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strawberrymilkgeorge · 3 years

Text

Part Ten. Faces

warnings: swearing, hate comments word count: 4.1k (not including pics)

behind the screen (irl dream x f!reader) series masterlist ultimate masterlist

A/N: sorry its late!!!! this feels rushed but i was just too excited to get to some parts!!! also i have had some parts written out for SO long that they dont even feel cute to me anymore so im literally praying to every deity rn that you guys think its cute lmao anyway enjoy!!!!

**********

It had been about a week since Karl's slip up but everything was already more normal than Y/n had expected it to be. Of course, George, Sapnap and Quackity were all very understanding and gave her space while simultaneously reassuring her that she was safe with them. She fully believed it too, she knew she was safe with them and they weren't going to tell anyone her name.

The one unusual thing was now she had a heavy guilt, like someone dropped another sandbag in her stomach, every time Dream texted her. If the others knew, it was only fair that she tell him her name too, right? I mean, it's Dream. Dream! The boy who had quickly slipped his way into her life and, though she wouldn't admit it to Karl or Naomi, her heart.

But how? Does she just come right out and say it or wait until it gets brought up? She hadn't practiced telling anyone her name because she wasn't planning on doing it any time soon. Though, maybe she should have been seeing as she was going to see them all in person in a little over a month.

Regardless of the guilt, Y/n had other things to worry about today; Quackity was coming to visit. Karl had picked him up from the airport and the two of them spent all day catching up and doing who knows what but Y/n still hadn't met him. She was scared. She wasn't scared of Quackity, but scared because it was the first time one of her online friends would be able to put a face to her name and voice.

Y/n shuffled across her living room rug and reached for her phone on the coffee table, looking for some sort of distraction while she waited for them to arrive.

Y/n rolled her eyes but smiled, shaking her head as she threw her phone on the couch. Okay, he's right. It's gonna be fine. It's gonna be great. It's just Quackity. If he said anything rude or annoying or anything she could literally just step on him like a bug.

A sharp knock on the front door of her apartment snapped her back into reality. She shook her limbs of nervousness as she made her way to the door, two familiar voices begging to be acknowledged from the other side.

"Let us iiinnn!! Y/nnn!!!!" Karl whined.

After countless times asking the same question, she finally convinced Karl that she was okay with him using her real name in front of Quackity. He clearly still felt guilty about telling the boys her name, asking her multiple times in different ways whether he should call her Y/n or Bugsy in front of the guest. She finally got it through his head that she didn't mind either way.

"Hold on!" she yelled back. She unlocked the door and swung it open to see Karl and Quackity. "So impatient."

"Holy shit, you are tall! Goddammit, I thought that was a joke!"

Y/n laughed shyly at the greeting, looking at Quackity like he was crazy. "Hello to you too. Tried to warn you, dude."

"Yeah but, damn! You're tall and attractive, what the hell?"

"Dude," she said with a warning in her voice. She thought the flirting on Twitter was funny, but in real life she got embarrassed easier and wasn't a fan. "I'm about to kick you out of my house before I even let you in."

This was weird, meeting Quackity before meeting some of her other friends. She loved Quackity, but she had known George much longer and Sapnap even before that. There was no problem with meeting Quackity, she just had no idea how to act since she felt like she hardly knew him.

"Am I allowed to tell people that you're hot?" he asked as he fell on her couch, Karl following right after.

"Quackity!" Y/n yelled, her face heating up at a compliment. "Seriously?"

Karl cackled and shoved Quackity. "Shut up, Alex! No, you're not allowed!"

"Sorry, is that compliment reserved for Dream?" He cackled at his own joke and Y/n's face heated up even more.

"I seriously will kick you out of my house."

"You wanna be flirty on main but not in real life?" Quackity scoffed.

"I'm not flirty on main, you are!" she laughed. "Seriously, don't."

"Okay, sorry, I'll stop," Quackity promised with a laugh in his words.

The three of them fell into easy conversation, mostly because Karl and Quackity were already comfortable around each other at this point. They eventually decided to go to the mall, just to mess around and do something.

*reminder: covid doesn't exist in this fic bc we only want happy things so ignore their masks :P*

Y/n frowned as she unlocked her front door, staring at her phone. She had been so happy with all the fans freaking out about the meetup so she looked at the trending list, expecting to see a flood of keyboard smashes and happiness, but that's not all she ended up seeing. BUGKARLITY was trending, so she scrolled through the tweets and was upset to see not all of them were positive. In fact, when she typed her name in the search bar, lots of the tweets using her name were rather mean.

A few that stuck in her head called her an attention whore and said that her friends only flirted with her because she paid them too. Who on earth would even do that? Some hurt way more than others but she tried to push them aside. It wasn't like this was the first time she had seen comments like this, but they had only gotten worse since her Minecraft date with Dream. She was worried it was cause more hate for her friends and the last thing she wanted was to be the cause of their own hate.

She typed several different messages to Dream, deleting them all after she reread them. She felt like she had to request the same thing from him in a different way. Maybe because she felt like his words meant more, even if he really was just joking like the rest of them. She decided to call him instead of texting.

"Hi!" he chirped happily from the other end.

"Hi, Dream," she said as her chest filled with something warm at the sound of his voice. "How are you doing?"

"Good," he dragged out the word. "How are you?"

"Okay."

"Just okay? What's up?"

"Um," she started, immediately forgetting the words she decided she'd use. "I just... would you mind, uh, not flirting with me so much on, like, Twitter and streams and stuff like that?"

There was a silence before Dream's frantically apologetic words came through. "Yes, of course, oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. If I had known I was making you uncomfortable, I wouldn't have—"

"Wait, no," she interrupted but he must not have heard.

"—said things like... oh gosh. Bug, I'm really sorry—"

"Dream!" she raised her voice, getting him to stop ranting. "You don't make me uncomfortable."

"Oh. Really?"

"Of course not. I actually think it's really..." Cute? Adorable? Endearing? "funny," she decided.

"Oh. Then why...?"

She sighed heavily and explained what she told the others. "So, yeah. I just don't want you guys getting hate because of me so I figure if you stop then... you know."

"Bug..." he said gently. "I'm really sorry. I promise you that I don't—none of us think those things about you."

"I know."

"No, seriously," he said, clearly not believing her. "You need to understand that I..." he paused. "I mean what I say. Always."

Always? she thought. There's a few things he's said that certainly he didn't really mean... like calling her cute?

"I don't joke around like that unless I want to. I wouldn't say things like I say to you unless I really, really, genuinely considered you a close friend and felt comfortable around you. And I do."

Her heart swelled. "Thanks, Dream. I just... maybe don't do it so much for right now? Online, at least," she clarified, not wanting to deprive herself completely of Dream's flirting.

"Yeah, if that's what you want, of course."

"Well, I don't want you to stop flirting with me but, yeah."

He chuckled. "Oh, you do like when I flirt with you?"

She hummed and changed the subject. "Did I interrupt you doing anything?"

"No," his teasing voice dropped and was back to his regular self. "I'm just editing the video we filmed the other day."

"Oh, the 'Minecraft, but you can't touch the floor'?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Oh," she said, not meaning to sound disappointed. "I'll let you get back to it—"

"No. I mean, you can stay on the phone. Unless you're busy."

She smiled and put her phone on speaker and set it next to her foot on the floor. "I was just gonna paint. So I can stay."

Before she knew it, almost two hours had passed of them sitting in comfortable silence, occasionally speaking to share something with the other before going back to their tasks. It was comforting knowing she didn’t need to speak constantly and could just hang out with Dream.

Y/n's phone rested on the floor next to her, Dream on speakerphone on the other end, only the sounds of his keyboard clicking letting her know he hadn't fallen asleep or hung up. She wasn't sure when they started doing this, staying on the phone even when they had nothing to talk about, but they had done it a few times before. They had talked on the phone and Discord many times but it was usually always with purpose, not usually this silently-enjoying-each-others-presence nonsense. Who was she kidding calling it nonsense, she enjoyed it an embarrassingly insane amount.

She repositioned so she was laying on her stomach as she finished sketching an image that was in her mind.

"Hey, you still there?" Dream asked softly.

"Yeah. Sorry, am I taking away from your sitting in silence time with George?" she joked.

Dream chuckled lightly. "Nah, you're more fun. I was just seeing if you ditched me for Karl yet."

"Nah, you're more fun," she mimed truthfully. "But I'm very focused on this drawing."

"Can I see it when you're done?"

"Don't expect too much. It looks bad."

"If you don't tell me what it is, I can't know how accurate or inaccurate it is."

"Very true..." she trailed off, holding the canvas further away to examine it all at once. She wanted the sketch to be perfect before she made permanent choices with paint. She enjoyed the serenity they maintained even when talking, voices low and delicate like they were keeping secrets but not quite whispering. "Are you almost done editing your video from the other day?"

"Sorta. I'm at the part where you and Sapnap almost died laughing because a ghast knocked George into lava and then Sapnap laughed so hard he fell into lava."

She chuckled, remembering the situation vividly. "That was so funny. The way George screams is so funny."

"Let Naomi know that," he mumbled, causing Y/n to gasp.

"Dream!" she laughed loudly and he joined.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry. It's true though."

"Disgusting!"

A distant voice sounded on the other end and she assumed it was Sapnap. "What do you want for dinner?"

Dream responded with a soft, "Nothing, I'm good."

"Are you talking to Bugsy?"

He must have responded physically because the next sound was Sapnap's very clear, much more lively voice speaking directly into the phone. "Hi, Bugsy!"

"Hi, Sapnap!"

"Can you tell Dream to eat some damn food? This man literally hasn't eaten a single thing all goddamn day."

"Dream," Y/n scolded slowly. "Please eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"I'm not showing you my painting until you eat."

A door closed on the other end and she took that as a sign that Sapnap had left.

"I don't wanna see it anyway. It's probably trash."

"Take that back!" she gasped lightly. She looked at the canvas as she grabbed the first paint color and laughed. It was only a sketch and it was already trash. "Fine, then I won't go on the trip if you don't eat in the next ten minutes."

