn’t, but he decided to push his luck. “Oh, why not?” He hoped he sounded nonchalant, and not like he had an underlying motive for trying to figure out more information.

Dan breathed out a long sigh and knocked back half of his drink.

For a moment, Phil was worried that Dan wasn’t going to answer — or worse, that Dan was going to tell Phil to fuck off and that Phil shouldn’t be pestering him with questions about something he’d overheard.

Dan pleasantly surprised Phil, though, when he confessed the truth. “Well, the whole point of breakfast was to dump Isabella.” His voice was quiet, his words slightly slurred, and his eyes concentrated on his glass, but the meaning of what Dan had said rang loud and clear.

Breaking up with Isabella. As in, Dan making himself single and available. But —

Shit. Dan hadn’t gone to breakfast. Phil latched onto that fact, trying to make his brain wrap around what that meant — that Dan probably hadn’t gone through with his plans to break up with her.

Why? Why was the world being so cruel to Phil?

“Did you change your mind, then?” Phil asked, aiming to maintain his casual demeanor, but there was a wobble to his voice that was surely betraying his true feelings: panic and disappointment.

“What?” Dan’s head snapped up from his glass, looking at Phil in alarm. “No!” he corrected hastily. “I ended up breaking up with her last night.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

A million emotions rushed through Phil, and he wasn’t sure which one he should be paying the most attention to. He was relieved, so fucking relieved that Dan was single. That Isabella was out of the picture. He was worried, worried that Dan was upset or heartbroken about it — or worse, that there might have been some truth to the picture Phil saw on twitter last night.

But above it all, Phil felt a wave a clarity. If Dan had broken up with Isabella last night, that casted his actions in the last twenty four hours into a whole new light — Dan giving Phil his phone number seemingly out of the blue, Dan being much more forward tonight, Dan’s thigh currently pressing into Phil’s.

Were all of those things connected to the fact that Dan was now single?

Dan’s eyes bored into Phil’s, looking like they were trying to stare into his soul, like they were trying to communicate something.

Looking like they were confirming everything that Phil was thinking.

Against his better judgment, Phil’s heart soared. He should wait until he’d heard verbal confirmation from Dan, he should wait until Dan was single for more than a mere day.

He should wait.

But he couldn’t.

“Mum said to pass on her congratulations, by the way,” Adaline said with a smirk. The tension — the sexual tension, Phil was pretty sure — broke between Dan and Phil as they boy whipped their heads around to face Adaline. From the surprised long on Dan’s face, Phil wagered Dan had forgotten that Adaline was there just as much as Phil had.

Dan shook his head, seemingly pulling himself out of whatever thoughts he was having. “Mum is congratulating me for getting cheated on?” He sounded somehow both bitter and humored.

“So it’s true, then?” Adaline asked softly, the smile draining from her face.

Dan’s gaze fell and he fiddled with his napkin. “Yeah, it’s true.” There was no emotion left, he just sounded defeated.

“I’m sorry, bear. That sucks,” Adaline murmured, rubbing her hand against his forearm.

“It’s fine,” Dan said with a forced smile, fake positivity in his voice. His efforts to seem fine about that aspect of it were painfully transparent. “I was going to end it anyway. That just made it — you know, easier to do.”

“Still,” Phil chimed in, “That sucks. I’m sorry it had to end like that.”

“I mean, yeah, me too.” Dan took another long sip of his drink, almost draining it. “But, hey, the outcome is the same, right? And it made me feel justified in doing it on Valentine’s Day, so at least there’s that.”

“Oh god, how far did you get in your date before things went awry?” Phil asked, horrified.

“Ugh,” Dan groaned. “All the way to the end. I actually DMed you right after I left her apartment.”

“Uh!” Adaline interjected indignantly. “Excuse me, did you really DM him before calling me back, Daniel?”

The ashamed look on Dan’s face was enough of an answer. “Um, maybe. It’s not like it took long!” he defended.

“Excuse you,” Adaline crossed her arms defiantly, but in her tipsy state, she misestimated her movements and ended up smacking herself lightly in the shoulder, which seriously reduced the effectiveness of the action. “I”ll have you know that you’d given me a right scare after demanding I call you with a fake emergency and then ignoring my calls for nearly an hour.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Phil interrupted before Dan could further defend himself. “Did you really make your sister call you with a fake emergency so you could leave? Are you fourteen?”

“See!” Adaline cheered too loudly. “Phil agrees with me, you were being a baby.”

“Look,” Dan tried to explain, his hands waving around a little more wildly than normal. “You guys don’t know Izzy like I do. She doesn’t take very kindly to having her… sexual advances turned down—” Oh god, Phil thought, the alcohol had clearly loosened Dan’s tongue as well. “— and by that point I’d used up every excuse in the book.”

“Oh,” Adaline’s brows furrowed. “Was she just really not taking no for an answer last night?”

“Er, not quite,” Dan mumbled sketchily.

“Dish. What are you getting at?” Adaline demanded, banging her hands noisily on the table in earnest.

Phil was pretty sure he didn’t want to hear this. Whatever details of his sex life that Tispy Dan decided were appropriate to share were probably things that would only make Phil feel like shit. Briefly, Phil considered excusing himself to the bar to buy another round, or maybe even to go to the loo for the third time that night. Anything to avoid having to listen to Dan talk about sex with Isabella.

But Dan answered before Phil could do any of those things.

“More like over the past month. I’ve kind of been avoiding that for a while now.”

“I’m sorry, you wh-what?” Adaline choked a little on the liquid she was trying to swallow.

A month. Dan had been avoiding having sex with Isabella for a month. Out of all the things Dan could have said about his sex life, that had to be the most surprising one. He was dating a model for god’s sake, why hadn’t he to have sex with her for a month?

