#ill link my ao3 in a sec

[goofyjelly]

in actual tears over a Columbo fanfic yall

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {away from the city}

Pairing: Tired Dad! Joel Miller x Experienced Camper! Reader

Summary: The neighboring campsite hosts a tired dad who seems to be ill-equipped for what he openly admits was a rather impromptu getaway with his teenage daughter. Thankfully, you keep extra supplies in your hatchback and are willing to share.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: canon typical language, cussing, brief mention of bleeding injury, sexual tension, pining, mutual pining, fluffiness, super soft yearning, sexual content, adult content, piv, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, depraved descriptions of the male body, just a light little piece for me!

A/N: hoping this isn't as lame as it seems in my head. imposter syndrome is flaring, y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“God dammit.” A deep, gravely voice solemnly murmurs from the next site over. Slightly muffled from inside the tent the broad-shouldered man had dipped into shortly after pulling into the parking spot in a dark blue trunk. He had managed to get it pitched in a miraculously short amount of time despite the giggling and bouncing teen tangling the guy lines and rucking up the corners of the tarp underneath.

“Everything okay, dad?” The teen in question asked as she popped up from the cooler she was digging around in, a can of soda in her grip.

“…yeah, everything’s good, baby girl.” She glanced over at you with a roll of her eyes, not believing him for a second and needing someone to share in the moment. Before she could call him on the obvious lie, a loud hissing sound ruffled the side of the tent, billowing it out in a rather funny way.

Trying to keep your laughter low to avoid attention, you got up from your spot tending to the flames of your fire, foiled single use pan over the grill plate of the pit. A casserole you had parbaked last night in preparation for today. It was a broccoli cheddar one, the noodles and chicken beginning to season the air along with the crackling pine offered for visitors at the general store at the entrance to the park. The trunk of your SUV was silent as you lifted it and scanned the supplies you had stocked up in the space.

The spare air mattress you kept was on the smaller side, but it didn’t hurt to offer it to the little father and daughter duo. You pulled the fabric of your hiking shorts down a little, to cover up the bandage over a cut you had gotten earlier that afternoon on a hike before gripping the box and walked over to the edge of your site.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Uh, give me sec!”

“Sir?” You walked over the invisible line between yours and theirs, aware of the girl now fiddling with a small MP3 player, wired earbuds already popped into her ears beneath a mane of kinky hair pulled back into low buns at the back of her head. “I’ve got an extra mattress if yours has holes in it.”

“Huh?” His head appears in the opening of the tent, dark curls tousled and slightly damp with sweat. His brown eyes were wide, his plush lips parted underneath a thick moustache. He was on his knees, prompting you to look down as you approached the tent. He looked up at you through his hooded eyes and you swore your heart jumped in your chest. He had crows’ feet at the edges of them, those and the deep wrinkle in his brow adding to his appeal.

“This is my spare, you’re more than welcome to borrow it.”

His eyes flicked behind you, gauging where his daughter was and why he hadn’t heard an interaction from her before you appeared before him with a gift in your hand and kind words on your lips. She knew how to hold her own, but he still worried for her because the world could be cruel. Her music was a low hum even from here, telling him she was gone from his world for the meantime, social battery probably low or even just a bit bored with him out here in the middle of the state park while he set things up.

“Uh, thanks. Who’re-“

“I’m from just over there,” You lean back a little to wave to the left. He had seen the hatchback parked there all day but hadn’t seen the camper until just now. You must’ve snuck back into the grounds from a mid-morning hike that begins off the campgrounds or a nap you were possibly taking in your rather clean tent. He felt self-conscious at the way he was looking up at you with wide eyes, the dirt and dust that coated everything from his cooler to his own truck to the tent he was currently kneeling in. The trip was last minute, but it just reminds him of how much better he needs to be about upkeep in his own home and garage. The truck he could get away with, but he didn’t want to bring his work home with him more than he already did. “We’re campsite neighbors.”

“Mighty nice of ya, think mine has a leak somewhere.” The admittance is easy from his lips, shocking you in its honesty. The last time you had tried to offer similar help, you had been shot down and denied a chance. Told you didn’t know what you were talking about and that the person who had been having trouble knew more than you did, that you should mind your own business. Shaking the bad memory and relationship from your mind, you offer a polite smile and lean over a little to peer into the space around the man eclipsing the entrance.

“Mind if I take a look?” You set down the rather hefty box containing the spare bed and lean down to unhinge the ankle strap on your campsite sandals. It may be a little forward of you, but he seemed willing to discuss the issue, and you wanted to help any way you could. When he doesn’t protest, still gazing up at you with that doe eyed expression, you step into the rather dusty interior. The mattress is in the center of the back wall, the foot end of it facing toward your campsite. You crouch down to inspect the area around the boston valve. Just as you reached out a hand to feel around the base of it, you felt heat at your right side.

“’s over on the other side, I think.” The man’s voice was close, the baritone of it vibrating through you as you turned your own curious expression over to him. He seems to have composed himself, as he shuffles close to you, nearly pressing his broad chest into your side to motion to the left side of bed. The near contact makes you jolt, the way he had almost unconsciously fallen into your personal space. Not having been so close to anyone in recent memory makes the moment into more than it is on the surface, and you try not to let it get to your head. Just a friendly interaction, that’s all.

“Apologies,” He’s moving away just as suddenly as he had appeared beside you, leaving your heart racing in your chest so loud you hope he can’t hear it within the confines of the nylon enclosure. You can’t tell with the bright afternoon sunlight, if there’s a tinge to the tops of his ears and the back of his neck. But you’re pretty sure if there is one it’s because of his embarrassment of the thoughtless act and nothing more. A simple accident of invading a stranger’s space and nothing more.

He’s just a stranger who needed a bit of help, nothing more. Tamping down the runaway thoughts of the man and how calming his presence is even with just a few moments of interacting with him, you focus on the task at hand.

After a few moments of fiddling with the valve and ensuring its secure, you have him press down the palms of his hands on the top of the mattress as you scoot it out to feel where the air is leaking from.

There’s a slit in the groove that helps to support the weight of whoever lays atop it, barely visible.

“Ah, yeah. It’s here.” You switch places with him and he sees what you’re talking about.

“Shit,” He’s rubbing a hand over the dark scruff on his chin, dragged down the column of his neck as he realizes it’s not even a hole but a tear. A mighty long one that he’s incapable of fixing out here with no duct tape or putty.

“No worries, you can use the spare I brought over.” Standing up, you clap your hands to rid them of the dust that you had gathered on them. Doing the same with your knees, you glance around the space and realize how small it is. “Is this the only tent you brought?”

“No, uh, Sarah – my girl out there,” Joel is hunched over, the inside of the tent not tall enough for him to stand at his full height, he’s following your form as you exit, taking the offered box that contains the solution to his current problem. “This one’s hers. Gotta get mine set up. Was just gonna give her mine if hers was damaged. Saved me the pain of sleeping on the ground.”

“I’ve got a small handheld vacuum, if you want to get the dust cleared up for her.” You offer with a slight smile, the small worry of overstepping making you self-conscious. “Just…if you want to.”

He pauses as he places the box beside the slowly deflating bed he had tried to set up. His eyes catch yours and you see something flash in them.

“’m not normally this unprepared, but she was…well, she was havin’ a bad week so we packed up after school and just hit the road.”

“Hey, no worries at all! I totally get needing to get away sometimes. That’s why I have enough to offer you my spare. Keep a bit in the car, a bit in the garage. Kinda ready to go whenever I feel the need.”

“It’s much appreciated.” His own lips twist up and you feel butterflies between your ribs. He’s effortlessly handsome, his chocolate curls mused and his face showing the years he’s spent raising his daughter and no doubt working hard to do it.

“I’ll just go grab that real quick then, leave you to finish setting up.” You crook your elbow and point back to your own campsite, but your feet stick to the ground when you see Joel crouched back down on the ground in his simple tee and jeans. His biceps flex with the way he begins to roll the remaining air out of the no-good mattress, catching your attention like a cat to a sunbeam.

“You’re an angel, can’t believe we lucked out with such a cool neighbor.” Joel chuckles to himself as he works, unaware of your watching gaze. “Last time we had this older couple that didn’t believe she was mine. Kept asking if she was okay or needed any help.”

“S-Sounds like a nightmare.” The lump that appears in your throat sticks even after you attempt to swallow it down. You couldn’t imagine the stress that caused, even if just fleetingly. They were obviously bonded, their easy temperance with each other speaking volumes for those around.

“Much better this time around, despite the faulty mattress.” He looks up once it’s rolled up and secured with velcro ties. His smile is brighter, reaching his eyes in a way that makes them sparkle. “Name’s Joel, and the tone-deaf teenager out there is Sarah.”

You look over your shoulder at the dancing, twirling teenager. She’s still got her music playing a touch too loud, her lips mouthing along to most of the words. Some of them she sings aloud, and it’s…it is rather tone-deaf. But it brings a smile to your face all the same, she’s allowed to feel like she can be herself around her father. That’s an impressive feat, that they seem so close with no underlying awkwardness or feelings of insecurity.

Turning back to him, you offer your own introduction.  

The sounds of Joel finishing setting up his campsite fill the air but aren’t bothersome. Just a part of the afternoon that grows into the evening. Others showing up as well, the sound of rubber mallets securing tent spikes in the soft ground, of vinyl and tarp being stretched out and shifted into place, of grills being filled with charcoal and the sizzling of food as it hits the hot grates. Laughter and soft conversations float through the air amid the gentle breeze and you sigh as you sit down at your table with a bowl of the casserole that had finished cooking.

The peaceful reverie is enhanced by the infectious giggling of Sarah, the teenage girl just over the invisible line between the campsites. Joel’s own carefree laughter making your chest feel light. They’ve got their stuff all set up, the propane grill Joel brought working hard as he cooks what looks like too much food for just the two of them. But they both load their plates up and settled at their picnic table with freshly opened drinks from the cooler.

You feel the look before it registers, so caught up in the book gripped between your hands. It’s been on your list for far too long, a few pages read here and there throughout your hectic day, before bed as you try to wind down but end up passing out with it flattened on your chest. But now, the reading seems to be disrupted in the form of Joel. He’s at the edge of your space, calling out your name.

An offer for food if you wanted some, that there was a little bit of everything and plenty of it if you cared to join them. With no thought for the passage you had just been immersed in, you close the book and leave it in the seat of your camp chair. The vinyl hushes with the wight of the paper but you pay it no mind as you ask after what all he’s got and pick up a fresh beer from your cooler.

Easy conversation flowed and soon your laughter rung in the air alongside theirs.

Sarah had gone to bed after a bit of gentle prodding from Joel. Her head had bobbed a few times, trying her hardest to stay up despite her fluttering eyes and deep breaths as she sat in front of the dwindling fire alongside you both.

They hadn’t been able to get one going in their own pit, too much debris left behind from the previous inhabitants. So yours had been stoked and kept alive for hours now as night fell. Their chairs had been effortlessly moved beside yours, surrounding the once roaring warmth, something you hadn’t minded in the slightest. He’s walking back up to now, hands in his pockets and a flannel added over his tee. He looks so cozy, so at home now that he’s gotten settled.

He sighs heavily as he plops back down in the chair beside your own, scooting it closer now that you’re alone. You can smell the lingering scent of his cologne on the new addition of clothing and it has you unconsciously leaning into his space.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“Thanks, darlin’. You smell mighty good yourself.” He’s smirking when your eyes snap up at the realization that you just said that out loud.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t-“

“’s okay. But I’ve been wonderin’ something.” His tone tilts, pitches low as he regards the fire that’s more smoldering ashes than flames in the pit. The shadows cast over his profile take your breath away, make your heart ache for how beautiful he is. He’s a good man, if your evening together was anything to go by.

A devoted father, a caring family man, a capable man who worked himself perhaps too much sometimes.

“Y-yeah?” You feel the air shift, something sparking between you two now that you’re alone. You wonder if he’s about to tell you his wife is back home waiting for their return, if he’s going to ask you why you keep stealing ogling glances his way. If he’s going to reveal to you that he’s onto you and doesn’t like the attention. But his question is exactly what you wanted to hear, because you have the exact same one for him.

“You got anyone waitin’ for you back home?” Joel’s voice is even, despite the way one of his hands is tapping away at the armrest of his chair. The empty beer in his mesh cupholder sweating and the label is peeled off. It’s endearing to see his quirks, the man rather enticing despite only knowing him for a few hours. Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies tickling your insides as you realized he may be as attracted to you as you are to him. Unless he was just making polite conversation now that it was just the two of you…

“Like a boyfriend?” You dare to ask, seeking clarification. Feeling the slight charge in the air is making you a little dizzy, the looks you had caught him giving you when you were busy helping Sarah with her smores only making you feel even more so as you recall the way his eyes had shown in the amber firelight. You lean toward him, finding that he had done the same. There are only a few inches between you now, elbows crooked and bodies curved toward each other. You try to disguise your surprise, but you’re sure he can see in as his lips quick up on one side.

“Like a boyfriend.” His breath is so warm as it puffs against your lips. He’s so, impossibly close and it wouldn’t take but a tilt of your head to close the gap.

“Oh.” Your eyes search between his own, looking for something behind them. Finding no ill intent, no underlying darkness. There’s only hope flickering there, shielding the loneliness you can sense in him, the same that you mask in your own life. You feel your lips pull up into a teasing smile as you glance down at his plush lips. “No.”

“Good.” And he’s closing the gap. Hands coming up to cradle your face and nose brushing against yours as his lips capture yours.

The next morning, you’re packing up the remainder of your stuff as quietly as possible. The sun has yet to rise, the sky barely beginning to lighten on the horizon. Joel is snoring just loudly enough that you can pick up the sound coming from inside his tent. You don’t want to bother him, seeing as he’s resting after a rather long night. You feel the ghost of his lips against yours, the way they had dragged down your throat, your collarbone, lower still beneath your shoved off flannel and rucked up tank top.

“Don’t normally do this kinda thing.” He groaned into your skin as his exploring fingers undid the small tie at the front of your shorts. The thickness of them as they hooked in the waistband and pulled made you dizzy, made your body clench around nothing at the heady thought of them delving lower.

“What? Make out with strangers?” You huff a giddy laugh that turns into a choked whimper as his knuckles graze between your legs, feeling the dampness there. He presses close, and you feel the pressure of his hand against your swollen lips, can feel the way he slowly parts them with gentle movements. Fingertips find your sensitive bud and your body glitters, eyes fluttering shut.

“Make out with anyone. Been so focused on other stuff.”

“Focus on me then, just for now.” You whisper as you reach for him, guiding his face back up to yours and kissing him deeply. He swallows the moan that bursts from your chest as his fingers find your fluttering entrance. He’s knuckle deep and crooking them before you can catch your breath. It hitches, leaves you and causes you to break away from him when they nudge a spot just right, lighting up your body in a way it hadn’t been in ages.

“That’s the spot, huh darlin’?” He thrusts his fingers in a slow, deep rhythm. Feeling your soft walls clench around him, the jolt to your body and the arching of your back telling him he’s found exactly the right spot. “C’mon, you feel so damn good. Lemme see how pretty you are.”

Through a heavy-lidded gaze, you see him hovering above you. His outline stark in the glow of the string lights strung up around your campsite. His brown eyes are glittering and blown wide, his lips are parted and panting for breath, chest dusted with the same dark hair atop his head. When had he even taken his shirt off? It doesn’t matter, you lose the thought as your hands begin to explore his chest. Nails raking lightly down his pecs and toward the softness of his belly. Belt unbuckled and pants undone, but still secure around his waist.

Heat encompasses you, your body alight as he beckons you closer and closer to the edge. You fall with a cry of his name when he leans down to nip at your breast, nipple taut between his teeth. He guides you through it, fingers dragging it out before he gently removes them from your fluttering core and twitching clit.

“That’s a pretty sight indeed, darlin’.” He kisses your temple, your cheeks, your forehead. A grunt of surprise falls from him when you surge up and wrap your arms around his neck and use your feet to push his jeans off. His rumbling laughter fills the dark space as he quickly pushes them off all the way and kicks them off the bed. “Gonna let me have you, sweet girl, gonna let me feel you come on my cock?”

“Fuck, Joel, yes, please.” You rut against him as his erection bobs up toward his stomach, needing more, needing to feel him. This safe, beautiful stranger you hadn’t known existed until today. He was intoxicating. The hot, long line of him hard where you grind against the underside of him. He groans a deep, guttural sound at the feeling, the slick of your swollen lips and the beads of precum falling from his tip making for such an easy glide.

His hand snakes down to guide himself a little lower, eliciting a cry from you when his head rubs roughly over your clit.

“Shh, shh, gotta be quiet now, don’t wanna wake the whole campground, do we?” He’s watching your face twist in pleasure, the way your bottom lip plumps between teeth as you try to quiet yourself. He tries to muffle his own loud moan when he finally pushes in. Everything stills for the barest of moments, eyes meeting and breath hitching. Before he’s snapping his hips against yours, bending over you to lift a leg over his shoulder and his teeth grit as he tries to keep his sounds restrained.

You’re lost to the feeling of his body moving against yours, moving inside yours. He’s filling you so deeply, hitting that spot you didn’t believe any guy could find and it’s making your vision sparkle bright white.’

Your face heats as you recall the way he had desperately asked ‘where’ in that gravely twang of his. The feeling of him still filling you, dampening your underwear as he dribbled out a little bit at a time. It had been rather risky a move, but the pills you took everyday would help prevent any…mishaps with the handsome man you hadn’t expected to meet on your own impromptu excursion from the city.

Austin.

He was from there too and something compelled you to write your name and number on a blank page of your small notepad. A little note saying to call you for a coffee sometime because it had been nice to talk to him and his daughter. You left the remainder of the casserole in the tin and secured the crumpled foil over it before cautiously lifting the lid to their large cooler. Thankfully there was space for the extra food, they would need it with their additional night in the park.

But you needed to go, real life responsibilities calling your name back from the slice of reprieve you had sought out.

