You had been a friend of Noodle’s she’d brought
around for a night out, and after he’d first talked to you, he never had a
chance. There had only been one conversation between the two of you but he felt
the instant connection, the effortless way you could make him laugh or smile
felt like it meant something. He’d wanted to ask Noodle for your number at the
end of the night and chickened out, kicking himself all the way home. Luckily,
Noodle gave it to him anyway under your advisement; a good sign, right?
14, 50, 56 and 100. If you can :) I mean you don’t have to but it would be cute ❤️
14. “Can I have this dance?”
50. “I think you’re beautiful.”
56. “It brings out your eyes.”
100. “I love you.”
“Why didn’t we ever get together?”
Phil glanced up from the book he was reading, pushing his glasses up his nose. “What?”
“Why didn’t we ever, y’know, actually end up being partners? I mean, we kissed, we’ve had sex, I’ve had your dick in my mouth like, literally no less than a few years ago-”
“A random thought after what, six years?” asked Phil, closing his book. “Everything okay?”
Dan blushed. “Nah, it’s fine. I mean… I dunno, it’s… it’s fine. I was just thinking about it, y’know?”
“Right,” said Phil slowly.
“It’s nothing. Sorry I distracted you.”
“No, don’t apologise, it’s just-” Phil shook his head, standing up. “Nothing. I’m gonna go grab some shoes, I need new shoes for tomorrow night.”
“Tomorrow night, huh?” Dan stretched slightly. “What are you gonna wear?”
“I dunno, probably just a black suit.”
“What about the blue and red one? The plaid?”
“Yeah. It brings out your eyes.”
Phil blinked, and Dan went red. “Uh, anyway, I’m wearing my black suit with the silver lining.”
“Right. Black shoes?”
“Probably. And a white shirt.”
“Oh. Cool, then.” He stood up with a grin. “I’ll be off, then. Need anything?”
“Bring me a shake.”
“White Malteser and butterscotch, yes.”
Dan smiled slightly, and Phil grinned. “I know you too well, Howell.”
“Yeah, you do. Take care, be safe.”
Soft Ed Sheeran music was playing as Dan sat on his phone, scrolling through the Twitter hashtags. He was tired out from all the interacting already, but he kept his mouth shut- Phil looked so excited and happy, and he didn’t want to ruin it for him.
“What are you up to?”
“Oh, y’know, not much,” said Dan absentmindedly.
“Can I have this dance?”
“Sorry?” asked Dan, looking up. His eyes travelled up the length of Phil’s arm, before seeing his smile. That beautiful smile, the one that crinkled up the corners of his eyes.
Phil didn’t reply- he just grabbed Dan’s hand, before waltzing around the room with him.
There was something so very… 2009 about this moment. He was just spinning around the room with Phil, pretending that it was just the two of them, nothing more, nothing less. Dan was just trying to make sure he didn’t trod on Phil’s toes, but he was doing alright so far. He twirled Phil, then glanced at the camera across the room.
The camera across the room.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Instantly, as though Phil’s hands were a burning hot flame, he pulled away, staring at the camera. Phil managed to save the moment from looking terrible by continuing to dance his own way, but Dan was frozen, staring at the camera like a deer in headlights. This was going to go down terribly with their subscribers.
The camera’s recording light stopped flashing, and Dan staggered out of the room, Phil’s voice distant in his ears. Something in his brain told him that Phil was talking to him, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think straight.
“We- We shouldn’t’ve done that, that was so fucking stupid-” Dan rambled, hyperventilating.
“Calm down, bear,” said Phil, and Dan let out a strangled cry of shock and horror. Phil hadn’t called him bear since… since…
“What the fuck are you doing?” hissed Dan, suddenly realising just how close Phil’s face was to his own. “We have a show to host, stop- stop pretending things are the way they used to be, okay?”
Phil pursed his lips, then sighed. “We’re talking tomorrow. When we have time.”
“Because I said so.”
Dan narrowed his eyes at him, before turning his back and walking away.
Dan left early the next morning, and didn’t come home until it was around ten pm, and Phil was worried sick. When he finally opened the door of their apartment, Phil hugged him tightly. “You need to stop doing that to me, Dan,” he said softly, and Dan sighed.
“I’m sorry. I just… I needed time to think.”
Phil pulled away, looking into his eyes, and said, “Dan, I was just… I was thinking about what you said to me. About, y’know, what you said the other day.”
“The other day?”
“About why we never got together. And I think I know why. It’s because I knew you were scared, and I knew I wasn’t ready. But I’m ready now. I’m ready if you are.”
But Phil didn’t let Dan finish his question, because his lips were against Dan’s, and everything was finally right with the world. The missing puzzle pieces finally fell into place, and the feeling was so blissful, like he was flying. He couldn’t concentrate on any one thing at once- he was so focused on Dan’s soft hair, the scent of rain on his jacket, his skin, smooth to the touch- God, everything about this moment was perfect.
When he finally pulled away, Dan’s eyes were closed, and he let out a hysterical giggle. “What the fuck was that?”
“What I ought to have done like, five years ago,” replied Phil.