Nevertheless, Phil was glad. He had no claim to Dan, but knowing that he hadn’t been sleeping with Isabella for a while now… well, it was a relief.

“It’s not that big of a deal, okay.” Dan gave her a sharp look. “It just… hasn’t felt right—” His eyes flickered over to Phil, lingering for a moment, before returning to Adaline. “—for a while now. So I, you know, haven’t.”

Shit. Phil froze, staring at Dan long after Dan had returned his attention to Adaline. The way he looked at Phil, the heat that was in his eyes, made Phil feel like maybe he was the reason Dan didn’t feel right sleeping with Isabella.

“Oh my god,” Adaline gasped. “I —”

“Drop it, Addie,” Dan said tersely. “Enough about the demise of my shitty relationship.” His voiced lightened up some, turning almost teasing. “Now tell us about this date that you may or may not have had tonight that you were so easily persuaded to bail on.”

Well that certainly made it sound like whatever Adaline was in London for was because Dan had asked her to be. That explained why they were so weird about the uni tour thing, at least. It was odd that they felt the need to lie about why Adaline was there to Phil, but his alcohol hazed mind couldn’t come up with any possible explanations for it.

And clearly, Dan was too far gone to keep up pretenses about why Adaline was here.

“I just wasn’t that interested in the bloke, that’s all.”

“You not have a great Valentine’s Day either, then?” Dan asked.

“Huh?” Adaline looked perplexed for a moment before recognition dawned on her face. “Oh, no. Not that. Um, don’t judge me and go all big-brother.”

Dan raised his eyebrows expectantly. Phil had flashes of what Dan might be like in full big-brother mode, and hoped that he might get to see a glimpse of it.

“The bloke from last night was good. We’re going out Sunday. Tonight was going to be a, uh, different guy.”

“Adaline!” Dan admonished. “Are you really dating around? I thought we’d already talked about the dangers of sleeping with more than one person at a time! What if one of them has something? You need to be a bit more careful!”

Evidently Phil was getting to see big-brother Dan after all. He found it funny that they were apparently so open about sex, but yet Dan was still being protective.

“I’m being safe! Chill, bro.” Adaline chugged the rest of her drink. “Oh looky there, I’m all out of beverage. Dan?”

“You’re a piece of work,” he mumbled to Adaline, before swallowing the rest of his own drink. “I get us another round then, eh?” Dan poked Phil again, forcing him to let Dan out. Dan poked lower than he had last time, missing his ribs and hitting the soft, ticklish bit of Phil’s stomach.

On instinct, Phil spun towards Dan, catching Dan’s hand in his own, a giggle tumbling out of his lips. “Dan!”

“Oh dear, is Philly ticklish?” Dan’s other hand came around, poking Phil in the same spot, causing him to squirm. Phil’s free hand flew out, snagging Dan’s other hand. “Oh dear, he is!”

Dan wrestled with Phil a little, trying to wiggle his hands free so that he could poke Phil again. He succeeded in loosening Phil’s grasp enough that he was able to launch forward and poke Phil again, his chest crashing into Phil’s arm. Phil folded in on himself, trying to protect his sides from Dan’s attack, causing Dan’s chest to slip from Phil’s arm to his back.

“I give, I give!” Phil managed to say through his giggles.

“You’re no fun,” Dan said, the laughter in his voice contradicting his words. The hand he’d broken free from Phil’s wrapped around the front of Phil’s waist, pulling him into a hug. Dan rocked him back and forth lightly. “You’re silly, you spoon.”

Phil leaned back into Dan, feeling so warm in Dan’s arms, but was startled by an obnoxiously fake coughing attack from Adaline.

“I’m still here boys. And parched.”

Dan’s face heated up. “Sorry, sis. I’ll be right back.”

Phil started to slide out of the booth to let Dan out, but Dan’s grip on his hips tightened, holding him firmly in place. For a moment, Phil was baffled at what Dan was trying to do, unable to make sense of how the heck Dan was planning to get out of the booth if Phil didn’t move.

But then, it became very, very clear how Dan was planning to get up.

Still pressing Phil into the booth, Dan’s opposite leg swung across Phil, and, suddenly, Dan was straddling him.

Time froze.

Phil’s vision, which had previously been slightly blurred from the alcohol, focused sharply on Dan. Dan, who was properly in Phil’s lap, his head towering above Phil’s, his eyes gazing down at him. Phil stared back up, forgetting that the rest of the world still existed. Instinctively, Phil’s eyes dropped down to Dan’s lips, and he thought about it. He thought about saying fuck it, about closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to Dan’s. When Phil dragged his eyes back up Dan’s, he found that they were looking downward — like Dan was looking at Phil’s lips, like Dan was thinking about the same things.

“Fucking hell, Dan,” Adaline cried, sounding outraged. Her voice broke the trance between them, pulling Dan and Phil out of their own little world and back into the crowded, noisy bar.

“Right, sorry,” Dan murmured, far too quietly for Adaline to hear. His eyes searched Phil’s face one last time before he gave Phil’s hips a quick squeeze and climbed off his lap, abruptly heading for the bar.

Phil shifted in his seat. He had just enough inhibitions left to be embarrassed to face Adaline after that blatant display of flirting.

“So,” Adaline pounced on Phil the moment Dan was out of earshot.

“So…” Phil trailed off, unsure of why Adaline was looking so eager — and hesitant to find out.

Adaline crossed her arms, leaning forward on the table to inspect Phil. “You’re cuter than he normally goes for,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows and a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.

Phil just about spat the ice cube he was chewing on out of his mouth. I’m what now? He tried to make his brain focus and think through all of the rum that was currently clouding his sense of rationality.

Did she mean that Phil was cuter than the girls Dan had brought home in the past? Because last time Phil checked, he hardly thought he compared to a damn supermodel. But, also, it was weird to compare the attractiveness of guys and girls, right? Did that mean — ?