Picking up the packed tent, the handles rough in your hand like Joel’s calloused palms, you looked the campsite over one last time. Everything was packed now, the city beckoning you back though this camping trip had provided you with something you hadn’t had a taste of in a long time.

Hope.

next part

taglist: @dontknow446 @copperhalfcent @tuquoquebrute @sawymredfox

@mareagirls @insidethegardenwall @wintersquirrel @pastelpinkflowerlife

@yxtkiwiyxt @here-briefly @pedroswife69 @lotusbxtch @amyispxnk

@for-a-longlongtime @burntheedges @tonysopranosrobe @littlemisspascal

@the-mandawhor1an

banners and dividers by the lovely @/saradika-graphics and @/cafekitsune

[kydrogendragon]

Dec 14 - Naughty

(Ao3 Link) (Masterlist Link)

Morpheus had been acting… strange. As of late. Hob almost wondered if he was coming down with something. They have been out in the cold more often lately. And it did all seem to start after they’d gotten their Christmas tree. But whenever Hob would ask him, he said he was fine. No fever (he’d made Morpheus take his temp, just to be sure), no chills, no nothing. So whatever was going on with him, it wasn’t because he was ill.

It did make Hob wonder, though, what was causing his friend to act so strange. He wondered if it was something he had done because for the past two weeks, it’s like he’s been avoiding him. Hob would plop down on the couch next to Morpheus, getting ready for their Friday movie nights, like they had for the past two months. Then, Morpheus would get up, either grabbing a drink or a snack, but rather than sitting back down where he had, he’d go sit in one of the armchairs instead.

It hurt. And it wasn’t just movie nights either. He sat across from Hob for meals, rather than beside him. Or he’d go eat in his room. Whenever he’d reach out to give his friend a hug, Morpheus would duck out or shy away. He used to always accept them.

Had he felt obligated, before? Did he finally realize that he would always be welcome here and no longer had to try and please him by being close to him? Not that Hob ever wanted him to feel that way, regardless. Wherever he was, Morpheus would always be welcome, in whatever capacity he wished. Now Hob just worries his friend felt… forced. It made his stomach twist.

Morpheus is in his room. Hob knocks, gently rapping his knuckles against the wood. There’s shuffling behind the door before it’s opened. Morpheus looks flushed again. Maybe this is just his body in the winter?

“Hey,” Hob greets, stepping back away from the threshold. He didn’t want Morpheus to feel uncomfortable again. “Mind if we talk for a sec?” The flush in his friend’s cheeks all but vanished. He nods, stiffly, and walks back into his room, sitting on the edge of his bed. Hob takes a breath and follows in.

Morpheus sits, his hands holding tightly onto his knees. Christ, he looks like he’s a second away from bolting. It stabs Hob right through the heart. He had done this. The worst part is he doesn’t know what exactly he’s done. Hob knows he’s carried a torch for his friend for the longest of times, and that flame only grew when he became human, but he’d thought he’d done a good job at keeping the line between friend and crush separate.

Apparently not.

He hesitates, debating if he ought to take a seat or remain standing. He’s not sure what was better. He decides, in the end, to sit, but at the very bottom end of the bed.

“Listen… I’m sorry, Morpheus. I really, really am.” He sighs and rests his forearms on his knees. “I didn’t mean to make this awkward or, or make you feel uncomfortable. That’s the last thing I’d ever want. So, whatever it is I’ve done, tell me. Please. So I can try and fix it. I’ll swear I’ll never do it again.”

He feels Morpheus’s gaze on him. He’s silent for a while.

“You... are apologizing.”

“Yeah,” Hob says, turning to his friend, his face pulled tight in regret. “Sorry it took so long. Didn’t realize till today.”

“I do not understand.”

“Why am I apologizing?”

“Yes.”

Hob blinks, suddenly wondering if he’s drastically misread the situation.

“I… You’d been dodging me. Thought I did something to make you not feel safe around me.”

Morpheus laughs and the weight on Hob’s shoulders begins to fade. Not completely, but some.

“It is not you who ought to be apologizing, but I.” Morpheus closes his eyes and sighs, his shoulders falling in the way Hob has learned to recognize means Morpheus thinks he’s going to say something that has dire consequences. “I have, as of late, been thinking of you as the object of my desires, especially those of a carnal nature. I had verified that it was not due to my siblings interference, and so I have accepted that it is just… me. And my doings. And so I apologize, Hob Gadling. You are my dearest friend and deserve better.”

It takes Hob a good few minutes to process everything he just said. But then it hits him like a truck.

“Are…” He pauses, squinting at Morpheus, because he’s not sure if he’ll be able to recover if he also misunderstood what he just said. “Are you saying that you… fantasized… about me?”

His friend flushes and nods, not looking at Hob, but rather the wall across the bed. And here Hob thought he’d been too forward, somehow. Turns out he needed to be the opposite.

“How long has that been going on?”

“For a fortnight hence.”

“Two weeks.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been jacking it to me for two weeks?”

Morpheus’s face scrunches at the verbiage and Hob smiles.

“Yes. Since you seem so keen to mock me with such crude terms.” Hob scoots closer, feeling emboldened by the confession.

“Yeah? Would it please you to know you’ve been the subject of my fantasies for the past, oh, four hundred some years?”

He can feel the wind from how quickly Morpheus whips his head to face him. His beautiful blue eyes are wide and dart across his face.

“Truly?”

“Yup.” Hob says, popping the ‘P’. “So really, what I’m hearing is, I should be apologizing for not noticing and taking care of you earlier?”

Morpheus’s eyes darken. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips and Hob can’t help but follow the motion.

“Perhaps,” he muses, leaning forward into Hob’s space. “And how might you pay for your actions?”

Hob chuckles and leans in as well. Their lips are just centimeters apart. He can feel Morpheus’s hot breath on his skin and he shutters.

“I can think of a few things.” He slides down, off the bed, and onto his knees. He shuffles so he’s positioned right in between Morpheus’s legs. His friend turns his feet in, closing Hob in with a smile. Then Hob has a thought.

“Wait,” he says, resting his hands on Morpheus’s knees. “Two weeks ago. Is that why you were acting so weird in the car ride home?”

Morpheus looks to the side, raising his chin in a defiant manner. “Perhaps.”

“Okay,” Hob laughs, shaking his head fondly. “I have to know, though, what was it about buying pre-cut trees in the Tesco parking lot that really did it for you?”

Morpheus sighs and looks down at Hob from the corner of his eye. “It was not the trees, Hob Gadling.” He chides, still somehow managing to sound regal, despite their situation. “It was the show of strength and prowess at your ability to provide.” He clears his throat. “Also, you looked quite fine from my angle whilst you were securing the tree in place.”

“It’s cause those jeans made my arse look good, wasn’t it.”

“Perhaps.”

Hob hums and climbs up out of his kneeling position. He slots his arms between Morpheus’s arms and his body, trapping him between the bed.

“Well, those jeans are in the wash, unfortunately, but I can show off that strength of mine again for you.” Hob winks before he hauls Morpheus’s body up and over his shoulder. His hips dig into Hob’s shoulder, his legs dangle in front. Hob places one hand on the backs of his knees to keep him steady and gives him a firm spank on the arse. Morpheus squeals.

“Hob Gadling,” Morpheus growls without any heat behind it.

“Yes dear?” He replies in a sing-song tune.

“If you do not carry me to your bed and fuck me proper, I will not forgive you for this.” Well, if he had to worry about not being hard enough (he didn’t), that command did the trick.

“Your wish is my command.”

[melloneah]

this is all for the writer ask!!! :3 hope it's not too much >_<" answer the ones you're comfortable answering and don't force yourself to answer all of them if you don't want to! <3

🌵🥤🌻🍄📚 🍬🔪🥐🏜🦋🐝🧩

EHEHEHEHEHHE NEVER TOO MUCH THANK U SMMMMMM 🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

i dont really listen to premade playlists, so ill link mine >:333 this is a playlist i made for a roadtrip to berlin, including all the songs i was listening to at the time, and ive since been adding new ones actively, so it's literally just a huge list of everything i love :D 🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

first of all gonna plug my besties ofc @levi-dayne writes sick ass fics for death note @uriekukistan writes amazing itafushi angst (and not only :33) SENDING BOTH OF THEM SMOOCHES GO READ THEIR STUFF! and a fic that id read recently and LOVEDDD was all about love by fullvoid (@casgore on here :3) the yuuji characterisation broke my heart - it was a gutwrenchingly real way of depicting mental illness, and i loved seeing how different he acted around people vs alone. and it was super cool seeing a healed megumi helping yuuji rather than the other way around!!! HIGHLY RECOMMEND!!!!

🌻 ⇢ tag someone you appreciate but don't talk to on a regular basis FIRST OF ALL U!!!!!! i love the mutual interactions THANK U FOR BEING HERE!!!! @alonelystargazer is very sweet and i interact with her pretty regularly i feel :3 THANK U FOR INTERACTING WINNIE!!!!<3 cant think of anymore rn but if i do i WILL edit this post TRUST 🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

megumi likes penne but yuuji hates it so they always disagree over pasta shape if theyre making it for dinner. yuuji always wins bc his favourite is spaghetti and obviously everyone likes spaghetti so megumi doesnt bother fighting him on it 📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

HEHEHEHEH nervous. lets see "what kinda gay shit goes on around here when im not around" LMAO the choso x todo wip in action. what a quote thank u past me. you'll find out the context once i post it sjdhfgsjhfks

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

hmmmmm from random shit i think like. 1980s window designs in england lmaooo

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh 

answered here :333

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

ARRGRHRG ANY COMMENT. i get so excited u cant even imagine. i sometimes type 'AO3' in my gmail just to delude myself that i got a comment and get that little pang of joy seeing the notif 😭 my favvvv must be ones that quote certain lines tho bc then im like HEY!!!! I WROTE THAT!!!! U LIKED THAT??? DUDE UR NOT GONNA BELIEVE THIS I WROTE IT

🦋 ⇢ share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

i feel like an everpresent topic ive had on my mind especially often for the last year is kindness. there's a multitude of things i could say, whether that's bashing people for lacking it, or get all teary over how beautiful it is (which!! it is!!!) but i think what ive recently discovered is that it's my only constant :3 when everything else goes wrong, that's all i have, and im really happy it's second nature to me (altho im still actively working on making myself better!!!!)

yeah, maybe everything sucks right now, but i know i can make someone else's day better :3 and often it makes things a little more okay to me too

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

RAHHGHG BESTIES. question for the bestiessss

@levi-dayne is so dear to my heart!!! such a sweet and kind person, who truly and deeply cares about others!!!! makes music, writes well AND ALSO DRAWS??!!! amazing and super talented person with super high ambitions too!!! SO SLAYFUL. what did i do to deserve such a slayful friend<333

@uriekukistan is one of the most naturally talented ppl i know!!!!! they write amazing fics, can DANCE super well, and took up drawing like 3 seconds ago and are already churning out really cool stuff on a fucking TOUCHPAD. ON THEIR LAPTOP. gofundme for rin graphic art kit when?? also ofc. a really good friend and very kind person :3333 <333

ILYSM BESTIESSSS

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

from a writing style perspective: first person and tense switches

from a content perspective: anything fucked up like noncon or incest....how tf are they often not tagged like??? or putting that at the bottom of the warnings list 😭 oh yea im far more concerned about swearing and underage drinking......

something im picky abt that sometimes annoys me enough to click off but i feel like it's just a weird personal preference is the overuse of alternatives to a characters name. so using "the brunette" like 5 times. just say his name!!!!! it's ok!!!!!

RAHHHHHH i usually reread my answers before i post but not this time. adios fuckers i dont remember what bullshit i wrote here but ur left with the consequences. if u wanna deal with even more of my terrible takes ASK ME STUFF

[minibeth]

soon you’ll get better (but it’s chronic) part 2

fandom: percy jackson

characters: Nico, Percy, Annabeth

about: part 2 of

summary: Annabeth and Percy help Nico after he wakes up

word count: 704

notes: would y’all want a percabeth centered chapter?

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52821778

“C’mon dude, you gotta wake up. Nico, please.”

Nico screwed up his face as he slowly regained consciousness. He could hear someone, who he assumed was Percy, talking to him. Nico inhaled shallowly from his nose and assessed himself mentally, eyes still closed. There was still a heavy fog over his mind, but he was no longer in physical pain. He was being propped up with his head resting on someone’s shoulder. Nico attempted to take a deeper breath and the person holding him adjusted slightly as they realized that Nico was awake.

“Nico? Can you hear us?”

This was a female voice, coming from the person with an arm wrapped around his shoulders. Annabeth? Nico willed himself into opening his eyes, trying to show his friends that he could hear them.

“He’s trying to open his eyes, ‘Beth.” There was Percy’s voice again, and Nico could now see an ill-defined Percy in front of him. Nico blinked a couple times, and his vision further cleared. Percy was kneeling with a cup of water in his hand. He made eye contact with Nico and gave him a relieved smile.

“Hey, man, you worried us there for a sec.” Percy cleared his throat to hide how his voice had wavered and lifted the cup.

“Do you think you can have some water?” Nico tried to lift his head to nod, but his body wouldn’t cooperate with his brain. He saw Percy notice his twitches and give Annabeth a look. “Um, okay. Here’s what we're gonna do.”

Percy set the cup off to the side and leaned forward, wrapping his arm around Nico’s shoulders. “We’ll just Indiana Jones this real quick.”

In one swift move, Annabeth moved away from Nico as Percy gently lifted Nico’s head and moved him into a more upright position. Annabeth reached over to pick up the cup of water and lifted it up to his mouth. Nico put an enormous amount of effort into opening his mouth and swallowing as he drank the cold water. He could feel the effects of each sip, drinking more water as he became more alert. When he finished the cup, Nico took in his surroundings. He was still in the dining pavilion, but there were only a handful of campers remaining, meaning that breakfast must be almost over.

“Wh-wh-what happened?”

“We got up to leave, and you just–” Percy’s voice broke off as he tried to answer. Annabeth put a hand on Percy’s arm and finished his sentence.

“You collapsed, Nico. You were completely out for, like, 10 minutes. It looked…really bad.” Annabeth paused as she looked at Nico. “Does this normally happen after you shadow travel?”

Nico met Annabeth’s gaze, fear clearly displayed across his face. “This is different from my normal fatigue. I’ve never felt anything like this before, Annie.”

Annabeth leaned in and the three teens hugged tightly. Percy pulled away first, and Nico saw tears in his eyes.

“Promise us you’ll go to medical?”

Nico nodded sincerely. “I’ll walk over there now, promise. You two should go back to Cabin 6.” Annabeth and Percy exchanged a look and stood up, helping Nico to his feet.

“Stay safe, okay?” The duo walked outside and headed towards the cabins. Nico walked through camp until he reached the Big House. He walked carefully up the creaky front steps of the big house and through the double wooden doors into the infirmary.

There were several children of Apollo on call who looked up at him. Nico raised his hand in a weak greeting. “Um, hi. Could I get checked out? I think I’m sick.”

[beelzeburgerr]

one night, lady noire knocks on adrien's window, he opens his curtains and sees her outside. she waves at him, and he smiles and waves back. he slides the windows open for her and grabs her extended hand, and he lets himself hold onto her waist while she brings him along to a place where they'll both enjoy themselves. after a long time of looking for it, she places him down on the rooftop of the building and they both sit down on a blanket that she prepared beforehand. lady noire wraps her arm around his shoulder while they make conversation, and somehow the topic shifts to marinette, and adrien starts to talk about her and how much he adores her. lady noire decides to listen, even if she knows she’s the marinette he’s talking about.

here’s the uncolored ver. ;D

[pyropelove413]

Happy Voltron Positivity Day!! :D @polyeahdins some lovely Klunk for you! Hope you like it! 💛❤💙

Extra thanks to @stargazershiro for setting this up! 💜

[bourgeoishellion]

woop, there it is. had to stop mspainting for a sec there. dave is so. cool. really. so. . . . cool. . . ......

anyway, since chapter 1 is done and i don’t *think* im gonna edit it anymore, i guess i can post it but...just dont go kicking my ass for being slow. i don’t think ill stop posting the panels on tumblr, so if i ever end up spoiling anything...uh...sorry. though its just a fic for fun, i dont think spoilers would be excruciating or anything.

ill put up a link once i post it on ao3.

roxy’s sass is up to 100

(also, can we just ignore ive been drawing mom different on pretty much every panel? just pretend her hair is always correct -even though its still not omigodwtf- and that she always has sleeves.)

[letsfluxshitup]

To be fair, on mobile sometimes the filtering system just,,,doesn't show up asdkljf;aslkdjsa;lkdsl;dj Unless that's just my phone? But if I go to the website it won't always be there and I have to google "[topic] ao3" and click that link to have the filtering option. I didn't know it existed for a while lol

sometimes when i click too fast on the filter option it sends me to the bottom of the page ;ooo ill refresh and wait a sec and itll work then idk if thats similar but listen im a little salty sometimes that people dont appreciate ao3s filtering system as much as i feel like they should lkasdjflskdjfldskjfldskjdflkj

[exhaustedfander]

First Comes Love: Chapter Three

Chapter Summary: Logan has a heartfelt conversation with a student, and comes home happy as ever to see Remus. However, when Remus brings up the idea of marriage, Logan is taken aback by his emotional response.

I introduced the original character Shelly simply to be a student of Logan's. She's not an important character or anything, but I'm happy with how the scene with her turned out. This chapter turned out a bit longer than I anticipated, but I like the direction things are heading. Enjoy, your comments and reblogs are so appreciated and, as always, have a wonderful day/night.

1  / 2 / 3 / ?

ao3 link

The bell rang, signaling that Logan’s final class had ended. His students filed out, talking loudly and excitedly about their plans for the weekend. Logan was about to sling his briefcase over his shoulder, eager to get home to Remus when he heard a small, apprehensive voice behind him:

“Mr. Sanders?” Logan turned around to find a student of his, Shelly, standing at his desk, wringing her hands, anxiety written all over her face.

“Yes, Shelly?” She hesitated for a moment, glancing at the door as if considering not going through with what she wanted to say, before turning her eyes back to Logan.