"That's punishing yourself too though."

"Who says I want to see you?" she asked.

"I never said anything about not seeing me being the punishment."

She had been caught. "It was implied."

"Sure it was."

"It's true though. Who says I wanna see your stupid face?"

He didn't say anything, but an incoming FaceTime call lit up Y/n's phone. A FaceTime call from him.

Her smile dropped. "Clay?"

"Answer it," his voice was lower and her heart started beating faster. Was he really about to show her his face to prove a point? Reveal his biggest secret that only a few close friends knew? To her of all people? She made sure she couldn't be seen in the small window and pressed accept, the voice call ending and the FaceTime call starting.

To her surprise, what came into view wasn't his face, but the logo of the hoodie he was wearing, the simple smile of his merch taunting her. She laughed, the anxiety slowly fading away as it was replaced with a heavy feeling in her stomach. Was she disappointed? Maybe a little, but he teased her into believing she would see him.

"Oh, wow! Dream face reveal! He looks just like his icon, no way!!!"

His chest moved up and down as he laughed, not moving the camera away. "You heard it here first, guys! You've known my face all along, the logo is actually my face!"

She laughed and returned to painting, not paying any more attention to her phone since he was now also showing his ceiling, a small corner of his monitor in frame but nothing else. "I mean it though, if you don't eat, I'm going to be so mad I won't even want to be friends anymore. Or you'll die from malnourishment before we get the chance to meet."

"I doubt it. I'm just not hungry."

"Whatever."

"Oh, hey, so you met Quackity today. How was it?"

"Very scary."

"Yeah?" he asked sympathetically, urging her to explain if she wanted.

"Yeah. But it turned out okay! He didn't act any different so it was fine. It was mostly just awkward. He's also so freaking loud. You would not believe how much louder he and Karl get when they're together."

"I can imagine. Aren't they doing a stream right now or something?"

"Yeah, I think so. I don't wanna watch though, I've had enough of them for the month."

Dream laughed. "How will you deal with them together for New Years'? It'll be for like two weeks."

"Who knows if I'll actually go?"

"Wait, what?" he asked abruptly, not even bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. His keyboard stopped clicking and she could picture him staring at his phone as if looking at her. "Of course you're going."

"Not if you don't eat food! You have, like, 3 minutes to eat something until I officially am busy doing other things whenever the trip is."

Dream groaned and clicked a few things on his computer before the image on the screen became blurry as he walked through the house, still pointing it at the ceiling. She looked away again and kept painting.

"Quackity's really funny though," she continued. "It was super awkward at first but it was fun to have someone else to help me make fun of Karl."

"Wait, Bug," Dream called out over the sound of wrappers crinkling.

"Hm?" She hummed, continuing to paint.

"Bug," his voice was much softer and he sounded nervous.

She looked at her screen and dropped the paintbrush as she focused on what she saw, grabbing her phone and holding it closer to her face so she could see, still making sure she wasn't in view. All the anxiety from the beginning of the FaceTime suddenly came back and hit her like a truck. Sitting on her screen, waiting to be seen, was Dream. His hood was up, tufts of blonde hair sticking out, and he was standing with his back towards a dark room, the dim light from his pantry making his face just visible.

He held up a cookie in front of his actual, real face. "Are you watching?"

"Y-yea... I... Yeah. I'm watching. Is that really you?"

He nodded once before shoving the cookie in his mouth. "There, I consumed food," he announced, his voice muffled by the cookie. "Now you're legally obligated to come."

"I—What? CLAY! WHAT?"

"What?" he asked innocently as he chewed, walking back to his room and still holding the phone up to show his face. His room light was on, making his face much more visible. If Y/n thought he was attractive in the harsh pantry light, he must have looked like a god in his room lighting, even as pixelated as he was due to the quality of FaceTime. He fell on his bed and Y/n could only gape at his features. He slumped against his headboard, surrounded by roughly a thousand pillows, sporting a small, shy smile as he stared at the screen. "Bug, what?"

She opened her mouth but no words came out. Needless to say, he was unbelievably handsome. Part of the speechlessness was from the shock that he showed his face out of the blue, but obviously, the majority of it was that he was pretty much the most attractive person she'd ever seen. It should be illegal for someone to look that good in a hoodie, especially when pixelated.

"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully. "Wanna take back what you said earlier?" He bit into another cookie.

"W-what did I say earlier?" Why was she stuttering???

"You said you don't wanna see me and that I'm ugly," he teased.

She paused for too many seconds too long before finally muttering, "you arrogant son of a bitch." He laughed loudly at that.

His eyes crinkled and he threw his head back. So that's what he looks like when he wheezes, she thought to herself, pretty.

Dream shuffled his position on his bed and rested his head on one of his hands. He looked so comfy. "Why are you so quiet, weirdo?" he mumbled.

She set her phone back down and touched her cheeks with her hands and looked away for a moment, grounding herself to the real world for a second. She couldn't process her thoughts when she was staring at a man as gorgeous as Clay. "I don't know, maybe because you gave me no warning before showing me your face? Or because you failed to mention that you're incredibly hot?"

She was so glad she had looked back at her phone or else she would have missed the glorious sight of his cheeks turning bright red before he turned the camera back to his ceiling. "Oh my gosh."

"Aw cute, I made you blush."

"Shut up," he mumbled. "You threatened to not come if I didn't eat something!"

"You didn't have to—you showed me your freaking face just to prove you ate a cookie!! DREAM! I would have believed you if you just said you ate something!" she laughed breathlessly, staring at the phone now for a chance to see him again. "I was joking anyway!"

"Sure you were."

"I was."

"Well, oh well. You deserved to see me anyway."

"Oh, I deserve to see you?" She laughed. "How big is your ego?"

"You know what I meant," he groaned. "You got doxxed by Karl and you met Quackity in person. And you've clearly had a bad day because of all the hate and stuff. You've done a lot of stressful things recently and you deserved to be let in on a secret too."

He was so sweet. Like, tooth-rotting, Halloween candy stash hidden under a kid's bed, upset tummy sweet. She also couldn't get over the fact that he was a million times cuter when he was shy like he was being now, his voice soft and unsure. It contrasted vastly with the confident, loud-mouthed Dream everyone usually saw, though she liked that Dream too. She wished he could show his face for just one more second to see what he looked like shy. Probably sickeningly adorable.

This was it, wasn't it? The chance she had been waiting for to tell him her name? He just let her in on his biggest secret, now he was the one deserving to be let in.

"Y/n," she said with a confident, but soft voice.

There was a long pause. "W-what?"

"Y/n."

He understood the second time immediately. "Y/n..." he tested, the smile in his voice clear as day. "I like it."

"Yeah, well, I guess you deserved to know the secret too."

"I would have been content never knowing."

"Really?" She didn't believe him. He seemed like the type to never be satisfied, always looking for something better. Not in a greedy way, but in a motivational, goal-oriented big achiever way.

"Really," he hummed. "I already feel like you're too good to be true so I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't a real person."

It was silent as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"Bug? You okay?"

"Yeah, I... it's just a lot."

"Sorry."

"No, it's not you. Well... I don't know. I just don't know what I'm supposed to say when you say things like that," she admitted.

He paused. "I think you always have the perfect responses when I say things like that."

"What do I usually say?" She smiled shyly, pulling her hoodie up to her lips.

"You usually call me a nerd or say you can't stand me. 'Oh my gosh I cannot stand you'," he mimicked before laughing.

"What? How is that the perfect response to you saying you can't believe I'm real?"

He hummed and she could practically hear him shrugging. "Because it's a classic Bug response. It's a hundred perfect you. So yeah, it's perfect."

She was silent, trying to compose herself before she exploded.

"By the way, check Twitter."

"Why, are you bragging about me calling you hot?" she teased, hoping to make him blush like she had earlier. It worked.

"Oh my gosh, no. Just look."

She clicked her home button and navigated to the app, her feed instantly flooding with the same similar messages.

"Oh, my gosh," she muttered, her fingers flying away as she typed out her own tweet in response to the love.

Dream chuckled from the other end and when she asked him why, he vaguely said that George texted him but didn't explain further.

"Um, I have to go," she said mournfully. "Karl and Quackity are coming over again."

"Booooo," he pouted.

"Sorry, you aren't the only man in my life," she teased before instantly regretting her choice of words. Too flirty, Y/n, she thought to herself.

"Hm, shame. Am I at least at the top of the list?"

She bit her lips, wanting desperately to repeat what she had told him on their Minecraft date. In the end, she gave in. "I always mean what I say too," she started. "You're my main bitch, baby."

Dream made some sort of sound, a mix of a scoff and a whine but Y/n didn't comment on it, just glowing with heat in her cheeks.

"Leave before I don't let you," he said softly and the heat only grew.

"Goodnight, Dream," she pressed, the tone in her voice letting him know he was being a tease. "Thanks for... thanks for your tweet. And for everything you said earlier."

"Of course. Sorry that you have to see those kinds of things a lot."

"It's okay when I have people like you."

"People like me? What does that mean?"

"Just.... people like you." Cute, sweet, kind, genuine people who make her heart flutter.

She could hear his smile in his words and she figured he knew the unspoken words in her thoughts, the ones she was saying without saying. "Okay. Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight."

