#gonna try to have a wank and fall asleep | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

illfoandillfie · 4 years ago

Text

Kinktober Day 1: Rimming

Kinktober Masterlist | Regular Masterlist

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Fem!Reader

Words: 3,560

Warnings: Rimming, anal sex, some vaginal fingering, himbo Ben (mild unintentional hypnosis I guess)

A/N: Welcome to Kinktober! This is actually an idea i’ve been thinking about for quite a while. We’ve done himbo Rog and himbo Gwil so it only seemed fair to do himbo Ben and since he’s obviously an ass man......only made sense that he’d be into anal lmao. It seemed like the perfect fit for the first of these prompts. But this is the first time I’ve written (or even really thought about) rimming so I hope it’s okay!

“Geeze Ben, could you maybe close your porn next time. Didn’t really expect to see that autoplay when I woke the computer up this morning,” Ben snorted into his plate of eggs, “Which one was it?” “Something called Anal Punisher 3.” “Don’t know what you’re complaining about, that’s a good one.” His eyes twinkled teasingly and he poked his tongue out as you sat in front of your own plate. “I’m sure it is.” You chuckled, able to see the funny side now that you weren’t staring directly at close up of a porn stars arsehole, “Just not when I’m trying to check my emails on our shared desktop.” “As if you’ve never had a cheeky wank at that computer.” “That’s what I have a laptop for,” You laughed again, shaking your head. “Alright, fair play. I only left it up cause you got home early last night and I had to, um, clean up.” You rolled your eyes at the flimsy excuse. “And if you don’t want me watching Anal Punisher 3 then maybe you should let me punish your anal....arse....fuck, you know what I mean.” It was your turn to snort into your breakfast, Ben’s clumsy attempt at seduction nearly making you inhale the scrambled eggs. When you finally got yourself under control you said, “I don’t care if you watch it, just shut it down when you’re finished.” “Sorry love,” “But y’know, if you did want to anal arse fuck me tonight I wouldn’t say no.” Ben’s eyes lit up in excitement. He’d either not heard the joke you’d made at his expense or decided it wasn’t worth bringing up if the possibility of anal was on the table, “Serious?” “Serious. I’ll even put my plug in when I get dressed so we don’t have to spend as much time on foreplay.” “If I hadn’t already married you, I’d propose on the spot.”

But by the time Ben got home he seemed more interested in just cuddling on the couch. You’d done as you said you would and worn your plug all day, constantly thinking about what would happen later that night. Right up until Ben stepped inside yawning, when you snuck off to the bathroom to remove it, realising your plans were unlikely to go ahead. You’d half expected him to fall asleep on the couch after dinner but evidently, some part of him still wanted you. He tapped his thigh and beckoned you towards him, pulling you down so he could hold you close and kiss your shoulder. Soon enough that cuddling had turned to making out, you straddling his lap as you kissed him deeply, his large hands pulling you into him, stroking whatever bare skin he could find. Without thinking you dragged your fingers through his hair. He hummed in response so you did it again, your fingers creating small, firm circles against his scalp, drawing random patterns there as you focused on keeping your lips on his and your tongues entwined. Ben made soft pleased sounds as your fingers kept up their movement, almost moaning at the sensation. You could feel him getting harder under you as you carefully rocked your hips. “Benny?” “Huh?” His hands had begun to roam more, moving down to your arse, grabbing and squeezing as he pulled you against him. “Kinda got me excited here honey. Might wanna stop if you’re too tired to carry through,” “What?” He seemed nearly dazed, not properly comprehending what you were saying. You shifted your hand to his chest, drawing small circles with your finger, “I mean I’ve been thinking about you fucking me all day anyway.” “Think?” “Exactly, thinking about our conversation this morning. Remember? Anal Punisher 3?” “Anal?” It was still a question but there was a tone of excitement behind the dopey confusion. “You said you wanted to.... I kinda really want you to.” “Mmmm,” “I mean I get it if you’re too tired,” you said softly, stroking your palms over his biceps, “but I’m up for it now if you are. So, do you still want to?” “Mmhmm,” but as keen as he sounded, Ben didn’t seem inclined to move to the bedroom or even to begin to undress you. He was too caught up in feeling you up and trying to kiss you again. “Don’t you want me Benny?” He was slow to react, eyes still shut as he nodded, speech flowing like treacle “Want - you.” “You can have me.” You had to lean back to stop him from kissing you again. As much as you liked making out, you were getting eager for more and wanted to know where he was at. He nodded again, not seeming to hear you, and then, when he couldn’t immediately locate your lips again, opened his eyes. It reminded you of the time a few friends had dragged you and Ben to a hypnotists show. None of your group had been pulled on stage to experience the hypnotic powers the man claimed to have, but those who had been had all worn similar expressions to Ben. Eyes heavy lidded and almost glazed over and when they’d gone back to their seats you’d noticed that they seemed a bit dazed and confused. You’d not seen Ben look like that before. Well, maybe a bit dazed after you gave him a proper good blow job, but nothing to this extent. Not even when you edged him repeatedly. He tended to get whiny and loud rather than glassy eyed and dopey. Usually more talkative too, begging or moaning your name. This was something new.

Curiously, you stoked his hair back off his face and asked him how he felt, tugging lightly on the ends that reached the back of his neck. “Good,” he sighed softly, “Kiss?” You couldn’t deny him that when he’d asked so cutely, so you leaned in to kiss him again, letting him draw you in deeply for a moment. When the chance arose you let your lips slip from his, kissing along his jaw until you reached his ear, “What else do you want?” Ben hummed softly and then said, “Arse.” It was unusual for Ben to be so monosyllabic. Even when he was super horny and desperate for you, he could generally get most of a coherent sentence out. Nothing that would win any literary awards of course, but enough so you knew what he meant. “What do you mean Benny?” “Ummm....arse.....cock.” It sounded like it had been a struggle for him to even think of the two words he wanted but you couldn’t help but giggle, “Does that mean you want to fuck me?” “Yeah,” “Okay baby. But you have to do everything I say, understand?” Ben nodded. “Can you do what I say Benny? Be a good boy and follow my instructions?” He nodded again, “Yes. Please.” You kissed him once more, trying not to laugh too much, and then scooted off his lap. Ben whined as soon as the physical contact was broken. “If you want my arse we gotta move to the bedroom,” He frowned as if he didn’t quite understand but let you take his hand all the same and followed you to the bedroom.

Ben’s hands began to wander again when you stopped to open your bedroom door, grasping your hips and then dropping lower to rest against your behind. It was hard to ignore the tingle the light contact sent through you but you bit down on your rising need as you turned and grasped Ben’s hands, “Gotta wait for that Benny. Just a little longer.” You stepped back towards the bed and Ben smiled dopily as you pulled him along. “I mean I’m ready but not all the way. But if you help get me lubed up you can fuck my arse for as long as you want.” It was like a light turned on inside Ben’s mind. His eyes still had that unfocused look but they were wider and he was nodding enthusiastically. “You gonna undress me or should I start for you?” You laughed and when he didn’t immediately move you began pulling your shirt off over your head, too eager to wait. You reached behind you to unclasp your bra, “C’mon Benny. Help me out.” Ben blinked twice before he seemed to understand but was soon offering his help, pulling the bra from your arms, gently cupping your breasts as he revealed them, thumbs falling into a familiar rhythm rubbing back and forth over your nipples. Still moving slowly, Ben leaned in and kissed your throat, humming in response as you pressed your chest into his hands and sighed contentedly. But he clearly had something else on his mind because soon enough his hands fell, fingers picking at the waistband of your leggings. Indulging him you quickly shed your pants, turning so he could see the thing he really wanted as you stripped off the final layer of clothing. Ben watched intently as you wiggled your hips teasingly and eked the waistband of your knickers down a few inches. And then something changed.

You felt it in the air, a shift in energy, but even that wasn’t enough to prepare you as Ben growled and lunged forward, his hands tight on your waist as he lifted you onto the bed, barely giving you time to settle on your hands and knees before he dived in behind you. All you could manage was to gasp his name as he rushed to tear your underpants down your thighs. But your surprise at his sudden movement doubled as he spread your cheeks and buried his face between them. He’d licked you like that once or twice but only when he’d been eating your pussy and teasingly snuck his tongue elsewhere as you tried to recover from your orgasm. This was entirely different.

It felt similar to the vaguely tickly sensation he made you feel when he was helping you relax before a round of anal, when he would tease you with light strokes from his fingers until you were shivering and wanting more. But there was more heat to it. His breath hot and his tongue wet as he traced your hole. You felt like you’d been completely lit up from within, like he’d suddenly discovered a hundred more nerve endings than he usually hit. And adding to all the physical sensations of Ben’s fingers holding you open and his mouth exploring your darkest nooks, was the feeling of doing something properly filthy. You’d felt the same when you and Ben first tried anal, completely depraved at enjoying something so taboo. That feeling had lessened as you did it more, your enjoyment then stemming from Ben’s improved skills more than the act itself. But with your head against the sheets and your arse in the air you remembered why you’d liked feeling so downright dirty. It only heightened your desire and made every caress of Ben’s tongue sweeter.

Of course, best of all was just how into Ben was. You wondered how he could possibly be breathing when every second seemed to be taken up with moans and groans as he feasted on you. The noises started softly as he tantalized you with hard licks against your arsehole and the surrounding area. But as his tongue explored deeper, as he pressed into you, making your arse feel slick and hot with his drool and making your pussy throb, he got louder. He seemed to enjoy you more and more, as if he’d never eaten anything as satisfying in his life. That was enough to have you shaking. You were already wet from grinding against him on the couch but the ways he was touching you and how thoroughly he was enjoying it had you positively soaked. “Finger me Benny,” you gasped, trying to maintain some of the control you’d intended to have. Ben did as you asked, never able to deny you what you craved, but it wasn’t up to his usual standard. His fingers weren’t as deft as normal, moving awkwardly and out of time. It was as if his fingers were trying to work off of muscle memory alone, his mind too consumed with something else to take any notice of your cunt. With a needy whine you clumsily disentangled one fist from the sheets and batted Ben’s hand out of the way, replacing it with your own. Ben didn’t make any indication that he’d noticed you start touching yourself, except to tighten his grip on your arse, holding you firmly as you began to writhe against your fingers. He happily went back to gripping a cheek in each hand, pulling them wide to give himself better access to your arsehole. It seemed that wearing your plug had been a good idea because Ben found it easy to press his tongue into you, licking around and making your muscles tighten before withdrawing and sinking in again. And that stimulation plus your own fingers in your cunt made you moan wantonly into the bedding. Ben answered with his own long, loud moan of desire, sending a shiver along your spine. It was enough to tip you over the edge, your fingers massaging a spot within you as Ben rapidly tongued your hole.

You rode out your high before letting your fingers slip back to tangle in the sheets once more, but Ben showed no signs of stopping. He might very well have kept up the intoxicating performance all night if you hadn’t whined his name. Even that wasn’t enough to make him stop entirely, just slow down and hum. “Ben? Benny?” you gasped, as he readjusted his grip on you, “You gonna fuck me or what?” Ben groaned as if he didn’t want to stop tasting you but wanted to move on to other things as well. And you were on the verge of instructing him to get the lube when you felt his fingers. He reached under you, two digits carefully tracing along your cunt, sliding through the creamy evidence of your earlier orgasm. He didn’t break contact, his fingers just as softly sliding along your crack and up to your arsehole. And then they were pushing against the ring of muscle. Usually he’d take his time applying lube but he seemed too lost in the moment to remember it. You didn’t mind too much though. Lube might have made it a touch more comfortable but wearing the plug had helped loosen you up and Ben had thoroughly coated everything with his saliva and your own cum. His fingers breached you moderately easily, making you shiver and whine at the feeling of being filled again. “God it’s a good thing we do this a lot,” you half sighed, half laughed into the sheets, as Ben’s fingers sank another inch into you. Ben’s only response was to lean forward and lick around where his fingers were penetrating you, humming happily as he did so.

Ben seemed inclined to spend just as long fingering you as he did licking you, but the way his fingers moved inside you quickly had you worked up and eager for more. “God Ben. You’re hard right?” Ben only pumped his fingers into you faster but you took it as a yes. "So fuck me already. Please Benny,” It came out whinier than you’d expected so you cleared your throat and tried a proper demand, “I need your cock in my arse now Ben.” You weren’t sure it would be enough to get Ben’s attention. He seemed too engrossed in fingering you to even hear what you were saying. But thankfully, something broke through his blinders. Suddenly, his fingers disappeared. It was followed by the sound of his pants coming down and then you felt the head of his cock against your back entrance. “Wait,” You gasped, “Wait. Lube.” Ben repeated the word lube in a grunt, shifting hips slightly so he could run his shaft along your soaked cunt. You felt him between your lips, as if he were teasing you, sliding back and forth, coating his length in your juices. A moment later, he returned to your other hole, his hands on your hips to pull your arse back onto him. Ben let out a satisfied groan as he sank into you but you were panting roughly, almost seeing stars with how good it felt to finally be filled the way you wanted to be. Once or twice your breath hitched, the discomfort of his size pushing into you exacerbated by the lack of proper lube. But it wasn’t enough to truly bother, certainly not enough to stop. The fact that just seeing your arse had made Ben snap into an animalistic, almost feral demeanour had made you impossibly horny. And you were desperate for him to fuck you properly now he was fully sheathed in your arsehole’s tight embrace. Ben moaned at the feeling, vocalising your own desire. And then he said something. “What was that Benny?” you asked, unable to comprehend him. “Fuck....arse......hngggg.....arse.....” he said though you were sure you were missing something. But as nonsensical as it was it was still hot. Knowing Ben was so desperate for this, for you, knowing you could make him babble incomprehensibly. It was insanely hot. And then he began to fuck you. You whined and brought your hand to your pussy again, finding your clit, though Ben’s frantic thrusts made it hard to keep the contact consistent.

You screamed when you came, voice tearing out of your throat as Ben roughly pounded into you, his hips almost bruising hard against your arse. It was nearly impossible for you to breathe under so much pleasure and you panted for air as the orgasm subsided. But Ben was still going, still thrusting into you furiously, grunting with the effort as he neared his own release. You gasped his name and told him to cum, trying to not get swept away by the feeling of his cock moving inside you, wanted him to keep going almost as much as you wanted to feel his semen warm you from the inside out, and drip out of you. Your request was enough to make him shudder to a halt, his hands squeezing your hips tightly as he released himself with a groan. He thrust a few more times and your limbs gave out. You felt them wobble and then collapse under you, Ben’s body pressing you into the mattress as he sank down too, still trying to fuck you.

It took you saying his name twice before he stopped though he made a reluctant sort of a sound when he realised he had to pull out. “Well if you didn’t fuck me so well you probably could have gone on a bit longer,” you laughed as he, somewhat grudgingly, pushed himself to his feet. With a satisfied groan you rolled over and stretched your arm out to grab Ben’s hand so you could pull him onto the bed too. He lay on his front, sighing as his head fell into the crook of your neck, his body resting almost entirely over yours. You were half being crushed by his weight but you enjoyed it. It was comforting and warm and you softly drew your hands over his back as you caught your breath properly. Ben was quiet as he lay there until, some ten minutes later, he suddenly pushed himself to his knees, blinking at you. His eyes still had a vaguely unfocused appearance but the more he blinked the more normal he seemed. “Are you okay?” He asked slowly. You laughed and nodded, “More than okay. Lie back down, I’m too tired to sit up.” He compiled with your request, lowering himself again but this time on his back, “I have no idea what just came over me, babe.” With a sigh you shifted to your side, propping your head up on one hand, “What do you mean?” “All I know is I saw your arse and just needed it, more than anything else, more than air, I just wanted you.” “Gotta admit, it was a little unexpected,” you lay your palm on Ben’s chest, his skin still flushed and warm to the touch, “But ummmm, definitely didn’t hate it.” His hand landed gently on top of yours, holding you against his heart, “Did I use any lube at all?” “Only spit and my cum.” “Fucking hell. Are you sure you’re okay?” “It’s fine Benny. If I’d needed anything else I would have made you stop. If I’m honest....kind of made it hotter.” “Babe!” “Not in a weird way! I’m not going to let you get away without lube all the time.” You laughed, “Just knowing you wanted me so badly was nice.” “I always want you badly.” You patted Ben’s chest softly, your heart fluttering, “Does that mean you’d want to eat my arse again another time?” “You liked it?” “Well you were very thorough.” Ben groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes which just made you laugh again. “I did enjoy it,” you said softly, deciding to put him out of his misery, “Wasn’t necessarily expecting it but it felt really good.” “Well that’s something. I still don’t understand what just happened though.” “What’s that saying...Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth?”