“Can I talk to you about something?” She asked, sounding small and frightened, “It’ll just take a sec, I swear.” Logan sat back down at his desk, encouraging Shelly to sit at the chair across from him.

“By all means,” he said, hoping he sounded encouraging, “What seems to be the problem?”

Shelly was a good kid, incredibly intelligent and always so eager to learn and answer questions. She had a passion for knowledge that envied even Logan at her age, and she was an absolute pleasure to have in his class. So seeing her look so apprehensive, shrinking back in her chair as though she wanted to disappear, was something that worried Logan considerably.

“You’re going to think it’s silly that I’m telling you this,” she said quickly, her breath hitching, “But uh…I’m gay.” Perhaps Logan hadn’t been wearing the proper facial expression, because quickly she was delving into an explanation. “I – I’m only telling you because you’re the first openly gay teacher I’ve ever had! It’s, uh, helped knowing I’ve got someone in my life who’s like me. I haven’t told very many people and I’m just –.”

“Hey,” Logan interjected, his voice soft, “It’s completely alright, Shelly. There’s no need to explain yourself. I know how hard it can be to tell somebody that, not to mention coming to terms with it yourself. I appreciate you thinking that you could come to me with this, it couldn’t have been easy.”

Utter relief shone on her face as the fear dissolved into a shaky smile.

“I – uh, yeah. I kinda just realized, and it’s been a lot…I’ve been wondering, but I thought I’d grow to like boys, y’ know?” Logan nodded, recalling a time when he’d done the very same thing, trying to force an attraction to women.

“I do.”

“It’s really nice, you having the rainbow flag in the classroom,” she muttered, motioning to the small pride flag that was stationed in a coffee mug full of pens, “And the picture of you and your boyfriend. You guys look really happy together. When you put that up, it just made me feel like I needed to tell somebody.”

Logan felt his heart swell in his chest. He’d put the picture on his desk just three days ago, a photo of he and Remus at the beach, their smiles wide and joyful. The love in their eyes would be impossible to deny, and something Logan had thought would only hold significance to him meant something to his student. It showed her visibility and encouraged her to open up. Logan couldn’t help but feel proud.

“Well, I’m glad that my classroom has helped make you feel comfortable,” Logan said, before remembering something that might be of importance, “You know, I host GSA in my class on Thursdays. The student body who run it are great kids, and if you ever feel interested, I’d encourage you to give it a try. It’s a wonderfully accepting environment.”

Shelly’s smile was still very much anchored in nervousness, but Logan could see the relief that permeated it.

“I might have to check it out,” she said, standing up from her chair, “Thanks, Mr. S. It, uh, means a lot.” Logan nodded, standing with her.

“Of course, any time,” he said, “Have a nice weakened, Shelly.” His student nodded, slinging a backpack strap over her shoulder and already heading out the door.

“You too, Mr. S.”

Logan watched her disappear out the door before his eyes landed back on the photograph, suddenly all the more excited to get home to his boyfriend. Logan had an impact on a student, simply be existing openly, and that was more than he could’ve hoped for.

The pride he felt didn’t falter as he drove home. It didn’t fade when he arrived at the apartment complex and unlocked the door. A grin spread across his face as he saw Remus scrawling in a notebook at the dining room table – dining room might’ve been a stretch, there were a table and chairs in their small living room where they ate their meals. Nonetheless, it was home. Remus rarely wrote things down on paper, often complaining that he couldn’t keep up with his wild, constantly changing ideas unless he was typing. As a result, only the best, most special ideas were reserved for pen and paper.

“I’m home, dear,” Logan greeted as he set his briefcase down, not failing to see the way Remus stiffened when he noticed Logan, having been so lost in himself. He shut the notebook before quickly making his way to Logan, gathering him up in his arms and kissing him enthusiastically.

“Hey, how was your day?” Remus asked once they’d parted and sat down beside one another on the couch.

“It was wonderful, actually,” Logan said, the happiness in his tone evident. “A student of mine asked to speak to me after class.” Remus quirked an eyebrow, “She came out to me, explaining she’d only recently realized she was gay.” Remus smiled.

“Wow, look at you, being a role-model and shit.” A role model. Logan hadn't even considered that.

“What had encouraged her to tell me was the picture of us I’d put up in my classroom. It couldn’t help but make me think of when I was that age. I had no idea of my sexuality of the time, but the fact that I made some kind of an impact? That’s…well, it makes me very happy.” Remus rested his head on Logan’s shoulder, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together.

“That’s great, Dragonfly. I’m sure she really appreciates having someone to look up to who she can relate to.”

That hit Logan hard, knowing that to some extent, one of his students looked up to him. Of course, he wanted to set an example for his students, he was determined to be taken seriously and respected. But actively helping someone feel more comfortable in their identity was something Logan hadn’t ever imagined.

“She said we looked happy,” Logan mused after a moment of silence, “in the photo.” Logan could practically feel himself melting against Remus, fondness welling in his chest. It still took him by surprise sometimes, the intensity of love he felt for his boyfriend.

“Well, of course, we do,” Remus said confidently, kissing Logan’s neck, “I know I’m happier than I’ve ever been being with you.”

“I’m happy, too,” Logan choked out, surprised by how overemotional he was suddenly feeling, “I’m incredibly happy with you, Remus.”

“Aw, Dragonfly, don’t tell me you’re going soft on me now,” Remus teased as if they both hadn’t gone soft long before this moment.

“Never,” Logan said, lying through his teeth as he pressed a kiss to the top of Remus’s head. “How was your day, dear?”

A strange look flickered in Remus’s eyes as he looked at Logan – fear? Anxiousness? – before an unsteady smile settled over his face, as though nothing was the matter.

“It was fine, good,” he said a touch too quickly. Curious.

“I saw you writing in your notebook. Anything special?” Remus bit his lip, the nervousness now unmistakable.

“Uh – kinda? It’s still a pretty half-baked idea, though. Nothing to worry about right now,” Remus explained haltingly.

As much as Logan has felt inadept when dealing with the emotions of others in the past, he’d gotten to know Remus’s cues and patterns so well that this was positively screaming that something was amiss. Remus wasn’t one to get easily embarrassed, and certainly not about his writing ideas. Regardless, Logan didn’t feel it right to bring attention to it. if Remus wanted to talk about something that was bothering him, Logan would by all means give him the space to do so, but for now, he decided he’d let it go unsaid.

“Alright, love,” Logan said, hoping it might ease some of Remus’s concerns, “I’d love to hear about it when it’s a little more fleshed out if you’d like to tell me.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, kissing his boyfriend soundly, some of the tension seeming to have left him, “When it’s finished you’ll be the first to hear about it, I promise.”

The rest of their evening was fairly regular. Remus continued to scrawl in his notebook before returning to his laptop, another idea having evidently struck him. It was Logan’s turn to prepare dinner. He was stirring a pot of pasta sauce when he felt Remus’s eyes on him.

Logan turned around, noticing how Remus had shut his laptop and was looking at him with a reserved, contemplative expression. The kitchen suddenly felt far too small.

“Is something the matter, Remus?” Logan’s soft tone must’ve shaken Remus from his haze because he shook his head, an ill-fitting smile settling over his face.

“No, no not at all,” Remus said, sounding as though he was choosing his words very carefully, “I was just thinking about a conversation I had with Roman earlier today.” Logan nodded unsurely, returning half of his attention to the pot, while still listening intently.

“I see. What did you two talk about?”

“Oh, not much.” Remus was trying to sound casual, as though whatever he was about to say was of little consequence. But he was choosing what he said cautiously, his words coming out far slower and more deliberate than usual. “He went on about Virgil for a while, though.”

“I doubt that’s out of the ordinary in the least bit,” Logan said with a light chuckle, hoping the laughter might filter through some of the tension that had settled over them, “They’re very much in love.”

“Yeah,” Remus said, “They are. From the sounds of things, I think he’s planning on asking Virgil to marry him.”

Logan’s spoon ceased its motion as it clattered against the side of the pot. Logan braced himself against the countertop, his chest tight. He didn’t dare turn around to face Remus.

“Is that so?” He managed to choke out.

“Uh…yeah,” Remus said, his voice suddenly too small for him, “I mean, I’m not surprised. They’ve been stupidly in love since the beginning, huh?”

Logan needed to get a grip. He didn’t understand why his reaction would be so intense. Logan had absolutely nothing against Roman and Virgil’s relationship; quite the opposite, he’d supported them since the beginning. They were a wonderful couple, one who’s happiness Logan had admittedly envied before being with Remus. So why, then, was he having such a difficult time swallowing the information?

“They certainly have,” Logan said, managing to pick the spoon up with a trembling hand and resume his stirring, “Well, I wish Roman the best, whenever he chooses to do so. I’m sure it will go well.”

“Logan…” Remus hesitated, pausing momentarily before trying again, “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Logan asked, still not daring to look at Remus, “I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?”

“I dunno,” Remus said, sounding as if he was biting something back, “You seem a little…jumpy. And not in the good way, either.”

“I wasn’t aware there was a ‘good’ way to be jumpy.”

“Oh, sure, like when you watch a scary movie. Or go to a haunted house. Spooky shit.”

“Right.”

“But, uh, seriously, Dragonfly, are you good?”

“I’m fine,” Logan insisted, finally daring to make eye-contact, and doing everything in his power to steady his breathing. “What else did you and Roman discuss?”

“Well,” Remus said, trying to get back on track. It seemed Logan’s odd behavior had shaken him up, “When I was done teasing him –.”

“Which I’m sure took a considerable amount of time.”

“Oh, you know it!” Remus said, some normalcy seeping back into his tone, if only for a moment, “But after that, we talked about the idea of him talking about the idea of marriage with Virge. Y’ know, so he doesn’t blindsight the poor guy if he decides to propose anytime soon.”

There is was again, a distractingly dramatic ache in his chest. He didn’t grip onto the counter again, thinking of how it might startle his boyfriend, but the feeling could not be ignored. Why was he behaving this way? The idea of Roman and Virgil wedding was something he had no ill feelings about, there was no reason to be upset by the prospect of such a thing. But he wasn’t upset, was he? This was something different…something stranger.

For a reason he could not understand, Logan felt a surge of jealousy.

Even so, he would look strange if he didn’t provide some kind of response. Surely, he was already rousing suspicion with his damned silence.

“That’s understandable,” he said, managing to sound coherent and sane, at least he hoped so, “After all, Virgil suffers from a great deal of anxiety. Though knowing Roman, he wouldn’t put him through anything too severe. They know each other quite well by now, I don’t doubt his competence on such a matter.”

“What do you think about that?” Logan knitted his eyebrows together as he turned back to Remus.

“I’m not sure I know what you’re asking.”

“About marriage, I mean,” Remus clarified, his voice wobbling just slightly, “That’s an important thing for couples to talk about, right?” The dull ache in Logan’s chest increased in pressure, threatening to induce wheezing, gasping breaths.

“I – are you asking my opinion on the institution of marriage?” Logan asked, feeling anxiety pool in his stomach. Remus shook his head.

“No, nothing like that. the ‘institution’ of marriage is its own kind of a mess as it is.”

“Certainly. Not to mention the grotesquely high prices that the wedding business charges. As well as the many social pressures when it comes to marriage.”

“Right – shit, I’m getting off-topic,” Remus said, frustration seeping into his voice as he threaded his hands through his hair.

“What are you trying to ask?”

“What I’m trying to ask is…” something akin to panic flickered in Remus’s eyes as he took a deep breath before continuing, “…what are your thoughts on marriage? You know, the idea of getting married, someday.”

It wasn’t something Logan had given much consideration in the past. In all honesty, he hasn’t imagined ever being in any kind of a long-term, loving relationship. So the ides of planning for a future he didn’t think possible was not something he wasted his time on. Now, though, Remus was asking him a question with more sincerity and vulnerability than it seemed he was intending.

“I suppose I haven’t given the idea much thought,” Logan admitted, praying the tremor in his every movement wasn’t too noticeable. “I didn’t think…that is to say, I hadn’t thought of myself as someone…”

“Dragonfly, the pot’s boiling over!” Remus words cut through whatever it was that Logan was trying to blather.

“Shit!” he exclaimed frustrated, returning his full attention to the pot and mopping up the spilled-over sauce.

The question stayed unanswered for much of the rest of the night. The couple ate their dinner in a silence that seemed to have been blanked over them, thick and uncomfortable the way a blanket that you’ve been meaning to throw out for some time is. Remus’s newfound hesitation didn’t waver as they sat down on the couch to watch some nature documentary neither of them were really paying attention to.

They sat together, tangled in an embrace, not unlike their usual routine, but it didn’t seem right. The spaces between their bodies, although small, felt like massive expanses. Neither man dared to let go of the other, but something had occurred between them, something Logan was terrified to name.

“Did…did I fuck up earlier?” Remus asked once the credits had rolled and the screen turned to black. Logan untangled himself from Remus’s limbs, seeing the concern in his eyes even in the darkened room.

“What’re you talking about?” Logan asked as if they weren’t both to some degree aware of the tension that had been building.

“Bringing up the idea of getting married,” Remus elaborated, “I only said it because of the conversation I had with my brother. I wasn’t trying to make you uncom-.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Logan cut in with a lie, doubting it sounded believable in the least bit, “I was just…surprised. It’s not something we’ve ever discussed.”

“No. It’s not.”

“But…I think it should be,” Logan said determined to get this right, seeing the change on Remus’s face instantly, “I’m saying…it’s a good thing that you brought it up. We should be open with each other about issues of that kind.”

“Right,” Remus responded, hope elevating, “So…what do you –.”

“I love you,” Logan interrupted, hoping him saying so would do something to make up for the way he’d behaved, “I love you an incredible amount, Remus.”

“I love you too,” Remus said, faltering only slightly, “I’m fucking crazy about you, Dragonfly.”

“And…while marriage isn’t something I’ve allowed myself to consider,” Logan continued, feeling some of the tension building up inside dissolve as Remus took his hand and squeezed it, “It’s not an idea I’m adverse to.”

“Y-yeah?” There was hope in Remus’s eyes, bright and clear.

“Yes. Remus, love, you’re one of the best things that's happened to me, if not the very best. I hope you know how much of my heart you take up,” Logan felt his eyes, despite his best efforts, beginning to water, “I must be spending too much time with Roman,” he breathed out through a watery chuckle, swiping a finger under his eyes, “I swear I never used to talk like this.”

“I think we’ve both been spending too much time with Roman,” Remus said, though it was clear there was no truth behind the remark, “But I’m not so sure we can blame our emotions on his eccentricities,” Remus said, letting go of Logan’s hand and opening his arms for an embrace that was gratefully accepted.

“Perhaps not,” Logan said, burying his face in Remus’s neck and breathing in the scent of his cologne, one he’d helped him pick out, “But I think I’m going to do it anyway.”

“Oh, you rotten man,” Remus teased, pulling Logan as close as he could get, “Maybe our friends are right, I’m a terrible influence on you.”

“Maybe so,” Logan said, feeling contentment wash over him in slow, easy waves. Only moments ago things had felt so unclear and frayed, but that weight had been lifted. They stayed there for a long while, curled up on the couch, before Logan rose to his feet, asking, ever so gently, if Remus was coming to bed soon.

It wasn’t uncommon for Remus to work late into the night, considering his privilege of sleeping late in the mornings as well as the fact that “Inspiration strikes best past midnight, Dragonfly!” Even so, Remus nodded happily, getting ready to go to sleep and sliding into bed beside Logan.

They held one another close as they drifted off, Logan’s mind lingering on their conversation. Remus had brought up the idea of marriage, and that was certainly not something to be taken lightly. Even so…given a little thought, the idea wasn’t upsetting. It was pleasant, even, thinking about having Remus by his side always, promising him everything that he could. Logan had sworn for so long that he was not a creature of sentiment, but he was beginning to doubt the validity of that.

Logan slipped into slumber, thinking of the pride that had swelled in him when Shelly had come out to him as well as the strength of his love for Remus. The conversation didn’t scare him anymore, it excited him.

=+=

Logan was thrown unceremoniously into consciousness, waking up gasping for air, his heart beating out of his chest. Instantly, Remus was stirring beside him, a hand slipping into his.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Dragonfly. I’m here. I’m here, LoLo,” he promised sleepily, the same way he did every time Logan woke from a nightmare. Except…this hadn’t been a nightmare, not at all. In fact, it was a wonderful dream, swirling in Logan’s mind as he struggled to catch his breath.

It wasn’t a nightmare about Remus's accident; Logan had dreamed of a wedding. He dreamed of he and Remus in suites, promising their eternal love in front of their friends and family, he dreamed of writing sappy vows that they’d deliver through tears, he dreamed of holding his husband in his arms.

He’d had no idea that their conversation would stir anything in him. He hadn’t recognized the desire that had been building, nor why he felt such jealousy at the idea of Roman and Virgil getting engaged.

It was all far too much to handle.

Logan pulled the covers off of himself as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

“Hey, Lo, are you okay?” Roman asked, watching in the mostly dark room as Logan stumbling to find his glasses on the nightstand, slipping them on haphazardly with shaky hands.

“I’m fine,” Logan swore, “It was just a dream. Go back to sleep, Remus.”

“Are you sure? You know you can talk about it, if you want to.” Remus asked, sitting up.

No, Logan thought to himself, anxiety taking hold, He can’t wake up. He needs to go back to sleep.

“I’m sure,” Logan said, standing up, the hardwood cold against his bare feet, “I’m alright.”

“If you’re alright then come back to bed,” Remus said, his request gentle, but it couldn’t stop the television static in Logan’s mind from growing louder and more frantic.  

“I’m just going to get something to drink,” he said, “Some chamomile, or something. And then I’ll come back to bed. Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be back before you know it."

Remus clearly wanted to press the matter further, but his own exhaustion got the better of him.

“Okay. And you’ll come and get me if something’s the matter?”

“Of course,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to the top of Remus’s head. It wouldn’t necessarily be the first time that Logan had needed some air after waking up from a dream, though it wasn’t usual.