**********

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#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamwastaken x you #dream x y/n #dreamwastaken x y/n #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt fanfiction #smau #social media au #dreamwastaken smau #rpf #real person fiction

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prydon · 2 years

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hey so feel free to ignore this, but i was wondering if you had any advice for newish writers? for context, i’ve only written a couple like 2,000-ish word things, but i’m taking on writing a script for a big project of mine, and i’m not sure how to go about it?

how much do you plan ahead before you start writing? do you have an in depth outline with every plot point or do you just have a broad overview and see where it takes you?

ohhh that's a tough question.... i've never had any formal writing instruction (outside of english classes in school) so most of my ability just comes from having been reading and writing a lot my whole life just for fun haha, which is great and all but makes it hard to think of advice beyond just "do it a lot".

though i do also recommend reading, i swear i got 50% better at writing by accident just because i got back into reading and subconsciously picked up on stuff i liked or didn't like in the books i was consuming. especially when it comes to writing a script, i'm sure reading other work in that format would be helpful.

as for planning... it does depend on the story, but my outlines tend to just basically be a chronological bullet point list of everything i've thought of for the story, especially the major beats.

i try to at least have a plan for what every scene is going to be before i start writing a one shot or a chapter, even if that plan is just a single line, and then i tend to flesh out the outline as i think of more things. i don't think there's anything wrong with not having a 100% finished outline before you start writing the story. write down the base ideas, then flesh them out as you keep writing/thinking of things.

idk if you've read my childhood friends fic constellations, but it's the only one i have an outline on hand for lol (because i delete my outlines after i finish writing a story, alas) so here's an example of my outline from ch6 of constellations:

so yeah, not very professional but gets the job done :"D

i guess something that's notable is that i tend to write the *purpose* of a scene in my outlines. like, going into writing this chapter, i didn't plan "okay so a bunch of chorus girls are gonna see peter and start whispering about how they don't recognize him, then go up and ask his name/who he is bc they have a crush, and he'll get nervous thus prompting annie to step in and tell them he's her brother". i wrote "annie calls nureyev her brother". because the lead up to that didn't really matter and could have happened any way that i came up with while writing, the base POINT of the scene was to establish how annie now sees their relationship and that peter knows she sees it that way. that was what was important to me to have planned.

and i do think every scene should have a purpose! that's something i've learned over time. even with longform stuff, every single scene should serve a purpose to the narrative, even if that purpose is just to show character development or to give the audience a breather/a false sense of security before an intense moment. often they can serve multiple purposes! something really fun to do is trick the readers by including a moment that they think is only relevant on an emotional level, but--surprise!--is gonna be relevant on a plot level later. if you just shove a chekhov's gun into a scene, people are gonna be like "what's that doing there" and expect it to come into play later, but if you disguise it as just being for the purpose of character development then they might not notice it.

in general: set up and pay off good. if you set something up, you should probably pay it off. if you make a big moment happen, you have to have set it up. i know that seems simple but it's something that took me an embarrassingly long time to learn as a writer lol, and it's important for both big plot stuff and little character stuff.

themes are good. parallels are good. motifs are good. is there a way you can connect a scene at the end of the story to one at the beginning? have a character repeat the same thing they did in scene 1 but this time it takes on a different, deeper meaning. have a character be unable to catch their friend before they fall off a garden wall while playing in scene 2 that's passed off as a silly moment, then have them be unable to catch said friend again in scene 19 but this time their friend is falling from a radio tower. do it. be evil. people will be like "OHHH SHIT" and have the entire first section of the story be recontextualized for them upon reread.

uhhh what else... voices?? especially for a script, since they're dialogue-only, giving each character a unique voice is super important. i have it easy with this bc i usually only write fic and the characters in TPP have super unique voices to begin with that i can just copy, but i still think it's v important. if you can change which character says a line without changing the line at all and it still sounds right/in character for them, their voices probably aren't unique enough. that's not to say that every character should talk like a cartoon or smth, but i think it's helpful for them to each have their own recognizable vibe. (and a good shorthand for this can be changing how each character refers to others--by first name, by last name, by nicknames, with mocking endearments or with honorifics?)

that's pretty much all i can think of rn and i'm not sure any of it is useful at all but there you go aisfhuiasfh. and tbh i just appreciate that you respect my opinion enough on this subject to reach out haha!

#asks #anonymous #i do not really feel qualified to talk about this but i had fun lol

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igarbagecannoteven · 3 years

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thank you to @clumsyclifford and @allsassnoclass for tagging me in this game! love you both :)))

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and i’ll post a snippet of it or tell you something about it!

i have a,, concerning amount of docs in my wips so i’m not going to include the ones i haven’t touched in ~two months so this doesn’t get embarrassingly long but! here is an incomplete list in absolutely zero regards to order:

it never felt like love

elevator meet-cute

sry ily songfic

you’re yellow i’m natural blue

screaming underwater fic

dream boy songfic b [there’s also one with no letter after it]

it’s a long way to heaven

just got my ass kicked in the glow of an exit sign

mashton night driving

matching rings or is it

visitor by of monsters

we’ll be good in another life cashton fic

i’d kill a man just to hold your hand v2 [there’s also one with the exact same title but it says v1]

mermaid fic

if i can live through this

i wanna get better or does he

blood of the rabbit

fic to write during a mental breakdown 8 i’m running out of clever quips [there are 7 more of these including 7 swans a swimming, 2 electric boogaloo, 3 return of the breakdown, and etc. but this is the only one i’ve touched recently]

the bug collector songfic

faking the moonlanding crackfic

some princes don’t become kings

tis the damn season fic

tis the damn season lonely heart

Baby blue songfic brainstorm bc i have no self control

and there ya go! that’s most of my docs in my ~wip~ folder(s)! please send in asks if you’re curious about any of them i greatly prefer talking about fic ideas to writing them lol. umm i’m not sure how many people i’m supposed to tag so i’ll just guesstimate here @valiantnerdtm @calumthoodshands @burstingsunrise @ashesonthefloor @daydadahlias and anyone else who wants to!

#this is a messs don't look at me #also love how some of these are still titled as songfics even though they've evolved well past that #these range from having two and a half sentences to over 13k so it's got the range skldjflkdsjfldj #to the people i've tagged you don't have to do it if you don't want to! it's just for funzies #ok now i'm going to go hide and periodically peek at my ask box llksdjfklsdjf #tag game #the trash talks

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zigsexual · 4 years

Note

do you have anymore of the driam bodyguard au 👀 bc my soul literally transcended the physical plane, ur writing is incredible :-)

omg lov u… 🤧💕 for you my final parting gift of the decade!! as i’ve said before this is just some disconnected plotless bullshit, the other parts are in my masterlist if anyone wants to read those too but this au exists in a void so u don’t need to in order to get the gist of it

DRIAM BODYGUARD AU - DRABBLE 3

summary: well guess what they finally kiss

word count: 2900+

• • •

That night, Liam asks him to stay behind in his hotel room, mentioning some security concerns he wants to go over. It’s a bit odd, but Drake doesn’t pay it much attention until the door shuts behind him and Liam’s composure wavers.

“There’s bad news,” He says abruptly, turning to meet Drake’s eyes. Drake looks back in bewilderment.

“What is it?” he says, wondering what on earth could be bad enough to involve him in this kind of private meeting. His mind starts racing, running through all the potential threats to the Cordonian monarchy he had been briefed on ahead of the assignment. No way a country that small had a long list of enemies, right?

Liam bites his lip, anxious in a way Drake hasn’t seen before, and says what is potentially the last possible thing he would have expected. “It’s… ah, I think I may have to fire you.”

“What?”

Liam’s cheeks color, though Drake can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or shame. “You’ve been… you should know it’s not your fault. I’ll leave you with the highest commendation.”

“You can’t fire me,” Drake says, incredulous. “I work for the federal government of the United States.”

“Well, then I suppose you could say it’s more of an arranged reassignment.”

“Hold on,” Drake crosses his arms, frowning. “What are you talking about? Is this some kind of weird joke?”

Liam sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m not explaining this well at all, am I? I just… I was going to have my security chief tell you, to keep it professional, but I felt like… perhaps, it should come from me.”

“I’m not concerned with who’s telling me,” Drake retorts, still looking at Liam in confusion, “I’m concerned with why this is even a discussion in the first place. I’m assigned to you because I’m good at my job, you know.”

“I know.”

“Then care to explain?”

Liam bites his lip, looking more ruffled than Drake’s ever seen him. “I should have stuck with the plan, had Bastien talk to you. I’m not good at these kinds of things.”

Drake raises an eyebrow. “What, you fire a lot of people in your big fancy kingdom?”

“Listen —“

He knows he’s toeing the line of professionalism, but something about the prospect of losing out on such an unexpectedly enjoyable assignment has his stubborn side showing through. He tries to get ahold of himself, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. You know what, I’m sorry. I should just head out now, get the replacement detail briefed for tomorrow. You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I feel that I do.”

“It’s just business,” Drake averts his gaze, shrugs in what he hopes is a nonchalant enough gesture. “Not my place. I can respect that.”

Liam just looks at him, unreadable in that way he always is. Must be a royalty thing, a poker face trained since birth.

“As long as it’s nothing I did,” he continues, “I know I’m a little rough around the edges, and maybe that’s not what you’re used to, being a king and all… but I understand.”

“Drake,” Liam says.

The informality of his first name is unusual. He lifts his eyes back to Liam’s, trying to maintain a sort of dignity even in the face of his bewildered curiosity.

“It…” Liam rakes his fingers through his hair again, and the gesture is so human, so normal, that it endears him to Drake all over again. “This is quite an odd situation for me. I’m trying to think of the right words.”

“I’m not picky.”

“Well, I am.”

“Spoken like a true king.”

This makes Liam laugh, which shortly dissolves into another pained expression. “You’re not making this easy.”

“What, firing me?” Drake raises an eyebrow. “You expect me to?”

“Of course not,” Liam smiles, though he’s wringing his hands in front of him. “I should have known better.”

He pauses, his expression fading into a frown. “I really should have known better.”

There’s a silence between them, stretching too long. Drake knows that he’s far overstayed the reasonable amount of time for a bodyguard that’s just been fired, yet something about Liam always has him reluctant to let go. And… well, he could just be imagining it, but he’s fairly certain Liam feels the same way.

“If you must know,” Liam finally says, his voice softer than usual, “I was… concerned, so to speak, that my encounters with you were veering into something more casual than is appropriate.”

“Oh, I —“

Liam cuts him off. “Before you say anything, I want you to know the blame is with me. I knew that my feelings towards you were becoming a distraction, and it’s unfair to expect you to do your part when I can’t even manage to do mine.”

Drake just stares at him. “Your… feelings?”

Liam sighs. “Do you have to make me say it?”