Taglist: @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @ilovequeenmorethanyou @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @stardust-galaxies @cherries-n-rocknroll @rogersslave @scorpiogemini

#my writing #my fics #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy smut #kinktober 2021

120 notes · View notes

mrs-march-ahs · 3 years ago

Note

Hey sunshine!

🌈 What inspired you to write the Kai being your math teacher fic?

i’ve always secretly wanted to know :p

the first Kai teacher fic was actually just a daydream I had! kind of

you know how to make up scenarios to fall asleep? yeah, that. i was trying to ма$тuяваiт (having a birthday wank lol) and thinking of hot scenarios and kai was on my mind. i think (consentual!!!!) age gaps are really hot so i started thinking about that,,, a hot teacher,,, giving me special attention,, calling me naughty,,, mmm

and then SUDDENLY i was like :o i need!!! to write this down and write a fic down!!

so i took my hands out of my pants DKSDJDS and made some notes, and wrote it the next day!!!

since my teacher!kai smut is such a piece of historical fiction at this point😪 and y'all are oBVIOUSLy gonna just BEG to see my notes🙄 i'll show you below the cut (they're very graphic)

ur welcome. these notes WILL be in museums one day

not him stroking his dock✋

#nasty nasty nasty #mma violate

13 notes · View notes

imaginejamesandsirius · 4 years ago

Note

Hiii! I'm just only getting into Prongsfoot and I had this idea in my head for a while. Could you write some fluff and angst where James is preparing for a date with Lily and he admits he's not gonna be a good kisser so Sirius suggests that they should kiss so that James would practice? Sirius has a crush on James so he's happy he gets to kiss James but he's also sad he's gonna date Lily. Thank you :)

James paced back and forth across the dormitory, pulling on his hair nervously.

"You've got to calm down, mate," Sirius said. He was the only other person in the dormitory in that moment, since Moony and Wormtail had done the smart thing and run off when James announced that he and Lily were going on a date tonight. Sirius, as the best mate, stuck around to be helpful. Also because he would need to tease him about this later, when they were married or summat, and it would make a funny story. Sirius's stomach turned at the thought, but there was nothing he could do about that.

"I can't be calm."

"Why? Being this nervous about the first date, I understood. The second date you were more like yourself, and now you're all nervous again? What gives?"

"It's the third date!"

"Er, yes, I'm aware. I can count." Sirius was pretty sure he was the third most involved person in their relationship. He knew where they were going, and what they were doing tonight. Hell, he wasn't sure if Lily knew both of those, which would make him the second most knowledgeable in the relationship, which just wasn't right. For this, he blamed James. Bloody James and his fluffy hair and his perfect smile and his brilliant laugh. Sirius never would've been this involved in Wormtail or Moony's love lives. If they had any. "So?"

"The third date is supposed to be a landmark!"

"Of what? You've only been on three dates. You haven't gone anywhere important in the relationship yet."

"That's the point," James said, leveling a look in his direction. He was a little wild around the edges, not that that was surprising with all the other signs of panic he was giving off.

"I'm lost," Sirius admitted. It didn't happen often with James, but when it did, he needed it spelled out for him in the simplest words possible.

"The third date is when you're allowed to start being physical. What if she expects for me to kiss her? I don't know how to snog someone! I've never even kissed someone before. What if I'm bollocks at it? She'll dump me for sure and then I'll be a miserable wretch for the rest of my life."

And people called Sirius dramatic. "If you're so worried, then practice first." He may not be the most dramatic of the Marauders, but he was definitely the dumbest. Honestly. Record breaking levels of stupidity in his brain, showing up at this very moment.

"Practice what?"

"Kissing."

"How the sodding hell am I supposed to do that?"

Sirius raised an eyebrow, then gave a little wave of his hand as if to say 'hi, I'm right here'. It took a second, but he could see the moment that James understood what he meant.

This could go a few different ways. If James said yes, then they would snog a bit, and he'd feel better about going off on his date with Lily. If James said yes, then they would kiss, and he'd say 'Well that didn't help at all because you're not a bird, now are you?'. If James said no, then he'd go back to being nervous, and Sirius would have to think of a different way to get him to calm down because at this rate, he was going to be too tired to actually go on a date in a couple hours. If James said no and wondered what was wrong with him that he'd ever think to suggest that, then he'd leave and Sirius would lose his best mate.

Alright so the last one wasn't very likely, but the other three were pretty realistic choices, and none of them made Sirius very happy. Given the choice between kissing James this one time tonight and never getting to kiss him ever, he would choose the first option. That didn't mean he would be over the moon about it. If James said yes and kissed him, Sirius would enjoy it very very much while it was happening, and then he would take those moments and roll it over and over in his mind until they stopped feeling good and started feeling like something was rotting in him. But hey, that wouldn't happen for a while, and he'd enjoy that ride down to the fullest. When it inevitably crashed and burned, nobody would think twice about Sirius being a mess. He did it every few months, whether he had actually done something to earn it or not.

Him and James were looking at each other still. Sirius, waiting. James, thinking. At least, Sirius hoped that he was thinking, otherwise it meant he was staring blankly, and that wasn't going to go anywhere, so Sirius would have to ask again. He'd like to not have to ask again, if at all possible, thanks.

"Is that a genuine offer?" James blurted. "Because if it is, hell yes. That would be amazing."

"Alright, come here," Sirius said, affecting casualness that he didn't feel.

James practically stumbled over his feet walking over to him, and Sirius would've loved to think that it was because James was that excited for the chance to kiss him, but he knew that he was shaky from nerves and that's all it was: nerves for his date with Lily. Because that's what this was. How to make James better for his relationship with Lily. It wasn't about Sirius. He knew that, no matter how much he wished that James was hopping on this opportunity the same way that Sirius was.

The first press of their mouths together was dry, lips pressed shut, and hesitant. James was nervous because it was his first kiss, and Sirius wasn't sure he could kiss James properly without giving himself away.

He'd probably stop holding himself back in like twenty seconds.

James pushed closer.

"Hey," Sirius said, putting his hands on either side of James's face. "Okay, first, remember that you have to breathe. Quick pecks are your friend in the beginning. Don't try and do too much." He was pretending like this was just a lesson, right? So he might as well go all in.

"Right," James said, giving a determined nod. He leaned in again, and it was better this time. A lot better. Good enough that Sirius wanted to push for more.

"That's probably good for this date," Sirius said, leaning back onto his hands.

"But what about after this date?" James asked. "There's going to be more kisses and- and snogging, and I don't know how to do that. C'mon, we're already here, we might as well keep going."

Goodbye self-control, no one's sad to see you go, especially Sirius.

While James was on his date, Sirius spelled his curtains closed and wanked to the thought of all the kisses they'd shared on his bed. They'd been sat right here where he was laid out now, and it was easy to turn what they'd actually into a fantasy. They'd started kissing, and James had pushed closer and closer until he was in Sirius's lap. In real life, James's alarm that he'd set for his date had gone off, and Sirius had helped him finish getting ready-- and look like he hadn't spent the last however-long-it-had-been snogging someone. In his fantasy, it was easy to pretend that they weren't interrupted, and James kept pushing until he was laying on top of Sirius. He stayed, and they started moving against each other, and James was desperate to get his hands on Sirius.

James stayed, and he forgot all about his date with Lily.

Sirius rode the high of that for a while. Long enough that he was able to fall asleep happy.

"Hey, mate, how was your da-" Sirius stopped short when James pushed him back down on the bed and pulled the curtain closed. "Erm, I'm sure my advice wasn't that bad," he quipped.

"Shut it," James snapped.

Sirius took a look at him. He looked tired, like he hadn't been able to get any sleep last night. Or if he had, it hadn't been very restful. He was still in his sleep clothes.

James ran a hand through his hair, and he didn't have his glasses on, which meant that he was liable to bump into a million things until he put them on. Normally, it was the first thing he did. Sirius didn't know what made today different. Maybe his date had gone really poorly. As much as Sirius would like to feel happy about that, he wasn't; he knew how much James had been looking forward to not just this date, but dating Lily in general.

"You alright?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," James said, and he got even more worried.

"What is it?" He leaned forward a little to listen and put a hand on James's knee to show that he was here for him, only James jerked away. Sirius pulled back, blinking. "Er."

"I couldn't stop thinking about you." He continued before Sirius had a chance to reply, or even digest that. "Last night. I was on a date with Lily, and it should've been bleeding amazing, but all I could think about was you. I almost ran out on her just so I could come back here and see if you'd kiss me more."

Sirius's mouth went dry. Merlin, was this a dream? Because it was a brilliant one, if it was.

"I mean, I didn't, but I did break up with her, and then when I got back to talk to you, you were already asleep. I... Merlin, Sirius, I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Sirius yanked him close and kissed him for all he was worth.

James kissed him back just as desperately. It wasn't a dream, but it was perfect like one.

#prongsfoot #marauders #james potter #sirius black #fanfic #temporary jily #filled #hogwarts time #no voldemort au #getting together #siriuslystarbucks

31 notes · View notes

tomorrowxforever · 5 years ago

Text

Dom! Yeonjun A-Z

Fem! Reader

Contains: Cups of smut. Well, not direct smut so, more insanely suggestive.

Warning(s): NSFW!!, dom! Yeonjun, bully! Yeonjun, mentions : cum play, degradation, impact play, bondage, breeding, spit, voyeurism, sir! Yeonjun, sadism, humiliation, exhibitionism

Notes: This is.. oof. I’m sorry bibi😅 I’m actually pretty fuckin proud of this one. Please keep sending in requests, October is the only month I write full fledge smut and not just suggestive.

—

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex):

Yeonjun is the sweetest baby when it comes to aftercare. He can get super rough when y’all are going at it ( especially if he has to punish you ) and he knows it so he makes sure to treat you like the most precious, fragile princess during aftercare.

Need something to drink? He’ll get it. Hungry? He’ll make you a sandwich. Wanna take a bath but can’t get up cause legs = jello? He’ll carry you. He will literally do anything to make sure you’re comfortable and then snuggle you like there’s no tomorrow.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s):

Yeonjun is an ass man all the way. Sorry, but that’s just the truth🤷. So his favorite body part on you is your ass. But he doesn’t discriminate. Big booty, lil booty. It’s all the same to him:)

Yeonjun strikes me as someone who is secretly self conscious so I don’t think he really has a favorite part of his own body. I mean, the only part of himself I can see him being fully confident in is his shlong, and even that’s after being together for awhile. So maybe that??

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically):

Junnie is into cum play so...

Yeah.

He will cum anywhere and absolutely love it.

On your face, he’ll pick it up with his fingers and make you suck it off. On your tummy, get ready for round two while he rubs it around on your skin. On your pussy, he’ll finger you with it. In your pussy, he could sit and watch it drip out of you for hours. In your mouth, you better show it to him on your tongue and either swallow it or kiss him.

And he cums quite a bit...

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs):

He really wants you to dom him. Just once. Cause he doesn’t know what it’s like and he’s curious. But he doesn’t know how to ask you cause he knows your his subby lil baby. And what if he ends up not liking it?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?):

He’s definitely hooked up a couple times, so he knows what he’s doing and he knows how to please you. However, you are the first person he’s been able really explore all his interests with and his kink list has definitely expanded since he met you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Either missionary or doggy.

Yeonjun likes having complete control over you and everything you do. He also likes having you suffocatingly close while he ruins you.

It changes in the middle of a round a lot too. One second you’re on your back for him, the next he’s flipped you over and is pressing your face into the pillows.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.):

He is goofy in a serious way.

Yeonjun is a bully dom, so he takes every chance he gets to make fun of you. Especially during sex.

He will tease you like there’s no tomorrow. He calls you all sorts of names and makes fun of the things you do and the way you sound, the like. He’s just straight mean.

But if you give him even the foreshadowing of the slightest lip, he’ll switch on a dime and be all jokes aside, serious Yeonjun.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.):

He keeps himself pretty trimmed down there. Not fully shaved but not super wild. I feel likes he’s the only one who actually makes sure to keep up with the up keep.

And he definitely doesn’t expect anything from you.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect):

He can be sickeningly romantic when he wants to. Rose petals, candles, slow sensual sex, the whole shibang. You cannot tell me that this boy isn’t at least a lil bit of a hopeless romantic.

And when y’all are going at it like usual he likes forcing you to look into his eyes, and he’s invading your personal space just a bit, so it’s pretty intimate.

But he can get pretty animalistic pretty fast.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

He’ll only really wack off when he’s on tour, and even then he needs your help. Whether it be Skype sex, a phone call or just looking at pictures you sent him for time just as this one, he always has to either see or hear you is some way. Or he just can’t cum.

But other then that, he doesn’t really need to wank it🤷 He’s got you so why would he need to?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Buckle up kiddos-

Cum play

Degradation

Impact play (he will slap your face)

Bondage

Slight breeding kink

Spit kink

Sir kink

Voyeurism

Sadist

Humiliation kink

Almost exhibitionism

Or in other words, Yeonjun is one big kinky bully and we stan😊

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He’ll fuck you literaly any where. Of course, he’s not gonna start going at it in the middle of a family dinner or anything, but he’ll do it in the kitchen just a room away.

At the end of the day, he doesn’t care where or who’s around but ultimately he’s the only one who gets to see you like that.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going):

He gets turned on by the simplest of things, if you blink at him in the wrong tone than he’s pulling you away to privacy.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs):

He won’t do anything that will seriously hurt you. Sure, he’ll slap you around a bit and spank you, but he refuses to do anything that could have long lasting damage. For example, knife play.

He also isn’t 100% against sharing you with someone else, but he is hesitant as fuck.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.):

He doesn’t have a preference. Junnie loves giving and receiving equally.

For the most part, you sucking him off is actually him fucking your mouth as punishment for mouthing off or something. And when he eats you out it’s as a reward. There are some exceptions but those are true for most circumstances.

And he is absolutely fantastic at oral. Like, he just may be the best you’ve ever had. Did you see him with the grapes?

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.):

Really he does both. As most things with Yeonjun, it depends.

He could be absolutely plowing into you one second, moving so fast and being so rough that you’re wondering if he’s even human. Then the next moment he’s grinding into you and being all soft and slow. Though slow usually comes with tons of teasing.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.):

Oh, he’s all for it.

Sex is sex. And he knows how you have you crying and trembling within minutes.

Though he does prefer taking his time and torturing you, he doesn’t mind taking you quickly in a broom closet before a show or something.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.):

Jun will try almost anything once. He’s very open minded when it comes to different kinks and if he sees potential in it, he’ll do it.

And if you haven’t noticed from the previous letters, he had no problem with fucking you in a public place.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?):

He last so long I almost feel sorry for you. He’ll just hold his own orgasm while pounding into you and making you cum over and over again. Sometimes he holds out for so long you start to wonder if he’s actually enjoying it. But then he finally cums. Hard. And you’re like, oh.

He can also go like two or three rounds before he gets tired and needs a break. But they are both long, torturous rounds soo... good luck❤️

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?):

Did someone say toys? Hold up, let’s go through his toy box.

Vibrator, dildo, restraints (many different kinds), gags, blindfolds, whips, and a few paddles.

Yeah, he might have just a few🤷

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

I-

Once again, good luck.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.):

He doesn’t really moan a bunch. Mostly it’s just grunts. Oh, and he growls. Like 🥵

But he talks a lot so you get to here him make sound in the few and far between instances where he isn’t yapping your ear off (in a good way).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character):

He lets you get away with a lot more than the typical dom would let their sub get away with. It’s mostly because he knows he can be kinda rough and mean, but also cause he loves you so much that he can’t find it in himself to actually get annoyed or upset with you sometimes. Also, your absolutely adorable when your acting up and ‘get away with it’.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes):

Let’s all say this together, big dick Yeonjun.

We all been knew. Like, c’mon. He radiates so much big dick energy I think we’d be pretty shook if he didn’t have a third leg situation going on.

So, imma say about six and a half, seven inches.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?):

He goes through fazes of having the highest sex drive in town.

Like, for two or three weeks it seems like he can’t get enough of you. It’s almost every night that y’all are doin somethin. Or he’s playin Wack a Jun.

But the he’s back to normal and has the sex drive of any average dude.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

He try’s to stay awake until you fall asleep. But baby is just so worn out🥺

Y’all start cuddling and he’s out like a light.