Did that mean Dan had brought home guys before?

“Sorry?” Phil eventually spat out unintelligently. He was completely lost for more complex thoughts.

Adaline snickered — she knew exactly what she was doing to Phil. She clearly had information about Dan, his dating life, his history with boys that Phil didn’t know. And she was taking full advantage of her position of power.

Goddamn, her and Dan were too much alike.

“When it comes to guys, I mean. They’re normally, well, less cute. Don’t tell him I told you that though.” She winked furtively at him. “I doubt he’d take kindly to me drunkenly spilling his secrets. That’s definitely not why he invited me here.”

Phil’s jaw dropped. He wasn’t completely sure what to make of what Adaline was saying, but his heart was already skipping a beat, and his stomach was turning over. What Adaline had just said — it made it sound like Dan had definitely dated boys before.

“Oops!” Adaline covered her mouth dramatically, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. “Gee, whiz, did you not know that Dan’s bi?”

Phil’s heart had skipped a few beats before, but now it was downright pounding. The shock of what Adaline was implying — basically saying, at this point — was slowly starting to sink in.

So Dan had. Dan had definitely dated boys before — something Adaline had very intentionally just told him. That had to mean something for Phil, right? All of the things Phil had thought might be flirting, the way Dan had skirted around Isabella… That must mean something, then, right?

“I, um, no. Obviously,” Phil said when he was able to muddle through his drunken shock. He tried to organize his thoughts, tried to swallow his utter shock at having it confirmed that Dan was single, that Dan liked boys, to ask if all of that together meant that Dan liked him. “What did Dan invite you here for, then?”

Phil had to resist smacking himself in the forehead. That was an odd question to ask, given everything Phil had just learned, but okay.

To his surprise, Adaline cackled. “Actually, he wanted a babysitter.”

Phil rubbed his hands down his face, trying to get the drunk part of his brain to calm down so he could fucking process whatever the heck this was. What grown adult wanted a babysitter, and why? “Isn’t he, like, twenty three?”

Again, the wrong question to ask. Phil mentally kicked himself in the arse. Why was he completely botching this one moment he had with Drunk Adaline to learn more about Dan’s life?

“And asking to be babysat by an eighteen year old?” Adaline chucked. “Yeah.”

“Oh.” Phil’s brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of that. Adaline seemed to find the situation as funny as Phil did. “Uh, why?”

Well, it lacked sophistication, but at least he was finally asking a worthwhile question.

“Apparently he didn’t want to drunkenly drag you back to his place to fuck.”

What in the —

If Phil was shocked by everything Adaline had said so far, he was completely floored by that.

A hot rush of arousal shot through Phil at the very mention of that, and he forced himself to shake it away as best as he could. Those weren’t thoughts he should let his mind drift to while he was sitting across from Dan’s sister.

Okay, fine, Adaline had said that Dan liked guys — that was great. And she’d implied that Dan liked Phil, which, okay, fantastic. But to explicitly say that Dan wanted to fuck Phil — that was a whole new level that Phil wasn’t prepared to hear.

He did his best to swallow his shock and respond to Adaline. “I — he what?”

Adaline narrowed her eyes, evaluating Phil, the slight upward turn of her lips a pale ghost of the raucous smirk it had been a moment before. She nodded slowly. “Listen up, though.” Her voice was sharp this time.

Phil’s eyes widened at the fast change in her attitude. “What?” So far, Adaline had been nothing but chipper and easy-going, so the quick shift to reprimanding took Phil by surprise.

“That kid,” she nodded to the bar where Dan was waiting in line for the bartender, “I’m not sure who that kid is.”

Phil opened his mouth to defend Dan. Dan was so insistent on getting to know his younger sister better, and hearing her say that she didn’t know Dan made Phil want to launch into a diatribe about how hard Dan was trying. But Adaline cut Phil off before he could start.

“I know Dan, well,” Adaline rushed on to say. “And I like this new version of him,” she clarified, sensing Phil’s desire to stand up for Dan. “But I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Phil cocked his head, trying to make sense of what Adaline was saying. The Dan that was here tonight didn’t seem that different from the Dan that Phil was used to. Sure, this Dan was a bit more forward, a bit more flirty than the Dan that Phil had previously gotten to know, but that could be easily accounted for by the fact that this Dan was single. That didn’t seem to explain why Adaline found the boy at the bar nearly unrecognizable.

“What do you mean this kid?” Phil forced out, hoping to figure out what the heck Adaline meant.

“The guy who doesn’t want to sleep with someone immediately after breaking up with someone else?” Adaline pointed out incredulously. “The guy who’s saying that he doesn’t want to fuck up a relationship by moving too fast and jumping into sex before he’s ready? I’ve never heard him say those things before you.”

Phil was dumbfounded. It didn’t seem possible that Dan was doing all of these things for the first time solely because of Phil. “You mean, he’s acting different… because of me?” Phil asked stupidly.

“Yes, you idiot, because of you.” Adaline rolled her eyes, just like Dan. “Apparently he’s determined to do whatever this—” she waved her hand vaguely towards Phil, “—is right.”

“Oh,” Phil breathed, unable to keep the wide, beaming smile off of his face. Dan had just ended a rather long relationship — it was downright dickish of Phil to be happy at this moment.

And yet, his heart felt like it was racing faster than a plane about to take off, his body was tingling more than if every single limb had gone numb at once, his stomach was turning over like he was strapped into a never ending roller coaster.

“No, don’t smile yet,” Adaline reprimanded. “I’m not done talking to you.”

Phil’s eyes widened in fear, but he couldn’t make the smile completely go away.

“Like I said, this is new. I’ve never known him to not be sleeping with someone.”