“…Yes?”

Liam cracks a smile at that, though he still looks embarrassed. “I… well, I suppose I’ve found myself somewhat… infatuated with you.”

“Oh.” Drake’s mind is running a mile a minute, and still he can’t think of a single response. “That’s all?”

Liam is blushing, which is — well. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… I mean, I don’t see how that impacts my ability to protect you.” Even as he speaks, he’s still processing, still trying to make sense of what Liam has said.

“It doesn’t,” Liam answers, meeting Drake’s eyes even with the flush spreading past his cheeks now. “It’s me, really. You’re my bodyguard, and it would be wildly inappropriate of me to ask you to continue as such when…”

He trails off, looking at Drake sheepishly. It’s the first time he’s seen Liam entirely vulnerable like this, and it only serves to make him more attractive.

The reality is, of course, that Liam has always been attractive — has essentially redefined everything Drake had thought to be his type — and Drake still isn’t entirely sure that he’s not misreading this whole conversation.

“When what?” He asks, tentative, hoping for an answer he hasn’t let himself dream of before.

“Come on, Drake,” Liam says softly, taking a slow step closer to him, “I can’t pretend everything is strictly professional between us when I also can’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

Drake feels his stomach drop in the very best way, like the first hill on a rollercoaster with far too long a line. “Say that again.”

“You know I —“

He doesn’t wait, striding right into Liam’s arms and kissing the words out of his mouth.

It’s exactly as good as he’d imagined it would be, and then some.

Their lips meet with a heady spark of long-overdue passion, Drake already cradling Liam’s face and twisting into his dark hair. He’s amazed at how soft Liam is, how smooth his skin feels beneath his hands. Perhaps he shouldn’t expect anything less from a king, but then again, he hasn’t exactly made out with any other kings.

Liam kisses him like he’s thought about a lot more than just kissing, and soon Drake feels him slip a hand underneath his jacket and wrap his fingers around Drake’s side, pulling them flush together. Drake finds himself clinging to Liam’s hair in an embarrassingly needy way, willing him as close as possible as their lips come together over and over.

They breathe quickly in-between long, slow kisses, both acutely aware of the rarity this moment of unscheduled time is. Liam’s hand tightens against Drake’s waist, and Drake can’t help but drop his hands to Liam’s chest, pushing him back against the door and undoing buttons before he really has a chance to think.

Liam doesn’t move to stop him, so Drake drops a kiss against his jaw before moving to his neck, mouthing a line downwards to the same movements of his fingers as they free Liam from his shirt.

He pushes the sleeves off Liam’s shoulders as much as he can, kissing his chest before Liam wraps a hand around the back of his neck to tug him back to his lips. It’s electric and instinctive and consuming, this feeling that shoots through his veins at Liam’s touch, and it’s as though every movement shared between them is communication enough.

He breaks from Liam’s lips only to shrug off his jacket and start unbuttoning his own shirt. His fingers are shaking, from adrenaline or desire, and Liam meets him halfway to finish out the last few buttons and finally expose his skin.

Liam takes a deep breath, eyes falling to Drake’s chest, and it’s the first time either have taken a moment to pause since they came together.

“I…” Liam seems lost for words, another first; in all the time Drake has known him, he’s always been remarkably well spoken despite any circumstance. Now, with his silent admiration, Drake suddenly feels exposed.

Exposed and… fuck, what is he doing?

He crosses his arms, averting his gaze. “Maybe we should… ah, table this? I just…”

Liam looks alarmed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to —“

“No, no, you’re good,” Drake looks quickly back up, meeting Liam’s eyes. “Trust me, you’re more than good, Liam. It’s me, I’m… I’m not good at… talking about things.” He sighs. “Which is a stupid thing to say considering we weren’t talking, and honestly I’d like nothing more than to get back to the ‘not talking’ with you, but for the sake of our unique situation I feel like maybe we should… figure out what’s going on here before things get too messy?”

Liam nods. “You’re right, and I apologize for being hasty. I’m sure you understand… I mean, with the way schedules are, it’s so rare to catch a moment alone.” He runs a hand through his hair, sheepish. “And I like you, Drake. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I like you.”

“I like you too,” Drake can’t help but crack a smile. “You’re something else, that’s for sure.”

Liam returns the smile, so dazzling in his royal perfection that it catches Drake off-guard. His whole body is reacting to the beautiful boy in front of him, and before he knows what he’s doing, he’s swept Liam back up into his arms and proceeded in kissing him senseless.

So much for talking, he thinks, stroking the planes of muscle down Liam’s back and tracing his lips with his tongue. All rational thought goes out the window when it comes to Liam — everything slips backwards into the instincts of want and need and lust.

With each movement between them he can’t help but marvel at the this ridiculous scenario: that he, Drake Walker, would be caught up in a sexual tryst with a European monarch while still very nearly on the clock. It’s so unthinkably bizarre that he decides to stop thinking entirely, instead giving in to the way Liam makes him feel — equal parts whole and ravaged.

Ah, fuck it.

“Do you still want to talk?” Liam murmurs against his lips, his hands doing things a king has no business doing.

“God, no.” Drake whispers back. “Worst idea I’ve ever had. Table it.”

“Tabled.”

Liam undresses him with a reverent care that is unlike any other person he’s been with. It’s slow and deliberate and marked by kisses against each new plane of skin, Liam’s hands giving him goosebumps at the lightest of touches. He can feel himself becoming more and more infatuated by the second, gazing at Liam with his whole heart in his eyes, letting out a contented sigh when he finally brings their lips back together.

They wind up tangled together in Liam’s bed, kissing each other in between whispers peppered with platitudes and spurred on by the heady rush of dopamine. Drake can’t stop smiling against Liam’s lips, stroking a path into the smooth skin of his hip. He’s gorgeous, an absolute idealization of what a man should be, and the fact that he wants Drake just as much is dizzying.

Drake tries to take his time, but the prospect of finally getting his hands on every part of Liam is too tantalizing. They’re breathing heavy before too long, murmuring things that aren’t quite words anymore, and Drake can’t help but marvel at the absurdity of his situation: meant to protect a king, here he is taking him apart.

Of course, Liam does his fair share too, and Drake never thought he’d be swearing so much in front of royalty, but fuck if he’s not glad he is. Liam pulls sounds out of him that he didn’t even know he had, leaving him panting and sweaty and terribly smitten.

When at last they both fall quiet, Liam strokes his cheek, propped up above him and gazing down into his eyes. Drake manages a weak smile, voice still shaky. “You do this with all your bodyguards?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Liam leans in to kiss him again and he returns it gratefully, wrapping his arms around Liam’s waist and tracing across his skin.

“Jesus,” he says, voice low, “I can’t believe I’m not being punked right now. You’re a fucking king.”

Liam presses a kiss against his temple, then his jaw. “And you’re a terrible bodyguard.”

“Hm, is that why you want me fired?”

Liam has moved to his neck now, teasing kisses across the sensitive skin. “You’re supposed to put the bulletproof vest on, not take it off.”

“I told you,” Drake says, “I don’t want you bulletproof.”

“But you do want me.”

“Thought that much was obvious.”

Liam pulls away from him suddenly, looking down at him with a surprising tenderness. “You should know I never do this.”

“Right,” Drake flashes him a smile. “Only with the cute ones.”

Liam shakes his head. “No, I’m serious. I’ve never done anything like this before. Sleeping with someone I barely know…” His voice is earnest, a match to the worship of his gaze. “You’re the only one, Drake.”

Drake blinks slowly, the words settling in as he tries to make sense of the meaning behind them. “You’ve… really? Never?”

“I’ve had relationships before, of course. But when you’re royalty… there’s a certain level of discretion required for this sort of thing. It’s not worth the effort.” He smiles gently. “Or at least, it hasn’t been until now.”

Drake feels his face grow hot, and the embarrassment he feels at the realization that Liam’s made him blush only serves to make him blush harder. “Oh.“

“Yes,” Liam echoes, “Oh.”

“Well,” Drake says, attempting to alleviate the sudden heaviness that has fallen over them, “That’s really a bummer for you, considering I already sold my story to The Cordonian Daily.”

Liam won’t stop looking at him, which is making the whole blushing ordeal immeasurably worse. “You’ll only say good things, I hope.”

“Maybe,” Drake answers. “Maybe bad things too.”

Liam laughs, which only spurs him on more. He leans up on his elbows, only inches away from Liam’s face. “Might tell them they’ve really been deprived of the body on that king of theirs, covering him up in all those medals and shit. That he’s absolutely mind-blowing in bed, way too good at things that have nothing to do with ruling, and he’s got a massive —“

Liam shuts him up with a kiss, slow and deep and breathtaking. He cards his fingers through Drake’s hair, twisting into the strands and tugging him closer, while Drake finds the planes of Liam’s chest and spreads his hands across the skin. He can’t help the sigh that slips from his lips when they finally part, eyelids so heavy he can barely make out the smile on Liam’s face.

“You mean it?” Drake whispers, “Only me?”

Liam nods. “Only ever you.”

“Shit,” Drake leans his head back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “I can’t believe that. I mean, I do — I believe you — but shit.”

Liam rolls onto his side, eyes still trained on Drake, their legs brushing under the sheets. “Is it so uncommon?”

“I guess not,” Drake turns to look at him too, at the unabashed affection on his face. “But it’s just… fuck, look at you. You’re literally royalty, you probably live in some palace being rich as hell all the time, and you’re Old Hollywood hot like some actual Hallmark character.” He lets his hand wander over to Liam’s hip, slowly tracing the lines of muscle up his side. “It’s a good thing you’re not one of those Europeans wearing Speedos all the time either, because I think if the world saw what’s under that suit of yours they might eat you alive.”

Liam smiles, averting his eyes for a moment, clearly unsure how to handle the flattery. “Well… thank you.”

“Honest to god, the fact that you’re single might mean there’s hope for none of us.”

Liam goes quiet, still against his side. Drake suddenly feels like maybe he’s talked too much; maybe Cordonians don’t see fucking as such an opportunity to open the floodgates of opinion amongst one another. After all, he’d technically been a member of Liam’s staff only a few hours ago.