#txt #txt x reader #txt headcanons #txt reactions #txt imagines #txt fanfic #txt choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun headcanons #yeonjun smut #yeonjun x reader #choi yeonjun x reader #tomorrow x together

270 notes · View notes

mavda · 4 years ago

Text

Beast Tamers

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch.3 | Ch.4(1) | Ch.4(2) | Ch.5(1) | Ch.5(2) |

Ch.5: Becoming a family (3)

Naruto wakes up first. There is a short moment of confusion, as he feels the warmth of another body close to him, but the moment he sees Hinata's black hair under his chin, the moment the bite of his dead arm - that he somehow put under Hinata's head while sleeping - registers in his brain and the calm feeling that washes over his body makes him remember last night, he has to move his hips away from Hinata, as a growing erection starts to show. He stays unmoving. He has the day off, tomorrow as well, he grimaces as he remembers the reason why, and he can't help but want to lay in bed all day with Hinata by his side. He remembers their las night and can't help the smirk growing on his face. Can't help but want to experience it all over again. He stares at Hinata, at her mushed face against his skin. Her mouth is puckered and her breathing is soft and calm. She is naked, just as he is under the futon and Naruto finds himself gazing at her body with hungry eyes. Okay. Fuck.

He starts thinking about the work that needs to be done in hopes of getting his mind out the gutter, but it only makes him realize he has work left to do and since Hinata is asleep it wouldn't hurt to get to it. How is he supposed to take his arm out, though? Naruto is careful as he moves his body, makes sure to put a pillow beneath Hinata's head and when he is free of her tangled body and his arm starts tingling to regain feeling he looks down to look at himself, energetic and standing up. He chuckles, he had once worried about being unable to get it up with a woman he had no feelings for. One less problem to worry about, then. Naruto grabs his discarded robe and puts it on. Ponders for a second whether to leave and clean himself up, take care of his hard-on in the bathroom, but then realizes that he wishes to be here when Hinata wakes up, and ends up just cleaning his face in the washbasin. He lets his member stand untouched, he's not ashamed of masturbating in front of his wife -his wife-, but it sure would be awkward if Hinata woke and saw him wanking himself first thing in the morning. He takes one of the documents he brought with him yesterday, under the look of reproach from Sakura, and reads. He has made a sizeable dent when he hears rustling from his bed -their bed- and turns. Hinata is sitting there, looking around the place and covering her chest with the futon. Her eyes rest in Naruto and there is a pink of shade that starts to spread from her cheeks that Naruto finds adorable. "Are you all right?" Naruto gets closer to her, forgetting about his documents immediately, and Hinata looks to her body, as if checking for places that feel weird. And there are some that feel strange. The most notorious being her groin. There is some sort of soreness that doesn't feel quite like and an ache either, kind of like a muscle you didn't realize was there before. Her thighs squeeze together as memories come back, Naruto on top of her and his face full of desire, and there is a warmth that makes it's way to her lower abdomen with a quickness that fills her with embarrassment. Her hips feel sore too, as well as her thighs, and Hinata remembers Naruto's hand all over her body, and how much she had loved feeling the pressure. How much she had loved feeling him inside her. How much she had loved making love to him. So she means to answer yes and ask for snuggles or something, anything to feel him close to her again. Until she feels herself dripping and she can't help the surprised sound that escapes her as she comes to her knees, worried about making it to the bathroom and then immediately wondering if people would be able to see her in the hallways. Naruto is right next to her, with a hand at her back and the other at her hand, the one she left up in the air in case she could grab something to wipe herself with. "What's wrong?" Hinata grabs Naruto's hand, "I'm- I'm dripping." They lock eyes for a second and Naruto blushes as he understands what she means. He takes the top of his robes off, bringing one sleeve towards her. "Here, let me." Naruto moves the futon out of the way and Hinata lets herself be exposed. Her thighs press on each other in an attempt to stop the dripping to go down and Naruto places his fingers on top of her thighs to coax her to open them. Hinata rests her hands on Naruto's now bare shoulders. Under the light of day, his skin shines and Hinata wishes nothing more than to drag her hands down his body. She feels wetness falling down between her now open legs and Naruto cleans her with quick little dabs of his robe. Naruto can't take his eyes off Hinata. His cum is dripping down Hinata's thighs and Naruto can feel his penis growing again at the sight. He cleans her with care and then raises his head to her. "Everything all right?" Hinata's chest is right in front of him and he has a raging erection, so he himself is not all right, but fuck it. "Do you want to go wash ourselves? Eat?" Naruto's face has a blush Hinata notices immediately and, although trying to hide it, she can see he's hard again. Before she can think, her mouth moves slowly to find Naruto's and Naruto melts under her touch immediately, he raisees his hands to Hinata's waist and takes off his robe one-handed. She's under him in a second and Naruto takes a moment to look at her from where he's kneeling. "Sorry," he gulps down, "can we-?" Hinata nods as her hands reach up to him. Naruto moves towards her, putting his cheek right into Hinata's hand, kissing her palm and moving his hips to let his member touch directly above her entrance. He angles himself to let his erection touch her folds and her clitoris with every movement, grunting with the sensation of Hinata's wetness covering him. Hinata caresses his back and he shivers as Hinata runs her nails across his skin. He could live in this room forever. Hinata grabs his face and kisses him, before reaching between them and touching his shaft. "Please," she whispers and Naruto has to shake his head to keep himself in check. He raises and grabs ahold of Hinata's thighs, takes a moment to stare at her, with her hair fanned out, her hands touching his, and he reaches down to guide himself into her. Takes a moment to move his glans between her folds and over her clitoris, making his breath hitch at the touch. He enters his tip and brings his hand to Hinata again, who grabs it and squeezes as she gives a low moan in pleasure. He knows the feeling, remembers everything with clarity, and yet, this is new all over again. He can't help but stare at Hinata's body as she squirm under him, he loses his breath as he goes deeper and deeper into her, until his testicles touch Hinata, until he can't go any further. Hinata never lets go of his hand, but her other hand roams free over his chest and shoulders. As Naruto gets ready to move his hips out Hinata lets her hand rest in between them, right above his shaft, with eyes tinkling with expectation. Her finger touches his length as he pulls out with the softest of touches and Naruto groans again, in tandem with Hinata's open-mouthed moan. As he comes inside her again, Hinata arches her back and lets her hand fall to their bedclothes, grabs a hold of the futon as she presses. Yesterday, he had been close throughout their whole intercourse, he had felt her body move and squirm and shiver and he had held her close to him, as close as he could. But now they're apart, and Naruto can see much more clearer, the light from the sun is also stronger and Hinata's skins glistens, and he can't help but drag his hand over her abdomen, touching the muscles tensing under him. He grabs her waist and quickens his pace, and Hinata lets go of his hand in an attempt to hold back her own voice. "No," Naruto's voice is a groan, "don't," he touches her arm, in an attempt to move away her hands from her mouth, "there's no one near," he grunts, and it takes Hinata one second to grab his arms and let her moans fill the room again. Hinata's chest is mesmerizing, and Naruto finds himself entranced by the movement of her breasts at the rhythm of his own. He feels himself getting closer and closer, and he presses on her, trying to wrap himself further inside, trying to reach deeper, trying to release himself inside of her. Hinata grabs his hand at her waist, twists herself as if to get herself away from him and yet raising her legs to anchor herself beneath him. Naruto comes with his eyes closed, too lost in the feeling of Hinata clenching around him and pressing herself to him. His lungs feel like they are unable to breath in properly and he stays in place, looking at Hinata, turned slightly to her side, with her hair sticking to her skin and her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her hand comes up to Naruto's forearm and caresses. Naruto crouches towards her, kisses her side and Hinata jolts with a little laugh. She looks at him and Naruto kisses her shoulder next. Hinata turns to him fully and wraps her arms around his neck. "I'm gonna pull out," Naruto says, and Hinata nods to him and pecks him on the lips. Naruto takes his penis out while they kiss and Hinata gasps as he does, drowning her sounds against his open mouth and Naruto complies happily. "Are we st-staying in bed all day?" Naruto bites her lower lip slightly, "if that's what you want." "I would like that, but can we-," Hinata feels the way her skin sticks to Naruto's and although when making love it doesn't bother her one bit, it now makes her feel uncomfortable, "can we wash up first now?" Naruto grabs Hinata's clothes and hands it to her, grabs his own and puts it loosely, ready to clean Hinata when she stands. "Oh, you don't have to-" she tries to stop him, shows him her own robe, "I can clean myself with-" But Naruto is kneeling, grabs her thigh and brings her close to him before she can say anything else, "please, let me." The warmth that fills him he now knows won't go away anytime soon. As they reach the sliding doors, Hinata stops a second and Naruto squeezes her hand, "There's no one near, I made sure of that, don't worry." Hinata's blush goes down her neck and as they walk down the hallway towards the bathroom she can't help but feel embarrassed. Tomorrow and the days after, everyone will know she and Naruto... Naruto enters behind her into the bathroom and he takes his robe off. Hinata expected to be shown a separate bathroom, but Naruto extends his hand towards her and gives her a smirk she can't resist. Hinata takes her clothes off, walks up to him and Naruto lets his hand rest at her lower back as he guides her into the small seat inside, "Come on, I'll clean you up." Hinata feels embarrassment coming forward, but Naruto looks eager to please her and she doesn't have it in her to deny him this tiny pleasure. She grabs his arm, pulls him down and pecks his lips. She walks immediately after to the seat, so she can't see Naruto's smile blossoming on his face.

#naruto #naruhina #fanfiction #Beast Tamers #ch.5 #part 3

33 notes · View notes

popunktomlinson · 5 years ago

Text

this is everything i’ve read in the past month put into a list for the sole benefit of my short term memory. it’s a mess of pairings but mostly drarry and can be summed up as lots of enemies to lovers, excessive pining, and a splash of fake dating.

Drarry:

What Real Thing? - loveglowsinthedark (13k)

They don’t cuddle, they don’t talk about their relationship (or lack thereof) and they certainly never fall asleep in each other’s arms.

Aural Gratification - birdsofshore (11k)

Harry's not gay �� he just likes listening to exciting stories about Aurors. It's not his fault that the narrator's voice is so smooth, so expressive... and really rather hot.

You open always (petal by petal) - birdsofshore (65k)

Harry’s not the kind of person who pays for sex. He really isn’t. Until he is.

Lumos - birdsofshore (41k)

Harry never expected to spend eighth year listening to Draco Malfoy wanking.

Heartlines - shiftylinguini (73k)

Harry never expected he’d end up chipping away at his virginity while wandless and bonded to Malfoy in Northern Europe.

He never expected that would turn out to be the least surprising thing to happen while out on their training expedition in the middle of nowhere, either.

The Sleeping Beauty Curse - who_la_hoop (153k)

When Draco Malfoy falls into a cursed sleep and can only be woken – at least, according to the Daily Prophet, that impeccable source of truth – by ‘true love’s kiss’, Harry Potter knows there’s no way on earth he’s the answer to this particular riddle. Is he . . .?

Strange Bedfellows - orphan_account, ravenclawsquill (31k)

When Harry encounters a frail and fidgety Draco Malfoy at the Ministry, he just knows something is wrong and he’s determined to get to the bottom of it.

A story about Deadly Nightshade, crippling insomnia, excellent wine … and finding what you need in the strangest of circumstances.

The Devil’s White Knight - orphan_account (65k)

When Harry wakes up in an alternate timeline--a timeline where Voldemort was defeated long before the first war--he discovers everything is different. His parents, his godfather, his friends--and him. Harry must deal with the consequences of who he would have been if he had been raised by his parents, and figure out where he stands with his casual hook up, Draco Malfoy.

Who Shagged Harry Potter? - faithwood (6k)

One beautiful sunny Sunday the Slytherins wake up after a raunchy night only to discover a very naked Harry Potter sleeping in their dormitory. Naturally, they ask themselves a logical question: Who the hell shagged him?

Draco Malfoy, It’s Your Lucky Day - faithwood (47k)

Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

Love Comes Tumbling - taradiane (22k)

'Harry's thoughts were of how much he would have done differently with Malfoy over the years, and of Dumbledore's final words to the other boy . . . "It is my mercy, and not yours, that matters now." Maybe, Harry wondered, he could find some mercy, too, and give Malfoy the second chance that Dumbledore had believed him worthy of.’

punch-drunk fingerprints - tamerofdarkstars (2k)

In a world where every touch of a soulmate leaves a temporary heat mark on bare skin, Draco Malfoy suddenly finds his life devolving into a massive cliche because the Boy Who Lived Twice has no idea how to respect the personal space bubble.

Muggle Technology and Heroism - TommyLane (90k)

Draco Malfoy wasn’t exactly the best roommate Harry’s ever had. The man tended to watch way too much James Bond and his obsession with muggle technology not only rivaled Arthur Weasley’s but more often than not ended with Harry trying to assure him that the appliances weren’t out to get him. Then there was the little fact that Harry was hopelessly in love with him while Draco remained completely unaware, bringing nameless men home night after night.

But Harry loved his life and was somewhat (as long as he doesn’t actually think about it) content enough in the way things were going. That is until Draco’s old boyfriend comes sweeping back into town – making Draco breakfast and fixing the remote control before Harry can and forcing him to realize that if he doesn’t do something soon, that he might lose the man he loves before he even gets a chance to ever actually have him.

Party of Two - fireflavored (13k)

Drinking, sex, and a total misreading of the concept of fuck buddies.

A Dented Old Street Sign - orphanghost (27k)

Draco knows they aren't the only students who will be completing their NEWTs this year, but they are the only ones whose home fireplaces were disconnected from the floo network by the ministry.

At least, Draco assumes as much until he sees the light falling out from the front door of one of the other rickety old houses in front of them and the three figures cast in its warm glow. For a moment they look like some sort of strange, many legged creature. An acromantula, or a particularly massive Blast-Ended Skrewt. Then Draco hears Pansy make a disgusted sound beside him and the light falls in a less blinding way, and Draco can see that it is actually Potter and the Weasel carrying a large couch between them, and Granger fluttering around them with her wand out, seeming concerned.

(The Piece) I was Missing All Along - lauren3210 (31k)

Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

The Gentlewizard Club - Sophie_French (28k)

Draco wants what Draco wants. And if he has to snuggle up to Harry to get it, well, surely, Draco can handle that. Problem is, not sure Harry can.

Larry:

A Little Bit Like Fate - Galaxie (8k)

Louis stumbles upon a kiss-in protest for LGBTQ rights, and he meets Harry. They click. It feels a little bit like fate.

Go Nowhere Tonight - objectlesson (12k)

As always, the easy nonchalance with which he treats the rumors hurts, stabs Harry in the gut, twists the knife. Because it is hard for Harry; it’s hard to know people think they should be or are together because he wants that. Wants it so fucking badly, and it would be one thing if he could just silently quarantine that part of himself and pine secretly, but instead he’s faced with fictionalized accounts of his and Louis’s nonexistent love life and photoshopped pictures of them being coupley every time he’s on the internet. It is hard, and the fact that it supposedly isn’t for Louis functions as proof that it’s unrequited. “It’s gonna be a rude awakening for them,” he starts, gazing into his empty glass, “when we eventually come out but are dating other people. No one likes being half-right.”

Good Enough to Eat - objectlesson (7k)

“Okay. I just...fuck, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Harry whimpers, and he must be blushing because Louis can feel waves of heat coming off him, his embarrassment a hot, palpable thing. “So, like…I love rimming videos. Nothing makes me come harder,” he admits, covering his face with his hands so his voice comes out muffled and strangled.

You Drive Me Crazy (I Just Can’t Sleep) - objectlesson (18k)

The first time Louis ends up in Harry’s bed is a total accident.

Vinyl and Lace - objectlesson (8k)

Harry tries on a skirt in the X Factor dressing room as a joke. Louis doesn't think it's very funny.

Wolfstar:

Let Us Be Silent, That We May Hear the Whispers of the Gods - gyzym (2k)

Remus Lupin doesn't want to hear it--not tomorrow and not yesterday, but certainly not right now.

Trobed:

Advanced Ambulatory Ichthyology - gyzym (49k)

Course provides advanced instruction in avoidance of the phenomenon commonly known as "jumping the shark." Prerequisites for this course include Introduction to Friendship, Contemporary Best Friendship, The Politics of Emotional Baggage and Cohabitation 207. Students may wish to simultaneously enroll in our sister course, Introduction to Non-Traditional Romance, but said enrollment is optional.