Phil’s eyes flickered away briefly, more uncomfortable with the idea of Dan sleeping with someone — anyone — than he’d like to admit.

“But that being said,” Adaline continued without any respect for Phil’s feelings, “He’s Mr. Fucking Monogamy — in case you couldn’t tell by his reaction to me seeing two guys at once.” Adaline shook her head in exasperation. “I know he’s happy to be done with Isabella — as are the rest of us, frankly — but if I know him at all, I’m willing to wager that getting cheating on is probably hurting him more than he’s letting on.”

“Of course!” Phil rushed to assure her. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel if I got cheated on, even if it was in world’s worst relationship.”

“Exactly.” Adaline stared at him pointedly. “Which is why you need to need to back the fuck up here.”

Phil was startled — whatever he’d been expecting the point of Adaline’s lecture to be, that wasn’t quite it. He worried at his inner lip, drawing it between his teeth and biting harshly. Did that mean Adaline thought Phil wasn’t good enough? Was Adaline saying that any possibility of a relationship with Dan was off the table?

“What do you mean?” Phil asked worriedly, trying to conceal just how deep his anxieties were running.

“I mean that I can’t drop everything and come to London every damn time you two hang out, so I’m going to need you to be respectful of the fact that at least sober Dan wants a little bit of recovery time before—” she waved at Phil again, “—this. Do you think you can do that?”

“I, yeah, of course. I just…” Phil searched for a way to articulate everything he was thinking, “Want him to be happy,” he finished lamely.

“Then wait a bit,” Adaline implored. “Let him come to you — sober, I might add.”

Wait.

Not fuck off entirely.

Just, wait.

Phil could wait. For Dan, Phil would wait until the damn sun burnt out if that’s what it took.

“I can do that,” Phil smiled.

“You smug git,” Adaline teased. “You’re too happy about the fact that he definitely likes you to give a fuck about waiting, aren’t you?”

“Basic—” Phil was cut off by Dan’s return.

“Here we go, lads.” He set the drinks he was carrying down on the table, sliding each one to the right spot. “I forgot how busy this place gets on Friday nights.”

“Mmm,” Phil hummed as he took a sip of his fresh drink, hoping to avoid having to say anything for a moment so that he could process everything Adaline had just told him. And maybe to hide the stupidly big smile currently sat on his face.

Luckily, Dan took control of the conversation, as he was often want to do. And, like always, Dan proposed something that threw Phil for a loop.

“I want to tweet,” Dan bursted out abruptly. “Can I tweet?” He turned first to Phil, then to Adaline.

“Hey,” Adaline raised her hands in surrender, “I’m not here to police your public life.” She sent a wink at Phil that Dan was, in all probability, too drunk to notice.

“What do you want to tweet, Danny?” Phil asked. In general, Phil had no opposition to tweeting — but also, Dan could probably ask for the moon and Phil would start knitting a big enough lasso, so maybe he wasn’t the best judge.

“Ughhh,” he whined. “Please never call me Danny again. She called me that all the time, and if I ever have to hear that nickname again, I’ll fucking die.”

“Sorry,” Phil apologized. “Dear.”

Phil received a swift kick in the shin from Adaline for that, but it was well worth it when he watched Dan blush and mumble, “I like that a lot better.”

A burst of warmth rushed through Phil’s chest at the genuinely content, flattered look Dan had on his face.

Phil cleared his throat. “So, dear—” another kick to the shin — that was definitely going to bruise, not that Phil really cared that much. “What do want to tweet?”

“Us! And our drinks!” Dan exclaimed, looking more like an overjoyed child than he had any right to at this moment in time. Phil picked up Dan’s phone off the table, grabbing Dan’s hand without asking and pressing his thumb to the home button to unlock it. Once it was unlocked, he opened the camera and slid the phone across the table to Adaline.

He turned his attention back to Dan. “What are we doing in this tweet?”

In response, Dan pushed Phil’s Dark ‘N Stormy into his hand, picking up his own drink. “Hold it and look at the camera,” Dan ordered.

Obediently, Phil raised his glass to his mouth, dramatically taking a sip for the camera. Dan held his up at the same level as Phil’s, giving the camera a knowing look. The camera clicked loudly half a dozen times while Adaline took several version of the same picture so that they had some to pick from.

When Dan deemed there to be enough options, he made grabby hands for his phone, taking it back from Adaline.

“Help me decide which to tweet, Philly.” Dan pulled Phil in by his sleeve. Even though Phil could feel Adaline’s drunken watch on him, Phil let himself lean in ever-so-slightly to Dan. Not enough to warrant another kick in the shin from Adaline, but enough so he could smell Dan’s cologne better, enough so he could feel the warm heat radiating off of Dan’s body, enough so that he felt a little bit all consumed by Dan.

“I like that one,” Phil murmured near Dan’s ear when Dan swiped over one that was a good balance of silly and cute.

“Perfect,” Dan smiled, sharing it to a tweet. He gnawed at his lip for a moment before typing your fave lads are at it again, tagging Phil, and hitting tweet without taking any time to look it over.

***********************

Four hours and five (strong) drinks later, both Phil and Dan had surpassed tipsy and were properly drunk. Adaline, who’d showed up late and was a drink behind, had a bit more sense intact — but not by much.

“What do you think, lads, one last round?” Dan proposed.

Phil looked at Dan, his eyes struggling to focus clearly. “Okay,” he found himself agreeing anyway. Phil moved to push himself out of the booth.

“No, no, no, no. I think you’ve both had enough for tonight,” Adaline interrupted, catching the sleeve of Phil’s jumper and pulling him back down.

“But Adddieeeeee,” Dan whined.

“But Daaaannn,” Adaline whined back, teasing.

Dan raised his hand to the side of his head nearest Phil, only sort of successfully blocking Phil’s view of his face.