“Sorry,” he starts, “Am I being too blunt? I can—“

“Drake,” Liam interrupts, “There’s something you should know. Something I should have told you earlier.”

There’s an unusual tension in Liam’s words that immediately sets him ill at ease. “Okay.”

“I’m…” Liam bites his lip, finally bringing his eyes up to meet Drake’s as he says, “I’m engaged.”

#driam #drake x liam #my fic #trr fanfic #driam bodyguard au #happy NEW YEAR bitches !

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 4 years

Text

↬ the meaning you hold in your eyes, i could write a few poems on them.

date: october 2019 & february 2020.

location: ash’s apartment studio.

word count: 2,197 words, excluding lyrics.

summary: n/a.

triggers: mentions of alcohol as is way too common in ash’s verifications.

notes: creative claims verification. if any of this sounds familiar, no it doesn’t. (some parts of this are reworked from a different verification i did last year for a song that never happened because it fit this one too and i refuse to waste the time i put into that.)

october 2019.

he’d done this whole thing before several times while working on the album that will be coming out any day now and it would be easier this time. or rather, that was what ash told himself he’d be saying when it was all over. it hadn’t been just once, in truth. there were multiple songs written now that had been put into consideration for the first half of the track list of the album ⁠— the sensual and passionate half⁠ — but this wasn’t for that half of the album, or that album at all. the tracklist had been finalized long ago, but, in many ways, he was still hung up on the dissatisfaction that had crept in. so many songs for the album had been discarded and while it never quite felt good to have something he’d worked so hard on dubbed unsatisfactory, he’s still holding on to the lingering remnants of the phase where rejection made him more driven to create something that wouldn’t be turned down. a few more ‘no’s and he might reach his breaking point and want to give up entirely on catering to everything the company wanted, but for now, he was slowly settling in to the new challenge of writing outside of his standard comfort zone.

he’d written sensual songs before, but they were always manageable in their softness. that was the easiest lens for ash to view his own intimate experiences through, but bc had continued to demand something more aggressive, more bold, and ash hadn’t nailed down exactly how he was supposed to wrangle that yet and still remain true to himself.

he’d been surprised his album had ended up being confirmed for release at all with all the difficulties he’d had writing it and he still wasn’t sure what the turning point was where bc decided this was a sure thing. it may have been ash showing his ability to write what they wanted or it may have been a look into the expected profits for the rest of the year. understanding how bc’s employees’ collective minds worked wasn’t an easy feat, and ash had bigger fish to fry. namely, a fish in the form of making a song he didn’t have to worry about getting on the album that would calm the nagging in the back of his head that the company had found his weakness. successfully making one or two songs to please bc’s sexier image desires for fatalism hadn’t made ash an expert on the form yet, but he had learned ways to make it easier on himself than the stress he’d inflicted on himself and the worry he’d experienced when bc’s demands were still new to him. one of those ways was to start with a beat. that wasn’t a frequent necessity when he was shaping out a piano ballad or a folk guitar track, but if it was going to be danced to, it needed a good beat. any good dancer could tell him that the beat was a critical part of a song and, at one point in time, ash would have considered himself a good dancer himself. these days he was more like the leftovers of what was formerly a passionate dancer. he could never rid himself of the years as of technique training and the plentiful experience on stage and in a dance studio, but when he was merely going through the motions ninety percent of the time, it felt like he’d faltered since debut in some way. the worry about the bc-approved choreography for his second title track already had him on edge with concerns he’d be called out for laziness again, his mistakes becoming more glaring when he was the center of attention instead of being able to hide among a group.

that could be worried about later. it wasn’t the concern at hand at the moment.

right now, the song was what was most important and the beat was coming together nicely. it wasn’t all that unique in execution, but he intended the sexiness to lay in the instrumental more than the lyrics themselves. he layered some more interesting percussion into what he envisioned as the chorus as he built more musical lines on top of the foundation to construct a more full song than the basic outline of something sexy.

he started with the main attraction, the chorus, and built out musically into the verses, the bridge, and, at first, the song also included what he had at the time decided would probably be a dance break when the song became a full-fledged performance.

as he worked, he built the song to be reminiscent of the songs he’d watched performance recordings of when he was younger. american r&b in the nineties and early two thousands had been secondary to the flashy dance performances of pop legends and trendy boy bands of the decade of his birth for much of his youth, if only because his young brain wasn’t ready for the more mature topics and sounds many of the best songs of the time had utilized. still, though, anything with a good voice, a good beat, and an eye-catching dance routine would have little ash’s eyes glued to the tv screen.

ash had never considered too much where his interest in performing had come from. according to his parents, he’d been dancing and singing since he could walk and talk despite neither of his parents being all that inclined toward the performance arts. if he thought about it now, he thought he might owe much of that to all of the awe-inspiring stage performances he’d been exposed to growing up. at such a young age, he couldn’t fully grasp the heartthrob appeal of the young adult men dancing on stage to a thumping back beat or the pretty girls who only needed a stage and a spotlight to shine. he hadn’t wanted to be admired or longed for. he’d wanted to perform and be able to captivate a crowd the same way the music icons he’d seen growing up had.

that might be a better way to approach this.

ash took a break from writing to revisit a self-curated playlist of his favorite r&b songs spanning the best eras of the genre before he returned to fleshing out the song’s instrumental layers. it was becoming a good track by pure pop writing measure, but it was also becoming apparent something was missing when he set his sights solely on a replication of the nostalgia that other performers brought. being brought back to one’s younger days wasn’t exactly what was going to inspire the type of storytelling environment that had ash was aiming for. ash reminded himself that the song was supposed to have the musical themes suggesting intimacy that the lyrics suggested wasn’t entirely there yet on a conscious level. lust didn’t have to be presented as unromantic to be there, and it wasn’t always as black and white as sex. ash had met the beginnings of many a physical relationship, and the unintentional mind games and the questions were as much a part of the spark of something new as physical touch could

when viewed through the eyes of the adult he now was, those performances he’d watched as a kid had often been alluring in a seductive nature. often times, the words had danced around the literal, kept poetic for the romanticism of it. he’d written that exact kind of romance before, and the honey-tongued poetry he knew himself capable of didn’t have to disappear because he was working with a beat-driven r&b track instead of a rolling acoustic guitar instrumental.

making the instrumental had only taken ash a few weeks of work, but when it came time to put words to it, everything he wrote out only sounded shallow and forced. eventually, he was so stalled that he chose to switch into writing in english to see if a change of language would bring anything new out. he found words for most of the song that way, but they still felt disjointed and, if he were to be honest with himself, embarrassingly try-hard. the only thing that really stood out to him was the water themes he’d come up with, comparing the desire to get to know someone better to taking a deep dive underwater.

he reached out to a few close friends and work colleagues for advice, but nothing set him on the path to anything that could satisfy his perfectionist mind. he remembered being told once that if he was struggling with how to write a feeling, he should ask himself how he’d tell someone else to write it.

if you’re having trouble writing about desire, start with the basis of it all. a feeling. a desire. a question. nothing else. capture those feelings in the lyrics. desire at its best is simple. don’t overcomplicate it.

that gives him an intro that matches the beat well, but he grows stuck again after that, racing at top speed down the path to overcomplicating once again and, with time, he stops coming back to the song.

briefly, he considered trying to sell the instrumental off or asking someone else to write lyrics for him so he could present a full package to whoever he shopped it around to. deleting it off of his computer had been another option. he wasn’t confident enough in his abilities as a producer yet to believe his songs were of much value without his lyrics attached. this one had been created to prove something to himself, anyway, so what use would it be if it had to be finished by someone else?

february 2020.

the song has been abandoned in his files for months when he suddenly recalled it and, out of nowhere, suitable lyrics finally began to form themselves in his head. it was late and he’d had a bit to drink after returning home after a long day. valentine’s day was quickly approaching and it would be the first one he’d be spending alone since his scandal. a few vodka shots had seemed the fitting way to forget that.

tipsiness hadn’t been able to keep him out of his studio though and he’d sloughed into his chair as the black hood of his hoodie slipped off of the crown of his head onto his back, on a mission to get some work done before his head started hurting too badly. fifteen minutes into the mission, he had a loose leaf sheet of paper dotted with various phrases, most of which had something to do with the dark bubbly liquid poisoning his veins at that exact moment, but they mixed with lyrics fitting with the aquatic theme he’d come up with a few months prior, shaken loose from his mind by the ever-prying fingers of vodka.

it's like i'm drunk try mixing in another another blue sapphire let me know if there's an island for me in your sea it's like i'll explode the blue spreads through all of me if you want, you can fall into me

drunkenness and desire weren’t so different, he figured, as someone who’d gotten himself in trouble based off of both of those feelings before. his train of thought wasn’t very clear as he worked the rest of the song out, his thoughts veering into the safety of romance-colored interest, but his work came out in large chunks that gave him hope it wouldn’t be hopeless when he came back to it sober.

when he did come back to the lyrics a day later, more sober and once the hangover had passed. while some of it was painfully clear in being the ramblings of a man under the influence, he’d gotten enough of a start in his state of lowered inhibitions for a less affected ash to fine tune the vocabulary and carefully round the edges into something more consumable, more seductive r&b ballad and less messy musings of an uninhibited might. it might not be the magnum opus of his lyrical career, but it wasn’t bad for such a highly metaphorical song written under the influence. it didn’t push ash too far outside of the walls of his comfort that had already done enough expanding while he worked on fatalism, and some cliches and over-bluntness had slithered into the lines, but it made the tone cheeky instead of taking itself too seriously, as ash was terribly prone to doing.

in a lot of ways, it reminded him of the song he’d written earlier in the month and turned in for his spring release. while woo ah had been colored pink in his mind, this was drenched in blues and purples, and even though he’d needed to drown himself in liquor to finish both of them, this one didn’t tie his stomach up into knots if he listened to it too many times in a row.

this one is a song about the desire, and maybe a little bit of frustration, of a new beginning and ash hadn’t felt that in years now. from that alone, it should have been harder to write, but the distance from the feeling might very well be what made it so easy to write about without ending up a mess by the time he was finished.

but, for some reason, it didn’t feel as distant as he thought it should.