Introduction to Women’s Studies - ama (7k)

You know the story. They're best friends, they're inseparable, Abra has a rainbow collection of hijabs as extensive and impressive as her graphic t-shirt collection and is the hottest girl Tory's seen outside of a mirror--not that that means anything. Right?

#fic rec #read #drarry #mostly drarry ive been in a mood #fics #mine

282 notes · View notes

beatles-slash-fiction · 4 years ago

Note

Ringo giving john that blowjob in the morning 👀👀😏👀👀

Never knew I loved this pairing.

When John wakes up with a throbbing headache and doesn’t recognise his surroundings, he forgets for a second where he is and what happened last night.

But then he realises he’s in the spare bedroom of George and Ringo’s flat, and the events of last night trickle into his brain.

John shuffles towards the kitchen with a yawn, praying that he can find some painkillers. He’s surprised to find George sitting at the kitchen table with a lad he doesn’t recognise, whose eyebrows hit his hairline when he sees John.

“Oh, wow,” the lad says. “John Lennon. Bloody hell.”

“Morning,” George says, trying to hide his grin. He turns to the lad. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? Sorry, we’re having a domestic crisis.”

“No problem, beautiful. Looking forward to it.”

John fumbles in the cupboards while George sees the lad out, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he finds some fresh coffee.

“You look awful,” George says, handing John a clean mug.

“I feel awful,” John groans. “Sorry, by the way. I didn’t realise you had a, er, guest last night. He seems...nice.”

George blushes and shrugs. “It’s fine. We were asleep when you turned up.”

“Any good, or....?”

“None of your business,” George laughs. “Anyway, I believe you promised to hang around and help me look after Ringo today. I checked on him earlier and he looked almost as bad as you.”

John does vaguely remember promising to help look after Ringo, but he doesn’t particularly mind. Spending a day with Ringo is never a bad thing.

“I’m gonna get him up and help him take a shower,” George says, and John has to pause a moment to picture that in his mind as his dick twitches with interest. “Can you make him some soup or something?”

John tries to ignore the loud thumps and swearing coming from Ringo’s room and subsequently the bathroom as he heats up some soup, remembering how he carried Ringo home on his back last night, and how lovely it felt to put him to bed.

By the time Ringo appears with damp hair and in a fresh pair of pyjamas, John has already made tea and placed a steaming bowl of soup on the table.

Ringo’s eyes light up when he sees John. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah.” John grins. “I couldn’t very well leave you in the state you were in last night.”

“God, you made soup as well. Can you come and live with us?”

It’s a joke but John can’t help but think it’s a nice idea.

He spends the rest of the day thinking that; he sits on the sofa all afternoon with George and Ringo watching telly, and his throbbing headache soon disappears. The perfect hangover cure for anyone must be Ringo Starr resting his head on their shoulder.

John soon loses track of the time, and he doesn’t realise how long they’ve been sitting there until George announces he’s going to run to the shop to pick up some food for dinner.

“Bring us back some ciggies,” John says.

“He’s not really going to the shop,” Ringo chuckles. “He’s sneaking off to see the fella who shagged him last night.”

George sticks his tongue out but doesn’t say anything else before grabbing his coat and heading for the door.

The minute he leaves, Ringo shifts a little closer to John on the sofa. John can feel his face redden as their thighs touch, and what he really wants to do is wrap an arm around the smaller man.

“Thanks for getting me home last night,” Ringo says softly. “And for staying with me all day.”

“You’re welcome. It’s partly my fault that this happened. Sorry for getting you drunk.”

“I’m a big boy. I know my limits. It was nice spending time with you.” Ringo smiles at John warmly. “I’d love to say thank you.”

Ringo places his hand on John’s crotch, and John suddenly remembers his offer from last night.

“You don’t have to,” John says, because he’s not a dick. But he can’t keep the longing from his voice.

“I want to.” Ringo kisses John’s cheek.

And then he’s falling to his knees between John’s legs, and fumbling with his belt, before fishing out his cock.

John grips the fabric of the sofa, letting out a groan as Ringo wraps his lips around John’s cock, sucking gently.

It’s perfect. Utterly perfect.

The only thing that could make it better would be if they were both naked, but John will take what he can get. Ringo sucks cock like he was born for it.

“Rich,” John sighs, threading his fingers through Ringo’s hair.

It’s all over too soon; he makes the mistake of making eye contact with Ringo, and he just about manages to croak out a warning so that Ringo can pull off and wank him to completion. John comes in spurts on Ringo’s face, his chest heaving and his head spinning.

“Oh wow,” John says breathlessly as Ringo grabs some tissues. “Fuck, Rich.”

Ringo cleans them both up, and once he’s zipped John’s trousers up he presses their lips together very briefly.

They’re interrupted by George’s return though, and Ringo giggles as he quickly jumps back on the sofa next to John.

“Here are your damn ciggies,” George says, chucking a packet at John.

John laughs as Ringo grips his arm, deciding maybe he needs to get Ringo drunk more often.

#lennstarr

33 notes · View notes

permanentcrossfics · 6 years ago

Text

Blurred Lines: Live from New York // h.s.

Harry chortled under his breath, a smile tugging at his lips. “So, anyway….” The recliner he favored sank underneath his weight and he lifted his cup of coffee. “I’ll be back in the city in a little over a month. Maybe six weeks or so.”

The corners of your eyes softened and you cleared your throat. “Sounds awful.”

He chuckled and you asked, “Why this time?”

“Booked a little something.”

You arched an eyebrow and he took a sip.

“SNL.”

“What?” One eye closed when he winced through his grin from how shrill your screech was in his singular earbud. You sat up and leaned against your wall, looking at him straight on. “When?!”

“November,” he said. “They haven’t announced it yet, so keep it quiet.” He grinned and winked when you rolled your eyes.

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

“You know, if I wanted to look up at your ceiling all night, I’d have spent the three-hundred-and-fifty to go to London.”

Harry rolled his eyes, spoon clinking and clanking as he stirred his coffee, socked-footed in his kitchen with his dressing gown hood pulled up high over his head.

“Not that it isn’t nice.” Your voice continued to crackle through his phone as he took a sip to test the taste, muttering a small ouch when the scalding liquid blistered his lower lip. “I just thought you’d called for something a little more interesting. Unless you’re planning to hump the mattress while I—”

“Would be stupid to spend four hundred dollars for the same view.” Harry picked up the phone and padded to the doorway, catching the light with his elbow on the way out. He tipped the screen up and your eyes found his immediately from where your head was nestled in your pillow. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be in bed?” he asked.

“Could say the same to you,” you said. “It’s raining out. I’m nesting.”

The corners of your eyes softened and you cleared your throat. “Sounds awful.”

He chuckled and you asked, “Why this time?”

“Booked a little something.”

You arched an eyebrow and he took a sip.

“SNL.”

“What?” One eye closed when he winced through his grin from how shrill your screech was in his singular earbud. You sat up and leaned against your wall, looking at him straight on. “When?!”

“November,” he said. “They haven’t announced it yet, so keep it quiet.” He grinned and winked when you rolled your eyes.

“When did you find out?”

“It’s been in the works and it was basically done a bit ago. But everything’s been set now. And I was thinking….” He took a long, exaggerated sip of coffee and smacked his lips when you scowled. “I’ve got to be there the Monday before the show. But if I got in a little earlier, we could get a hotel and just… I mean, I know you’ve got work, but it’d be somewhere different. We could have dinner, not worry about cleaning up….”

“So you’d be here for—“

“Two weeks,” he said. “Maybe three, f’I can manage.”

“Almost a month,” you murmured and he nodded.

“Almost a month.”

***

Live from New York, it’s Saturday Night!

Frowning, Harry leaned out of the bathroom doorway. “What are you watching?”

You blinked owlishly from where you were curled up in the large hotel bed. “Reruns.”

The suite on the 6th floor of an historic midtown landmark — just a few long blocks away from Rockefeller Plaza — offered a fantastic view of the city that he’d ignored first by pacing the floor waiting for you to turn up after work and second by drawing the blackout shades almost as soon as you had. He’d have enough eyes on him this week without worrying about window cleaners scaling the side of the building and getting a peek at him embracing you.

Room service trays still littered the dining room table and cart they’d arrived on, the leftovers from the dinner he’d had ordered up a couple of hours ago long gone cold. He sidestepped a stray one on the floor on his way to you. “Turn that off,” he grumbled, diving into bed. “I don’t want to hear about that yet. Trying to enjoy my week.”

He reached for the remote but you held it out to the side, laughing when he groaned and rolled into you, smashing his face against your neck.

“You nervous?” You scrubbed the back of his head through his hair and he sighed.

“Little bit,” he said. “I mean, I know I’ve been there before, but I’ve never hosted or….”

“You’ll do great,” you said. “You did great last time and you’ll do great now.”

He lifted his head and cocked an eyebrow. “Were you there?”

“No,” you laughed. “Are you kidding me? Do you even know how long people were lined up for it? I watched at home with a bottle of wine.”

“Would you like to come?”

Your wistful smile faded from your face.

“I mean it,” he said. “F’you wanna, you can.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I was gonna ask you anyway.” He sat up next to you. “I didn’t know if you’d… you could just hang backstage if you want, you don’t have to be in the crowd. But I—” He swallowed convulsively. “I’d like you there.”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “Can you even do that?”

“I get thirty spots to bring whoever I want,” he says. “Sixty, since I’m, like….”

You smirked. “Important?”

Harry‘s face heated up. “I’ll get Jeffrey to take care of it.”

“Where is Jeffrey by the way?”

“Dinner.” Harry rolled away from you and strolled to the table for his phone.

“Did he invite you?”

He shrugged. “Said I didn’t really wanna go. Wasn’t feeling well.”

“Harry….”

“What?”

He just caught you rolling your eyes out of the corner of his. “You should go out with him. You don’t have to—“

“Came to see you, didn’t I? And unless we’re thinking he should get to know you….”

“He’ll get to know me anyway when you ask for a ticket, won’t he?”

“We can say you’re a fan and it’s good PR.”

You groaned, stretching out on the bed. “I’d be awful PR.”

The words sent a pang through his chest. “Stop that.”

Collapsing, you rolled onto your stomach and fixed him with an inquisitive stare. “You realize he’s going to have questions, right?”

He locked his phone after hitting send and shuffled back to bed. “I’ll handle it.”

Your disgruntled noise told him you didn’t believe him, but when he snaked his arm around to pull you in, you went willingly. “Now let’s find something else to watch,” he grumbled against your cheek.

“Love Actually was on, too, I think,” you said. “Do you want to watch that?”

He stayed perfectly still before shrugging. “Sure. F’you’re up for it. Know it’s a little early.”

You snorted and turned to catch a quick kiss before flipping the station. “You’re so soft.”

“What? S’a nice film!” he said. “Christmas, London… what more can you ask for?”

“You go home for Christmas,” you said.

“Mostly. But the feeling is still there in the leadup.”

“Christmas in New York is nice, too, you know.”

He looked at you, but you were staring at the screen, absentmindedly stroking his arm. “Yeah, it is.”

***

The clock on the table on your side of the bed read 3:37 in the morning. He blinked and the number flipped to 3:38. Twenty long minutes in which he’d struggled, with burning eyes, to fall back asleep. He didn’t usually have this problem anymore — he had his tricks to beat the jet lag — but his body was back in London, still, and he was suffering for it. Sighing heavily, Harry tucked his face into your neck and tightened his arm around you, but when you stirred against him he regretted it immediately.

“Are you awake?” Your voice was cracked and sandy with its efforts — nails on a chalkboard in the otherwise silent room.

“S’the jet lag, it’s killing me,” he breathed against your neck. “Just go back to sleep.”

“Mmm.” You mumbled noncommittally and shifted again. In your quest to get comfortable, though, your ass wound up firmly against his pelvis, and he opened his eyes slowly, staying very still. Jesus, don’t go there… don’t think about it… it was almost four in the morning, don’t….

Although you were rather inviting, weren’t you? Soft, and warm, and curled up so nicely against him? He knew how your ass felt from this angle all too well, and he pressed his lips together, suddenly hot in the previously comfortable room. Maybe if he just let go of you and rolled away… but his hand was firmly clasped in yours, just under your breast, and pulling it out of your hold would disturb you more.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths and not thinking about anything would keep everything down. He closed his eyes and they rolled up in his head as he counted to ten slowly. You were awake, though, and he was— stop that. This was no different than when he woke up randomly in the middle of the night at home and had the passing thought of having a wank.

Except you weren’t there tempting him when he was at home, and, to be honest, he usually caved, anyway.

Your deep breath just about made him jump out of his skin, sure you’d heard his thoughts, and he grit his teeth when you shifted again to fit more tightly.

“G’back to sleep…” he muttered through them.

“I am.”

“You’re asleep?” He chortled. “Didn’t know you sleep talked. Is this a new thing of yours?”

You made a noise and wriggled back against him and his face screwed up. “Love, please—“ You did it again and he groaned, pulling his hand from underneath yours and digging his fingers into your hip. “You should think about what you’re doing.”

Your hand slipped over his and when you jerked again you were pulling your leggings down your thighs. “Oh, fuck,” he whispered against your shoulder when you pushed your bare ass against his pelvis through his briefs. You rocked against him, gently at first and then harder, and he whimpered, drawing his hand up and down the outside of your thigh with his mouth smashed against your cheek, struggling to breathe. You did it again and again and when your fingers pushed through his hair and pulled, he groaned and nipped your skin.

Fuck it. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it. He rolled the elastic of his underwear down and when his cock was against your bare skin at last, he nearly shuddered with relief. “Oh, fuck, baby,” he muttered when you let out a lusty little noise deep in your throat.

“I want you.” No cutting corners, no mincing words, and just enough agony to make it urgent.

“Bring your leg up a little higher,” he said, tapping your thigh. Your ass was smooth and soft under his hand and he squeezed once before grabbing his cock and shifting closer. “Deep breath with me,” he said when he pressed his head against you. “Deep breath, deep breath…!”

You moaned when he pushed inside you and turned your face into the pillow, panting as his eyes watered. “Shit, y’feel so tight!” he wheezed. “What’s… fuck!” You shook with each breath and he stayed perfectly still until you rocked back into him, and he took that as permission to move at last. His jaw dropped and he could feel that on vein in his neck straining as he listened in awe to the wet noise of him thrusting in and out of you. Sloppy and punctuated by slaps of skin and breathless grunts, he drove inside you with deep, even strokes. Not to be such a pigheaded man, but he’d been waiting for this — sniffing the air hopefully from the moment you’d arrived, but you’d been so sweet and happy loving on him for his big night up ahead that he’d settled and allowed himself to be pet.

“Oh… God…!”

Harry swallowed hard and peeled his fingers off your hip to slip them under your t-shirt and over one of your breasts. He thumbed your nipple clumsily before dragging his hand down your stomach until he fit it just between your legs. You gasped and jerked but he held you fast against him as he stroked upwards quickly across your clit.

“Harry!” He clenched his jaw, ears ringing when your breathing quickened. Another sound echoed faintly and you clutched his forearm tightly, squirming against him even as he fucked into you. “I— oh!”

“Lemme have one,” he rasped against your ear. “Just the one, darling.”

“I’m gonna cum…!” you moaned throatily. “Oh! Oh my God! Ha—!”

Your cunt contracted on his cock several times in quick, squeezing pulses, and he grit his teeth as you rocked through it, gulping for air. Steeling himself, he pulled out of you, cock throbbing, wet, and sensitive, and he shifted to pull you until you were on your back. Your legs and arms fell open immediately and he had his cock in hand when he got between them to line himself up. He groaned under his breath when he pushed inside you again, head first and then the rest with no resistance. Lowering onto his elbows, he sought your mouth and latched it in a clumsy kiss as he picked up his pace again. He was close — he had to be, everything felt so fucking explosive. He hadn’t wanked in nearly two weeks and now here you were, cunt stroking him better than his hand ever could and making his balls ache.

“C’mere,” he sputtered when your mouth slipped from under his. “Come… wanna….” He kissed you again and locked his hand over your cheek to hold you in place, eyes watering when his nose bumped yours. “Sorry,” he whispered when you made a pained sound. “‘M’sorry, m’so— fuck—“

Every single thrust felt better than the last, building the slow burn to a gentle roar. He just wanted to cum! It was selfish of him, and he swore he’d been looking forward to spending time with you, but he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t at all interested in getting physical now that he was back in the same room with you. He’d give anything to—

The muscles in his lower back seized and he shook from head-to-toe, mouth smashed to yours and pelvis flush against you as his cock pulsed, every bit of him emptying inside you.