“Addie,” Dan whispered loudly, doing a piss-poor job of not letting Phil hear what he was saying. “I don’t wanna leave Phil yet, though.”

Phil’s heart melted. He didn’t particularly want to leave Dan either.

“Too bad,” Adaline mocked Dan, whispering back equally loudly and not even attempting to keep Phil from overhearing their conversation. “I didn’t drag my ass to London just for you to go home with him.”

Dan petulantly crossed his arms, huffing out an annoyed sigh, but didn’t fight her any further.

“And on that note,” Adaline giggled, “I think it’s bedtime, eh?”

“Probably for the best,” Phil agreed. As much as he adored getting to see this drunken version of Dan, as much as he definitely wanted Dan to come home with him, there was just enough left of Phil’s rational brain to know that tonight was not the night for that. Not tonight, not tomorrow night, maybe not even any night soon. Phil knew Dan needed time.

Time that Phil was willing to give him.

Adaline stood up, offering a hand to Phil. Phil gratefully accepted the help, letting her pull him to his feet. It had been a while since he’d stood up and — wow. The world rocked for a moment. Not having another round was the right decision.

Phil turned around to face Dan, who was staring helplessly up at him.

“Come on,” Phil said, grabbing Dan’s hand in his and tugging gently as Dan got up. The combined momentum sent Dan crashing into Phil, the two of them swaying precariously. In sync, their hands reached out to steady each other, Phil’s landing on Dan’s hips and Dan’s grasping Phil’s shoulders.

The rocking world faded away. All Phil could see was chocolate curls, and espresso eyes, and strawberry lips.

“Philip!” A voice behind him said sharply. Phil whirled around, knocking one of Dan’s hands from his shoulder. Adaline was stood close by, her hands on her hips and a reprimanding look on her face. “Behave!”

“Oops!” Phil ripped his hands from Dan’s hips, stepping backwards, his embarrassment practically radiating off of him.

“And to think, I’m the teenager,” Adaline mumbled.

“Sorry…” Phil apologized half-heartedly. His eyes drifted away from Dan, from Addie, and to the far corner of their booth, where the three of them had hung up their coats.

“Coats!” Phil exclaimed, smiling brightly at his own helpfulness.

Phil handed Adaline her coat before slipping his own on. He plucked Dan’s off the hook, spinning Dan around by the hips so his back was to Phil. Taking much more time and care than necessary, Phil helped Dan into his coat, slowly sliding each arm into the hole and slipping the jacket up his shoulders. When the jacket was on, Phil twisted Dan back to face him, and took Dan’s zipper between his hands.

The alcohol made Phil’s fingers clumsy and sluggish. It took three tries for Phil to successfully thread the zipper into the pull, his eyes focusing on Dan’s once it latched. Unwilling to let go of Dan just yet, Phil tugged the zipper up as slowly as he could, savoring every second of being close to Dan that he got.

Everytime Phil saw Dan, he could his stomach flipping over, his heart racing, his face threatening to break into a smile for no reason other than Dan’s presence. Tonight had been no exception, and now, holding Dan in place so closely to him, every single one of Phil’s feelings was amplified. He never wanted to move away.

But nonetheless, he had to eventually. Phil closed the zipper the final few centimeters, tugging slightly at Dan’s collar, just for something to do.

When Dan was tucked securely into his coat, Phil turned around to see Adaline watching them in amusement, shaking her head at their antics.

“Let’s get out of here, lads,” she said fondly.

“Phil needs an uber!” Dan exclaimed.

Oh yeah, Phil lived a lot further away than Dan did. Phil moved to fish his phone out of his coat pocket, but Dan already had his own in his hand, calling an uber for Phil.

“Here, Philly, put your address in,” Dan ordered, passing Phil his phone with unsteady fingers. Phil took the phone from Dan, taking four attempts to correctly type his address in the destination box. Two minutes, the app warned when he hit confirm.

“Thanks,” Phil handed back Dan’s phone, turning towards the exit. Dan’s hands came to rest on Phil’s lower back, pushing softly, guiding him towards the door. Adaline trailed behind them, following them outside.

Phil stopped by the curb to wait for his car. To his surprise, Dan stopped next to him — right next to him. Just a few small centimeters away.

“It’s cold,” Dan mumbled, maybe in explanation for why he was hovering so close to Phil.

“I know,” Phil agreed, wrapping his arm around Dan under the guise of providing warmth. And he did feel warmer. Maybe not physically, but there was an internal warmth washing over Phil that he’d never felt before. Phil grinned down at Dan, who’d tucked his head into the crook of Dan’s neck, and pulled him impossibly closer.

They stood like that until Phil’s car came. Phil half expected Adaline to interfere, to tell Phil to take a fucking step back, but when Phil glanced over Dan’s shoulder at her, she was smiling fondly at them.

When Phil’s car pulled up next to them, Dan drew back, but not quite all the way.

“I had a good night, Philly,” he whispered sweetly, eyes searching Phil’s face. Dan’s tongue darted out, licking his lips. Phil’s eyes followed the movement closely.

He should step back, he should give Dan the space that Adaline insisted that he needed.

But before Phil could make himself do it, before Phil could force a bit of space between them, Dan was leaning in slowly, swaying the slightest bit. Phil was rooted in his spot, unable to even move his head.

Dan closed the distance between them, pressing a sloppy, wet kiss to Phil’s cheek. His lips lingered a moment, his hand finding Phil’s and squeezing briefly.

Phil squeezed back. It was the only way he could manage to show his appreciation for the moment. Dan pulled back, finally stepping all the way out of Phil’s embrace.

A hot blush spread over Phil’s face, and, not for the first time that night, Phil felt like a teenager with his first crush.