#fmdverification #alcohol tw #&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para #&& bring color to my skies | character development #&& queued

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thesanguinerose · 4 years

Text

Rory Redacted Survey Thing

Tagged by @queenofeden so RIP everyone, I'm posting on mobile and have no read more :[

EDIT: Readmore established hehe...

BASICS

Name: Riordan Tanner[given name]

Riordan O'Marcaigh[mother's maiden name/aunt's last name]

Riordan Devorak [post game]

Nickname(s)/Titles: Rory (Everyone calls him this), Ro (Julian), Rory Redacted (inside joke)

Age: 27 [start of game]

Birthday: April 11

Zodiac Sign: sun Aries, moon Sagittarius, rising Leo

Gender: male [trans right babey]

Pronouns: he/him

Orientation: bi [male pref]

Favorite flower: carnation

Favorite food: steak, medium-rare

Favorite drink: apple cider [hot/cold/alcoholic/non...all of it]

Love Interest: Julian. I use him for all of them, but his backstory and personality is so perfectly crafted for the Julian route that it feels weird with anyone else now.

APPEARANCE/PHYSICAL TRAITS

Height: 5'2" - [5'4"-5'5" with heels/heeled boots, which he always wears]

Weight: 165

Body type/build: Average build, slightly thicker. Round/heart shaped face, upper body is thinner with a layer of muscle under the soft - gets more muscular post-game due to the time spent on a ship. Thick/strong legs, has an ass 😌

Skin: white and ruddy, pink/warm undertones

Hair: dark brown, kept long/below his shoulders. Ties it into a ponytail, messy bun, or loose braid sometimes. Intricate braiding and hairpieces/rings are for special occasions. Cuts it above his shoulders once and hates it.

Eyes: Green

Distinguishing features: freckles, left ear is pierced at the lobe and a few times on the cartilage. Wears earrings in all holes, usually wears a silver chain earring connecting the lobe to cartilage.

Clothing:

pre-game > lots of sheer shirts over crop tops, shorts, leggings, couture inspired masquerade outfits, silver accessories only - gold washes him out. Signature colors are blue and silver. As the plague spread, kept himself more covered, though the fabrics were still sheer. Worn canvas or linen shirts at Best.

During game > white linen undershirt, modified stay over it to act as a binder, a white gauze shirt over that with sleeves rolled up, navy vest/jerkin, tan pants, brown heeled boots, his black handbag of holding.

Physical health: he needs glasses to see. Is overall in ok health. Allergic to three types of trees all of which are in the surrounding area, prone to hayfever, his joints click.

PERSONALITY/INTERESTS

Personality:

PreGame > confident to a point that it is irritating and rude, blunt, quick to anger, doesn't cry, cares about people but pretends not to, bad at making connections with people, needs to be wanted and latches on to people who have feelings for him, doesn't tell people Things About Himself. It's all a defense mechanism - he's deeply sensitive and feels a lot, but doesn't understand how to express it in a way that makes sense. Doesn't wear his glasses bc they make him look like a nerd. Pride and hubris are his ultimate downfall, doesn't listen to people he cares about because once he's decided he's doing something, he's going to do it. Died with a laundry list of regrets.

InGame > jumpy and antsy, doesn't like going outside because it's a lot, but longs for adventure. Kinder now that The Weight Of Life has not pressed itself upon him. Mom Friend instincts, will rise to the challenge during an immediate crisis, but once it's over, he needs to be taken care of. Quick to cry. Embarrassingly quick to cry. Gradually gains his confidence back in a healthy way, still incredibly impulsive, is more open and communicative with his feelings. Still quick to anger.

Likes: being right, dogs, tea, shiny/sparkly things [esp pretty rocks and jewelry], fashion, horses, fire.

Dislikes: being told he's wrong/not getting what he wants, blood magic, people who don't cover their mouths when they sneeze, waiting, being called cute or any variation thereof. Do Not Call Him A Witch.

Fears: being known and by extension rejected, the dark, spiders, water

Habits: tapping his fingers on things, touching any and all textiles that catch his eye, picking at his nails, making promises he has a hard time keeping

Mental health: ADHD - emphasis on RSD esp pre game. Translates into anxiety in-game/post-game. Varying degrees of depression and suicidal ideation pre game.

LIFE

Residence: born in unnamed Fantasy Ireland, lived in Prakra for 4 years[16-20] has lived in the shop in Vesuvia since[20-27]

Occupation: magician, shopkeep, prakran magic school alumni. Formerly: leathersmith's apprentice, doctor's apprentice

Skills: sewing/embroidery, basic alchemy, illusion based magic [esp in a party/theatrical context], divination, conjuration, horseback riding, general showmanship, arguing/debating

TRIVIA -Mostly pregame/backstory based.

Grew up on a farm that handled livestock primarily. Also raised horses.

Repressed his talent for magic due to it making his mother and the villagers uncomfortable.

Jumping off that: Mommy Issues ™

Has incredibly good intuition and is a natural at divination, but he is predisposed to giving negative readings or only having a Spidey Sense when something bad is going to happen. As a result, abhors divination because he thinks either 1. It's wrong [it isn't his life is just a mess], 2. He can't do it right or 3. He's the reason bad things happen.

Had a border collie named Patches his aunt gave him when he was on his way to Prakra. Status post death is unknown. Also has a horse named Callam who he's had since he was about 8. Status post death is unknown.

Had a younger brother named Riley who went MIA during battle. Likely killed by the plague. It runs in the family.

Is allergic to three types of trees and has to wear very specific gloves and a mask when gathering herbs so he doesn't break out in hives.

Kept an extremely detailed journal. It documents his life from when he left home to his death. Has doodles. So many doodles. Not really cohesive, but it makes sense to him. Also has shopping lists. [Out of use post-death, but Rory reads it post-game]

Did he mention he went to the magic college in Prakra? Because he went to college and if you didn’t know, well, he sure will tell you about it.

Was incredibly close with his Aunt, who was basically Him but Nicer and Watered Down.

Speaks fantasy Gaelic fluently before his death, esp with his Aunt. Taught Asra curse words. loses most of it when he's brought back. Also loses part of his accent, falling into general Vesuvian, though it shines through when he speaks quickly and on specific words.

Is 90% talk and 10% action. He's a weenie.

Made a Bag Of Holding in magic college - Carries it everywhere both pre and in-game. Works like a Mary Poppins bag, but small and black and stylish. Goes with everything.

Had time to settle into his gender identity and presentation in pre-game, is utterly unapologetic. Had mild dysphoria but nowhere near as bad as current/post. Current Rory starts from scratch and has to work back up to feeling okay, but has general "oh bad" feelings for a while. Bad feelings are only exacerbated by the Fool's body before he understands it. Takes a lot of work to do so. He ends up okay!!

Had two sexual partners before his death, but dated a whole lot of people. Very picky about who he does things with, but also needs to be desired. Broke a lot of hearts out of boredom and the fear of being vulnerable.

LOOKS ™

Pregame:

In/postgame:

#the arcana game #fan apprentice #rory redacted #sorry this is so long #aaaaaa #thanks lauren

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babysgarage · 5 years

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i got tagged by @disaster-gay-boi! aah thank you, it’s been forever since i last did one of these!

1. Nicknames: other than the classic diminutives .for my name, there are some banana puns, ‘chubby’ (dw it’s affectionate) and ‘little cloud’ from my friends (one time i took a nap in between classes and they thought i looked fluffy hence the name??)

2. Zodiac Sign: cancer

3. Height: i recently heard on tv that i’m 5′ 9

4. Hogwarts House: yup definitely ravenclaw, no doubts about that

5. Last Thing I googled: ‘hunger response’

6. Favorite Musicians:it’s hard to pick favorites so let me just list bands whose discographies i know pretty well: imagine dragons, marianas trench, bon jovi, abba

7. Song Stuck in My Head: kazetsuyo’s first ending

8. Following Now: 697

9. Followers: 862 (what are y’all doing here9

10. Do I Get Asks? i get a few anons sometimes! i also have some amazing mutuals who want to talk to me <3333

11. Amount of 💤? abt 6 hours? i’m sleepy most of the time tho

12. Lucky Number: i don’t have one i think

13. What I’m Wearing: i just noticed my shirt says ‘find ing my soul’ upside down

14. Dream Job: someone pay me to remember trivia about my hyperfixations

15. Dream Trip: i really wanna visit iceland for god knows what reason. i guess madagascar and seychelles? also nyc, france, bavaria,.. i’m being greedy bc i already had my dream trip

16. Favorite Food: any possible combination of tomatoes, bread and cheese

17. Instruments: xylophone, but barely

18. Languages: serbian, english, i took german for an embarrassingly long time and i know like 2 words, also i’ve picked up a tiny bit of japanese from my weeb adventures

19. Favorite Song: how deep is your love by the bee gees will always have a special place in my heart

20. Random Fact:i can whistle backwards and that got my friend beat up once

21. Aesthetic: like a personal aesthetic? fashion wise? bruh i only wear jeans

may answers may be boring, but doing this is fun, if anyone wants to do it, consider yourself tagged!

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botanistlester · 7 years

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How to Flirt: Embarrassed Boy Edition

Summary: As soon as the first ever Cold Stone Creamery opens up in London, Phil knew he had to go. However, it wasn’t the ice cream that made him keep coming back, but rather the cute employee who looks dead in the eyes whenever he has to sing the tip jar songs. Word Count: 4,405 Warnings: Food mentions, cussing A/N: thanks so much to @greynihilism for prompting me this!!! I honestly love this SO MUCH. And of course thanks to @snowbunnylester for listening to me shout and for telling me to match our titles bc we are disgusting soulmates. I didn't edit this but i'm too excited about it so idgaf! Hope you like it!

Voted best oneshot and second best fluff in the phanfic awards 2017!