“S’good.” He kissed the side of your mouth then, making to move off you, but it seemed he’d overestimated his ability when his elbow buckled and he landed half on top of you. “Shit!” he wheezed when you grunted. “I’m sorry—”

You laughed breathlessly and he dropped his head on your shoulder when his muscles refused to solidify enough for him to lift off you completely, and he nuzzled your skin where the t-shirt you were wearing was riding down your shoulder.

“That’s what I needed,” he admitted thickly.

You chuckled once. “A shag?” you asked in a poor imitation of his voice and he laughed.

“Yeah,” he said. “A nice welcome to New York, shag with m’girlfriend.” He nipped your skin and you squeaked and squirmed, pinching his cheek with your knuckles.

He was still curled up around you when your breathing evened out, and the last thing he saw before he fell into blackness was the clock reading 4:15 in the morning.

***

At first he thought it was the jet lag waking him up just a short while later. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and burrowed closer against your arm, willing himself to block it out.

“Harry?”

He grunted.

“Harry, someone’s at the door.”

He opened his eyes, blinking the room into a singular status. “What?”

There was a click of a lock, then, and his heart stopped. Not three seconds later, he sat up and bolted from the bed, yanking his briefs on and pulling his belt out of his trouser loops to wrap it around his fist. He’d just made it to the door when it swung open and he lifted his hand—

“Whoa!”

Jeff held up his hands and Harry deflated immediately, blood rushing in his ears.

“Jesus, you fucking… how’d you get in here?”

Jeff held up a keycard and Harry snatched it from him.

“Hey!” Frowning, Jeff asked, “What’re you up to?”

“Nothing.” Jeff made to move past him into the room, but Harry’s arm shot out to grip the doorframe, blocking him. “I’m busy,” he said.

Jeff’s eyebrows rose. “By yourself?”

“Sure.”

“Jesus, H,” Jeff groaned. “Wrap it up. The car’ll be here in an hour.”

Harry blinked. “The car?”

“For the meeting. At Sony.” Jeff looked at him expectantly but Harry shook his head. “I told you about this, what’s wrong with—?”

“S’early,” he says. “I’m jet lagged, just lemme… I’ll be down, just gimme time t’get ready. Did you get my text about the ticket for the show?”

“I’m working on it. Can I have my key back?”

“No.”

When the door shut at last, Harry let out a deep breath and turned to head back to the bed. “Up now, aren’t we,” he muttered. “Got you a keycard.” He flipped it to where you were buried underneath the blankets.

“Thanks,” you said, voice muffled. “So,” you began when you popped out from underneath the blanket, “that’s Jeffrey?”

“That’s him,” Harry said, flipping through his phone. Shit, he had forgotten about that meeting, hadn’t he?

“He seems stern.”

“Only when he has his manager pants on.” He dropped his phone on the bed and ran his hands through his hair with a groan. “I’ve got to shower. I’ve got… shit, I can’t believe I forgot.”

“Go,” you said softly. “Then it’s my turn. We’re still on for dinner, right?”

“Course!” He looked up. “This week is for us.”

***

This week was for you. And him. And Jeffrey, apparently, because his best friend insisted on jamming himself into an already jammed schedule.

“M’sorry.” He felt like a broken record. Just once he wished you’d get snappy or annoyed with him, but instead you were all too understanding.

“It’s fine.” You patted the bed. “We had our plans and Jeffrey had his.”

“Said you wanted me to go out with him.”

You rolled your eyes and he smirked, groaning when he sank down on the edge of the bed.

“We could tell him.”

Harry looked at you over his shoulder.

“Like….” You shrugged. “I mean, you could tell him. He doesn’t know me, so I can’t.” Fingers clasped, you twisted them, locking and relocking as you stared at him with wide eyes. “Been on our own for a long time, you know?” you whispered. “And I never wanted to say something, because I didn’t want you to think I needed… or that I cared, but—”

“You want to….”

You shrugged again and he scratched the back of his neck, exhaling slowly. “S’a big week coming.”

Promo, prep, and the actual rehearsals and filming of the damn thing. And that was without everything that’d popped up or soon would.

By the way, I’d like you to meet my girlfriend. How’d I meet her? Funny story, that….

It wasn't that he was worried about how his friends would react, it was just….

“Of course,” you said quietly. “I understand.”

You slid down in the bed and pulled the blanket over your shoulders when you turned onto your side.

“Ok?” he asked.

“Just tired.”

“Sure?”

You nodded against your pillow and Harry’s skin prickled, but he laid down behind you.

“Night, darling.”

He stared up at the ceiling, fingers locked over his chest, silence consuming the room.

That same silence lingered through the weekend.

You weren’t… mad. If you were mad, you wouldn’t kiss him, and when he asked for one you gave it willingly. But you didn’t give them, or anything else, out yourself, and by that logic something was wrong.

Fine. You wanted to go out? You wanted to be brought out with him? He could do that.

He could do that, except both of his efforts — surefire winners, by all accounts — fell flat. The play on Sunday he’d heard great things about and that a friend of his had written?

“No, thank you.” No shyness, no gushing.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

The cast dinner he’d been invited to at an Italian place not far from the studio after his first full day of work?

You’d smiled and shaken your head. “You go have fun.”

The cocky confidence that he’d figured out how to be a good wining-and-dining boyfriend faltered, puffed chest deflating and plucked courage blowing away. “Oh… ‘kay. F’you’re… if you’re sure.”

Rejection stuck in his side all through the night, but by the time Tuesday evening rolled around and the paparazzi were swarming his far in below freezing temperatures, he was grateful you were tucked away and out of sight. If you’d been seen….

That was it, though, wasn’t it? If you’d been seen, you’d be seen. No different than before, but somehow more terrifying than the idea of his latest and greatest getting discovered than it’d ever been. You didn’t know what you were asking for, but he couldn’t ask to have you hidden for the rest of his life. Nor would you allow it, nor would he dream of ever asking you to.

“How was dinner?”

Harry locked the deadbolt behind him and trudged the rest of the way into the room. You were curled up in bed, the soft glow of the lamp throwing shadows into the far corners of the room, and he nodded wearily. “Was a good time. Think you’d have liked it.” He glanced at you as he pulled his shoes off by the heels. “Bunch of photographers on the way in and out,” he said.

You nodded and he disappeared to the toilet, stripping down to his undershirt and pants. When he emerged, face scrubbed and teeth brushed, you were on your side with your back to him.

“Got you a ticket today.”

“Mmm?”

Ok. Maybe you were actually a little mad.

“The show.” He crawled into bed and crowded behind you, nudging your cheek with his nose. “Still interested?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you haven’t spoken more than three words to me since Thursday.”

Sighing heavily, you turned towards him and he immediately regretted his burst of bravery.

“You haven’t really been here in a day and a half.”

Harry swallowed, so close to your face he could see every speckle in your eyes he might otherwise miss. “I’ve been here. We had dinner together last night, and this weekend — most days last week. ”

You nodded slowly.

“Did you….” Harry cleared his throat. “Did you wanna go out tomorrow? Or maybe Thursday — was thinking of maybe doing Top of the Rock?” He scooted back when you wriggled and turned in towards him more fully.

“You always told me you didn’t like going out in New York because of the paparazzi.”

“I don’t,” he said flatly. “They’re demons here. Narrow streets, and I was mobbed just tonight.”

“You went out with Jeffrey most nights last week.”

“Not most,” he countered, neck tense.. “And you told me to go out with him. And I was papped nearly every night, or someone found me, or—“

“And we were in together this whole weekend. Inside.”

“I asked you to go out with me,” he reminded you. “To the play, yeah? And I asked you to go to dinner tonight, but you didn’t want to.”

“I’m not causing a fight!”

“M’not fighting!” Harry said. “I’m only saying what’s happened!”

“You’re arguing.”

“I’m not—“ A heat bubble swelled in his chest and he took a deep breath. “I’m not arguing. I’m only saying what happened,” he repeated. Ten… nine… eight… seven….

You huffed and crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

“Am I a secret?”

Harry’s lips tightened and he stared at you, watching you blink slowly and evenly. “Am I?”

Your rolled your eyes to the side.

“I’m not ashamed of you. I’m protecting you,” he said. “Telling people wasn’t something we did, but if you want people to know....”

“I want—“ Your voice cracked and you shut your eyes. Mouth trembling, you stayed very still until it subsided. When you spoke again, it was slow and with carefully articulated syllables. “I want to be able to meet the people in your life in a dignified way. Not hiding under a blanket or being introduced as fan charity.”

Harry brushed his knuckles to the back of your cheek and you shook your head. “Wasn’t going to introduce you to him when you were half naked,” he murmured. “I’m the jealous type, remember?”

“Vividly,” you said through a stuffed nose.

“And he’s not meeting you as fan charity, either. But I’d like to not have you ambushed by the paparazzi if that can be avoided — not until you’re like… sure about this or summat.”

You sniffled and he kissed your temple.

“I—“ his breath hitched “You know how I feel about you. But I don’t have to say it for you to know it, do I?”

Half a beat passed and in the amount of time it took you to shake your head he swore he almost passed out. His head dropped to your shoulder when at last you did and he breathed in the smell of your faded detergent and sleep from your t-shirt. “Know how to scare me good, don’t you?” he asked.

“Keeps you on your toes.” You patted the back of his head and he groaned.

“Do you want people to know?” he asked.

“Do you?”

Did he? It was his turn to take a moment to weigh the implications.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

***

“Are you sure?”

Harry chuckled heartily, bouncing as the Escalade rolled over a pothole, Sixth Avenue passing by out the window.

“Not getting cold feet on me, are you?”

You glared at him and he grinned, grasping your hand. “S’just Jeffrey,” he cooed, grimacing when you punched his bicep.

“It’s not ‘just Jeffrey’,” you said. “And there’s a perfectly good hotel room I can watch the show from. I could continue my tradition with a bottle of wine….”

“You wanted to see dress, too, and dress isn’t televised.” He smirked and you huffed. “Do you want to be backstage or in the audience?” he asked. “Ticket with your name on it either way.”

“Audience.” Nails digging into his hand, you nodded. “Might miss something otherwise.

The car turned into a tunnel and began its slow descent underneath Rockefeller Plaza.

“Think you’re more nervous than I am,” he said and you smiled wanly.

“You’ve done this before.”

Not quite like this before. Harry bit his tongue and the car rolled to a stop.

“Here we go.” Cold air rushed in when the door was opened and he slid towards it.

“Wait—” You gripped his jacket and he stopped, looking back at you over his shoulder. Mouth serious and hardly blinking, you gulped. “Are you sure?”

“Already asked me that.” He smiled crookedly but you shook your head.

“You know what I mean,” you whispered.

Last chance. No turning back — once he walked in with you on his arm, it was out of your hotel room, his flat, and yours and into the real world.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” he said. You bit your lip and he jerked his head. “Let’s go.”

Ready or not, there you went.

It was a blur after that. No sooner had he set foot inside than everyone needed him for one thing or another, this or that. Plans he had of smoothly introducing you to Jeffrey in his dressing room went out the window, and he only just saw a text from you before it was 8:00 and the first show was set to begin. He managed a wink at you during rehearsal when no one was looking, but when he broke down hearing your laugh — clear and delighted, his ears finely tuned to it — he had to zone out, nerves shot, otherwise he’d never make it through the show. As it was, he cracked twice during the live performance when he picked up on a giggle and made the mistake of catching your eye before his second performance of the night. Shit, he hoped he didn’t look as shaky as he felt.

And then it was over. A week’s worth of prep, hours of rehearsal, and two shows later, and it was done — lost to the history books of water cooler chats on Monday mornings. The gentle tap on his dressing room had him spinning around, and you poked your head through the door.

If he grinned any wider, he swore his face would split open. “Hey.” He buried his nose in your neck when you embraced him, and he squeezed you around the middle, swaying in place with you. “S’good to see you.”

“You saw me earlier,” you remind him with a breathless laugh.

“No, but like… this whole week. And the last, it’s been… m’glad you’re here. Means a lot t’me, and I couldn’t—”

“You could,” you said. “You’d do just fine. I knew you’d do great.”

Releasing the pressure some, Harry straightened up and kissed your temple. “I love you — you know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t even have to say it,” you quipped, but he shook his head.

“I do. I love you, I….” He licked his lips and your own parted. “Means a lot for you t’be here… to stick it all out. To want to be here.”

You chortled. “Had to see you blond. And bumping asses with a woman. And ruining my childhood, so I’d say telling me you….” You paused, the words dying on your tongue. “It’s the least you can do.”

Harry grinned and bumped his forehead to yours. “C’mon. S’get you introduced to some people and then we’ll head out.”

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry blurb #harry one shot #harry styles imagine #harry imagine #harry styles blurb #original writing #permanentcross #blurred lines #blurred lines: live from new york #harry styles ones hot

218 notes · View notes

illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

Note

can I request an 80's Roger smut blurb with a daddy kink please? Maybe fluff at the end idk I'm such a whore for daddy Rog🙈

Oof yes, you know i love me some daddy rog too.

Set in the same universe as my extreme bondage/daddy kink blurbs but this ones got no bondage lmao (the others are all in my blurb masterlist)

warnings for somnophilia and daddy kink (obv)

Blurb Advent: Day 7

It was way too early for you to be awake. Or rather, for you to have not gotten to sleep yet. You felt sleepy but also a little jittery. Kind of restless. You blamed Roger. Today, or rather yesterday, had been a denial day and Roger had delighted in teasing you, edging you. It had been fun of course, legs in a spreader bar, hands in cuffs. You groaned as the memory came back to you, knowing you’d never get to sleep if you kept thinking about it. You were too worked up, too horny, to sleep. Not Roger though, he was soundly sleeping, completely satisfied and content. You glanced at the clock, two in the morning. But then it hit you. 2am was after midnight so it was a new day so you were allowed to cum. Maybe you could quietly rub one out and then go to sleep. It wouldn’t take long and Roger was a fairly heavy sleeper. Once you’d gotten up in the middle of the night for a glass of water and had knocked over a vase of flowers on your way. Roger had slept through the crash and all your stumbling about and swearing as you cleaned it up, only realising anything had happened when he saw the china in the garbage the next day. You glanced at Roger to check he was asleep, waved your hand in front of his closed eyes. Nothing. He slept on.

Carefully you wriggled a little closer to the edge of the bed, trying to put some more distance between you. As you moved your hand brushed against his dick, semi hard, and you stilled in case the contact had disturbed him. It didn’t but it did give you an idea. You’d played around with having each other while one of you was asleep, or nearly so, before. Usually you were the one being used, woken up with Roger fucking you or to find the evidence of his orgasm dripping from between your legs. If he did wake up it’d probably just turn him on more. That was more likely than him being mad with you. Carefully you wrapped your hand around his cock, slowly wanking him, all the while watching his face for any sign that he would wake up. His eyebrows furrowed and he rolled further on to his back and he made an encouraging humming sound, but he didn’t wake.

Holding your breath and being very careful you positioned yourself over his thigh, grinding against him to double check he was sound asleep. Once again he shifted a little, his head falling to one side, but you seemed to be in the clear. With a hand over your mouth to keep your own noises muffled, you used the other one to brace you as you dragged your clit along his leg, able to feel your release beginning to build. When you felt confident that you would get away with it, you lined Roger’s cock up with your entrance and began to sink down as gently and as slowly as you could.

“What are you doing, love?” Roger’s eyes were still closed and his voice was slurred with sleep but it was undeniable that he’d spoken to you.

You gasped and stopped, “I was just, um, just, uh, I was,”

“Well don’t stop,” he yawned.

“What?”

“Whatever you were doing was giving me the nicest dream. Should keep going so I can see how it ends,”

You still didn’t move, “I can keep going? You’re not going to punish me? Or stop me?”

“Mmm, punishment later. Now, you put on a show.”

“A show?”

“You must be so desperate for Daddy’s cock, so take it. Show me how bad you want it.” Roger was seeming less tired with each word but he kept up the act, his eyes shut, adding in yawns and sleepy sighs.

“Can I cum?”

“If you want,”

“Will you fuck me Daddy?”

“No. I’m too tired Kitten, someone woke me up early. Be grateful though. Lucky I didn’t pull you down by the hair so you could take care of me.”