“Me too, Dan,” Phil smiled softly, climbing into the back of his uber, his hand coming up to touch his cheek as he felt the ghost of Dan’s lips on him.

Me too.

a/n: i can’t WAIT to hear y’alls thoughts xoxo

[justanoutlawfic]

Happy OQ Valentine’s Day!

So, this may be a complete wreck but I’d like to draw your attention to a few things before you read you’re present ;) 1. Im pretty sure I gave away my identity already because... 2. I’m working off my iPhone (it’s sad but it’s true lol) and... 3. Mobile Tumblr just refusesss to make things easy on me. 4. And also, I waited to write this last minute like most other things in my life. But aside from all that, I do hope you find even a tiny bit of enjoyment in this. Our beautiful sunken ship deserves a bit of light today ❤️ P.s. I’d love to write for you again in the future if you’re ever interested. HOPIN’ AND WISHIN’ AND PRAYIN’ (An Outlaw Queen fic) The shadows blanket the road this far out. They stretch from the tops of the evergreen trees and cast most of the road in darkness. Except for tonight, there are a few bright beams filtering down from the full moon in the sky. The only sounds come from the crickets and wildlife beyond the pines and it’s a solitary, lonely kind of peaceful. She’s made a habit out of coming here; slipping out just after Henry’s gone to sleep and spending a precious few hours hoping. Hoping for what, she isn’t quite sure. Maybe for the resolute acceptance of how things have turned out. For her heart to stop aching and move on already. Sometimes even, she’s loathe to admit, she wishes for a freak accident that would take Marian away and right the universe again. But mostly, she hopes he’ll appear out of thin air, grinning how he does, as he steps back into Storybrooke and into her life. She knows it won’t happen, that he might as well be in another realm altogether. She understands why he’s gone, respects it even, but it doesn’t keep her from peering out down the road and wondering where on the other side he could be tonight. The pavement is cool beneath her thin slacks but she likes sitting at the very edge where she can pretend the red line in front of her crossed legs is the only barrier keeping them apart. As if the two of them sit apart, the protection spell a curtain that only need be pulled back and they’d be face to face. She lifts the flask next to her and the moon beams off its shiny surface as she indulges in another sip. She’s not drunk, but the alcohol numbs things just enough, blurs the edges so she doesn’t actually cry. And it would be all to easy to let herself embrace her emotions and sob in self pity. He was supposed to be her second chance; her redemption for the awful woman she’d been—and he was, for however brief a time. His integrity made her better. His morals brought her back to that seventeen year old girl she once was. Just “Regina”, not “Her Majesty” or “The Evil Queen”. He saw the real Regina under all those layers of guilt and anger and regret. And perhaps what makes her feel more despondent than anything is that she’ll never get a third chance. She got so unexpectedly lucky with Robin. She didn’t deserve him to begin with, but only he could have been her soulmate. Only he could understand every sordid detail of her past and still have the audacity to not only love her, but choose her. Regina runs a hand through the front of her dark hair as she sighs. She misses him. She misses having another person unconditionally in her corner, misses not always feeling like the third wheel, misses the smell of damp earth and aged redwood. She wants to scream to the heavens, or this “author”, or whatever higher power there might be that it’s so unfair! Only she knows damn well how fair her pain is; how cosmic and condemned her story has read. It’s her punishment for choosing revenge when she could have chosen forgiveness. Daniel’s death was the great catalyst of her life. And while she knows there are many who let their grief morph into hatred, there had been another way. It would have been harder, maybe taken longer, but she might have come out the other side a better person; a hero. She won’t make that mistake again. While it feels just as bad as it had years ago, even worse actually; she cannot tarnish what Robin stood for, just to try to ease the ache. If anyone was undeserving, it was that man. He had made mistakes the same as any of them, sure, but he worked for his redemption. Robin had found a way to do what she never could. He turned his pain into purpose. A purpose full of love and selflessness and renewal. And now he’s been hurt once more, entangled in the web of her retribution; collateral damage for the penance she was paying. He had not known just what loving the Evil Queen would cost him, even if she had truly made a change. Yet, he had opted to accept the shit hand he was dealt and if only it weren’t for her he wouldn’t be hurting because of it. He might even be overjoyed to have his late wife back; his family reunited. She prays for that as she slowly pushes herself to her feet now. She decides it’s the only thing she can do to wish him well, Marian too. If only she could have granted him a memory spell before he’d gone so he could forget about the wreckage she’d brought into his heart. Of course, her thief would never have taken the easy way out. And Regina can’t help but to hold on to the thought of him remembering her, remembering the true, sacred, magical connection they shared. She suddenly has to lift her fingers to her face to brush away an errant tear. She will not feel sorry for herself, at least not anymore tonight. Staring out down the still, vacant road out of Storybrooke, she sniffles and squares her shoulders to reign in her emotions and she hopes above all else that Robin finds the kind of happiness she knows he deserves. This chapter of her story is closing, and she needs to let the dust settle on the pages and find a way to move on. If her heart is going to take it’s time mending, then she must stop her late night visits. She has a son at home and new, delicate friendships, and a town that seems forever under threat, and a population of people who she owes debts so great she may never repay them. But she must try. She turns on her heel and heads back to her silver benz parked just off the shoulder, opens the door and gives one last, longing gaze down the vacant road. In her mind, the protected barrier shimmers and parts and her handsome thief appears, Roland at his side, tiny hand clutched in his. Regina abandons the door, unconsciously letting her feet carry her forward a few paces. She let’s her eyes slip closed and smiles wide with the image of them behind her lids. “Regina”, he says. And it’s not until she reopens her eyes that it occurs to her the tone of his voice had not been quite right. “Regina!” As if awaking from a dream, her focus snaps back to reality and he’s still in front of her, rushing towards her more accurately, his arms outstretched. The the next moment she can feel him against her chest, can smell his woodsy scent right under her nose. “Oh thank God, Regina!”, he nearly cries in relief and it’s all she can do to catch her brain up to what’s happening. Maybe she’d had more to drink than she thought? He pulls out of the embrace, but doesn’t completely withdraw his touch. He must have sensed her shock, perhaps too overwhelmed to see her to notice she didn’t hug back. “Regina?” Her eyes scan over his body, willing herself to believe it’s really him, but they land instead on the dimple faced child grinning up at her. “Gina! We come to visit you!”, his little voice hits her ears and she raises her eyes back to Robin’s anxious gaze. The acceptance breaks around her and she throws her arms around his neck, afraid he might disappear. “Robin!” It’s the only thing she manages to say while she’s this overcome with emotions. He holds her back, just as tight and whispers her name quietly against her head and she finally finds her voice. “Wha—why—what are you doing here?”, she breathes in disbelief. Her hand falls to Roland’s head below and caresses his locks to finally acknowledge him, but she needs to grasp her current reality before she makes a fool of herself. “It’s Zelena”, he tells her with a bit of disdain, “We’re all in danger. I had to come back to warn you all, to help fight” He glances down at his now frightened son and lifts him into his right hip for a soothing hug while Regina blinks in confusion. “What are you talking about? Where is Mari—“ “We can’t talk about it now”, he cuts her off urgently, gesturing with a discreet nod to the boy in his arms. “Listen, I promise I will explain everything later. But we don’t have a lot of time to gather the others and make a plan”. He slides a gentle hand down her arm as if to assure her it’ll be alright despite his ominous warning. Roland wiggles in his grasp and his father sets him on his feet a moment before he bounds off a yard or two and squats down to examine a rock on the pavement. “I’m just so happy to see you, Regina”, Robin cups her cheek in his chilled palm, “didn’t think I would again”. His words rush off his tongue before his lips are pressed to hers, desperate and needy, fueled by the current perils only he knows they face and his all consuming love for her. It is a reunion kiss that can only come from resolutely believing they’d be separated permanently. Regina responds with all the heart she can muster, their lips moving fluidly together as if the last few weeks had not eclipsed. When they finally break for air they are both grinning like fools, foreheads resting together as their breathing falls in sync, and she swears she suddenly feels whole again, as if her arm had been missing and has just now been returned. She lets the feeling wash over her, soaks it in selfishly for a minute because she knows how fleeting this absolute contentment is now. There are still a thousand questions running through her head, a dark cloud churning and billowing over their little town and every life in it, but with Robin’s hand in her own things feel possible. She tightens her grip and they start toward her car, ushering Roland away from his picture in the dirt as they go. They let their hands slip apart to round the car and Robin opens the back so Roland can hop inside excitedly, insisting that he’s mastered belting himself in. Once he’s safely buckled and shut in, Robin pulls his handle but catches Regina’s eyes over the hood. They both have a flurry of emotions hidden in their expressions, but one sticks out above them all and Regina knows this one to be the only true importance in the world. “I love you”, Robin declares, the lines around his eyes wrinkled from the joy on his face. Her chest swells with such happiness that her dark eyes moisten with tears and she doesn’t care that her voice cracks when she finally speaks the words herself. “I love you”. Fin