Read it on AO3!

- When a new Cold Stone Creamery opened up in London, it was the biggest thing since sliced bread. Literally everyone had to try some, to get some for themselves, that way they could boast to their friends and family how they got to try it.

Phil was guilty of this. He was a slut for only two things, and those were ice cream and new shops. So when he heard a new ice cream shop was opening up? Phil pretty much shit himself. He gathered all of his friends, sat them down, and explained the situation to them. He didn’t want to say he forced them to come with him, because he didn’t. He just calmly insisted that they come with him and didn’t let them leave the room until they agreed. No biggie.

That’s how he found himself inside of Cold Stone with Kiley, Charles, and Michael. Phil was the only one who was so excited that he couldn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet. His friends were chattering beside him, waiting patiently for the line to go down so they could finally order, but Phil was having trouble being patient. He wanted his ice cream and he wanted it now. There were still five people in front of him and he wanted to push them all out of the way so he could order his own ice cream and press his face to the counter glass like an annoying child.

Just as he was about to do that, something strange happened. Something that made Phil stop and stare at the workers with his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth gaped open. He’d heard of it happening before, back when Cold Stone was just an American thing, but it had completely escaped his mind. Until now.

It happened very systematically. A customer put a pound in the tip jar. The cashier, a pretty gal with blonde hair, yelled out “tip!”. And then, embarrassingly enough, they began to sing.

It was to the same tune of ‘I Kissed a Girl’ by Katy Perry, but a much more cringe version of it. Phil was mildly horrified and by the sound of it, his friends were trying to muffle their laughter into their hands. There were only four workers in the store and Phil found himself tracing his eyes over their expressions, wondering how they could possibly be so cheerful while singing something so horrifying.

“I mixed it in and I liked it; The taste of that Cold Stone ice cream. I mixed it in just to try it; I hope my boyfriend will like it.”

It was horrible, horrifying, in every single way possible. Phil didn’t understand how they could be so numb to the fact that they were singing something so embarrassing. And that’s when his eyes traced over the last worker, and his heart did a little flippy over thing.

The man displayed the emotions that Phil was going through, except he was broadcasting it with his facial expressions. It seemed as if he was in pain, his lips barely moving as he sang the words, a pretty pink colour dancing across his cheeks. He cringed when the group sang, “It mixed so good, it tastes so right, I’ll get a love it tonight,” and Phil couldn’t help but stare in rapt fascination at this man whose eyes screamed ‘kill me’. He had on the standard Cold Stone uniform - a red shirt, black apron, and khakis - and his hair was a mess of brown curls on his forehead. When he grimaced, a dimple appeared in his cheek, making him appear quite adorable despite his horrified demeanor.

For some unknown reason, Phil wanted to see him this embarrassed all the time.

It was over far too soon, lasting only about twenty seconds before they were going back to their work, the only reminder that it happened being the man’s pink cheeks. Phil didn’t know what he wanted in life, but he knew for sure that he needed to see that song again if only to see the way the guy mumbled the words like he would rather be anywhere else than here.

Soon enough, it was his turn, and then he was being faced with the brunette worker himself. He gave Phil a smile that was very obviously fake, that dimple caving in on his cheek.

“What can I get for you?” The man, whose nametag read ‘Daniel’, asked.

If Phil was an anime character, he would probably have approximately three sparkles in his eyes while cherry blossoms danced around them. He was enamoured and he maybe hated himself just a little bit for enjoying Daniel’s pain too much. He moved his eyes away from Daniel’s face and instead looked at the sizes of ice cream he could get. He furrowed his eyebrows when he noticed the weird names of the sizes. Like It, Love It, Gotta Have It? What kind of American bullshit was this. “Erm, I’ll have sweet cream in a Love It cup?” Phil asked unsurely. Was that how you were supposed to order? No matter which way he said his order in his head, it sounded so weird.

“Gotcha,” Daniel said, and then he was reaching into the ice cream container with two weird looking ice cream scoops and taking out a large amount of ice cream which was probably much more than Phil’s lactose intolerant ass could handle. “Toppings?” Daniel asked after a moment, and Phil gave him an alarmed look as Daniel dropped the glob of ice cream onto a slab of stone. Daniel sighed at him, not looking very amused. Phil reckoned he hated his job quite a lot. “You get two free toppings. They’re all listed.”

Phil took a moment to look at the toppings presented to him, licking his lips. What would be good with his ice cream? He was feeling some kind of fruit, but what else would be good with that? Without thinking about it, he said, “Strawberries and rainbow sprinkles.”

Daniel gave him a long look, his eyebrows furrowed, but Phil didn’t know what he was staring at him like that for. Was there something on his face? Was it because Phil was staring at him like he was a God? After a moment, Daniel shook his head slightly and scooped strawberries and rainbow sprinkles into Phil’s ice cream, mixing it together. Once he was finished, he scooped it into the cup and handed it to Phil. “Pay at the register,” he ordered, and even though he had been short with Phil the whole time, Phil couldn’t help but feel like he’d been blessed by the heavens for getting Daniel’s attention for even two minutes.

Now for the hard part: paying quickly and efficiently. Phil never liked paying for things, not because of the whole ‘losing money’ thing, but because he had the worst butterfingers in the world. It didn’t seem to matter what the situation was. If Phil had his wallet, he was bound to drop a bunch of money all over the place whether he liked it or not.

The cashier (the blonde girl that was definitely not Daniel) totalled his bill to an amount that should be illegal. Phil got out his wallet like any good samaritan would, and handed her his money. She took it, counted out the change, and tried to hand it back to him. Except, he missed a coin and watched as it clattered on the ground, his ears burning red again.

“There Phil goes again,” Charles says loudly, earning a laugh from Kylie and Michael.

He glared at them and bent over to pick up the coin, dropping it in the tip bucket. “Fuck off, mate,” Phil whined back, just as the cashier yelled out “tip!”

Just like before, the employees started to sing. Except this time, Phil was ready with a wide grin on his face and his eyes trained on Daniel. He didn’t care how weird he looked at that moment. He wanted to see Daniel, red faced and full of complete and utter embarrassment the entire song.

Daniel did not disappoint. Immediately, his face turned a bright shade of red and his head shot towards Phil to stare at him with furrowed eyebrows. They made eye contact as he sang unenthusiastically, giving Phil an unimpressed look. It was wonderful. He was wonderful. Phil didn’t doubt that he would come back here once more just to see Daniel look so flustered once again.

When the song ended, Phil was left gazing at Daniel as he turned back to his work, most likely trying to ignore Phil’s weirdness. He saw Daniel’s coworker nudge him, and just caught her saying, “You need to brighten up, Dan.” While Phil agreed that the grumpy attitude didn’t really suit the workplace, he also quite liked the way Dan tried to make it seem as if he didn’t care about anything, the way he was mortified every time a coin went into the jar. Phil liked it. Phil wanted to see it more.

Phil’s friends had to pretty much drag him out of the shop once they had all finished ordering. He didn’t want to leave, but they claimed he was being a stalker and forced him out the doors, shaking their heads at him.

“If you want his dick that much, just come back another day,” Kylie suggested, taking a spoonful of her ice cream and humming appreciatively. “Although I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with that guy. He seems kinda like a douche.”

“He’s so unenthusiastic,” Phil groaned, stabbing his spoon into his own ice cream. He hadn’t tried it yet so it was melting around the edges, leaking onto his fingers. “I love it.”

“You’re so strange,” Michael mused, earning agreements from the whole group.

Phil sighed. He knew he was strange, but he had fun like this so that was all that mattered. He finally took a bite of his ice cream, a large scoop so he could get the sprinkles and strawberries in his mouth at the same time. As soon as he bit down, he almost spit it out. “Eurgh!” He groaned, shuddering. “This is disgusting!”

His friends turned to look at him expectantly, peering into his bowl. Charles snorted. “Well, that’s what you get when you get sprinkles and strawberries together. What the hell were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t thinking,” Kylie pointed out. “He was too busy staring at Oscar the Grouch.”

“Don’t talk about my husband like that,” Phil said flatly, glaring at his friends over his ice cream. He was disappointed that he didn’t like his dessert after all that money he spent on it. But then again… “Looks like I’ll just have to come back to get a better ice cream.” He sighed, feigning disappointment, and he friends groaned at him.

“You did that on purpose,” Michael accused.

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

“Now I know you’re lying about that,” Charles said, pointing his spoon at Phil. “Because you and me? We’re alike. As soon as we see a cute boy, we both lose our shit.”

The group laughed and Phil couldn’t exactly argue with that so he didn’t even try to. He smiled and continued to eat his gross ice cream, thinking about the day when he would finally be able to come back and see Dan once more.

True to Phil’s word, he showed up at Cold Stone again three days later. He hadn’t been able to get the cute grumpy boy out of his head the entire time and he knew he had to see him once more.

Trying to figure out Dan’s schedule was a gamble. He didn’t know when he worked, didn’t know the hours or the days, so he just decided to pick a time and go. If Dan wasn’t there, he could always try another day. Phil was persistent and stubborn. He wasn’t going to give up as long as Dan worked there. And that was a fact, damn it.

God must have been helping a bro out because Dan was there that day.

He was frowning into the ice cream just like he was the other day, giving customers fake smiles and looking completely done with the place. He didn’t see Phil as he walked in, but Phil didn’t expect him to. If he was at work, he probably wouldn’t care about anyone who came in either. In fact, Dan was probably cursing at him for coming inside in the first place. But he didn’t care. He was there for one thing and one thing only.

Dan’s embarrassment.

The wait was even worse than it was the last time, but only because Phil didn’t have anybody with him this time. His jitters from being alone made his foot tap on the linoleum and his hand run through his hair at least twelve times. What was Dan going to say when he saw him? Would he recognize him? Would he give him a genuine smile this time?

Now, it was his turn, and Phil was probably going to throw up all over the frozen dairy. He stepped up and then Dan’s eyes were on him, all brown and beautiful and dead inside. He didn’t show any sign of recognition other than a raised brow. Just like before, he gave Phil an obviously faux smile. “What can I get for you?” he asked in that Southern drawl, and Phil melted just like ice cream that’s been sitting out in the sun.