“Alright then,” Remus said, slowly laying his head back on the pillow, though Logan could still feel his eyes on him.

With that, Logan slipped out of the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. Every fiber of his being seemed to be trembling as he began to brew some tea – only to quell Remus’s suspicions if he came to check on him. God, he prayed he didn’t come to check on him – nearly dropping the teapot on the floor.

After the tea was done, he poured himself a mug that he most likely wouldn’t drink from and pulled out his phone. It was one in the morning, damned late, but if he knew his friend, and he did, Virgil would still be awake.

Logan hesitated momentarily, thinking how rude it would be to call this late, regardless if Virgil was awake or not. But that was quickly disregarded when the weight of his dream buckled down on him in its full force.

He hadn’t just dreamed of marrying Remus. In his moments of startled consciousness, Logan faltered for a moment, struggling to find the difference between fiction and reality. For the tiniest moment, he believed Remus to be his husband and he liked it. As illogical as it all seemed, suddenly he wanted nothing more than to ask Remus to be his for the rest of their lives.

Logan caved, pressing the ‘call’ button, hoping Virgil could talk some sense into him.

Or, and this was the far more dangerous option, validate these feelings.

=+=

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Nine: A Cat Walks By ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Hyūga Neji, Uchiha Manami ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: We’re Not in Konoha Anymore... ] [ AO3 Link ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ]

Normally, the sight wouldn’t really catch his attention. Bustling as the city is, there are still a share of stray animals out and about, looking for scraps or friendly hands to offer tidbits. Maybe even feel generous enough to take them home.

But something about this just feels...off.

Doing his homework as he always does at the little table outside the cafe, Sasuke finds himself tasked with a reading passage from his literature class. Boring, but at least it’s not that hard. Blinking owlishly as he takes in the text on the page, his lackluster gaze is immediately tempted by something more intriguing: movement.

Glancing up, chin resting against a curled fist, he takes notice of...a long-haired brown cat. It saunters along the lip of the opposing sidewalk, which is surprisingly empty for early afternoon. The tall buildings that flank both sides mean there’s not a scrap of sunshine despite the strip of clear blue sky above them. In the lurking grey down below, nothing really seems out of place.

And yet…

Watching it curiously, Sasuke sees as it sits just above a storm drain, sweeping tail flicking idly, paws aligned neatly with the edge. It almost seems like it’s...waiting for something. Furtive eyes - which Sasuke notices are a strange, pale color he can’t quite put a name to - seem to glance side to side.

...do cats usually do that?

Frowning, Sasuke just...stares as the cat continues to sit, eyeing its surroundings so...oddly grumpily.

And then, without warning, it gets up...and keeps walking right by the cafe.

For a moment, Sasuke weighs his choices. He can...pretend that didn’t seem as odd as it did, and just sit here and keep doing his homework. Or...he can get up and follow it.

Chewing his lip, he glances in where his aunt is still working. Surely she won’t mind, right…?

“I’ll be right back!” he calls just in case, not giving her a chance to refuse him. His book closes with a slap, fleeing his table and taking off down the road.

By now, the feline has slipped around a corner, Sasuke skidding to slow and trying to find it. A more trafficky route, pedestrians block a great deal of his view, but...there! Weaving around ignorant legs, the cat keeps going, oddly calm in the sea of human feet.

That only drives Sasuke further. Apologizing as he pushes his way through the crowds, he struggles to keep the animal in his line of sight until it takes yet another turn into a narrow alley.

Peering into it...Sasuke finds it empty.

A bit out of breath, his brow furrows. Where did it go…? There’s no turns, and it couldn’t have made it around another corner, could it? His eyes flicker up, wondering if it climbed something.

And then he hears a clack.

Perking, Sasuke eases into the narrow gap between the buildings. It’s oddly cold, and he feels the hairs on his neck and arms stand on end.

And then, he spies a wrought iron gate tucked into an inlet he couldn’t see from the street. That must have been what he heard. Did someone let the cat through…?

“...anything?”

He freezes. Someone’s talking…!

“No, nothing. Seems we’ve been stood up again.”

A delicate sigh permeates the quiet. “Well...at least it w-wasn’t a trap.”

“Which is why I insisted on going first. After last time -”

“I know, I...I know. But we have to make money somehow...I don’t want to have to fish through any more dumpsters…”

“I’ll keep stealing if I must.”

“But -!”

“It’s wrong, but we must take care of ourselves. Until more work can be found. I won’t let you come to harm just because this city is -”

As he struggles to see who’s beyond the gate, Sasuke flinches as his foot nudges a bottle. Beyond, he barely makes out a pair of silhouettes: one of a child his age, and another of a cat.

But in the next moment, it changes. Suddenly, the cat is gone. And in its place is...another child? They posture protectively in front of their companion, who quails back in surprise. “Who’s there?!”

At the harsh, hissing tone, Sasuke flinches. How can he explain…?

“Neji, i-it’s okay.”

“But -?”

“Look, they’re just a kid!” There’s a pause. “...maybe...you were followed?”

“Impossible,” the first voice scoffs.

“I...saw a cat acting strange,” Sasuke decides to offer. Being truthful should help, right…? “I just...wanted to see what it was doing.”

The silence sours only to be broken by a wind-chime giggle. “...seems you were followed,” the more feminine voice teases, earning a scoff.

“I’m sorry, I...didn’t mean to bother anyone. Did you guys see that cat? Or where it went?”

Another pause. “He’s, um…” The voice hesitates, and then someone steps forward. A girl, around Sasuke’s own age of thirteen. Dark hair cut short, she has the same pale eyes as that cat! “He’s here.”

“Hinata, I don’t think -?”

“I-it’s fine, Neji. Come on.”

Behind her, the other figure lingers...and then steps forward. Pale eyes, and...long brown hair…

...wait…

Sasuke balks in surprise. “...y...you’re the cat?!”

Arms folding defensively, the boy - he...thinks they’re a boy? - narrows his gaze heatedly. “Nosy brat, aren’t you?”

In spite of himself, Sasuke bristles. “Well it - er, you - were acting funny!”

“It was still none of your business.”

“Neji was o-out on my behalf!” the girl cuts in, physically stepping between the two nervously. “He’s...he’s my familiar. And...my cousin.”

Sasuke blinks in disbelief. “...what?”

“It, well...i-it’s a long story. You see, we -”

“Don’t tell him anything, Hinata,” the one called Neji interrupts sharply, an arm held out to blockade her. “We can’t trust him!”

“But -?”

“I’m not gonna hurt anyone, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Sasuke retorts, arms folding. “But it is weird a couple of kids are out here alone. Let alone...changing into cats, and going through people’s garbage. You know that can get you in trouble, right?”

At that, Neji’s face alights an embarrassed red. “How much did you -?!”

“Neji, please,” Hinata counters softly, instantly quieting him. “...maybe...m-maybe he can help…?”

“Him? Help? How?”

“Tell me what you’re doing out here first,” the Uchiha mutters.

The pale-eyed pair exchange a glance...and then Neji concedes with a short sigh, retreating.

“...we come from a long line of witches and...companions,” Hinata begins softly. “One side of the family being gifted in magic, and...the other side meant to protect them. I’m from the f-former, and...Neji is from the latter. For a long time, we would offer our skills in exchange for money, but…” She wilts. “...anymore, we’re treated more like criminals.”

“Lady Hinata was attacked last week,” Neji cuts in, tone hot with anger. “Someone lied, saying they wanted our help, only to try and hurt her. We barely escaped…”

“We offer h-honest work for honest pay,” she mumbles, wilting. “But not everyone s-sees it that way. So we haven’t been able to f-fend for ourselves.”

“Can’t you go home…?” Sasuke asks, confused. “Why are you out here on your own? Aren’t you my age…?”

“We’re meant to go out on our own for a year at thirteen,” Neji explains. “It’s a kind of...training. Surviving on our talents. But that’s an old tradition, no longer suited for a changing world…”

“M-my father won’t let us return until the year is o-over.” Hinata’s tone starts to bubble, threatening to cry.

“Hiashi is a cruel man,” Neji confirms, tone softening as he puts an arm around his cousin’s shoulders. “So we’ve been making due however we can...even if it’s not pretty. Our pride can survive what our stomachs cannot.”

Sasuke, all the while, slowly looks more and more ill at ease. Sending children out on their own? At this age, and for an entire year with no help?! Given the struggles he’s faced himself - losing his parents years ago, his widowed aunt taking in him and his brother on top of her own son and disability - he can understand struggle, but this…?

Looking the pair over, he then makes up his mind, jaw setting. A hand reaches out and takes Hinata’s, much to both of the cousins’ surprise. “C’mon.”

“But -?”

“C’mon!” Offering no other explanation, he starts towing her along. Neji, shocked, shrinks back into his familiar form, tucked safely in Hinata’s remaining arm as she stumbles after Sasuke.

Back down the street they go, around corners until they see the cafe. It’s getting late, but the doors are still open. “Aunty Manami!” Sasuke calls.

Crutch under one arm, the woman makes her way outside, expression stricken and then wilting with relief. “There you are! Where’ve you been?”

“Uh...long story. Hey, is the kitchen still serving?”

“Yeah, for another half an hour - you hungry?”

“No, but...my friends are.” He then pulls Hinata up beside him, the girl pink and clearly flustered.

“...oh!” Manami blinks. “Well, sure. What’ll you have, sweetie?”

“...I-I -?”

“Can she look at a menu, first?”

“Yeah, one sec.”

As she disappears to fetch one, Sasuke guides Hinata to his table. “What are you doing?” she whispers harshly. “I...I don’t have any money!”

“I’ve got an allowance,” Sasuke counters.

“But -!”

“It’s fine. I never spend it, anyway.”

Floundering for words, Hinata wilts as Manami reappears.

“Here you go, kiddo.”

“...thank you.”

Smiling, the woman then glances to her nephew, jerking her head to make him follow her back inside. “So...what’s really going on here, Sasuke?”

“...she got kicked out of her house.”

“What?!”

Without revealing too much, Sasuke spins a half-truth. “I just...wanted to help. She’s been trying to find work but no one’ll take her on.”

Sighing deeply, Manami watches Hinata through the window, Neji standing his front paws on the table from her lap and seeming to read alongside her. “...I have an idea.”

“Wait, what -?”

Gesturing for him to be quiet, Manami heads back outside, startling Hinata as she approaches. The pair talk, voices too muffled for Sasuke to hear. But then the girl threatens to break down into tears again, Neji perching protectively around the back of her neck as she jumps up and latches onto Manami tightly.

What the…?

It then seems like Hinata places her order, and Manami steps back in, looking smug.

“...what did you do?”

“I offered her a job.”

“What?! But -?”

“It’s fine. There’s an empty room over the storage building she can use. I need someone quicker on their feet than me, anyway. She can be my missing foot,” she jokes, swinging her half-missing leg idly.

“...you really…?”

“I know we’re struggling, but one more mouth to feed won’t break us,” Manami insists, waving aside his concern. “For now, she needs something to eat. We’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

At that, Sasuke can’t help a small feeling of guilt. Technically, including Neji, there’s two more mouths...but hopefully it won’t make too big of a difference. He’ll just...defer his allowance back to his aunt for a while. Without her knowing, of course.

He doesn’t need it.

Heading back outside, Sasuke gives a sheepish smile. “...well, guess that’s happening, huh?”

Hopping back to her feet, Hinata seems to fight back tears. “...thank you…!”

“It’s okay, really -”

“No...t-this is…” Lacking the words, she just bows her head shyly.

Atop her shoulders, Neji blinks slowly.

“...well...consider it payback for being nosy,” Sasuke then offers nonchalantly, glancing aside. “Guess you have Neji to thank, really.”

Straightening, Hinata blinks before giggling, a hand reaching up to scritch at his ears. “...yeah. I do.”

     Welp, this is...technically yesterday’s prompt, I’m behind. My darn toothache just got the better of me u_u Not sure if I’ll catch up tonight but I’ll try!      Anyway, if anyone can guess what movie this is based off of, you get ten internet points because it is my all-time favorite movie xD A bit changed around, but...well, I didn’t want to copy it exactly. But I’m still calling this my crossover verse for lack of anything else that fits lol      Manami is an OC of mine, Mikoto’s older sister and Shisui’s mother! In canon she loses half of a leg during the Nine Tails’ attack, so...I usually have her that way in other universes, too. She’s a very sweet bean, I love her ;w; In modern verses she usually takes Itachi and Sasuke in after their parents’ death, like here.      Anywho! Gonna take a break and see if I can must up another one before passing out for the night lol - if not, I’ll just try again tomorrow xD Thanks for reading!

[huphilpuffs]

flares

chapter: 29/? summary: Dan’s body has been broken for as long as he can remember, and he’s long since learned to deal with it. Sort of. But when his symptoms force him to leave uni and move into a new flat with a stranger named Phil, he finds that ignoring the pain isn’t the way to make himself happy. word count: 3117 rating: mature warnings: chronic illness, chronic pain, medicine a/n: Trigger warning for mentions of death and cancer as Dan worries about worst case scenarios. Huge thanks to @obsessivelymoody for beta’ing!

Ao3 link || read from beginning

Phil’s at work when the call comes in. 

It’s an unfamiliar number, one that isn’t in Dan’s phone. He almost doesn’t pick it up, because his fingers feel stiff and it sounds like too much effort when he doesn’t much like talking to people anyway. But the phone is sitting right next to him and he remembers that the hospital’s number was unknown, too, so he ends up bringing it to his ear with a quiet hello.

The voice on the other end is too chirpy. It makes his heart sink.

“Hello?” she says. “May I speak with Daniel Howell?”

“Speaking,” he mumbles.

“Oh, hello,” says the woman. She sounds like a secretary.  “Dr. Kissel wanted me to inform you that she got your test results back. She’d like to book a follow up appointment with you, preferably in the next few days?”

Dan’s hand goes tight around his phone. It’s too much and his fingers go shaky and he almost drops it. He just about blurts that he’s busy, super busy, except all he’s going to do is sit on the sofa watching whatever the fuck is playing and being scared about whatever Dr. Kissel wants to say and–

Waiting for doctor’s appointments has never been fun.

“Uh, okay,” he says. “I should be good, like, any day she’s free but, uh, afternoons work better?”

“Okay,” says the secretary. “We have an opening on Thursday at 3:30. Would that work for you?”

Dan swallows. His throat has gone so tight it hurts. His ribs ache when he tries to take a breath. That’s only two days from now and Dan tries not to think too hard about what that means when he’s waited weeks for almost every other appointment in his life. 

None of those have had answers before. Maybe this one–

“That’s fine,” he says. It sounds shaky.

The lady on the other end doesn’t know him well enough to tell. She just says, “Okay, see you then,” and hangs up like she hasn’t left Dan’s head all fuzzy and his chest feeling like it’s full of cotton buds. 

He does drop the phone now. His head rolls back against the sofa. His eyes fall closed because they sting too much when he just stares at the ceiling.

When he opens them again, the show he was watching has ended.

---

Dan paces the lounge until his toes ache and there’s a pressure in his ankles that make it feel like they might collapse.

And he keeps pacing until the pain has spread up along his calves, tight in his muscle and stabbing at the middle of his shin, and settled in his knee so he can’t really pace anymore. He feels like an old man when he walks back over to the sofa, barely able to bend his legs.

He feels like he’s thirteen again.

His hands are shaking when he drops onto the sofa. Dan’s not sure if it’s from the pain or the nerves or from holding his phone too tightly. The bottoms of his feet ache from the pressure of the floor against them. The back of his head is all numb and tingly.

Dan grabs the blanket on the back of the sofa. Even the fleece feels scratchy against his skin.

He glances at the phone. It’s been sitting in the dip between the sofa cushions since he let it go. He almost picks it up again, almost calls Phil.

But his fingers are stiff and it takes too much energy and Dan can’t bring himself to make Phil worry.

---

Phil gets about three steps into the flat before he asks, “Are you okay?”

The bag he brings to work is sitting on the floor by the door and his voice is soft and tinged with worry, and Dan almost says I’m fine like he would have done forever ago. He’s sitting on Phil’s sofa. He has Phil’s blanket wrapped around his shoulders. There’s a bitter taste in his mouth and gross stickiness on his cheeks.

“I’m sore,” he mumbles. 

“Oh,” says Phil. “One sec.”

Dan listens to the soft sounds of his footsteps in the flat. He fidgets with the blanket until Phil shows up at the end of the sofa, a smile on his face despite the worried furrow of his brows, and an ice pack clutched between his hands. He sits down next to Dan, all gentle and hesitant.

Like he used to be. It makes Dan’s chest ache. 

“Where are you sore?” he asks.

“Everywhere?” says Dan. His smile falls before he’s sure he’s even managed it. “My legs. My ankles.”

Phil hums. He slips his hand between Dan’s knees, his touch stinging cold from the ice, and untangles them. Dan twists on the sofa so the arm rest is digging into the base of his spine and his feet are resting on Phil’s thigh. His head falls against the cushions, eyes falling shut.

The ice burns where Phil presses it against where his bone juts out from his ankle.

“I should get another ice pack,” he says, not to Dan. “You have two ankles.”

Dan manages half a laugh. “Thanks for the observation.”

He watches as Phil presses his foot against the back of the sofa, the ice pack balanced across the top of his foot. He takes the other one between his hands, holding it steady. The relief that causes is probably just a figment of Dan’s imagination, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Did something happen?” says Phil. 

Dan’s breath catches. “The doctor’s office called,” he says. “They have my test results.”

Phil goes tense. His thumb jabs into the gap between the bones of Dan’s ankle, making pain stab down along the arch of his foot.

“Did they say anything?”

His throat goes tight again, a lump forming there that feels too much like he’s about to start crying. “No,” says Dan. “I have an appointment Thursday at 3:30.”

“Okay,” says Phil. “I’ll talk to my boss.” 

He rubs at Dan’s ankle. It doesn’t really soothe the pain, but it makes something in Dan’s chest ease, and that’s enough to keep him from pulling away.