[owlosaurusrex]

Here’s another snippet of another R76 project I’m working on (I have 3 going right now because I have no chill lol) It’s supposed to be at least 90% fluff and like a ‘chill’ fic but of course I take everything too seriously so it’s taking a while to finish the first chapter. Also, I hope the read more works for mobile users or else y’all are going to have to scroll past a massive amount of text I’m so sorry.

Anyway, it’s a modern au. Here’s what I have so far:

Gabriel had always hated the lighting in his office. The long panels, speckled with dead flies, doused the room in yellow artificial light that muted the fabrics he worked with. He’d been meaning to get them changed--had a list of changes, actually, but never had the time for it, or, more commonly, he forgot about them in favor of something more urgent. He looked at them every day when he sat down to work and he looked at them now from a much different perspective. Gabriel groaned and raised a hand to cover his eyes.

“Turn that shit off,” he said and heard a short laugh from the end of the couch near his feet.

“C’mon, boss, rise n’ shine!”

Jesse’s voice cut through whatever lingering haze of sleep Gabriel had clung to but he still couldn’t bring himself to move.

“I know it’s only been a couple hours but I let ya sleep as much as I could.”

Gabriel took a deep breath and tried to ignore the dull ache in the back of his skull.

“What time is it?”

There was a pause and Gabriel managed to peek out from between his fingers to see Jesse standing beside him. He looked like he was dressed in the same clothes as the day before and Gabriel wondered if he had slept at all.

“Well, it’s bout eight now,” he said, glancing at the clock hung on the wall behind him. “I’m guessin Ana will be here soon.”

Gabriel groaned again and rubbed at his face.

“Yeah, yeah, all right.”

“M’sorry, boss.”

It took more effort than it should for Gabriel to sit up but he managed, and could see the sympathy written on Jesse’s face.

“It’s all right,” Gabriel assured him even as he stretched and felt a certain stiffness in his back that promised problems for the rest of the day.

“If I could let ya sleep more I would.”

“I know, Jesse, it’s fine.”

Jesse looked as though he might argue but stopped and instead stepped away from the couch to the old staff room table. It was long and narrow and a little too big for the space but it had been there since Gabriel was a kid and he had no intention of moving it. On top of the table, aside from order forms and scraps of fabric, were two paper cups of what Gabriel hoped was coffee.

“Here, I went out and got us somethin, figured we’d be needin it,” Jesse said as he picked up the cups and returned.

Gabriel slid his legs off the couch and took the drink eagerly.

“Two sugars?” he asked even as he took a sip.