You whined at the thought and let yourself sink lower on his cock.

“Good girl,” he yawned again, watching you through his lashes as you started to slowly ride him, grinding down and rolling your hips. He hummed and rested his hand on your knee as you started to speed up. You could feel yourself getting closer and it was nearly impossible to keep up the slow, rhythmic pace you’d begun with, not when you wanted to cum so badly. Though part of you worried if you went too hard it would wake Roger up more and he’d decide to punish you immediately instead. But that was kind of a turn on in itself anyway, so you forgot about being quiet and being gentle, riding Roger rough and hard, no longer holding back your whines and moans. He seemed to enjoy the change, offering sleep slurred words of encouragement and an occasional threat.

“Come on Kitten, faster. Daddy wants to go back to sleep.”

“I’m close Daddy, so close,”

“Mmm better be. Might have to stop you and make you wait till morning,”

After that you found your release, hips stuttering as you came and stilled.

“Now me,” Roger squeezing your leg kept you in place as you rocked against him again, whining with the aftershocks of your orgasm. It didn’t take long for you to finish Roger off too, watching as his brow crinkled until his face relaxed and he filled you.

You slumped down beside him afterward, already feeling ready to sleep.

Roger yawned, “You okay now? Gonna let me sleep?” he threw an arm over you, pulling you back against him.

You laughed softly, “Yes Daddy. Think I’m all worn out now.”

“Me too,”

“Are you going to punish me in the morning?”

“No,”

“Really? But you said -”

“I know what I said. But that was just to help you get off faster, cause I know you like the threats. But if you really want it, maybe I’ll wake you up with something similar.”

“That sounds alright to me,” you laughed again.

Roger kissed the back of your neck and tightened his embrace, “Go to sleep Kitten.”

#my writing #my blurbs #blurb advent 2020 #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor smut #roger taylor imagine #so often somno is about the dom using the sub while they sleep #which dont get me wrong is hot af #but man theres something about a sub using a dom #even tho they know they might get in trouble #that i just fucking love lmao #Anonymous

133 notes · View notes

clumsyclifford · 5 years ago

Text

you and i are finally gonna get it right

seems like i should post this on tumblr as well because that seems to be the thing to do so here i am, doing that :) massive overwhelming shoutouts to @ashesonthefloor for reading this when it was even worse than it is now & helping me with it and also @cliiffords for letting me talk nonstop about how horrible it is <3 (fair warning: this fic is 5k so if youre on mobile...settle in lol)

here’s an ao3 link you can use if you prefer

If Michael has to pioneer the movement of normalizing being tattoo-free, then so be it. He and Calum will be the frontmen. - Neither Michael nor Calum have soulmates tattoos. (Apparently.)

November 20th, 2013

Michael wakes up in his bed with a hangover and a tight sting on his left upper arm. Before he even opens his eyes, he cycles through all five stages of grief. He’s not sure he’s properly landed on acceptance when curiosity gets the best of him, and he looks.

To The Moon.

Oh. Wait a minute.

That’s not a soulmate tattoo. That’s a genuine, god’s-honest tattoo that he’d gotten last night. It had been a slightly drunken (okay, very wasted) decision, encouraged by Calum, but looking at it in this light, he doesn’t regret it. And — he squints. Just underneath it, approximately the dimensions of his thumb, is a string of numbers. Michael stares at 250196 for many minutes, but his hungover brain feels fuzzy and bewildered. He doesn’t remember getting that one, but it’s not a long shot to assume it had been part of last night’s shenanigans. Michael remembers him and Calum stumbling into the tattoo parlor, giggling far too loudly for a tattoo shop at 11pm. It’s not like Michael has ever planned anything in advance, ever. Get a bunch of random numbers tattooed on him; why not?

He scrambles blindly for his phone. Checks the time: 1:10 in the afternoon. Nice day of sleep, then. Pretty good start to his eighteenth birthday.

He calls Calum.

“Morning,” Calum says when he picks up. “Happy birthday.”

“Hi,” Michael says, and at that exact moment he realizes what the numbers are. “Oh my God, you’re such an arse. Did you seriously make me get your birthday tattooed on me? The night before my birthday?”

“What? No,” Calum says, but he doesn’t sound very certain.

“Well, I wouldn’t have done it on my own,” Michael says. The unspoken I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t asked me to floats away. “I can’t believe you. I mean, I know we were wasted, but…I can’t believe I let you convince me, honestly.”

“I didn’t!” Calum protests. “...I think. Gotta admit, I was…very drunk.”

“Me too,” Michael says mournfully. “Out of childhood with a bang.”

“I think your childhood ended long ago,” Calum says.

“Your mum’s did,” Michael says, nonsensically. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

“I thought you were getting To The Moon,” Calum says.

“I did. It’s here. And underneath it, your birthday. 250196.”

“That’s my birthday,” Calum agrees, as if Michael doesn’t know that. “Well, listen, it sounds to me like a blessing in disguise. Now I'll always be with you.”

“That's the opposite of what I want. I wish you'd leave me alone," Michael says. “I’ll get you back for this. I was already commemorating our friendship with to the moon. Why would I want your birthday on me?"

“'Cause I'm your favorite," Calum says.

Michael doesn’t answer, because it’s true enough. Not that Michael would choose to have anyone’s birthday tattooed on him, but if he had to choose, he’d choose Calum. He’ll always choose Calum.

“So,” Calum says, as if about to ask about the weather. Michael knows Calum’s nervous voice, though, and this is it. “Uh, got anything else new, then?”

Michael bites his lip. “I haven’t checked. Only just woke up.”

“Oh. That’s cool. Let me know if — when you find yours.”

“I’ll call you back,” Michael says, and hangs up. He sits in bed for too long, staring at his palms, thinking about how he doesn’t need any more tattoos. He got To The Moon, and he’s got Calum’s birthday, which, admittedly, is a weird thing for drunk Calum to convince him to get. But fair enough as a prank, he supposes; maybe he’ll make Calum get Michael’s birthday on him, as payback, on Calum’s eighteenth.

Finally, he gets out of bed and goes to the bathroom. He stares at himself in the mirror. The bathroom lights are blinding, achingly bright. The hangover is killing him. He strips down to his underwear and slowly does an inch-by-inch scan of his entire body. Three times.

There’s nothing. The knot that had built itself up in Michael’s stomach unravels, and Michael realizes he hadn’t been nervous that there wouldn’t be a soulmate tattoo; he’d been nervous that there would be.

And there’s not.

He calls Calum back.

“There’s — I don’t have one,” he says.

Calum is quiet. “What do you mean, you don’t have one? Everyone gets one.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Michael says. Hearing Calum’s voice, he can’t stop smiling.

“How is that possible?” Calum says. “Check again.”

“Calum, I checked like nine times. I haven’t got a soulmate tattoo.” He pauses. “I didn’t want one anyway.”

“You didn’t want one?”

Michael shakes his head. “Nope,” he says. “Fuck soulmates. I’ve already got you, haven’t I? It’s not like I need anyone else to cuddle or spend all my time with. They’d probably just be jealous.”

Calum laughs uneasily. “If you say so.”

“I do,” Michael says firmly. “Not everyone has a soulmate tattoo, not like anything's wrong. I don’t need some ink to tell me what’s important. I’ve got everything I need.”

“Wow,” Calum says. “Being eighteen has truly made you wise.”

“It sure has,” Michael says. “Do you wanna get Maccas and play Fifa?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the coffee shop?”

“Ah, Luke’ll cover me,” Michael says. He’ll do it for Luke’s birthday on the condition that Luke does it for his; that’s the agreement.

“In that case, I would love to,” Calum says.

January 25th, 2014

Michael wakes up in Calum’s bed. For one very brief, baffling second, he thinks, did Calum and I have sex?, but no, he’s fully clothed and definitely hasn’t had sex recently. So just good old-fashioned sleeping together, then.

“Morning,” Calum says from the general direction of the doorway. Michael twists himself around and immediately regrets it; his head is pounding.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles.

“You should be so lucky,” Calum says. “Hungover?” Michael nods, squinting. Calum comes over, Tylenol in one hand and a glass of water in the other. “Me too.”

“I fucking love you,” Michael says, and downs the Tylenol and water. “Happy birthday.”

“Yeah, about that,” Calum says, crossing his arms. “I know you said you were going to get me back, but I didn’t think you meant it like this.”

“Like what?”

Calum shakes his head. He’s got the ghost of a smile on his face, but he’s clearly trying very hard to hide it. “Mate, we have to stop drinking so much and blacking out.”

“I dunno,” Michael says. “I kinda like the mystery. It’s like, who was that Michael? What was he thinking? I’ll never know.”

“Mike, you don't even know what you're thinking when you're sober.”

“Hey, shut up. I think at least three things a day.”

“Not including wanking.”

“...I think at least one thing a day.”

“Thought so.” Calum tugs the collar of his t-shirt down, and Michael’s breath catches when he sees Calum’s new tattoo. It says MMXII across his collarbone, in big, blocky Roman numerals.

“Oh, it looks sick,” Michael says.

Calum raises his eyebrows and pulls it down a little further. Michael has to squint, because he’s not wearing his glasses.

“I can’t see that,” he confesses. Calum huffs and comes closer.

201195.

“You got my birthday tattooed on you?” Michael says. Calum stares at him. Michael connects the dots. “Oh my God. I so don’t remember last night at all. That’s incredible. I have nothing but respect for blackout-drunk Michael. He clearly knew what he was doing.”

“You know I’m going to have this forever, right?” Calum says, but despite his best efforts, he doesn’t sound mad, not even a little. “We’re both stuck with each others’ birthdays tattooed on each other forever. Because we’re drunk little shits.”

Michael shrugs. “Could be much worse,” he says. “You could’ve gotten it on your dick.”

Calum snorts.

“And, uh.” Michael swallows. “Nothing else? Apart from the two that you, like, actually went and got?”

Calum watches Michael, and Michael hates how unreadable his expression is. “Nope,” he finally says. “I checked. It’s just those.”

Michael feels badly for feeling so relieved. “I’m sorry,” he lies.

“No, I — I’m actually fine with it,” Calum says. “I mean, it’s like you said, right? Don’t need any new people in my life. I’m pretty happy where I am.”

Michael grins at him. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been to learn about Calum’s new soulmate until finding out that Calum doesn’t have one. Maybe it’s selfish, but Michael is selfish. He wants Calum all to himself. He doesn’t want a soulmate. He doesn’t want Calum to have one. He just wants it to be MichaelandCalum forever.

“Nice,” he says. He looks up at Calum and his smile grows. “You learned from the wisest. Well, happy birthday. What do you want to do?”

“Sleep off this hangover,” Calum says honestly. Michael spreads his arms across the bed.

“Join me,” he says. Calum rolls his eyes.

“That’s my bed, you loser.”

“So that’s a no?”

Calum climbs into the bed and curls himself into Michael’s side. “Never said that,” he mumbles. “G’night.”

It’s nearly 11am, but they both fall asleep, secure and warm. Michael feels safer than he’s ever felt.

March 8th, 2014

“I just don’t understand how you can be so relaxed about it,” Luke says, absently strumming variations on the A chord.

“It’s literally the simplest thing in the world,” Michael says. “I don’t have a soulmate tattoo. Move on.”

“Yeah, but neither you nor Calum? And you’re not, like, a little bit curious about why not?” Luke presses.

“Leave him alone, Luke,” Ashton says, twirling a drumstick. “He’s obviously soulmates with someone he hates, and he just doesn’t want to say. Probably Ben or Jack.”

Luke gags. Michael reaches for something to throw at Ashton, but all he’s got is a guitar pick, so he throws that. Ashton catches it and starts tapping the snare drum with it.

“I just don’t really care,” Michael says, in response to Luke’s question. “Like. I don’t know. I don’t feel like having anyone else in my life would make it better at this point. I’ve got Cal, and I’ve got you guys — the band — and my family…” He shrugs. It makes undeniable sense to him; he’s happy where he is. If it ain’t broke, right?

Luke sighs. “I could never be like that. I’d be dying to know who my soulmate is.”

“Yeah, because you’re clingy as hell.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“I’m not clingy!”

“I’ll just ask Calum when he gets here, then,” Luke says.

“Okay, fine. I’m a little clingy, but so are you,” Michael says. “At least I’m not harping on not having a soulmate tattoo. You haven’t even got yours yet and you’re obsessed with it.”

Luke sticks his tongue out. “I’m allowed to be curious,” he says. “Ash, aren’t you curious whose yours is?”

Ashton jolts when Luke addresses him. The pick drops from his hand onto the batter head of the snare. “Um, I dunno. Yeah. But, like, whoever it is, I’ll find them in due course. Might not even have gotten their tattoo yet, so I’m trying to take it easy, not worry.”

Michael casts a strange sideways glance at Ashton, who’s bouncing his leg up and down. Nervous. He looks at Luke, then looks back at Ashton.

“Wonder what yours will be,” Luke says, leaning over his guitar and twisting his fingers. “Like, what matches the moon?”

“The sun?” Ashton offers. “The tide?”

Luke nods like he’s deep in thought. “Sun would be nice,” he mumbles, as if talking to himself.

Michael wishes Calum were here. If Luke isn’t Ashton’s soulmate, he’s quitting the band and the coffee shop and taking Cal with him.

July 23rd, 2014 - 12:16 a.m.

“Hello?”

“Mike.” It’s Luke. He sounds nervous. No, he sounds scared. Michael can deal with nervous Luke while playing Portal, but not scared Luke. He pauses the game. Chats from Calum appear on the screen, but he ignores them for the moment.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Luke says, which is clearly a lie. “I’m just — it’s my eighteenth.”

“Oh, holy shit,” Michael says. Obviously he’d known that, and had remembered up until about two hours ago, when he’d started playing Portal with Calum and all thoughts had exited his mind. “Did you get your tattoo? Do you have one?”

“Yeah,” Luke says. “It’s, uh. It’s the sun.”

“The sun?” Michael repeats. “That’s a bit random.”

“Yeah, but,” Luke says, sounding desperate, “it’s the sun right on my forearm — looks exactly like —”

Oh. Michael knows. “Oh,” he says softly. “Holy fuck.”

“It can’t be him, right?” Luke says. “Like. There’s no way. The odds…”

“Well, that’s sort of the point of soulmates, isn’t it?” Michael points out. “Like, yeah, in a normal situation it would be a crazy coincidence, but soulmates aren’t supposed to be normal situations.”

Luke is silent for a long time.

“Luke?” Michael prompts after the quiet gets unbearable. “Do you want it to be him?”

“Yes,” Luke says, in the smallest voice ever. “So badly.”

Michael can’t help it; his heart skips a beat, and it’s not even his own love story. “Well, if you want it to be Ash and you’ve already got the sun where he’s got the moon, that sure does sound like it’s him.”

Luke exhales so hard it crackles on the phone. “No way.”

“If it helps,” Michael says, “I’m pretty sure Ashton’s been hoping you’re his soulmate since he met you.”

“You’re just saying that,” Luke says, but Michael’s not; he’s not blind. He can see the way Ashton looks at Luke like he’s a fucking planet, and Ashton’s content to just orbit. He’s heard some of the stuff Ashton writes and never presents to the band as a whole. If Michael had a nickel for every time Ashton mentioned blond hair and blue eyes in his lyrics, he’d have enough money to kick Ashton from the band and hire a better drummer who wasn’t constantly pining after their lead singer. He’d have enough money to quit the coffee shop and take Calum from the record shop and skip town completely.

“Call him,” Michael advises. “And leave me alone so I can finish playing Portal with Calum.”

“You could’ve done that while talking to me,” Luke says.

“And yet I paused it, just to take your call, because I’m just that nice and lovable,” Michael says. “Now fuck off.”

“Not so nice and lovable now,” Luke mutters.

Michael hangs up on him and unpauses the game.

January, 2015

Michael hasn’t done the research.

He doesn’t care. Or he does his level best pretending he doesn’t care. For a little while between his eighteenth birthday and Calum’s, he’d mostly been lying when he’d told people he didn’t care, but as soon as Calum had turned eighteen with no soulmate tattoo in sight, Michael had realized he actually doesn’t care.

And he doesn’t want to know what it means, not to have a soulmate tattoo. If Michael has to pioneer the movement of normalizing being tattoo-free, then so be it. He and Calum will be the frontmen. Besides, it’s not like anyone needs to know. It’s not like anyone should care.