Phil cleared his throat because otherwise he would probably sound like a child going through puberty again. He stared into those big brown eyes, trying to maintain eye contact, but broke it off as his cheeks became too painfully hot. It seemed that looking at Dan straight on was the same thing as staring at the goddamn sun for too long. “Sweet cream in a Love It cup,” Phil told him, and watched as Dan mechanically got his scoops and went to work. He had very large hands, ones with long fingers, and Phil watched with rapt fascination, wondering just what else he could do with those hands.

Dan coughed and Phil realised he was waiting on him once more, a look of boredom and slight annoyance on his features. Shaking himself out of it, Phil murmured that he wanted strawberries and blueberries in his ice cream. This made Dan’s lips twitch up, but he didn’t smile. “No sprinkles this time?” he asked in a voice that was slightly monotone but obviously with attempted enthusiasm.

A laugh ripped its way out of Phil’s throat. He was fully aware that he was laughing far harder than he should, especially with the looks he was gaining from the other people in line, but the joke caught him off guard. He hadn’t thought Dan would have remembered him at all, but here they were. Phil thought he fell in love just a little bit. “No sprinkles,” Phil agreed, watching as those big hands mixed his ice cream together. “Last time was a bit unpleasant. Hence why I’m here again today.”

Dan hummed but otherwise didn’t reply, scooping up the ice cream and putting it in the cup. He licked his lips and Phil watched in awe as he did so. He was too far in and Dan had literally not said anything of sustenance. Dan handed him his ice cream, forcing Phil out of his daydreams about pressing their lips together, of seeing that blush on Dan’s cheeks for an entirely different reason. “Pay at the register,” Dan said just as he did the first day. And then as an afterthought, “Thanks for coming in again.”

The words made Phil’s heart flutter a little bit. He was royally fucked. How could just five, polite words make him want to vomit flowers everywhere? God, Phil needed to get laid. Maybe then he could get over his unconventional crush on a guy he’d not even had a proper conversation with yet.

There was a different cashier at the register today. She had a shock of blue hair and her nametag read Dani. It had a sticker of a rainbow next to her name. Phil thought it was nice. She beamed at him as he paid (fumbling with the money as per usual) and her smile grew even wider as he dropped some change in the tip bucket.

She yelled out ‘tip’, and Phil just managed to catch the look of horror coming over Dan’s face as he realised what had happened. And as if matters couldn’t get any more embarrassing, the song had changed today. Phil watched with great pleasure as the employees began to sing in the tune of Get Low by Lil Jon.

“From the ghiiiiaaaa to the stone (to the stone) Til the fudge drips down that cone. Mix it on that stone. Thanks for the tip tip tip tip tip Thanks for the tip tip tip.”

It was wonderful. Just as embarrassing as before. In fact, it was probably moreso because of the way Dan’s coworker, a large man with bulging muscles, shimmied as if he had breasts. Phil snickered as Dan’s face turned an even redder shade than before, looking absolutely mortified. He glared at his coworker first before turning that burning gaze onto Phil.

It said, ‘Don’t you dare tip us again’.

Phil raised his eyebrows in return, a bright grin on his face. He hoped Dan knew that he would be back again.

The frozen dessert tasted much better that day, but Phil was halfway through when he realised he didn’t like blueberries. He would have to come back another day to get something better.

It went on like that for a few weeks. Phil would come in, order an ice cream that he knew he probably wouldn’t like, and then he would use that as an excuse to come back another time. Once he got coffee flavoured ice cream with gummy bears and peanut butter, but it was worth it to see the slightly disgusted face Dan pulled when he dumped them into Phil’s dessert.

He made it a game to see how many facial expressions he could pull out of Dan during his visit. He would order weird mixes. He would say dumb animals facts as Dan was mixing his ice cream together. He would put a tip in the tip jar and marvel at the fact that the store had a different song each day.

And then, of course, he would marvel at the way Dan’s glares turned more and more heated every time he put a tip in the jar.

There was no way that Dan didn’t know what he was doing. It’s not like he was being sneaky, after all. He had to have noticed the way Phil would stare straight into his eyes as he dropped change in the bin, the way he would stare the entire time Dan was mumbling stupid songs under his breath.

Phil wouldn’t call it antagonizing, per say. He was just interested in the blush that covered Dan’s cheeks, interested in those dead eyes, interested in those pretty pink (but chapped) lips. He was definitely interested in kissing those pretty pink (but chapped) lips, that’s for sure.

But one day, everything Phil knew and loved changed in a heartbeat.

“I’ll cash him out,” Dan told his coworker as he handed Phil his newest creation of strawberry ice cream with cinnamon and coconut.

Phil’s eyes widened and his heart stopped because Dan was staring him straight in the eyes, as if he was challenging him to a dual. Their eye contact didn’t break as they both made their way to the register, and Phil watched out of the corner of his eye as Dan took his gloves off. He was wearing black nail polish and Phil wanted to cry because he had never seen somebody so damn beautiful before.

Dan told him his total in a smooth voice and Phil grappled for the change. His wallet was steadily growing emptier thanks to the costliness of his new hobby, and he knew that he would have to pick up some more work hours sooner or later. “Aren’t you going broke?” Dan asked, and his voice wasn’t really snarky, but it definitely had an edge in it. “This place isn’t exactly cheap.”

Phil shrugged and handed the money to Dan, only managing to practically punch Dan’s hand as he did so. “I have a job,” he replied. And then, with hesitation, “Besides, where else would I go to hear such snazzy tunes after a long day?” With this, he took a few coins and went to put it in the tip jar, keeping his eyes trained on Dan’s face.

Just as he suspected, Dan’s eyes widened in horror. Before Phil knew what was happening, his hand was being knocked out of the way and his change went flying through the air. It landed on the floor with a pitiful clatter and Phil gaped at Dan and the way he was so much more flushed than he had ever been before.

“I- what?” Phil spluttered, and he was sure he looked just as flustered.

“Please don’t,” Dan said in a low, pleading tone. He leaned in closer to Phil so that nobody could hear them, not caring about the way that the other customers were most likely staring or waiting for them to finish cashing Phil out. “I don’t want to sing anymore.”

Phil’s heart stuttered in his chest. He was definitely in an anime, there was no doubt about that anymore. Internally, he was flipping out about how close Dan was to him, how he could see each individual freckle on his face, how there were specks of black and gold in Dan’s eyes. He wanted to grab Dan’s face and trace along his cheekbones with his thumb, wanted to connect their lips together and see if Dan tasted like the ice cream he served.

He didn’t do any of those things.

Instead, he swallowed and took a deep breath to clear his head. He couldn’t be creepy when he finally had his chance to shine. (Even though he probably already looked creepy, let’s be honest). “But I like seeing you sing,” Phil murmured, just as quietly.

There was surprise in those brown eyes and Dan jerked backwards in shock, his eyebrows raised. “What?”

“You get this cute blush on your cheeks and you look like you’d rather be anywhere else but here. It’s intriguing. I’d come by every day but I don’t want to seem desperate.”

Dan scoffed but it was obvious he was trying to play it cool by the way he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a pink tint to his cheeks again and Phil wanted to kiss them so badly. “You’re looking pretty desperate to me, Phil.”

For a moment, Phil was alarmed. How did Dan know his name? Had they met before? Had Phil introduced himself without remembering? But then he recalled that his friends had shouted his name very loudly before, and Dan had probably connected the dots. His heart did a little flip that Dan had remembered his name. “Well then allow me to be even more desperate,” Phil said despite the nervousness choking off his airways. He gave Dan a bright smile, hiding his shaking hands with the ice cream in his grip. Dan tilted his head curiously, but he had a guarded look in his eyes. Phil wanted to get to know the person beneath that expression. “Come on a date with me?”

Silence greeted him and Phil began to panic.

He set the ice cream on his counter so he could run his hand through his fringe and mess with his jumper, occupying his hands. It was a nervous habit he had picked up a while ago, one that seemed to be emerging right then. He had never been good at asking people out. “Of course, don’t think I’m forcing you into it. If you’re not interested, that’s totally fine. I’ll leave you alone and escape the country if you want me to. I just think you’re really pretty and I’ve wanted to get to know you ever since I first saw you singing that godawful Hollaback Girl remix-.”

“Phil,” Dan murmured. His voice was quiet and he was staring down at Phil through his eyelashes. He didn’t have an expression on his face. “You’re holding up the line.”

Phil’s stomach sank and he looked to his right to see that he was, indeed, holding up the line. People were watching him with annoyance written all across their faces. They were holding their wallets and ice cream and seemingly about ready to tear his head off. “Ah. I’m sorry. I’ll just. Yeah.” He did a little side-step, pointing towards the exit. But before he could make his getaway, there was a hand around his wrist, holding him in place.

“Come back tomorrow so we can discuss where we want to go on a date, yeah? My shift starts at three.”

And then, like a light had switched on, Dan was smiling. A real, actual smile, one that lit up the entire room. His whole face seemed to shine as bright as the sun, his eyes turning this gorgeous molten chocolate colour, his teeth straight and white. His dimple caved in on his cheek and his nose crinkled and Phil could feel himself drowning. He had never seen Dan smile like this before, so genuine and bright, and Phil felt as though he had seen an actual fucking angel grinning at him.

If he thought Dan was beautiful before when he was grumpy, then he was about a thousand times more beautiful when he smiled. Especially when Phil was the cause of that smile.

“G-great!” Phil stuttered, wiping his mouth off with his sleeve just in case he was drooling. He offered Dan his own grin and nodded, getting hair in his eyes like the bumbling fool he was. “I’ll see you tomorrow then!”

He turned to walk out of the store, melting ice cream in hand. But then he stopped, turned around, looked Dan right in the eyes.

He ignored the way Dan’s soft eyes slowly turned horrified as Phil dropped a coin into the tip jar, an enthusiastic ‘tip!’ ringing through the air.

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