“No, don’t- we can’t do this now, I’ve been outside all day, I look like a mess-”
“I think you look beautiful.” Phil tucked a strand of Dan’s hair behind his ear. “What do you say, bear? What say we try this again?”
“Sure,” said Dan quietly. “I’ll start by saying what I should have said a long time ago. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Phil kissed Dan again, and finally, everything made sense.
This is going to be a short story based off of Mishima’s Thief concept art! it’s been in my drafts for months now along with an akechi one rip Yes, it’s going to take place in London during the Ripper era, and a guest appearance is included so I hope you like it! Consider it one of my gifts for 2000 followers!
WARNING: mentions of death and slight gore ahead. Please read at your own discretion.
The still of the night was as deafening as ever; the only sound penetrating the frosty air of London’s East End being the clacking of a fine leather heel reverberating off the narrow walls of a cobblestone valley. Fortunately, Mishima had remembered to roam the streets while equipped with an umbrella, as the unpredictable bouts of London rain demanded, and he steadily trudged toward his destination, oblivious to all but his thoughts as he tipped his formal panama hat with a gloved hand, a nervous habit he developed over the course of his time in the Whitechapel district.
Lately he had preoccupied himself with investigating a series of homicides, the victims being moonlighters and the perpetrator remaining unknown; although, the rather gloating notes left at each of the crime scenes were signed with the alias ‘Ripper’. Mishima was but a mere intelligence analyst and medical intern, but his mediocre status didn’t deter him from inquiring into this atrocity that plagued the nighttime streets. He had already discerned that the culprit retained a fair amount of knowledge pertaining to anatomy, as the bodies of the victims were discovered with an organ removed from their bodies in a fashion that no one but an expert could accomplish; although, his deductions failed to narrow the possibilities too substantially. The perpetrator could easily be a doctor, surgeon, butcher, nurse, biologist, or even a professor specializing in the previous fields mentioned.
Therefore, the only rational conclusion was to wander the general area of the murders; despite knowing he was in no such danger, Mishima couldn’t quell the uneasy knots tangling his stomach as he made his way to his base. He had prolonged his search enough for the night and was fully set to retire home when a most peculiar form entered his peripheral line of sight.
Although the shadow was clad in a trench coat and top hat, Mishima shuddered from the repugnant aura it was emitting. A feeble echo in his mind encouraged him to pursue it, and thus he did, stealthily blending with the darkness of the walls with barely audible footsteps. The only noise that could betray him was the heart pounding against his chest, begging for an escape as anxiety gnawed at it like a ruthless predator.
Where the hell are you going…? Mishima thought, not entirely knowing what it was he was anticipating as he tailed the suspicious individual through the endless alleyways for what seemed like an eternity, the night air as silent and crisp as ever.
Right at the moment he was about to retreat out of embarrassment for stalking an innocent wanderer, the form broke out into an abrupt sprint, dashing madly into a nearby alleyway as Mishima hastily followed suit, the two winding themselves further into the maze known as London.
Mishima was riding their coattails now, yet he only grasped air when he extended his hand toward the suspect as they sharply turned the corner, into another alley. However, the suspect had blindly charged into a dead end, wildly seeking a way out of their predicament as Mishima slowly closed in on them.
A goading chuckle penetrated the silence, and Mishima flung his sturdy umbrella over his shoulder, his opposing hand propped on his hip. “I’ve cornered you at last, Ripper.”
The shadowy figure desperately flitted their gaze around their surroundings, but to no avail; the only escape was through the glaring opponent anterior to them.
“Heh, all out of tricks? That makes it easier for me. You’re going to pay for what you did to those innocent people, and I’ll start by tearing out that filthy heart of yours.”
The suspect looked as though they were contemplating the method to retreat past Mishima, and although their voice was heavily muffled by their scarf, the vile arrogance that dripped from it was as distinct as the pallid moon in the star-strewn sky. “You’ll never catch me.”
Mishima narrowed his slate eyes at the taunting demon in front of him. “Oh, I don’t know about that. You can run…”
An electric blue flame promptly flickered and lapped around Mishima’s feet, his clothes flapping slightly from the luminescent gusts of energy. “But there’s one thing you can’t do, and I’m assuming you already know what that is.” His steady footsteps toward his target imprinted the pavement with dancing cyan flame, and the culprit retreated at the same excruciating pace, gradually backing into the cold impact of a brick wall. Mishima was mere paces away from them, slowly descending his umbrella to point the barrel-like tip directly at the Ripper.
A tip of his hat concealed his eyes, and all that could been seen of his face was the pearly whites of his teeth as his lips furled into the smirk of a sadistic predator. “Hyde.” The Ripper shielded their face with their arms due to the sudden outburst of cerulean flame; the sheer force would have sent them plummeting to ground had a wall not supported them from behind.
When the Ripper lowered their arms, they beheld a most bewildering sight; there Mishima stood shrouded in his peculiar cobalt inferno that generated no heat with his hat now ignited, a demon hovering behind him with a grin as sinister as its user. The Ripper could only gasp and cower against the barrier behind them; what match were they, a flimsy mortal, against a menacing abomination from the very depths of hell itself?