Some people do care, though. Some people are invasive coffee shop customers who think they have the right to ask after Michael’s soulmate tattoo like it’s the sort of casual conversation you instigate while ordering a vanilla latte. Some people are wrong.

“Oh, I like your tattoo,” is what this woman says. She looks to be middle-aged, or maybe mid-sixties, and she’s talking about To The Moon, Michael reckons. Then the lady says: “Is it your soulmate one?”

Michael bites back a rude comment. “No,” he says.

“What’s your soulmate one look like?” the lady asks. Like she would have any right to know if Michael had one. Michael hates his day job.

He glances over at Luke, who’s halfway through making the latte, and grimaces, a desperate plea to be rescued from this conversation. He should have just lied and said To The Moon was his soulmate tattoo. But he’s sick of talking about it at all. And who’s this lady anyway, thinking she can just march in here, order a coffee, and then ask Michael about his soulmate tattoo like they’re acquainted?

Luke steps over. “Hi, ma’am, sorry, Mike’s much better with vanilla lattes than I am, you’ll want him on that,” he says. That’s a straight lie, but Michael gratefully slides away and goes to finish the latte. “Was there something else we can get for you?”

“Oh, I just wondered about your soulmate tattoos,” the woman says. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve seen people who have them so fresh, and — oh, I don’t know. I wondered.”

“Well, I can tell you I’ve got mine,” Luke says, and proudly displays the sun tattoo on his forearm. “My soulmate and I are together going on six months.”

“How lovely!” the lady squeals. “The sun, that’s beautiful. What does she have?”

“He,” Luke corrects uncomfortably, “has the moon.”

Michael tunes them out and finishes the latte. He puts less vanilla than he should, but the woman deserves something a little more bitter. Maybe it’ll wake her from whatever dreamland she’s in where nosy questions about personal topics are considered fair game.

At least Calum lets him complain. Michael’s been bitching about the old lady for about twenty minutes, but Calum, ever the patient and loyal best friend, has let him carry on.

“I just don’t get why everyone is so obsessed with knowing,” Michael finishes, and sighs deeply, feeling the weight lift from his chest. “God, I’m tired.”

“You just talked for nearly half an hour,” Calum points out.

“And I could go longer!” Michael says. “I’m irritated, Cal. Maybe I’ll ask the manager to blacklist her from the store.”

“Complaining will get you nowhere,” Calum reminds him. “And it sounds like she wasn’t trying to be invasive. Old people are just like that.”

“But she was,” Michael whines. He falls finally onto the couch, where Calum has sat watching him pace since he got home, and cuddles into Calum’s side. “See if I make her coffee again. I’ll throw a diva fit.”

“You do that every day, anyway. You threw a diva fit when I asked if your shampoo was two-in-one shampoo and conditioner.”

“Because who uses two-in-one, Cal? Animals, that’s who.”

“See? Diva.”

“Well, if she comes back, I’ll just bitch at her about shampoo and conditioner until she gives up and goes someplace else.”

“Just pretend you’ve become violently ill,” Calum suggests. “Or that you’ve gotten a very urgent call.”

“I’m awful at pretending I have calls,” Michael says. Calum starts carding through Michael’s hair. Michael knows it’s a trick to calm him down, and he hates that it’s working. Calum’s gentle, methodical gestures are soothing.

“Then just text me, and I’ll ring you, and I’ll make up a horrible emergency,” Calum says.

Michael sighs. “That’s why you’re my favorite, Cal.”

Calum brings his free hand up to pat Michael’s cheek. His hand is warm and soft and the touch feels familiar. “No problem. It’s what I’m here for.”

“To get me out of talking to annoying customers?”

Calum leans his head on Michael’s and presses a light kiss to his head. “Yup.”

“Can’t wait for our band to be famous so I can quit,” Michael mumbles. Calum laughs.

Michael closes his eyes. Calum is safe and comfortable, and it’s been a long day. He falls asleep, breathing in sync with the rise and fall of Calum’s chest.

four years and three albums later

It’s been a surprisingly long time since Michael’s been back down this street, since he’s seen this strip mall. Touring practically non-stop will do that to a person. Almost every shop he remembers being here has been replaced. Michael wishes Calum were here to do this walk with him, but Calum is a little bitch who’s been dragged into the studio for writing. Michael’s weaseled his way out of it. He loves to write, but he can do it outside of a studio, and he’s really not in the mood, today.

He wanders down the strip mall, listening to Good Charlotte to truly get himself back in his old emo mindset. Almost this entire strip mall is unfamiliar to him, except one store. Michael stops in front of it, scoffs, laughs, and walks in, tugging his headphones off his head.

The guy at the counter seems to recognize him. “Hey, it’s you!” he says enthusiastically, with a heavy Irish accent.

Michael grins, confused. “Me,” he says, as if that will clear anything up.

“Oh, sorry,” the tattoo artist says. “I just — I did your tattoo back in, what was it, 2014? And your mate’s as well.”

“Calum?” Michael asks. The guy snaps his fingers.

“That’s him. I keep seeing you guys on the TV now,” the guy says. Michael feels badly for not knowing his name. “Seems like you’ve made quite a name for yourself, eh? I always want to brag, you know, ‘I did his first tattoo.’ But I don’t name-drop. Feels cheap.”

“You can name-drop,” Michael says, thrilled that his name is even the kind of name anyone could name-drop. “I’m surprised you remember us coming here, that was a while ago. I’m really sorry, I don’t think I got your name…?”

The guy laughs. “Makes sense, you were pissed off your arses both times. I’m Niall.”

“Michael,” Michael says. “Although I reckon you know that.”

Niall nods. “I’m not likely to forget the times you came in anytime soon,” he adds. “First time I ever saw soulmate tattoos appear while I was in the middle of giving someone a tattoo.”

Michael’s heart stops.

“What?” he says, dimly.

Niall, unaware that he’s just said something groundbreaking and totally insane, carries on. “Oh, you know, the numbers. Birthdays, I think you said they were. You got his and he got yours, right? They just showed up, smack at midnight. Both times. Never seen it happen before.”

Michael can’t breathe.

“I,” he says, but fails to find words enough to finish that sentence.

“How’s the one I gave you holding up?” Niall continues. “I could take a look, if you like.”

“No,” Michael says. He feels dizzy. “Sorry, I…I actually have to run, I forgot — I’ve got to…” He shakes his head. “The birthday tattoo I have, I…I thought that came from here. I thought you did that.”

Niall frowns. “No, mate. That one just appeared. For your pal, as well. I was in the middle of doing the numerals when your birthday just, bam. Threw me for a loop.”

Michael trips backwards and steadies himself. “Okay,” he says, although he feels like he’s suffocating. “Well, um, I better run to my thing that I have — see you. Thanks.”

He all but races out of the tattoo parlor and doesn’t stop until he’s away from the strip mall. Then he leans against a stop sign.

Okay. This isn’t possible. It’s been — it’s been, what, three? Four years? Michael’s never had a soulmate. He’s okay with that. He’s never wanted one. He’s always been just fine, just him and Calum, and neither of them having —

Michael blinks and thinks about what Niall has said.

“Holy fuck,” he murmurs. He yanks his sleeve up and looks at his tattoo of Calum’s birthday again. “Holy shit.”

He pushes himself to his feet and starts purposefully making his way to his parents’ house, shooting off a text as he does:

michael: come to mine after studio. wanna talk to you

Calum has a key, so he lets himself in.

“Hey, Mikey,” he says. “What’s up?”

Michael has been playing guitar for the past two hours, or trying to, but his hands are still shaking too much. He sets it aside when Calum comes in.

“How was the studio?” Michael asks nonchalantly, like this is a normal day, and everything is fine.

Calum frowns. “You’re acting weird. You only texted me once. What’s going on?”

“Texting you once isn’t weird,” Michael says.

“Michael, have you met you? I’ve received one-word answers from you in more than one text.” Calum crosses his arms. “Why are you being weird?”

“We’re soulmates,” Michael blurts out.

Calum raises his eyebrows. “That’s impossible, given neither of us have soulmate tattoos, Mike.”

“Really? How’d you get my birthday on you, then?” Michael challenges.

“From when we got drunk on my eighteenth, you idiot, same as how you got mine on you.”

“Yeah? Cal, do you actually remember getting that tattoo? Hell, did we pay for these ones?” He stands up finally and shifts on his feet. “You asked to get 2012. Do you remember that?”

“Obviously, yes.”

“And do you remember asking to get my birthday?”

Calum stares at him. ��No,” he finally says.

“I think we’ve been colossally idiotic,” Michael says. “I never asked to get your birthday tattooed on me. We were just too drunk to remember.”

“Oh my God,” Calum says. “Holy shit.” And then he laughs, like it’s funny.

“Don’t laugh,” Michael says. “This isn’t funny, it’s absolutely mad.”

“Yes,” Calum agrees, still smiling. “Absolutely fucking insane. We are the dumbest people on the entire planet. I’m in love with you, Michael.”

Michael’s heart stops beating. “What?”

“I’m not sure I knew,” Calum says. “But I definitely am. I — it’s only you for me. You’re it. I didn’t want any other soulmate.”

“Me neither,” Michael breathes. “You’re it for me.” His face feels hot. “Oh, holy shit. I’m in love with you.”

“Welcome to the party,” Calum says.

Michael’s run out of things to say, so he kisses Calum.

It doesn’t feel like the huge revelation Michael might have expected. It just feels…right. In fact, it feels obvious. Like for years he’s been working to solve a math problem, and now he’s finally realized it’d been exactly what he’d thought. It’s Calum. Of course it’s Calum. Who else could it have been? Who else could it ever possibly be? Everything he’s ever felt about Calum has been love, even when it had been anger or hurt or confusion. He loves Calum, is in love with Calum, and always has been.

Calum doesn’t hesitate to kiss Michael back, cupping Michael’s jaw as if anchoring him to the kiss. He tilts his head, fixing the angle, and they fit so perfectly that Michael wonders why they’ve never thought to do this before. He tugs on the front of Calum’s t-shirt, pulling him closer, and wraps his arms around Calum’s waist, and it feels so natural, and so easy, to just kiss Calum like it’s what he was made to do. Calum licks at Michael’s lower lip and Michael’s intoxicated by the way it feels, Calum’s tongue in his mouth, Calum’s hands threaded in his hair, Calum under his palms, Calum, Calum, Calum. He makes a noise that’s half-groan and half-sigh, and feels Calum smiling against his lips. He pulls away. Michael feels dizzy.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “I really like kissing you.”

“Good, ‘cause there’s going to be a lot more of it,” Calum says.

Michael leans his forehead against Calum’s. “You taste of Vegemite.”

“There were snacks at the studio,” Calum says.

“Did you save me any?”

“Any Vegemite chocolate scrolls?” Calum leans back and raises his eyebrows. “Dream on.”

“That’s rude,” Michael complains. “I’m not sure I’m in love with you anymore. We should break up.”

“We’re not even really dating,” Calum says.

Michael blanches. “Oh. Right. Cal, d’you wanna be my boyfriend?”

“Not if you’re just going to break up with me straight away.” He sticks his tongue out. Michael wants to kiss him again, but he’s still recovering from the first.

“To be honest,” Michael says, “our tattoos are pretty shit compared to Luke and Ashton. They get the sun and the moon, and we just get a bunch of numbers? Birthdays? How uncreative do you get?”

“You’re going to challenge the ineffable power of soulmate tattoos because you think ours aren’t creative?”

“I’m just saying, it might have been nice to get something a little cooler or more symbolic.”

“I don’t know,” Calum says. “I like having your birthday. It makes me feel like you’ve been important to me since birth. And like I’ve always got a piece of you with me. The sun could be anyone, but this day is yours.”

“And Joe Biden’s,” Michael says.

“God, you ruin every moment, don’t you?”

“I share a birthday with Joe Biden!” Calum glares at him. “Okay, yes, that was really cheesy and adorable,” Michael concedes. “I like your birthday on me, as well. For the same reason.”

Calum grins. “For real, Mikey. Can we, like. Do this?” He gestures between the two of them, as if whatever this is will become automatically clear. Michael’s not sure what it is, or what it even should be. They’re best friends turned soulmates turned…what? “Be boyfriends and all?”

Oh. Well. That’s simple enough. “Yeah,” Michael says. “I’m not marrying you until I get a prenup, though. Gotta have that money.”

“God, can I break up with you yet?” Calum mutters.

“Nope, there’s a five minute wait time, and I just broke up with you like one minute ago.”

“We weren’t dating when you broke up with me then, though.”

“Well, I still did it, so you have to wait.”

“Fine,” Calum says. “I have an idea for what we can do in the meantime.”

It’s a pretty good idea, Michael decides when Calum kisses him for the second time. “Could kiss you forever,” he mumbles against Calum’s lips.

“Not if I break up with you,” Calum says. Michael pulls away, appalled.

“Oh my God, now you ruined the moment! You’re such a hypocrite!”

Calum doesn’t stop laughing for awhile, but it’s fine. Calum’s laugh is Michael’s favorite sound.

31 notes · View notes

mithranqueersmusings · 5 years ago

Text

Before This Dance Is Through II

Chapter: 2/16

Rating: T

Summary: Ringo's being going through a dry spell for the last year or so and when he regretfully tells his best friend John, he insists on taking them to an all-male strip club for some "fun". Ringo isn't sure whether it's the alcohol, his desperation or a mixture of the two but he thinks he might be falling in love with a stripper.

Tags: AU - Strippers, Modern Setting, Smut, Slow Burn

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo was just about to get into bed when a notification rang out from his phone, it was charging on the other side of the room because that was the only way he could get himself out of bed in the morning. It was almost 2 o'clock in the morning which meant the text could only be from one person.

you up???

This was far from the first of these texts that Ringo had received from John, they were almost a weekly occurrence by this point but more often than not Ringo had already fallen asleep.

was just about to go to bed. why?

do you have work tomorrow????

not until 12 do you?

fuck off

John was a writer, a poet more than anything, which meant that he was always working which really meant that he was never working. Ringo was a drum teacher, had been for almost 7 years at this point, which wasn't as exciting as it sounded; he mostly worked for rich families who had a child who was trying to do something edgy or was brought into schools for one of those strange activity days. Drumming was Ringo's passion and while he was glad that he was able to earn money doing something he loved, he dearly wished he was able to drum for himself rather than spending several hours a week just trying to get a kid to hold the sticks correctly.

i was about to take a little ride down the helter skelter care to join me ;)

Ringo stared down at his phone for a moment. It had been over a week since John had dragged him out to that strip club, and while he'd like to say that he'd forgotten about the whole thing it was far from the truth. The sight of Spike dancing on that stage had plagued his memory almost every night since, leading to more than one occasion of late-night indulgence. Ringo had felt guilty touching himself thinking about the other man, but he couldn't pinpoint the reason; he supposed it must've been the guilt he'd felt when watching him dance, and the shame that followed from having to run away into the bathroom like a scared, little kid. His thumbs were frozen in place hovering above his phone screen while his mind was racing. The sensible part of his brain told him to just go to bed, if he indulged this desire tonight it would make the last time more than a one-off and he wasn't sure he was prepared to accept that. Yet the deeper part of his mind, the one he often tried to ignore, urged him to go back just for the opportunity to see Spike again - after all, the current wank material he was providing was getting a little stale.

have you fallen asleep you twat

no no im still here

well do you wanna come or not?? i can pick you up

are you sober?

mostly

mostly?

fuck sake ARE YOU COMING OR NOT

fine but ill drive

whatever makes you happy

As much as he wouldn't like to admit it, Ringo spent a ridiculous amount of time - by his standards - choosing what to wear. Even though he knew the club was dangerously dark, and even though what he wore shouldn't really matter, that voice in the back of his mind told him to look nice for him. For the stripper he'd seen for about 5 minutes, the stripper whose real name he didn't even know, who probably didn't even remember Ringo in the slightest. He'd tried his best to not read too far into the obsession his brain seemed to have with Spike - trying to separate himself from his thoughts as though they were two separate beings had been a vital step in this - but as he stood in front of his mirror comparing two near identical jumpers, he supposed he wasn't going to be able to ignore it for much longer. His heart even felt heavy at the thought that Spike might be working tonight; he couldn't tell if it was just a strange fixation that his desperation had conjured up but the only thing he knew for certain was that he wanted to see him again.

Ringo arrived at John's place later than he would've liked but when the front door was opened to revealed a very ruffled, very drunk man, Ringo figured John wouldn't have noticed how long he'd been.