“Do you think they–”

“I don’t know,” says Dan. “It’s never been like this before.”

Phil’s face falls, his lips drawing into a frown. “Oh.”

Dan nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Oh.”

---

“You’re anxious,” says Phil.

They’re sitting on the sofa eating leftovers – or, well, picking at leftovers – when he speaks. The ice pack’s back in the freezer after Dan’s warmth melted it into a mushy bag of gel. The blanket is still bunched around Dan’s body, one corner hanging over his shoulder, precariously close to the sauce on his plate.

He wants to point out that Phil is, too. He’s been tense since Dan first mentioned the doctor. But he’s not wrong.

“This is scary,” says Dan. He doesn’t think he’s ever fully admitted that to anyone before. “I don’t– They’ve never done these tests before. What if they find something that’s been, like, lurking there since I was a kid and it’s, like, really bad?”

Phil drops his fork. His eyes are wide when he looks up, catching Dan’s gaze. “Like what?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “A tumor? Lou Gheric’s disease? Some sort of rare condition no one’s ever heard of that’s, like, definitely fatal and has no hope of a cure?”

“Stop,” says Phil. His eyes look glossy. It makes Dan want to shove the words back down his throat, choking on his own fears before he makes Phil share them. “You’re not dying.”

You don’t know that , Dan wants to say. 

He doesn’t know that. It’s terrifying. There was a time when Dan would have taken any diagnosis, even if a deadly one, just for the sake of the answer.

Not now. His heart aches with how much he doesn’t want that now.

“Yeah, I guess,” he says.

Phil swallows. “You’re not.”

He doesn’t sound entirely convinced.

---

They try to watch TV.

Phil puts on Buffy first, because it’s his favourite show. And then Lost, because it’s one of Dan’s favourites. And then Speed, because it’s the kind of mindless entertainment that feels like it should fix this heavy feeling weighing down on the lounge.

It doesn’t.

Between shows, Phil shifts across the sofa. Dan’s legs have fallen from his lap, which means he can pull Dan closer with a hand wrapped around his waist and another resting on his thigh. His cheek rests against the top of Dan’s head, his breath warm and harsh and unsteady. 

Some days, Dan doesn’t have the energy to hold him back. 

Today, he drapes his arm across Phil’s stomach and grips so tight his fingers start to hurt.

They give up on Speed hardly half an hour in. Phil’s lips press against the top of Dan’s head, his hand drifting up to settle against his chest.

“We should go to bed,” he says. 

It’s not that late, but Dan nods anyway.

---

They share a pillow. 

It smells like Phil. He settles down against it first, flat on his back with his arms spread open and the duvet bunched up around his waist. They never do this. Dan can’t bring himself to point it out, not when all he wants is to curl up in Phil’s arms and pretend the next few days don’t exist.

And maybe every day before he moved in here, too. 

He brought the fleece blanket from the sofa with him, because he can’t let it go. It feels like comfort in a way the duvet never will. It feels like the early days of getting comfort from a flatmate he half expected to kick him out the moment he learned Dan couldn’t really help pay rent.

Duvets feel like coming home from appointments, pressing his face into the plush fabric, and sobbing till it had gotten soaked. 

Dan swallows. His chest hurts again. His lungs feel stretched to capacity and his brain feels numb with all the things he’s trying not to let himself think. He half expects his knees to hurt when he crawls into bed, but the mattress gives under his weight, letting him settle there without too much pain.

He presses his head against Phil’s chest, crushing his ear against where his heart beats, steady and fast.

He drapes his arm across Phil’s stomach, where his ribs jut out where they normally might not, had he eaten dinner, and every breath stutters on a rise and a fall.

He slips his one leg between both of Phil’s, just to hold on even tighter, to be even closer.

When Phil’s arm wraps around him, it makes his bones ache and his breath leave on a rushed exhale and Dan doesn’t care. He feels Phil’s hand splay across his side and his body shift, twisting so their chests are pressed closer together and Dan’s face is pressed to the crook of his neck.

“You can talk to me,” says Phil.

“Don’t want to scare you,” says Dan. It’s probably enough to scare him, anyway.

Phil just sucks in a breath, long and deep, and says, “Don’t care. I don’t want you to be scared alone.”

It’s too honest. His voice cracks and Dan slams his eyes shut against the sudden burn of tears welling there, but it just sends them rolling down his cheeks instead. He tries not to think about how his mum used to laugh when he got anxious about tests, tell him he was a young and healthy boy with nothing to worry about. 

And tries desperately not to wish that was the more logical answer all along.

He pulls away just enough to look up at Phil, to catch the dark feather of his fringe across his forehead and the shadows that frame his nose. The room is dark, just barely brightened by city lights still glowing past Phil’s curtains. Dan’s not sure he wishes it was brighter.

He doesn’t want Phil to see the gleam of tears drying on his cheeks.

“I don’t want them to tell me I’m dying,” he says. It should be obvious. Maybe it is to Phil, but it isn’t to Dan and that’s one of the scariest parts. 

“They won’t,” says Phil.

“You don’t know that,” says Dan.

He reaches across Phil, grasping blindly in the dark until he finds Phil’s other hand, curled into a fist at his side. Dan unravels his fingers like Phil does to the cocoons he curls himself up in when he’s in pain, slipping his own between them until their palms are flat against each other. 

“I’ve been, like, sick for a really long time, and no one’s ever taken it seriously enough to actually make sure I was okay,” he says. “I have no fucking clue what they’re gonna tell me. They could tell me all my tests came back perfectly fine and I should see a shrink again for all I know, but they might–”

“Tell you you’re dying,” says Phil.

“Yeah.”

Dan squeezes his hand, because he can, because he needs to. Phil squeezes back, but his grip doesn’t loosen, not entirely. 

“Do you think they’re going to tell you … that?”

“No,” says Dan. It’s the truth. How easy it comes out makes breathing a little easier. “Not, like, imminently at least. I feel like I’d be sicker after seven whole years of this if I was … you know.”

“Yeah,” says Phil. His hand drifts down Dan’s side, fingers catching at the edge waistline of his pants before drifting back up. “Yeah.”

Dan doesn’t have a response to that. He just lies there, awkwardly crushing his arm just so he can hear the echo of Phil’s heart, feel the grip of his hand around Dan’s. The blanket is all tangled around him, draped too low across his back, caught under the edge of the duvet. The pillow is shaped for only Phil’s head.

He thinks about his own room across the hall. His bed doesn’t have a proper pillow anymore, because he brought it here when they started sleeping together. His chest of drawers still has all his clothes folded neatly, except for all the stuff he actually wears and hasn’t bothered to fold back up. His own duvet’s hardly been used since he packed it up at uni. 

He thinks of Taylor, of long nights in uni halls spent wishing life wasn’t what it was, and long days spent not going to class, and of how much better she is now. Of how much Dan wishes that’ll be him in a little while.

And he thinks about how little time it’s been since he was back there, miserable and desperate and without Phil.

That’s the strangest part.

“I don’t want to die,” he blurts.

Phil squeezes his whole body, pulling him even closer. “I know.”

“But you don’t,” says Dan. “You– I didn’t used to care and now I do and it sucks because I’m terrified and I don’t know how to fix it except to wait.”

Under his arm, he feels Phil’s breath catch. He doesn’t exhale for a long, long time. 

And then he says, “So we’ll wait. Together. And it’ll be fine, okay?”

Dan swallows. It still doesn’t feel okay. His chest still feels full of something that shouldn’t be there, and the back of his head is still haunted with images he wishes would just go away, and his eyes are burning and tears are falling onto his cheeks and he presses his face against the round of Phil’s shoulder to make them stop.

“Okay,” he mumbles.

---

They don’t sleep.

The sky goes completely dark, taking the city with it, so slowly Dan’s eyes adjust to swirling shades of black that fill the room. Phil adjusts the duvet around them so it’s drawn up to their shoulders, wrapping them in a bubble too warm for early summer days but too cozy to break. Dan’s weight settles more comfortably against his side and Phil’s fingers comb through his hair.

His skin is sticky with Dan’s dried tears. His heart rate is still quicker than normal. Dan wishes he could make it all go away but all he has is this. 

It’s enough. 

Dan of six years ago never would have believed it.

He plays with Phil’s hand, plucking at his fingers and rubbing at the lines in his palm. He feels the few hairs dotting Phil’s chest under his cheek. Touch stings. Dan never would have thought he’d enjoy it so much, but he matches his breaths to the rhythm of Phil’s hand drifting up and down his side.

It’s probably late by now, at least the time that they would normally get off the couch to settle here instead. Time feels hazy, dreamy in a way Dan’s never really associated with night, not when he’s spent so many of them tossing and turning against the ache in his bones keeping him awake.

Phil’s breath is warm against the top of his head. His hand settles against the dip just above Dan’s hip.

“Can I ask you something?” he says.

Dan nods, humming softly.

Phil squeezes his hand before letting it go. He reaches up, pressing his thumb to where his mouth just was, combing his hand back so he’s drawing Dan’s curls away from his forehead. He does it again, tucking one that’s grown particularly long behind his ear, and then a third time, swiping his thumb across the back of Dan’s neck.

“Can I kiss you?” 

Dan forgets how to breathe, just for a second. Then he nods again, mumbling a quiet, “Yeah.”

Phil’s hand settles more firmly against the back of his neck, his thumb sweeping across the base of Dan’s skull. A smile quirks at one corner of his mouth. Despite everything, Dan feels himself matching it.

No one’s ever kissed him before. Dan doesn’t know what to expect.

When Phil’s lips press against his, it’s warm and tingly, just edging on too much. It’s soft and gentle and hesitant and so very Phil and Dan thinks it might hurt, just a bit, but it’s also so, so great. He reaches up to rest his hand on Phil’s cheek, just as Phil starts to pull away.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says. It’s a murmur, brushed right against Dan’s lips. 

“Yeah,” says Dan. mostly so Phil will kiss him again.

He does, all tangled in the blankets, just a little clumsy from the newness, over and over again until Dan’s jaw hurts and his lips sting and touch makes his skin prickle. 

And Dan just kisses him again.

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

NOTE:  Lyrics copyrighted to Lisa Loeb, of course. (I cry every time.)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Elsa, hey!" Honey laughed as they got close enough. "Check this out - there's a little bonfire thing! And it's sanctioned, so we won't get ticketed for starting a fire."

"I think it's the corpse of a luau," Kristoff remarked. "So who's our new buddy?"

"Ah. Zis is Anna," she began, eyes pleading so hard with Honey - though the woman's dark eyebrows still shot up in surprise at the accent anyway. "Anna, zese are my friends, Kristoff and Honey."

"Hey!" the firecracker herself piped up with a little wave. "Oh man, this looks awesome - is there gonna be hula dancers and a roast pig and all that junk? I wish I could stay…"

"You, uh… can't?" Elsa asked.

"Not without a room," she snorted. "But I can grab one on the way back - when I'm like twenty miles away from Resortapalooza and can afford it."

Kristoff started them walking toward the fire, even though he was still looking at Elsa in bewilderment. Inwardly, Elsa was prepared to throw herself into it when they arrived. "Uhhhhh, on your way back where?"

"Arizona. I'm studying in Tempe but I live in Phoenix."

While Elsa mentally filed that away, he answered, "Oof… that's a drive. Say, don't I know you from someplace?"

Honey rolled her eyes as she sipped at the fruity beverage she had ordered. "Arizona? You do much work there, Kris?"

"No… that's not it…"

Elsa suddenly let out a long sigh. "Ahhh, it is a lovely fire. I vould love to stay by it, but perhaps I vill take a valk, ja?"

"Hey, hang on a sec," Anna stalled her with a smile. "There's a couple abandoned guitars over there, let's just… hang? Maybe my friend will show up out here - she knows I play."

"Your friend?" Honey asked suspiciously. Oh no.

"Yeah. Like, it's this whole crazy-"

"Zat sounds VUNDERBAR!" Elsa burst out nervously, probably grinning too much - or too manically, take your pick. "Please, you vill go get guitar!"

Kristoff bounced like a little kid in a candy store. "Oh - me, too! We can two-man it!"

"Yeah, you play, bro?" Anna asked excitedly as they skipped off. And Elsa tried to enjoy a moment to relax - until she was grabbed by Honey in a vice-like grip.

"It's her."

"What?" Elsa squeaked. "I mean… nej, you are crazy! I'm…" In a lower voice, she hissed at her, "Just shut up! Okay?!"

"She drove all the way here to meet you! And you said your movie wasn't coming out for a couple more weeks - this is a movie, girl!"

"It is not! It's an impulsive college girl who… is arguing with her boyfriend too much, and thinks I'm her way out! And I'm not going to take advantage of her! So please, just… play along, and we will part ways, and that will be that!"

While Elsa was breathing hard, warily watching for Anna and Kristoff's return, Honey fixed her with an expression that was almost… wounded. She only had just enough time to register it as sympathy before it was too late to respond.

"Got 'em! You know any Tegan and Sara?"

"Not that well," Kristoff laughed as he shouldered the strap. "You know any Dave Matthews?"

"I'm not drunk enough to sound like Dave," she giggled. Elsa couldn't keep the smile off her face. "Um… oh - anyway…"

What else? She began to strum the easy chords to "Wonderwall." Kristoff lost it laughing, and Anna giggled but didn't break the rhythm, so he joined in with extra-whiny vocals. As it turned out, her little strawberry-haired strumpet could do fantastic harmony.

"Vunderbar!" Elsa cried as she and Honey clapped. "I did not know ve vere in the presence of greatness!"

"Yeah, maybe you should draft her into your band," Honey laughed.

Anna began to take the guitar strap from around her neck with a big, sheepish grin. "Nah, I gotta finish school. Buuuut I guess I could transfer to UCLA or something…"

"Aww, you done?" Kristoff moped.

"Yes! Vun more!" Elsa joined in - anything to keep her there. Anything at all.

"Weeeeeellllll… I have a long drive ahead of me, but…" Squirming, she put the strap back around her shoulders. "I've been thinking about this one a lot. You can jump in with backup if you feel it but I can ride solo."

Something about the way Anna took a breath, sinking down into another mood entirely, gave Elsa the exact same tingle she had when she first heard her by the front desk. Then solitary notes pierced her soul. And then…

"You say… I only hear what I want to…"

By that point, her crystalline blue eyes were already wrapped in tears. She knew the song; everyone knew the song. But the more she thought about the lyrics Anna was singing, the more she watched ill-suppressed agony flicker across her face… she understood why it had been on her mind so often.

"You say I only hear what I want to, I don't listen hard, I don't pay attention to the distance that you're running or to anyone, anywhere… I don't understand if you really care, I'm only hearing negative, no no no, bad…"

"Elsa?" Honey whispered quietly when she saw how distraught her friend was. But she couldn't even form a response; her entire focus was on Anna.

"And you said that I was naive and I thought that I was strong… I thought, 'hey, I can leave, I can leave', oh but now I know that I was wrong… 'Cause I missed you. Yeah, I missed you…"

By the time Anna reached the end of the song, the woman she was searching for had seated herself next to her, gazing straight into her eyes. And when she sang, "And you say…"

Elsa provided, "Stay."

The firecracker was stunned for just a second. But then she kept playing, and they both harmonised for the final line: "You say I only hear what I want to…"

By the time the final notes of her guitar faded completely, all was silent other than the crackle of the fire in the pit by their side. Anna recovered first, clearing her throat to ask, "Where'd your friends go?"

Good question. Everybody was gone. Elsa whispered, "I don't know. But I know why they left."

"I think… I do, too. Definitely wasn't Lisa Loeb hatred. But I don't… want to say anything in case I'm wrong again. Felt dumb enough for one day."

"Say it. If you want."

But instead of a blurted accusation, a hand came to rest on Elsa's wrist as a soft, cautious smile pulled at Anna's lips. "Nah. Now I don't have to, Mountie."

                               To Be Continued…

[smugdensugdendingle]

Slip of the Tongue

inspired by this post (X)

ao3 link

Robert was an idiot he knew that who else would purposely go out their way every day for a year to see a complete stranger. Well, stranger probably wasn’t the right word. Aaron Dingle, he knew of him, knew he lived back in the village, knew he was mates with his sister but the two never properly met. So there he was day 367, give or take a couple of days, sat in the small café tucked away in the corner with his americano staring at the entrance willing it to open.

“He’s not do in for another hour,” Robert heard as he took a sip of his drink. He looked over to the woman who was wiping down the table next to him.

“What?” He asked after gulping down the lukewarm coffee.

The brunette smirked, “The scrapper, Aaron,” she clarified.

“Don’t know what you’re on about,” he lied, turning his attention back to his Americano.

The brunette chuckled, grabbing a discarded mug from another table.

“Wait,” Robert called after her. She turned back, the smirk still painted across her face. “How did you know….”

“Well seeing as the first time you came in here you told me my coffee was utter shit and demanded your money back, I figured there had to be another reason for you coming back for more,” she explained. “And the fact that you’re not very subtle, you practically start drooling when he walks through the door.”

“What? I do not,” he replied defensively.

“Another Americano while you wait?” She asked ignoring his last response. Robert hesitated at first before nodding his head in response.

“Give us a sec, I’ll bring it over,” she told him before making her way back to the counter.

An hour had passed and still nothing, Robert had pulled his laptop out in his wait trying to get some work done, hoping the distraction would ease the stress of waiting.

“Hm,” he heard looking up to see the brunette standing by his table. “He must be running late,” she commented. “He’s usually finishing up his last run right about now,” she added checking the time.

Robert frowned, “Stalker,” he muttered before turning back to his laptop.

The brunette laughed, “Coming from the man who's been coming here every day just to see a man he barely knows,” she replied taking a seat across from him.

“Shouldn't you be working?”

“Who said I’m not?”

“Wouldn’t your boss have something to say about you harassing the customers?”

“Would you like to speak to my boss?”

“Maybe I would,” Robert replied. The woman reached over closing his laptop before holding out her hand to shake Robert’s hand.

“Jessica Johnson,” she replied. “Owner of this fine establishment, what seems to be the problem?” She added.

“You own this place?”