“Of course. How long have we known each other? And you're still askin if I got your coffee right?” Jesse shook his head as if the very concept was offensive and Gabriel snorted in amusement.

He moved over on the couch in an unspoken invitation that Jesse accepted with a deep sigh.

“Still can’t believe we managed it,” Jesse said after a few minutes of quiet coffee-drinking. He shook his head in disbelief.

“I’ve never seen you work that fast in my life.”

Gabriel shrugged and couldn't help but glance over at his work station against the wall furthest from the door. It was a desk rigged with little shelves and drawers and an old sewing machine, and Gabriel could practically feel the fabric in his hands just looking at it. There were still scraps of tulle and lace, and if Gabriel dared get closer he’s sure he left a mess of beads in his haste. He hated speed-fittings.

“It had to get done,” he said as if it hadn’t been a 3 day, full-time undertaking.

Jesse was shaking his head again and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“We’ve done it before, quit acting like it’s some amazing fete.”

“It was amazing!” Jesse insisted even as Gabriel got to his feet and wandered around the small space, if only to help wake himself up.

He passed the staff table, filing cabinets, a mini fridge Jesse had insisted on having, and an old standing fan that was struggling to push hot air around the room before he reached his desk.

Yup, covered in beads.

“But, all dress-fitting miracles aside, really do wish you coulda caught some proper shut eye,” Jesse said and Gabriel glanced back at him. “woulda been nice if you didn't have to head out so early with Ana.”

“You can’t reschedule a flight, Jesse,” Gabriel said drily. “We’d be going to the airport regardless of what happened yesterday.”

“Yeah, but--”

“And you need the sleep, too. Don't act like you and Marcia didn’t pull your fair share of late-night work.”

Jesse huffed.

“Yeah but nothin like the work you did. And can’t Ana just pick up the cop on her own? You can meet em at your apartment or whatever.”

Gabriel turned back to his desk and glared down at the delicate beads scattered on its surface.

It wasn’t an unreasonable question, Gabriel had asked himself as much plenty of times over the last week as the arrival date grew nearer and nearer. Ana wouldn’t need him at the airport and Gabriel certainly didn't want to go, but he should probably try to be polite.

It had been over 20 years since he and Jack had  last seen each other and nearly as long since they’d lost contact. Or at least, since Jack stopped talking to him.

Gabriel took a deep breath and focused on sipping his coffee as long-dormant, bitter feelings tried to surface.

“You sure you’re all right?” Jesse’s voice dragged Gabriel out of his near trance-like state and he rubbed at his eyes.

“I just need a little time to wake up, that’s all--”

“Nah, not about that.”

Gabriel looked back at Jesse again and arched a brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jesse said and looked hesitant to actually voice what was on his mind but Gabriel knew that he would. He always did. It was difficult to keep him from talking most of the time. “Ya know, Sombra was talkin bout this cop you’re bringin home, she said you two have some ‘history.’”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes and hid a frown by taking a drink of coffee.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm, she said you two were a thing once,” Jesse continued and Gabriel huffed irritably.

“And who told her that?”

Jesse shrugged.

“Hell if I know, you know she don’t like to give up her sources.”

Gabriel shook his head and returned his attention to his desk; searching for his phone.

“I hope that doesn’t mean she’s picking up bad habits again. It took a long time to get her out of that mess,” Gabriel said and paused as he thought back to when Jesse had brought her home for the first time, asking for help. He’d never expected to pick up his first kid off the L.A streets let alone a second, but they’d all gotten through it in the end. Somehow. And now he was about to start the whole process over again with a man he thought he’d left behind a long time ago.

Gabriel sighed and pressed a hand to his face.

“Well, if digging up dirt on my college life is keeping her busy,” he mumbled. “I guess I can’t complain.”

“So, it’s true then?”

Gabriel ignored Jesse in favor of returning to his search, though he found nothing on his desk aside from the fallout of a hectic weekend.

“Phone’s on the table if that’s what you’re lookin for,” Jesse said and Gabriel crossed the room to retrieve it. It was nearly dead and flashed with three missed calls and a handful of messages he hadn't noticed earlier.

“Ana called me, said she was lookin to get ahold of ya but had no luck, so don't be surprised if she left a message or two.”

“Yeah, I see that,” Gabriel said but only scanned the missed texts before pocketing his phone. “Looks like Marcia will be dropping in around noon, think you can hold down the fort until then?”

Jesse arched a brow at him and grinned.

“Course I can! It ain’t no problem,” he said but Gabriel wasn’t so sure. He gave Jesse a quick once over, noting again how he hadn’t changed his clothes and was probably running on even less sleep than Gabriel was.

He gave Jesse a questioning look.

“Hey now, have a little faith in me. I can handle the shop just fine. I’ve done it before.”

“Right…” Gabriel didn’t argue with him. He trusted Jesse, there was no question about that, but it felt wrong to leave him to work alone given their current state of exhaustion.

“I’ve already got the Haden party’s stuff around--ya know, with the ugly yellow bridesmaid dresses, so that shouldn’t be a problem and the rest of it’s just answerin phones and takin messages,” Jesse said and rose to his feet with a grunt. “No problem.”

”Yeah, all right. Just don’t over do it.”

Jesse laughed outright and shook his head.

“That’s awfully rich coming from you.”

“I’m serious, Jesse. I don’t want to get a call that you passed out in my shop or something,”Gabriel said and rolled his eyes when Jesse continued to laugh.

“Do ya hear yourself, right now?”

“I’m not joking around. You call me if you need anything,” Gabriel insisted.

“All right, all right, I got it dad,” Jesse said, his laughter interrupted by the sound of a bell jangling in the shop.

Jesse grinned when Ana could be heard calling from the other room and was quick to leave the workroom--and whatever was left of their conversation--behind as he scurried out to meet her.