“You’re mine,” Mishima declared, cocking his onyx umbrella; the Ripper suddenly comprehended the reason for the shape of the tip: it was the barrel of a gun. “A corrupt heart like yours can’t be allowed to beat any longer.”
“Halt right - h-huh?!” An authoritative voice pierced the tense atmosphere like a silver arrow, and when Mishima looked round he discovered a local law enforcer, likely on night patrol. “A-are you… the Ripper?!”
Mishima’s steely orbs widened underneath the brim of his hat as the flames dancing around him vanished. “You’ve got it wrong, this guy is-”
The person Mishima spoke of darted past him and the officer, merging with the shadows of the night, leaving behind the faint echo of triumphant laughter.
“Damn it!” Mishima spat, frustration swallowing his cadence as the true Ripper successfully fled the vicinity. The officer was currently beckoning his comrades, excitedly shouting about ensnaring the Ripper. “You’ve got the wrong guy!” Mishima iterated, this time in a more panicked tone as he was the one backed against the wall. The officers were hastily closing in on him, and he compressed against the wall with such frantic desperation that he was certain he would have ruptured his spine, had it not been for the metallic chain that clinked and fell before his cloaked eyes.
I recognize this… he mused, immediately tugging at the steel upon recognition. Silky ebony feathers enveloped Mishima, and the sensation of his feet departing from the stone pavement hitched the breath in his throat as butterflies swarmed in his stomach. A few seconds had passed before he was firmly placed on a rooftop, the wings as dark as night dissipating into an azure blaze, revealing a masked face.
“It’s about time you showed up. I thought they were going to throw me in slammers, or worse,” Mishima complained halfheartedly; he truly was grateful despite his inflection.
“Yeah, can’t imagine being in jail,” his savior countered sarcastically, rubbing the nape of his fabric-covered neck.
“Haha, it’s all right. You should be more worried about yourself; it seems you’ve adopted quite the reputation… Ripper.”
Mishima sighed in exasperation as he adjusted his hat. “That’s not my code name!”
The masked man elevated a gloved hand to his mouth and chuckled, a playful smirk teasing his lips. “Don’t take it out on the messenger.”
His face sobered considerably upon scrutinizing Mishima’s countenance, anxiety and despondence now structuring his sickly face. “If it’s any consolation, we all know you would never commit such revolting crimes, and we’re going to stand by you regardless of what obstacles we face. All right… Jekyll?”
The lines of worry on Mishima’s face subsided as he commented, “Your perspicacity scares me sometimes, Joker.”
The infamous leader of the Phantom Thieves smiled, a twinkle of mischief spawning in his inky irises, befitting that of a trickster. “No, you’re just easy to read. Come on, the others are waiting at the hideout.”
Joker flicked his crimson hand to gesture their retreat, and Mishima nodded in response, nimbly leaping across rooftops alongside his role model. “I feel a bit guilty for dragging the others into this investigation on a hunch.” It was true; Mishima’s instincts pestered him earlier that night, as though a part of him somehow knew the Ripper would attempt to strike again. He urged the Phantom Thieves to scour the streets for any sign of suspicious activity; alas, it was all for naught, as Mishima had been convicted of being the very same person he was striving to incriminate.
The leader shook his head. “Don’t apologize; your hunch was correct yet again, and you even managed to corner the culprit this time.”
Mishima’s eyes fell downward, silently observing the passageways and civilians that became blurred from his speed. “Yeah, but…”
“Jekyll, it’s a relief to have someone as reliable as you with us. You’re doing a great job as a Phantom Thief.”
Mishima was caught off guard upon receiving such an earnest gaze, and somehow his burdens felt significantly lighter, thereby confirming what he surmised all along: the Thieves couldn’t have possibly elected a more admirable candidate as their leader. Mishima nodded once more, proud to call himself one of their own, in addition to being their cherished friend.
My cute little centaur girls together! on ONE picture, jeah! And they received their awesome antlers from Sparrows shop <3 I’m over the moon and so happy.
They are finally finished (maybe I have to search for another wig for
the pink one but that will work for now - and I need work in the future,
haha XD) after .. 2 years? These poor cuties waited so long for their
debut. Do you know that feeling when you finally finished something? I’m
just happy ^____^
Which one is your favourite? :D (I can’t choose, haha!)
“And for a moment— just a moment— they’re out of control. These bolts of red electricity just peel off of them, scorching the ground below, just narrowly missing their bodies; and it’s the scariest thing you’ve ever seen. But quickly, those spectres calm. And they gain composure.”
Guess who finally finished their piece for @adventuringfanbook? Hope I can get another one in before the deadline!!
Summary: Jeongguk likes to run.
He’s never wanted anyone to run with him before.
My Review: WOW…JUST. OH MY GOD. Let me start
off by saying…. I freaking LOVED this fic. It’s now in my top five favorites. I measure how much I enjoy a fic by how much I have to stop
and compose myself and how much I squeal from cuteness and boy did I do both so
mANY TIMES. Usually I don’t really like fake dating AUs but this one blew me
out of the water. The author did an amazing job. Please read if you haven’t