“Well part owner, my dad, and Uncle opened this place years back, when I uncle got ill I had money to spend and well here I am,” she explained. “Anyways, enough about me, so are ya going to do it?”

“Do what?” Robert questioned.

“Order something other than an Americano,” she replied sarcastically. “Ask Aaron out ya idiot!”

“Oh,” he replied. “I’ve not-“

“Not thought about it?” She laughed. “Don’t give me that crap, what are you afraid he won’t fancy you as much as you fancy him?”

“Please, have you see me?”

“Arrogant much?” She laughed. “I imagine you could win him over with that.” Robert rolled his eyes. “It’s a little more complicated them him fancying me,” he replied.

“And that would be?”

“He’s… he’s not a complete stranger alright, he’s mates with my little sister,” he explained.

“Right, and you’ve been stalking him here at my café because…”

“I don’t get back to the village that much… I go like once a month to have dinner with my step-mum and sister,” he tried arguing.

“Is that what helps you sleep at night?”

“I should just go,” he argued grabbing his laptop, placing it in his bag that was sat on the ground next to his chair.

“It's your lost then,” she replied getting up from the table. “But if you ask me you don’t seem like the type to just give up… just think about it, what are you gonna lose by asking him?” She questioned. “Worst case scenario he says no,” she finally added before making her way back to the counter. “There he is,” Robert heard looking up to see Aaron making his way into the café. “You sir are twenty minutes late,” Jessica replied. “Was about to send a search party out to find ya,” she added. Aaron frowned. “That fine gentleman over there…” she went on pointing over to Robert. “..even offered to be the leader of it.” Aaron looked over at Robert who looked like a deer caught up in headlights. “ I wasn’t… ” he stammered.

“Right,” Aaron replied turning back to the brunette.

“Joking, obviously,” she replied smirking. “You want your usual?”

“No, just a black coffee,” he replied. “please,” he added last second.

Robert glared at the woman as she turned to pour Aaron his coffee in a to-go cup.

“Black coffee?” She questioned handing the cup over. “Someone must be havin’ a bad day.”

Aaron sighed as he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “My truck broke down,” he explained. pulling a card out to pay. “had to wait for my mate to come ‘rescue’ me, made me late for everything else today” he explained.

“Oh and you still found time to come see little old me,” she teased as the receipt printed.

“More like I was gonna throttle someone if I didn’t stop and take a breather,” he replied.

Robert made his way over with his mug in hand, deciding to make his move. Jessica was right what was the worse that could happen? He was lost in thought when he felt it the other man crashing into him.

“Oi, you flipping muppet,” Aaron nearly yelled as the coffee spilled. “Haven’t you heard of personal space.”

Robert stared at the younger man.

“As if this day couldn’t get any worse,” Aaron muttered to himself. “I have to go through the rest of my day like this now,” he went on looking down at his shirt covered in coffee. “Thanks to you.”

“Let me get you another coffee,” Jessica replied turning to grab another to-go cup.

“What not got anything to say?” Aaron questioned the older man noticing he was still staring.

“Marry me,” Robert muttered, the words slipping from his lips.

“What?” Aaron questioned.

“Oh shit, you heard that?” Robert replied, eyes wide. “I… that’s not… I’m…”

“Are you okay?” Aaron questioned with a frown.

Robert looked back at Jessica, who was biting back a laugh.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“What you didn’t mean to propose to me? Or you didn’t mean to make me spill coffee all over myself?”

“Both.”

Aaron laughed, “Right, then,” he replied taking the second coffee from Jessica. “With that, I’m just gonna … go. now,” he said pointing towards the door. “Before this gets really awkward,” he explained.

“Wait!” Robert exclaimed stopping Aaron. Aaron turned back confused. “Look, I-“

“Don’t I know you?” Aaron questioned after studying Robert’s face, realizing he looked familiar.

“Yeah, actually,” he replied.

“You’re Vic’s brother aren’t you?”

‘Ye-yeah,” he replied nodding his head.

Aaron laughed, “Wow, so that makes that proposal even more awkward,” he stated.

“I don’t know where that came from I’m sorry,” Robert explained.

“Relax, I’m just winding you up,” Aaron replied.

“Right.”

“So… was there anything else?”  He questioned Robert. “Because I do have a lot on,” he explained.

“What?”

“You told me to wait…”

“Oh, yeah right…” Robert replied. ‘Now or never,’ he thought to himself. “I’m gonna be in the village next week, dinner with Diane and Vic” he explained.

“Okay?”

“…I was wondering if I could buy you a drink in the pub…” he trailed off. “You know to make up for the mess that just happened.”

“Are you asking me out?” Aaron questioned. “Aren’t you married?”

“Divorced. A year now.”

“Sorry,” Aaron muttered not knowing what else to say.

“It’s fine,” Robert replied. The two fell silent for a moment. “So?” Robert questioned. “Pint? Next week?”

“…We’ll have to see if I’m around won’t we?” Aaron replied with a wink before turning to leave the café.

“Was that a yes?” Robert questioned almost in shock.

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” Jessica replied making her way around the counter with a mop in hand, handing it over to Robert.

“What’s this for?”

“To clean up the mess,” she replied pointing at the coffee spill. “Oh and I expect an invite to the wedding,” she replied with a smirk as Robert took the mop.

[johobi]

When You Least Expect It | 05

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader x Taehyung 

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: tiny bit of angst

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16732419/navigate

A/N: Okay, this is the second part I extracted from that mammoth chapter. It’s a little shorter than normal as a result, but I hope you enjoy it.

Next: 06 || WYLEI Masterlist

You’re in love with your childhood friend, Taehyung. The problem is, you treasure your friendship with him far too much to ever risk losing it. Oh, and he’s quite the Casanova. At your wits’ end with feelings you can no longer hide as diligently as you once did, you ask him to set you up with someone, anyone, in a last-ditch attempt to avoid a heartbreaking conversation.

The first date was supposed to be the most nerve-wracking one, right? And that’s why you couldn’t understand why choosing something to wear was even more of an insurmountable task than the last time. How even though your apartment was now meticulous, it still seemed unfit for Jungkook to see, and that was despite the fact you were still not planning on inviting him in. Oh, no, just because you didn’t put out on the first date, that didn’t mean you were reserving it for the second one in some half-assed attempt at sticking by these new values you had adopted.

So why had you, yet again, gone to town on grooming and dressing parts of yourself that he wouldn’t be seeing tonight? Surely you should have been going au naturel to guarantee that you wouldn’t dare let him in the vicinity of these areas?

Because.

He was disarmingly handsome, cute, and growing on you at an unnerving rate. Without being in the same room, even! It was mind-boggling. Perhaps the sheer fruitlessness of your love for Taehyung was beginning to dawn on you. Perhaps your outpouring to Hoseok had been a turning point.

Perhaps.

Or perhaps you were fooling yourself into thinking that you enjoyed Jungkook’s attentions.

Time would tell.

And time was approaching fast. He was due to pick you up in another five minutes, and you couldn’t find your fucking keys! Typical.

Buzzzzzzzzz.

Fuck. He was early. Good job you had pressured your lazy ass into cleaning up.

Sounding, you were sure, akin to an elephant charging across the savannah, you stomped down the stairs to your front door and flung it open, the two of you presenting each other with similarly toothy grins. His, however, won, because you were sure you were beginning to develop some kind of freakish fetish for his rabbit-like gnashers. “Hi!”

“Hi,” Jungkook brimmed so intensely with enthusiasm, you could almost see him vibrating. Jesus. It was still novel to you that someone was so sincerely excited to spend time in your company. As with anything that seemed too good to be true, your paranoia set in to fret over whether this was another – certainly more malicious – of Taehyung’s pranks. But for the next thing Jungkook uttered, you honestly didn’t give a shit. You would take it, even if it was fantastical. “Wow,” he breathed, casting a long, appreciative glance over your figure. “You look incredible.”

You blinked down at what you considered to be a rather hum-drum outfit – some black skinny jeans and a tank-top – and wasn’t sure just what he was seeing. You hadn’t even put on your fancy sweater yet. Yes, you were just that organised. “Thanks,” you exhaled a mild snort. “I don’t know about that, though. I’m not even ready – sorry to be a pain. You were considerate enough to show up a little early and here I am, frantically searching for my damn keys. Would you like to come in for a minute while I look for them?”

Jungkook’s upper lip thinned as his smile grew. Everything that came out of your mouth seemed to be music to his ears, and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing. His eagerness was almost abnormal. Or perhaps your sense of self-worth was just that skewed? “Sure.”

“Perspective, ____,” you heard Hoseok’s parting words echo in your mind. “Don’t always trust what your mind tells you. At the moment, it’s on the wrong side.”

You opened the door wider and turned to run back up the stairs – realising halfway up that it was probably impolite to clamber around your apartment like a chimpanzee in company. Awkwardly, you slowed down and looked over your shoulder to apologise, but stopped when you noticed that Jungkook’s eyes had been glued to the tight outline of your ass and his face was only inches from colliding with it when you stopped. Immediately you roared with laughter and his gaze flew to your face, his expression some hilarious amalgamation of guilt, mischief and chagrin. He hung his head low, like a kid that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I’m sorry, you’re just—right in front of me, and those pants look really good on you—“ he spluttered, but you only laughed harder.

“It’s fine. I probably should have given you some notice before you nearly face-planted my butt, too,” you snickered as you ascended the stairs.

When you reached the landing, you led him into the living room, the place you were certain you’d misplaced your keys. While you frantically upturned sofa cushions and rifled through the magazines on your coffee table, Jungkook took the chance to absorb his surroundings. And, by extension, probably glean something about your personality, you surmised.

It was appropriately lacking.

“You have a really nice place,” he commented kindly, and you scoffed.

“It’s boring, and doesn’t have many personal touches,” you muttered distractedly, hands on hips and completely flummoxed. “I haven’t really had the time to do much with it, even though I’d like to.”

“I like DIY if you ever need a helping hand,” he offered, and that tore you from your quest for keys for a moment. You tilted your head in disbelief at just how genuinely nice this kid was.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smile appreciatively, then, remembering why you were still standing around in your apartment and not on the way to the movie you were bound to be late for, you growled in frustration. “Where did I put those fuckers? Hold on a sec, let me check the kitchen.”

Jungkook nodded and plopped himself down on your couch, and you found yourself mildly thankful that he didn’t ask permission to do so. You wanted to see him relax, to take some initiative, and maybe – this suggestion being entirely influenced by your unbidden libido – for him to take some control.

“Thank Christ,” you muttered under your breath when you found the offending item on your kitchen counter, right where you’d sworn to retrieve it from. Because you’d baked Jungkook some cupcakes, too, and you knew you’d forget them. Instead, you’d forgotten both your keys and the fucking baked goods.

When you returned to the living room, you saw him examining your various framed photographs. You approached where he stood and smiled at him when he looked up, his finger outstretched and pointing to one in particular: Your high school graduation. Your parents had, of course, been absent, far too busy for such a “glorified, pointless event. The piece of paper is what matters, darling.” But Hoseok and Yoongi had lined your sides as exemplary stand-ins, and in all honesty, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. You had graduated together as classmates, peers and family that day. “Are these your parents?” Jungkook joked.

“Yeah,” you played along. “My two gay dads. They adopted very young. We’re very close.”

“My collection of photos looks scarily similar to yours,” Jungkook smiled dolefully. “A little more aesthetically pleasing, perhaps, thanks to my eye for composition,” he ribbed in passing, and you shook your head incredulously, “but just as devoid of family. I’m glad you’re displaying who and what actually makes you happy.”

Ah, yes, Jungkook had vaguely mentioned his own familial troubles. “That’s right. There’s more to life than pining after a parents’ overvalued love,” you commented rather cynically, but Jungkook was nodding his agreement. “I couldn’t have wished for a better substitute family than these two. I’m theirs, too, really. It’s one disjointed, but loving, family. You’re more than welcome to join,” you teased, and Jungkook shuddered exaggeratedly.

The side of his mouth arced into a suggestive smirk. “I’m not into incest, but thank you for the offer.”

You raised your eyebrows at his boldness. This was a first for him, in person. “Oh?” you let your one-syllable response hang in insinuation. And if he were about to respond, in kind, with a decidedly more salacious reply, he didn’t have the chance before you were shoving the box of cupcakes at his chest. You know, in that half shy, half ‘just take it!’ way that textbook Tsunderes do. You fitted rather easily into that god-awful stereotype. “I baked these for you,” you stated lamely, your face flushing for some unreachable reason.

Jungkook’s eyes widened as he opened the box and saw what lay within. “You made these for me?”

“I did just say that,” you brushed your efforts off with a nonchalant flap of your hand.

“Wow, ____,” he mumbled, gazing into the carton of treats with all the wonder of Pandora and her box.  Hopefully, no such ills would befall him for consuming it. Possibly food poisoning, but that hadn’t happened in a while and— “Thank you, I’ll probably eat them all in one sitting when I get home.”

“If you do, then I’ve done it right,” you chuckled, then clamped your hands onto his shoulders and steered him toward the way he’d come in. “I’ve got my keys, let’s go.”

The car journey was subdued in conversation, but fizzed like nothing else with delicious tension. No particular moment had sparked it; rather a sequence of minor, missable happenings. A brush of hands, a waft of cologne, the way he had reached over to pull your seatbelt over your lap when you found yourself struggling. Jungkook locked eyes with you when it clicked into place and fuck if you hadn’t wanted to kiss him so badly right then, completely ruin whatever semblance of innocence he still had clinging to him.

Your curiosity having gotten the better of you, you finally broke the spell of charged silence by questioning him gently about his past dating life. “So,” you started awkwardly, picking at the threads that had begun to unravel on the sleeves of your sweater. “When did you last go on a date? I told you it’d been a while for me, so it’s only fair that you ‘fess up too.”

Jungkook chuckled, glancing at you quickly before returning his eyes to the road. He was, of course, one of those infuriatingly hot guys that drove with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearstick, oozing a confidence for driving that you were envious you didn’t possess. Oh, no, you were definitely as nervous a driver as you were a navigator of life. “I went on a few when I first moved here, a couple of months ago,” he admitted, and that uplifted you a little, to know that he had some experience under his belt. You wouldn’t want anyone’s first time to be spent with the unworthy likes of you. “But it didn’t work out, really. I haven’t been interested in anyone for a while.”

You couldn’t resist the urge to play coy. “And that changed?”

Without taking his eyes off the view ahead, his profile flashed with a contented grin. He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Right. My parents have always had a very narrow view of who I should be with,” he sighed, his buoyancy vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Oh,” you puffed out, caught off-guard. “Is that why you moved away?”

It seemed like Jungkook hadn’t meant to steer the conversation in this direction. His knuckles whitened on the wheel. “Yeah. It was a rather twisted, complicated situation,” he was being purposefully vague and you didn’t want to see your night ruined by bringing up bad memories.

So, without thinking, you reached out to turn on the car radio and jumped so high in your seat you nearly banged your head on the ceiling. Fucking hell, he liked his music loud. “Jesus, Jungkook!” you swore, turning the dial to an acceptable level. He cackled brazenly and you swatted his arm in response, the thick leather of his jacket serving to protect him well. Yes, he was wearing a leather jacket, something he hadn’t deigned to bless your eyes with until you’d reached the car he was taking you in. When he’d swung the garment over his shoulders, it was almost as though it had played in slow-motion before your eyes. Every guy you’d ever had a crush on growing up had had a leather jacket. And, somehow, he pulled it off better than any of them.

To your delight, the radio was tuned to one of your favourite stations. “You weren’t just talking shit when you said the 80s were your favourite,” you mused, impressed.

“Of course not,” he gasped in mock injury. “It’s the best era.”

“You’re too young to remember it,” you teased, pinching your tongue between your teeth in preparation for a scathing rebuke.

He raised a sole eyebrow. “Do you want me to call you noona, is that it? Is that why you keep reminding me?”

You hadn’t been expecting that. You flushed and turned away, well and truly put in your place. It didn’t help that Taehyung’s overuse of the word had kindled in you something dangerously akin to a kink. “No,” you muttered flippantly.

But he wasn’t fooled. “Oh,” he whispered. “Oh,” he dragged the offensive breath of air out, recognition sparking in his eyes. “You do want that?”

You shook your head vigorously. “No!”

“You do!”

“I don’t! I hate that word,” you hissed, the defensiveness of your posture – crossed arms, avoidant of eye contact – said more than enough.

“Noona,” he purred, and nothing could have had you whipping your head around quicker than that. He sounded fucking sinful and an all-too unwelcome throb nestled itself adamantly between your legs. Jungkook looked elated by this newfound power. “Holy shit, I’m definitely using that from now on.”

“Only if I get to call you my Little Sugar Kookie, then,” you shrugged, lips pursed and defiant.

An embarrassed groan met your ears. “Oh God, I don’t think I’ve heard anything worse.”

“Well then,” you sniffed, a smirk creeping back into your expression. “Don’t try me.”

You arrived soon after that exchange, your charged banter invigorating your spirits and expectations for the evening. He insisted, of course – and despite the roll of your eyes – that he open the door for you. Such blatant chivalry deserved a reward, you reasoned, so as you walked past him you casually yanked up the drooping waistband of your jeans, giving him an eyeful your best asset. There was no need to look back, of course, to judge his reaction, because you heard it well enough – some choked vocalisation that he tried hard to cover with a cough. However, you weren’t to be fooled – you didn’t have a lot you were particularly proud of, and sure your self-esteem was buried 6 feet underground somewhere. But the many men you’d gotten through had all agreed on one thing: that your ass had been the first – and last, when you inevitably walked away from their bullshit – thing they’d noticed about you, and for ample reason.

“I’ll get the tickets,” he jogged in front of you, his hands stuffed in his pockets and hugging his jacket to himself. Was he ever going to let you pay for anything?

“Let me at least get the snacks, then,” you offered, but he shook his head at you from the ticket office window. “It’s expensive,” you went on, acutely aware of how low-paying both of your jobs were. The least you could do was split the cost. He had, afterall, paid for dinner too.

When he came away with the tickets, he was still shaking his head. “Nope. You’re not paying for anything,” he insisted, pointing to the tempting display of diabetes-inducing treats. “What would you like?”

Everything he said and did was so mindful, so courteous that you couldn’t help but just stare at him sometimes. Like, was he real? And if he was, was he for real? Was he like this with everyone else? You still had so much to learn about him, and he did nothing but make it a pleasure to do so. “I’ll just have some salted popcorn,” you mumbled after a while of dithering. “I’m not really hungry.”

“I took you for a sweet kind of girl,” he laughed at his own joke, and you were immediately ready to take him down again.

“Nah, I like it salty,” you shrugged, but couldn’t maintain a straight face with the way that his eyes bugged out of his head. “Okay, you are far too easy to shock.”

Jungkook turned away and huffed, scrambling to repair his dented pride. “I just—I see your angelic face, and I don’t expect to hear such lewd things come out of your mouth,” he gushed, the cheese heavy and fully intended. He smirked in satisfaction when your hand planted your face in embarrassment.

“I actually have no comeback to that,” you relented. When you peeped at him through your fingers, he was tonguing his cheek in that insufferably appealing, arrogant way of his. “Stop that,” you chided.

He feigned incognisance. “Stop what?”

“Being sexy. I’m outlawing it,” you pouted.

Jungkook’s lofty front faltered somewhat. “You think I’m sexy?”

That wasn’t as plain as day? Just what the fuck were you doing with your eyes and words and body language every time you saw him? You thought you were being too overt. Maybe he shared your knack for undervaluing oneself.

The clock on the wall caught your eye. “Shit, we’re going to miss the start.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he called after you as you took off.

The only explanation for your lateness were your extended bouts of flagrant flirting for each new location you arrived at. It was, indeed, a trifling problem, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but revel in it. Eventually, though, you did make it to your seats, even when your eyes couldn’t quite adjust to the darkness and you tripped over someone’s legs, nearly pulling down Jungkook’s jeans on your way to the floor. Luckily, he’d grabbed your hands just in time, somehow even halting the momentum of your knees making an assuredly painful impact. You’d gulped then, realising just how much upper body strength he possessed.

Both of you whispered a quick apology to those caught in the fray and giggled between yourselves as you located a relatively empty row in the back. The movie had already started by this point, so when he unfolded your seat and held it out for you in one of his eye-roll provoking displays of excessive gallantry, you couldn’t even call him out on it. And he knew, by the shit-eating grin on his face.

You had to give Jungkook credit – the movie was almost unbearably frightening to you. He’d chosen well. Every time the killer made an appearance, you curled into him in preparation for the gratuitous gore you knew you wouldn’t be able to stomach. The first time you’d done it, he’d tensed like a bow string, his arm wooden and stretched obstinately over the back of your seat, as though touching you uninvited would see you immediately casting him from your good graces. But with your rough coaxing – grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling him to you – he relaxed into his role of protector. And by the halfway point, he had become a veteran.

“I hate this,” you hiss-whispered into his neck. Without a doubt, you’d seen less of the movie and more of Jungkook’s frustratingly sculpted chest in the time that you’d been sat here. “I can’t look.”

You felt, rather than heard his chuckle, the vibration from his laughter lulling you into a temporary peace. With time, emboldened by your prompting, he’d begun to stroke the length of your arm to a lazy, consistent rhythm, allaying your fear somewhat. His touch was so different to the platonic affection that Hoseok had swaddled you in the other night. And it was different, still, to the way Taehyung would sometimes rub your shoulders when he saw how tightly wound you were – mainly because he’d never meant it with any of the intent you so wanted.

Jungkook evoked something else altogether.

His touch was alien, unknown, but oh-so right. His fingers were long, and strong, and although you couldn’t see them now, you knew how vascular his hands were. You’d never been handled by someone quite so built, so muscled, and this uncharted territory beckoned you with untold wonders you were eager to map out. The screams from the heroine in peril were no longer jarring, so absorbed in your blind appreciation for his appendages were you. When you lifted his arm away, Jungkook glanced over in confusion. And, bless him, a flash of panic. You smiled your reassurance at him, though you weren’t sure how well he could see it, and instead slid your palm over the top of his hand, your other coming up underneath to support it. He was no longer watching the movie, either, choosing instead to observe your curious behaviour.

The light in the theatre flashed brighter with the change in scene, and only then could you see the glorious intricacies of his ensnared hand. Turning it over in yours, your thumbs traced the lines of his palm, noting how smooth they were. This boy had certainly never worked a day of menial labour in his life. These hands were soft, uncalloused, and just how knowledgeable of a woman’s body were they? How many times had they gripped his—

You caught Jungkook clearing his throat in the lull of action on-screen and looked up at him, hitting him with a kittenish smile. It was more than likely just the darkness of the theatre, the circumference of his pupils lending themselves to the absence of light around you. And yet, the way he was tensed, his fingers slightly trembling in the looseness of your grip, you wondered if he would be looking at you so darkly right now, even if the lights were up. Were your innocuous touches stirring something in him?

Of course, you weren’t about to tell him that you had been committing him, viscerally, to memory. That later, in the privacy of your bed, you would be recalling the size and feel of him, to imagine what it would be like to have those same hands on you, in you, doing unspeakable things. But distantly, you wondered whether he would like that idea.

Neither of you, however, needed the aid of light to feel the way the atmosphere fizzed with tacit desire. He was leaning into you before you were, drawn to each other like North and South, and you were but four, three inches away from finally tasting him when you clambered over the armrest to close the excruciating distance. And that was when he stopped in his tracks. Slowly, his face angled down, and your lust-addled brain took a moment to catch on to why he no longer had any interest in meeting mouths. You followed his stricken gaze to his lap and the spillage your unceremonious scrambling to get to him had caused.

You’d soaked him through with Coke.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasped, a little louder than the people in the row in front of you would have liked, judging by their disapproving glares.

This wasn’t how you’d envisioned your first time looking directly at Jungkook’s crotch to be like, and yet here you were, eyes wide and aghast as the stain – very apparent against his blue jeans – continued to spread. “I’m so, so sorry,” you whined. God, it was impossible for you to go a day without apologising to someone over some fuck-up or another.

Jungkook, though, seemed to find it incredibly amusing. He threw his head back as his body was wracked with silent laughs, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. You stared, mouth agape, in confusion. “You’re not angry?”

“Of course not,” he wheezed. “Don’t be silly, it’s just a pair of jeans. It’s just, that was so perfectly timed, I can’t get over this. Are we in a drama or something?”

You smiled in line with his thinking, relieved that he appeared to take it in such good humour. Yet another sign that he was worth persevering with, despite what your heart may say. “Are you gonna be okay?”

The row in front’s disgruntled muttering had you wincing. Jungkook stirred uneasily in his seat and whispered as quietly as he could manage. “I don’t know, it’s getting kind of swampy down there,” he tried to repress a laugh but it only resounded all the louder, strangled at the back of his throat.

You chewed on your lip to stop it coming out. You really did, really did try and swallow it. But the temptation was just too fucking much, the opportunity too damn good to miss. “Good job I like sucking Coke.”

And that was when the woman in front rounded on you and raised her finger, but you were already high-tailing it out of there, dragging a bent-double, boggy-assed Jungkook behind you. When you burst through the doors and out into the lobby, the two of you fell into fits of laughter, falling against each other for mutual support and finding only a crumpling mess of giggles. “I can’t,” you sobbed, nearly incoherent. “I can’t get up.”

Sure enough, you were fastened to Jungkook’s waist like Velcro, your knees digging into the uncomfortably thin carpet, tears leaking from your eyes.

And then you heard him. “Noona?”

Why?

Why did he always appear like someone nearby had summoned him directly from hell?

Arms still cinched firmly around Jungkook’s waist, your head turned stiffly to heed his call. Seeing Taehyung there, his face, so charmingly betwixt confusion and amusement, was enough to extinguish your gaiety. Like having a bucket of ice water thrown callously over your head. “What’s going on?” he asked, and although his tone seemed pleasant enough, there was a strange look in his eyes, one you couldn’t identify.

“Uh, just a date,” you explained feebly, and Jungkook helped hoist you to your feet.

“Hyung,” he acknowledged him, beaming, and clearly unbothered by the unsightly brown patch marring the front of his jeans. “Nice to see you.”

Taehyung’s gaze flickered to Jungkook and, though he still seemed a little off, he smiled widely. “And you. I’m just here with—“

So today was the day you were destined to meet her. Why, why was Taehyung always just there, ready to ruin your day, your date, your fucking life.

Always.

And today he had an accomplice. Predictably beautiful, leggy, and with long, impossibly lustrous hair, Tara emerged from the ladies’ bathroom and hooked an arm through Taehyung’s. The way he fucking looked at her.

It decimated you.

It shattered you, inside and out, so severely that for a few long, vulnerable seconds, the extent of your hurt was broadcast plainly from your face. There was no strength to find, no desire to pin on some genial expression. Even when, internally, you were climbing the walls in a bid to do so. Your body was refusing to cooperate altogether. It was hopeless, trying to fake something welcoming, or excited, or any one of many polite – because she was certainly undeserving of your embittered feelings – emotions you should have been displaying. And now you were vaguely aware of Jungkook looking between the two of you when you didn’t respond to her greeting. He nudged you. “____?” and when you didn’t respond to him, “Noona?”

That had your and Taehyung’s immediate attention. “Noona?” Taehyung repeated slowly. “You’re getting on that well already?”

You couldn’t break here, not now. Not in front of either of them.

Hoseok will be there for me.

The reminder brought you to.

You approached the pleasantly smiling woman and reached out your hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m ____, Taehyung’s friend.”

She accepted with enthusiasm and nodded in recognition. “I knew it was you, as soon as I saw you. Taehyung’s told me so much about you. I’m so glad to meet you finally.”

Fuck.

She was nice.

You couldn’t even entertain the idea of hating her for being a bitch, now.

“Likewise,” your voice had taken on an abnormally high timbre, not far removed from your customer service charade. “I wasn’t expecting to until Yoongi’s party. This is a nice surprise.”

Taehyung was quieter than you were used to. Of course, the last time you had seen him had been that dreadful night at Hoseok’s, and although he had been texting you as diligently as ever after seemingly accepting your curt forgiveness, your replies had lacked the intricate subtlety of Hoseok’s carefully-worded texts. He could sense you were being weird, and you hoped to God, any God, all of the Gods, that he would never put two and two together. That night had been as dangerously close as you had ever come to letting on that you felt something other than happy-smiley friendship-love for him. “Noona,” Taehyung addressed you in an oddly assertive tone, and you felt Jungkook straighten just a fraction. “We should hang out soon.”

All the more for having witnesses, you wanted to end this painful interaction quickly. “Yeah, of course. Text me? We’ve got to go, Jungkook and I—“ you looked directly at his crotch and he faltered a little under your gaze, pulling down his shirt. “We had an accident, so we’re gonna get him home so he can change.”

Tara laughed; an enchanting, tinkling sound, and you tried so hard to hate her, but you couldn’t. “I won’t ask what happened, but you two looked like you were having a blast anyways.”

Jungkook grinned widely, flashing her his prominent teeth. Selfishly, you hoped she wouldn’t notice – surely it was impossible for any woman or man not to fall for them. “We were. We might have to come back and actually finish the movie some time, but—“

“No way,” you shook your head, visibly shuddering. “I’m not putting myself through that again. That was a stupid idea.”

“You’ve never been able to stick through the entirety of a horror film,” Taehyung sighed, smiling warmly. Tara was snug to his side and he seemed all the happier for it. “I should have given Jungkook a heads-up.”

The man in question shot you an imploring look and you were quick to defend him. “It’s not his fault, I insisted. I thought it would be, I don’t know,” you mumbled your latter words, coy all of a sudden. It was still weird talking about this kind of thing with Taehyung in earshot. “More fun.”

Tara clapped her hands and cackled. “She gets it.”

You laughed along politely before your face dropped a little too suddenly and you turned to Jungkook. “Let’s go?”

He nodded. You bid them both a hurried goodbye and walked a few steps closer to the exit, which flew open with the next person to enter it. A gale seemed to be blowing outside. Jungkook, of course, was already on top of your needs. It almost seemed like he’d been waiting for this opportunity. He removed his jacket and wrapped it securely around you, his eyes glinting gleefully. Peering over Jungkook’s shoulder, you caught Taehyung’s eye across the lobby and smiled weakly at him – honestly, your feelings for him were so mixed at the moment that you had no idea how to even interact with him. You loved him, you hated him, you wanted him, you resented him. You couldn’t be consistent, and it was fast becoming obvious that something was very off with you.

The drive home was quiet, just as it had been on the way there. But not uncomfortably. No, it was calm and content, and though the earlier build-up – of whatever that was – had died down in the face of some undue exhaustion, you’d had a good day. Yes, the appearance of Taehyung and his flawless girlfriend had dampened your mood to a large extent, but you weren’t about to take that out on Jungkook again, fuck no. He’d done everything right. And if, perhaps, one day you could just meet and not have Taehyung supernaturally teleport to the destination of your next date, that would be fantastic. As it was, that was what had happened today, and now you needed time to collect yourself. But you would not be unkind, and you would not spurn Jungkook out of melancholy.

When you arrived at your apartment, you felt glum. Did it have to be over?

Yes, it did, because you were not planning on continuing your dalliance tonight.

You heaved a sigh over your internal musings, and Jungkook looked over at you, unclicking your seatbelt. You weren’t so inept that you couldn’t work it yourself, but he just insisted on these things, half because he was too good for you, and half because he knew how much it annoyed you. The brat liked to tease.

“What are you thinking?” he freed himself from his own restraints and turned in his seat to regard you fully.

“I’m a little sad to go home,” you answered truthfully, and you hadn’t meant to be so candid. As a stranger to being so open, it was unnerving how easily you had offered up the confession. But Jungkook made anything possible.

He trapped one of your hands as it picked, in agitation, at your sweater, his touch instantly quelling your restlessness. When he so delicately interlocked your fingers, your heartrate shifted up a gear. You both just sat there, staring at where you were connected. It felt…

“Perfect,” he mumbled, and you looked up to see that he’d taken a bite of one of your cupcakes. “Oh my God, these are amazing,” he continued, an errant crumb flying with his full-mouthed praise.

You barked with laughter. “Way to ruin the moment,” you joshed, and grinned all the wider for seeing him hastily gulp down what he was chewing. “Not that I should be criticising you for that.”

“Wait,” he rasped. “Did I ruin the moment? Can I bring it back?”

“Only if you’re a necromancer,” you chuckled, letting yourself out of the car.

Unconvinced, Jungkook stumbled out of his side and around to you as you walked off. Your mouth twitched at the corners when you felt his familiar warmth surround your fingers, but you didn’t look back at him.

“Noona,” he tried to woo you, and fucking hell, of course it worked. You stopped to allow him to catch up, and he smiled as he passed you. Tugging you up the path to your complex, your hands now so intimately acquainted after today, you decided you would let him take the lead. Take what he wanted from you. Not, perhaps, that, not just yet. But in allowing him to reclaim the moment that you had so clumsily spoiled earlier.

You swung on his arm as he brought you around to face him, bumping into his chest gently. “____,” he smiled down at you, brushing a loose lock of hair from your cheek. He braced your upper arms with his hands and tilted you away enough so that he could examine your face. Jungkook loved to observe you. Whenever you chanced a glance at him, sure enough, he was usually staring. It both flattered and embarrassed you. You couldn’t understand what he might find so captivating. “Thank you for today.”

Jungkook’s jacket squeaked with the movement of your shaking head. “No, thank you. Even though I ruined things – as expected – it was so much fun.”

He tutted. “Stop putting yourself down. The way things turned out probably made it far more memorable in the end. Something, I hope, you will look back on and laugh about if you’re feeling a bit down.”

Ugh, he was so fucking precious. You sighed like one of those lovesick princesses who’d just been rescued by their prince. “I will. I’ll think about it often. The entire day I spent with you, I didn’t have one thought about work, or uni, or—“ you almost said it, but stopped yourself in time. You looked down, but he was soon cupping your chin and having you face the source of your squirming guts.

“I’m glad. I’m happy, if you’re happy,” he stated like it was God’s truth, and you believed him somehow. Jungkook swayed towards you, then, and in response, the heels of your feet left the ground. Your eyes fluttered closed, ready to finally receive him.

And that was when he grasped the lapels of the leather jacket still adorning you and steered your imminent face to the side. You felt his lips, but not where you had wanted, had expected them. They landed on the curve of your cheek, the heat of his mouth permeating where it pressed. The kiss was soft, and despite the innocence of its placement, mildly sensual. As he pulled away, you felt the coolness of the air rush against the wet mark he had left, the only evidence of his being there. Of its own accord, one of your hands drew up to your cheek to touch where he would be forever ingrained in your mind, and – like the lovelorn maiden you were so good at emulating these days – you had to suppress your knees from knocking together. “Oh,” you mumbled softly.

Jungkook scrutinised you with patent interest, delighted by his ability to disarm you. Fuck, if he caught on, he could get too big for his boots and employ it at any time. You weren’t simply wearing your heart on your sleeve, here, oh no. You were being far more obvious than that. The effect he had on you was apparent with his every touch. He might as well have been performing open-heart surgery on you for all your vain attempts at shielding it from view. You swore he could feel every thrum of it as he held you there, his arms having curled surreptitiously around your waist when you were too befuddled to notice.

“Uh,” you started benignly. For some reason, the closer your proximity, the less inclined you were to look at him. Probably because If you glanced at his mouth once, you’d be going in for a second helping.  “I know you might be busy, but would you like to go to Yoongi’s house-warming party with me next Saturday? I know you don’t know my friends yet, and--”

“I’d love to,” he mercifully intercepted the beginnings of a flustered ramble. “Anything involving you sounds like fun. We could set up another date afterwards, if you like?” Jungkook suggested, and you were painfully aware of the hands resting timidly on your lower back. You willed them to move lower, but they didn’t heed your immoral influence.

Mentally engaged elsewhere, you managed a stiff nod.

“I’ll text you soon, noona,” he filled in the silence while you stood there entertaining such unsavoury things. He seemed determined to adopt this term against you.

“Okay,” you smiled breathlessly, returning to the present. You slipped his jacket from one of your shoulders, but he halted you immediately.

“No, keep it,” Jungkook was firm.  “I want you to.”

Yet again, he left you awestruck. “Are you the leading man in a drama afterall?”

He quivered with mirth. “I did get my inspiration from that kind of thing, yeah. You warrant such treatment, though.”

“Oh God, stop it,” you were beginning to get giddy. It was time to exile yourself from his presence until you could rebuild your cool, collected façade somewhat. “I’m going, now. Good night, Jungkook.”

He stood there and waved until he could no longer see you. Of course he did. “Good night, ____.”

-

Next: 06 || WYLEI Masterlist

[meganmazing]

Fics I Read While On Vacation 2.0!

Last month I went on a trip to Italy, and you know what that means... I downloaded a ton of long fics to keep me sane on the long plane/train journeys, and now I’m sharing a few of my faves with you guys! Pro tip for travelers: DO THIS! When you do’t have reliable wifi, and don’t want to pay for the in-flight wifi, downloading a PDF (or ten) from AO3 is the way to go. Their easy system is one of my favorite features of the site, and has multiple downloading formats other than PDF, too. Plus, they include links back to the work in the PDF so you can go back and comment when you do have wifi! Which you should always do, because authors are a gift, and giving kudos and love in the form of comments in return is a wonderful thing.

This time it’s mainly stevetony, with a few phlint, a cherik series, and one reaper76 (r76) for good measure. And guys. The stony and phlint especially...oh my god. Even when Phil and Clint aren’t the mains, I’m screaming about them. For whatever reason, the Marvel stuff I read his time blew me away, to the point where I’m still thinking about some of the stories, despite it being nearly a month since I got back to the states. One fic genuinely changed me, and I never thought I’d say that without a hint of sarcasm, but here we are. 

Like always, click the bolded titles for the link, and please read the tags on each fic. Even though I tend to steer clear of the truly brutal stuff when I’m on vacation, what squicks you out may not register for me, etc. Remember to throw some love to the works you enjoy, and come scream about them with me anytime <3

Stevetony

Steve Rogers Is A Child by LagLemon  Words: 290k+  Rating: M

Tony gets into fights with Steve all the time and it's driving him insane. Sure, he's not the nicest guy in the world, but all he did was steal a little of the guy's sesame seed bagel - he didn't deserve to get yelled at for something stupid like that.

After drowning his sorrows in hot chocolate and complaining to Pepper about what happened, Tony gets a phone call from Natasha telling him to hurry back home. Something's happened - Steve has been attacked and he's not quite the same man he once was - he's been turned into a child.

With Steve out of commission, the team struggles with what to do and Tony finds himself filling roles he had never expected: babysitter and friend.

THIS is the fic I mentioned in a textpost pretty much immediately after I finished reading. I couldn’t wait for this rec list. My dear friends, this fic gave me a crisis of faith. That’s a tad dramatic, you say? This fic had me rooting for Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark. Winteriron. Yeah. Bucky has an unrequited crush on Tony, and he killed me with it.

Don’t get me wrong, the stevetony here is endgame, and it’s beautiful, but wow. Like. I’m not one to multipship people often - especially not with my top otps - and stony is an og pair of mine. Something about this Tony and this Bucky just...fit? I mean...I think I get it, now. I can see it. You guys win.

I’m still recing this as stevetony, but I had to mention it becasue I’m still in shock weeks after finishing this, and it’s stuck with me. Tony is a character near and dear to my heart, and the story is told from his POV in a way that felt a bit different from the norm to me, and I dig it. Don’t be put off by the child!Steve thing, it’s not forever and it is handled really well in the story. No child sexual/romantic/abuse situations occur. Personally, I would not rec that kind of story.

Falling Into You by sabrecmc     Words: 53k+   Rating: M

Tony and Steve end up as fuck buddies after the events of The Winter Soldier until Steve calls it off. When Loki's spell wipes all of Steve's memories since the last time Loki was in town, Tony decides it will be so much easier to just not tell Steve they had something of a relationship. Spoiler: It isn't.

Or, how Steve fell in love with Tony and forgot about it, and how Tony fell in love with Steve and realized it.

Sometimes, you read a fic that is infuriating, heartbreaking, and sweet all at once, in almost every paragraph (at least for the first three quarters of the story). Tony is at his oblivious, slightly self-destructive best here, and you just want to shake the man, sometimes. Not to worry, I also wanted to shake Steve. It’s equal opportunity obliviousness in this one. The story is told with flashbacks to Tony’s memories of their “fuck buddy” relationship as he remembers them while the present mind-wiped-Steve situation is happening. It was done in a way that felt familiar without feeling redundant, the way this trope sometimes does for me. The ending is so worth it, and melted my heart. 

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc     Words: 292k+  Rating: M

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

Basically one of those bodice-ripping romance novels I don't read (ahem) but with far more gay.

Speaking of melting my heart, this fic obliterated it. When I say Slow Burn, I mean it. Oh my sweet lord, do I ever. But you NEED this one if Stevetony is your thing, trust me. It’s AU in the best ways, and uses so much from the first Iron Man movie, as well as the Captain America movies and general MCU. Steve and Tony are painfully true to their characters at times, which brings both the good pain and the bad pain, the way you know you love. Fluff and plenty of angst, along with gorgeous tension and resolutions, and can I just have more of this world? Please? Forever? What is the team up to now? How is everyone? We got two novels worth of story, and I still want more of this universe!

The phlint really is blink-and-you-miss-it, but I am a sucker for the little nods and they made me happy. Also, there are the beginnings of Bucky and Tony being good friends, and I am so here for that friendship right now. 

Deep in the Heart of Me by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)  Words: 257k+       Rating: E  

There were days when the realization that he was someone’s father made Steve's head hurt, but mostly he was grateful that he could trust his instincts, because apparently Peter was what had been missing from his life. Yes, he still had lingering, unresolved issues from his time in the Army, and sure, he had what Bucky annoyingly referred to as a criminally untapped ass, and no life outside of work and Peter, but Steve was okay with how his life had turned out because of trusting his instincts.

Unfortunately, those same instincts had straight up betrayed him by going absolutely haywire upon being exposed to Tony Stark.

Veteran single dad Steve runs a tattoo shop. For his 40th birthday, Pepper arranges for Tony to get that tattoo he always wanted, and he winds up with the mother of all crushes instead. Jumping out of airplanes is one thing, but falling in love is something else entirely. Steve struggles with the idea of actually letting someone into his life. Tony is left trying to keep his heart from being broken while Steve figures things out.

I have been holding off on this story for a long time. Something about Steve being the adoptive dad to Peter had me skeptical, and the heavy mental health aspects were not something I was eager to deal with when I first saw it.  

That being said, I am so glad I read this. Getting real for a sec, I signed up for a mental health counselling consultation after finishing this. I connected so thoroughly with Steve and his experiences, and of course with Tony, too. But Steve’s journey through this story is honestly on a completely different level of fiction for me. Its heartbreakingly real, and downright visceral at times in the descriptions of how Steve feels, as well as how Tony feels, being in love with a person struggling with mental illness. 

I cannot recommend it enough. 

Aside from that, the love story between Steve and Tony blew me away, and I fell so in love with their love, it killed me. The ending is beautiful, and Peter is such a wonderful part of it. The family dynamics surprised me with how much I loved them too, with all of Steve and Bucky’s dads, and Clint and Nat being a part of their squad in the military, it fit perfectly in the story. Also: Let Tony Be A Good Father Figure 2k18 is my new crusade.

(I even grew to like Clint/Bucky in this. Phil is kind of in the world? Not a part of the main crew, but he cameos, and that was nice. Maybe that’s how I rationalized it in the beginning: Clint doesn’t know Phil, it’s fine! I like Clint and Bucky individually so much that it worked for me.)

Holding Out For A Hero by Wordsplat  Words: 100k+  Rating: T (yeah, I know, cue the comical surprise that one of these is rated Teen and Up) 

When Tony was a prince and Steve was his manservant, they were young and reckless and hopelessly in love. But an attack on Tony's life convinces Steve that he can't protect Tony, so he leaves in the dead of night to train until he can. Ten years later, Steve returns to the kingdom a strong and able knight, but his king is both furious and broken-hearted. 

One of my favorite things is when I get to be unreservedly on Tony’s side when he fights with Steve. Steve’s reasoning is understandable for his character, sure, but BOY. Plus, Tony has the Avengers backing him up too, and I live for the team supporting Tony. In the MCU right now, the team is basically all for Cap, but the lack of multiple, meaningful, interpersonal connections from the team to Tony in those movies is a rant for another day. 

Again, this is another story where the supporting cast has my heart. I also adored the knights being made up of the Avengers, and Bruce’s role, which kicked ass and made me happy. But, this story focuses primarily on Steve/Tony, and their relationship just kills me with how sweet/painful it is in turns. The fluff to angst ratio is spot on.

AND: Tony is a good dad! (LTBAGFF 2k18) 

I love their love.

Go Ugly Early by just_another_tinker  Words: 161k+ (still updating)  Rating: E

He’s The Captain?

This was not good. This was so not good.

There were theories of course, of what The Captain would look like. Most followed the typical Hollywoodesque belief that he was some version of the Godfather, sitting in a dark room with a cigar, commanding his forces with a flick of his wrist. There were even some that even thought that The Captain was not one person, but a whole network of people with eyes and ears everywhere.

The blonde Adonis in front of him was definitely not what Tony was expecting.

Of course, in the end it didn’t matter.

There was a reason no one knew what The Captain looked like.

Because anyone who saw his face never lived to tell the tale.

This is not a finished story, and I am perpetually on the edge of my seat waiting for the next update. I’ve rec’ed cherik Mob/Mafia AUs before, but I’ve never read one with steve/tony and the avengers. I’ll admit, Steve as a mob boss? I was skeptical about how well I’d vibe with it. 

Now? Holy shit, friends, I’m living for it. The aspects of Steve’s character that the author explores are everything I didn’t know I needed. Likewise with Tony, but I’m emphasizing Steve becasue it’s so unlike the usual representation Steve gets in fandom.

Apparently the running theme of this rec list is stories where the team is amazing and important to the story, becasue it’s true here, too. They’re Steve’s crew, becasue naturally. I adore the dynamics between everyone, especially when Tony starts to interact with them on the regular. 

But guys. The phlint in this hit me in the feels so hard, I didn’t see it coming until I was ready to tear up. The writing is so good, I forgot a key aspect of Phil’s arc in the MCU for a split second and I was distraught. Clint has POV chapters (Phil also had one very recently, but I think Clint has more content overall), and so you get into their relationship and all the emotions Clint’s going through, and  and I won’t say more becasue you need to read this one, even if you’re just in it for the phlint.

I know I’m a massive sucker for Clint, and love him wherever he shows up, but this time I’m genuinely impressed. The tags have it as minor/background, but it punched me in the chest like it was the main pair.

Of course, the steve/tony is amazing and addictive, but I had to scream about Clint and Phil for a sec.

Phlint

 First Impressions by raiining   Words: 76k+  Rating: M

Mr. Clint Barton does not like Mr. Phil Coulson. The feeling is not as mutual as he had thought.

A Pride & Prejudice AU.

So, I will be the first to admit that I have a serious affinity for Austen retellings in fanfic. The only downside with is that I tend to be overly picky about them, to the point where I check out fast if something bugs me, even if literately no one else would be bothered, much less notice it in the first place. 

This AU fed my Austen-loving soul and gave me every Phlint thing I’ve ever wanted in an AU like this. Clint’s perspective here is spot-on, and his relationships with Nat and Tony were awesome to read. Not to mention that the author filled character roles perfectly? People were chosen that I wouldn’t have expected but as I was reading I was so on board at every turn, like, yes, of course, this is exactly it! They also twisted the classic P&P story and made it their own, making it fit and make sense for the characters above all, which I absolutely loved. Bookmarked for life. Probably will end up rec’ing this forever.

Phil just breaks my heart, and so does Clint, and I have way too much love for this fic, go read it right now!

And Eternity in an Hour by Selenay   Words: 60k+   Rating: E

He comes from a secret place, far below the city streets, hiding his face from strangers, safe from hate and harm. He brought me there to save my life...and now, wherever I go, he is with me, in spirit. For we have a bond stronger than friendship or love. And although we cannot be together, we will never, ever be apart.

When Phil Coulson is attacked and left for dead, he is rescued and cared for by an unusual man who looks like a beast. As Phil heals, he learns that Clint is part of a community hidden below the city, where people who don't fit into the world above can live in safety. In time, Phil has to return home, but he vows to change his life and find a happier, better future.

Phil and Clint believe their time together is over, but they are destined to meet again when their worlds begin to collide.

A Beauty and the Beast (TV, 1987) fusion fic.

I’ll be honest, this show was before my time, and while my mom loved it and I know the basics of the story through her, I’ve never actually seen it. That being said...hell yes. I was hesitant, because Clint is right next to Tony for Marvel characters that I hold really close to the chest, and making him a “monster” had me cautious in the beginning. Fuzz, claws, really? Yes. If you’re thinking like me, go for it anyway! This story won me over so quickly, I don’t think I even knew it was happening - suddenly I was hooked.   

It’s alternating POV, with a bit more of Phil, I think, since he’s the character we relate to more, being the outsider character to Down Below. Phil isn’t a secret agent in this, but he’s still a competent badass in that way Phil always is, and he was my favorite from the get-go! Their love story is so sweet, you’ll melt by the end. Also, there are explicit sexy times, and they are great. Plus, body image is dealt with wonderfully without feeling like a PSA.

It’s also not told in first person! I thought it was from that part of the summary, but it isn’t, and I was v happy about that.

The Clockwork Murders by Selenay  Words: 76k+  Rating: M

Phil Coulson has two lives: by day he's a quiet, respectable Edwardian gentleman and his biggest risk is on a hand of cards at his club; at night he's a masked vigilante, fighting to make London safer. Keeping those lives separate is difficult enough when his closest friend is the head of a special task force within the Metropolitan police. It becomes even more difficult when his latest case gets dangerously close to home, bodies start washing up on the banks of the Thames, and Detective Inspector Fury's team is tasked with capturing the vigilante.

Clint Barton, Coulson's new valet, is down on his luck and inexperienced at valeting but his skills from his former life may be exactly what Coulson needs. They just need to negotiate their way through Coulson's secret life and their growing attraction to each other. And save London from a terrifying new threat along the way.

Alright, this fic might just be my absolute favorite out of the whole bunch. Not to say the others are lesser in any way, but I LOVE this one! Edwardian Steampunk has never been my thing, but I guess I can’t say that anymore?!  

One of the best Phil POV’s I can remember, along with a romance that just consumed me. Phil is kinda like an Edwardian Batman with less gadgets and slightly lower social standing? I was so on board. Let Phil Be Batman. I’m starting that campaign right now. Clint is also a bit like Robin, if Robin was also Hawkeye. The slow build of their relationship is delicious, and so, so rewarding when it finally comes to a head (lol). When they finally got together, I actually fist pumped (just a very small, non-distracting one, because I was on a train at the time and didn’t want to look like a complete loon, but that’s how much I loved this story). Phil and Clint are vigilante detectives and Clint gets to be smart! What a novel concept! 

I’m also a massive sucker for AU’s where the Avengers find each other and form a team all on their own. The scenario here is AMAZING and everything I never knew I wanted in an AU team-up. When Nat first showed up, I almost squealed out loud. No shame. Steve and Bucky are off being cops with Fury, off-page, so they’re the only ones missing from the story, but Darcy is here!! Plus, she and Nat have a side thing towards the end, and I am HERE FOR IT. This fic just has me so excited, weeks after I finished it. I’m invested and it hurts. 

You know when I care about the plot of a phlint story, that the plot is genuinely compelling, because usually the phlint is all I care about. And the relationship is the foundation from the start, and always the underlying focus, so no worries for the people in it for the tension/sexytimes.

Cherik

An Ideal Grace by afrocurl and nekosmuse    Words: 86k+   Rating: M

Cherik is one of the few pairings where the No Powers AU’s are some of my favorites. This is one of those times! Both boys have some mental health issues, especially where Erik as concerned, but it handled fairly well. Erik’s mental health specifically is a major arching plot piece, and his therapy sessions are important to his daily life and aren’t just mentioned off-page.

It’s important to say that there is no underage or professor/student relationship between Charles and Erik. There is past professor/student trauma in Erik’s life, but that is always a clearly negative and traumatic aspect of his life, and something he is working towards healing from in the story.  

The only thing that had me a little iffy was the co-dependency between him and Raven, who is his adoptive sister in this, but it is called out, and they are moving forward in this story as well as the sequel. Having those two be siblings instead of her and Charles is a bit different, but I think it worked for the story, even if I still love Raven and Charles as siblings.

The sequel: Love’s Own Crown, I actually think I enjoyed more, since it was less about the identity mix-up and more about their relationship/therapy

Reaper76

The Other One Where Jack is the Gay Roommate by pfaerie  Words: 16k+ Rating: E

Straight guy worries he's being homophobic to gay roommate, realizes he's fallen in love with him. Turns out Gabriel Reyes is fine with Jack Morrison kissing guys if it's him Jack is kissing.

This is kind of a remix of the author’s previous fic of the same name (minus “Other” in the title), but with sexytimes and additional editing. This is the roommate trope at it’s finest. It’s Gabe’s perspective, and in a non-powered/modern day AU, which works 100% to the story’s advantage. Gabe cracks me up, and I liked Widow in this too. All the kudos for the humor and smut! I really love this author’s writing style, especially with the way they write r76′s dynamic.

It’s one of those fics I’d give to a friend who wanted to read r76, but hadn’t before. The angst is mostly “I’m not gay, bro! ...oh wait” kind, plus Gabe just being a pill, not any of the massively heavy and dark content you tend to see with this pair.