"Mostly sober?" Ringo scoffed at the sight of him, his cheeks rosy and a satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"You're not my mum and you're not the police, so fuck off." John was leaning against the door-frame, Ringo supposed partly for support and partly to look cool.

It was a common occurrence for John to get like this, far more common than Ringo would've liked. John drank a lot, at first Ringo figured it was just something everyone did when they got old enough to drink with almost no consequences, then as it continued he tried to explain it away as just something artists did. Years had passed since Ringo had first noticed it and nothing had really changed, it had gotten worse if anything, but there was nothing he really felt he could do. He debated whether he should cancel the plan altogether, to insist that John stayed home and got some sleep, but things were never really that simple. He was almost certain that if he refused to drive them, John would only find another way. He'd tried multiple things over the years: dragging him along to AA meetings, swearing to give up alcohol alongside him, even refusing to hang out with him if he'd been drinking, but nothing seemed to work. John had been through a lot, still was going through a lot, so Ringo figured the best thing he could do was simply to be there for John, it was both the most and least he could do.

Before they headed out Ringo at least managed to convince John to eat some leftover Chinese food he had in the fridge in an attempt to soak up the alcohol somewhat - and to ensure he'd had at least one semi-decent meal that day. They then slid into Ringo's car, it was a little beaten up but it served its purpose, and drove off to the place Ringo was almost certain would be the death of him. It was a Saturday so unsurprisingly the club was a great deal busier than it had been last time, there were several small groups of people smoking outside, some of them clearly workers and how they weren't risking getting frostbite Ringo didn't know. Any hopes of John sobering up a little on the journey there were dashed when he immediately hurried over to the bar as soon as they walked in the door. Ringo tried to stick to his side as best he could, his nervousness from the first time felt like it had tripled with how busy the place was now, so he aimed to keep in John's gravitational pull as much as possible. The music seemed louder but Ringo was certain that was just his imagination. They had to elbow their way to the front of the bar just to get noticed, luckily John had no qualms doing it, which resulted in a few glares from the other customers.

With their drinks in hand they couldn't sit - or hide as Ringo saw it - at the bar like they had done last time, instead they moved further into the club in search for a place to sit. There was a booth near the bathroom that was empty, for obvious reasons, which Ringo pulled them towards desperately. Maybe this was a bad idea. What was he really expecting after all? At most he'd catch another glimpse of Spike, almost have a heart-attack then have to run home less than ten minutes later. Anxiety began nibbling away at his mind, it had a nasty habit of doing that, and the claustrophobic atmosphere wasn't helping. John seemed right at home, as he did almost anywhere, craning his neck between people in search for someone.

"Looking for your Paulie?" Ringo asked in an eager attempt to calm his nerves.

"He's hardly mine." John chuckled, not turning to look at Ringo but continuing his search "Might not even be working tonight."

"Don't you have like his schedule or something?" Ringo sipped his drink.

"That'd be making things a little too official. Not really my style." John sat back in his seat with a small huff, clearly he didn't find what he was looking for.

From where they were sitting they had a fairly obstructed view of the stage but from what little Ringo could gather he wasn't too interested: a muscular man dressed as a policeman was gradually getting undressed while making crude use of a prop baton.

"Any sign of your guy?" John shouted to be heard over the music and it made Ringo jump.

Ringo paused for a moment looking into John's eyes, he considered playing dumb but decided there was no use "Afraid not. Maybe he's not working tonight either."

"That'd be some rotten luck." John clicked his tongue in his mouth "Let's check the back."

"The back?" Ringo raised an eyebrow "That sounds unbelievably dodgy."

"It's not! Well..." John broke his sentence with a laugh "It's just where they do the more 'alternative' stuff, you know?"

"No I don't know, but I suppose I'm gonna find out." Ringo chuckled rather weakly.

John raised his glass in the air a little and Ringo clinked his own against it, they downed the remainder of their drinks and slammed the glasses down on the table unnecessarily hard. John then led them around the edge of the stage, they managed to get another drink at the second bar before they headed down a suspiciously narrow set of stairs which led to an even darker corridor. They then passed through a squeaky door into a small room, barely lit excluding a spotlight focused on a stage at the other end. There were several people scattered across the limited space, a few resting against a makeshift bar which consisted of planks of wood connected to the walls and the rest sat to face the stage.

And there he was. Spike was sat on a stool onstage with an acoustic guitar in his lap and absolutely nothing else. It wasn't a sight Ringo had been prepared for, as much as the erotic gyrating and tear-away clothing had been a shock to his system this was completely different.

Ringo stopped in his tracks when he computed the sight: his pale, lean body curled up around the guitar that he was playing beautifully. His hair wasn't coiffed this time, rather it fell down across his sharp face in waves with faint curls. John turned around when he'd noticed Ringo's absence beside him, a sly grin curled on his face as he grabbed Ringo's arm and pulled him down to the front where they sat.

"What did I tell you?" John whispered "Sexy art."

Spike didn't seem to notice them despite how close they were, he seemed completely immersed in the music he was playing. Ringo hadn't recognised the song at first, perhaps he'd been to busy focusing on other things, but now he could tell it was 'Heaven' by Talking Heads; he made a happy note in his mind that it seemed like the two of them had a somewhat similar music taste, although he couldn't really admit that such a thing shouldn't matter. Looking around at the other customers, it looked like they were mostly taking refuge from the chaos of the main room, many of them resting their heads against the bar for some comfort and the others bordering on unconscious.

Somehow this occasion made Ringo feel even more nervous, even though their previous encounter had been extremely closer and inherently sexual, it was more personal therefore way more uncomfortable. He could hear his voice now, another piece of the puzzle he was shamefully building in his mind, and it was beautiful. It was a little husky but still gentle, an accent poking through in places. Ringo could get a better look at his face now: the dark eyelashes, the hints of hair between his two eyebrows and sharp canine teeth protruding from his open mouth. His eyes focused on the slender fingers playing the guitar strings, veins showing underneath the skin. Ringo felt like he was watching something very private, as if Spike was completely unaware of everyone's presence and could see nothing but his guitar. A quick way to Ringo's heart was through music and it was looking like Spike had bought a first-class ticket.

Ringo hadn't even noticed that the song had ended at first, not until John began clapping and cheering loudly in his ear. Spike seemed similarly out of it, the sudden sound of John snapping his attention away from the music and he gave a small smile in response. They seemed like completely different people: the strutting, confident man from a week ago and the soft, vulnerable one in front of them now. Sparse claps followed shortly after John's, the lack of energy caused by alcohol wearing off was very evident.

"You're pretty good." John almost shouted, Ringo wasn't sure if it was because he was drunk or he still hadn't adjusted from the other room.

"Thanks." Spike replied, his fingers still wrapped around the neck of the guitar "Any requests?"

Ringo had thought his singing voice was beautiful, but the way he spoke somehow had even more of an effect on him. The accent was thicker now and judging by how such a small amount of words could excite him so much, Ringo knew he was in trouble.

"I dunno... What do you think Ringo?" John nudged his friend beside him, embarrassingly emphasising his name which just about managed to shake Ringo from the daze he was falling into.

"Oh, er-" Ringo stammered for a second, Spike looking right at him wasn't helping his nerves in the slightest "Know any Bob Dylan?"

Spike laughed at this and for a moment Ringo cursed himself but before he could chastise himself too harshly, Spike smiled again and spoke "He's one of my favourites."

John nudged Ringo again but he wasn't paying enough attention to him to get embarrassed. He was far too focused on how Spike's fingers began to play the guitar once more, the way his lips moved over his teeth and how his bare feet tapped against the footrest of the stool as he began singing 'Just Like a Woman'. Once again he seemed to disappear into the music which Ringo was very grateful for, for if his eyes began to wander and met his unfaltering gaze he was certain he wouldn't be able to take it. For the majority of the song Ringo had completely forgotten his surroundings, the faint pulse of the loud music from upstairs or the drooling men strewn about the room, he'd even forgotten that Spike was naked while he played. John seemed similarly impressed, although he was considerably more inebriated than Ringo was, and he could see John passing him a few sideways glances during the song.

When the song ended John enthusiastically applauded once more, Ringo followed suit with a slight delay as he found his mind shutting off everything around him. Spike looked down at the two of them with a smile, shuffled in the stool then stood up.

"Well that's all from me." He spoke "Thanks for listening." The words were directed purely at John and Ringo, while there were others who appeared to be barely listening in the back nobody else seemed to be paying much attention.

"Wait!" John called out, startling both Spike and Ringo "Are you done for the night?"

Spike chuckled softly "No, they're gonna close this room in a little bit though, so you might wanna clear out."

"Will you give my friend a private dance?" John asked and now it was Ringo's turn to nudge him.

"Not dressed like this I can't." Spike gestured with his free hand to his nakedness, his guitar was the only thing upholding his modesty.

Ringo was glaring at John now, who only gave him a quick glance before returning his attention back to Spike "How about we come find you upstairs in a few minutes?"

"Fine by me." Spike replied and turned his gaze to Ringo "But your friend doesn't seem too keen."

He didn't give either of them time to protest, which was probably for the best because Ringo was having trouble articulating any coherent thoughts, as he turned his back and walked off the stage. Ringo fought the urge to not look at his arse as he left, and failed entirely. John giggled at the sight which broke Ringo's absentmindedness. The nudge evolved into a harder shove which only intensified John's laughter.

"I hate you." Ringo hissed but he couldn't stop the laughter from breaking through.

"What did I do?" John held his hands up helplessly and Ringo gave him another shove which rocked the chair sideways.

A bouncer walked into the room at the moment, calling for everyone to head back upstairs; Ringo envied the unconscious drunkards that were unable to return to the main room. John's laughter didn't subside the entire time they made their way up the stairs, only being silenced when he took a sip of his newly ordered drink. The room had thinned out a little, Ringo supposed the closing of downstairs only signalled that most people were going to start heading home now, but there were clearly many people who were aiming to stay as long as they possibly could. They managed to get two seats at the bar which allowed Ringo to look amongst the crowd nervously for any sight of Spike.

"What are you so worried about?" John asked, leaning his elbow on the counter.

"Honestly I don't know." Ringo chuckled "It's a bit pathetic, huh?"

"You said it, not me." John grinned "No, no it's just strange. I know you're not the world's biggest slut but you're no prude either."

"I don't think it's a prude thing." Ringo suggested.

"Then what?" John pried, he ran his finger around the rim of his glass.

"It's just him." Ringo lowered his voice a little.

"Well shit. Ringo's in love with a stripper." John matched Ringo's volume but enunciated the words enough that he may as well have been shouting.

"Shut up." Ringo shook his head "You're one to talk."

"Don't bring Paulie into this, that's a strictly professional relationship." John pointed his finger in Ringo's face which made him laugh. "This isn't about me anyway, it's about you. I'm not leaving here until you get that dance."

"You might be waiting a while then." Ringo said a little sadly.

"Nope, I refuse. You'll thank me later, I swear to it." John had moved his hand to Ringo's shoulder now.

"I'm just scared." Ringo mumbled.

"Of what? Ringo, these people have put up with the weirdest, creepiest fucks you can imagine. He'll probably be over the moon that you don't look like you belong on a register." John shook Ringo lightly, forcing him to look up at him.

Ringo let out a huff "Fine, if it'll shut you up."

"Sure if that's the line you wanna go with." John chuckled "You want it Ringo, stop denying yourself the pleasure. Be more like me."

"I dunno if I wanna take it that far." Ringo looked out amongst the room again and caught sight of a familiar face.

John followed Ringo's line of sight and beamed when he spotted Spike "Come on then, time to pop your cherry."

"Please don't put it like that." Ringo rolled his eyes as John pulled him up from his seat.

It wasn't really nervousness he was feeling, it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what it was. Ringo knew that he if he didn't want to this then he didn't have to, it would've been as simple as that, but he did want to. It was probably exactly how much he wanted it that scared him. Like the feeling that happens right before getting up on stage or before revealing good news to a loved one: excitement so intense it can turn into sickness. And Ringo was excited; he was very, very excited.

#the beatles #beatles #beatles fanfic #the beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #george harrison/ringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #ringo starrxgeorge harrison #george harrisonxringo starr #starrison

8 notes · View notes

joshslater · 6 years ago

Text

The Cupbearer

This is a relay, doing a continuation of tamed-jock’s continuation of jd07201990′s story. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

Infection+2:25

Let's write a captains log, like Tyler and I used to do, only this time I have actual observations and events to record. It is now approximately 2 hours and 25 minutes since he placed the cup on me. I immediately went home, and have done some preliminary studies of the object.

My most immediate concern is the attachment mechanism. I can really only think of three, suction, adhesion or some sort of mechanical attachment to my... thing. Observations are a bit limited as the object responds to stimulii. In the first instance when I grabbed it in the rest room there wasn't much of a response. The feeling was similar to that of a vacuum pull in the whole area, but I'm not feeling a constant force as I would expect from vacuum. Also, when the cup was applied it felt like it was filled with, or quickly filled up with a gel of some sort.

Wanting to rule out vacuum, or in best case break the vacuum and remove the object, I attempted to insert a narrow tube from my model steam engine in between the skin and the object. That did provoke a response. It felt like the contents of the cup was rapidly replaced or infused with icy-hot gel. This entry has been delayed by approximately 40 minutes, as I have been lying on my bed and desperately trying to avoid touching it. Every time I fail I get like a pulse of renewed icy-hot in the cup.

Infection+2:50

I've decided to avoid further experiments and focus on observation and external research. The cup itself appears to be mix of carbon fiber, titanium and some other fairly high tech materials. This points to high tech origin, but beside the logotype I find no other markings like brand, manufacturer, patents, serial number etc. My first attempts to Google this kind of product or stories from someone with similar experience come up short. I took a picture of the logo, cleaned it up and sent it through USPTO image search to see if anyone has a trademark on it, but came up empty as well.

It sure smells bad. I need to come up with an excuse for mum.

Infection+6:00

I told mum that I'm having my scent-month, as if every teenage boy has one. I said Tyler just had his, so if she checks with his parents they will confirm it. Why does it smell so bad though? It is clearly the cup that emits it, since the smell came on pretty strong only seconds after Tyler attached it. Is it distraction? Is it to mask something else? Is it to make the wearer body conscious or odor conscious and avoid contact with other people? Is it to acclimate the wearer to the smell? I don't see how I can answer any of these questions purely from observation though. Something to sleep on perhaps. How do you pee with this thing?

Infection+6:15

So the pee just kind of filters out in the lower part of the cup. If you want to use a toilet you have to basically sit on it reverse, do you thing, and then wait a few minutes for it all to drain out. A big drawback is that you have to step out of pants and boxers to even sit reverse on a toilet.

Infection+10:20

I think the damn thing just woke me up. Or I'm just have a restless night because of all that is happening, and more importantly what will happen. Fuck you Tyler!

Infection+12:05

It's definitely the cup that woke me. Just as I was waking up I could feel some sort of vibration down there. What other crazy shit have they packed into the device. My bedroom smells like a locker room. Thanks Tyler!

Infection+13:55

Fuck it, I'm getting up. I'll pee in the shower.

Infection+14:20

So that didn't work as well as I hoped. I could pee fine, but when I turned on the shower it was like pouring water in a gym shoe. If it smelled bad before, it absolutely reeks now. I think I'm gonna steal one of mum’s pads and tape it to the front, since it is still leaking God knows what and then wrap it in plastic and hope that contains the worst of it.

Infection+17:30

I didn't think of mobility enough. Jeans are clearly out of the question, so I went to school in chinos. It's bad enough that the cup is rigid, over sized and fully attached. Add to that some extra padding and cram it in chinos that aren't exactly lose to begin with, and you have something that looks funny stationary and awkward/hilarious when moving.

If I walk slowly I think I might come up with a gait that might be described as exaggerated jock sway, which would be step up from whatever ludicrous I'm doing now. Damn, I should have practiced yesterday.

I need to find some better pants, because these are too tight and restrictive.

Infection+21:30

My efforts to contain the smell isn’t fooling anyone, but I hope it just smells like I have a bad hygiene day. My crotch is a sauna though. The plastic wrap needs to go. Tyler kept his distance. I wonder if he is ashamed, or if he doesn't give a shit. Perhaps they have some sort of protocol he adheres to.

Day 2, 4:40 pm

Let's stop fucking around with the childish infection timer. This is serious. I found something sobering when doing some online patent search.

I was just blindly trying to find patents for any of the different things this cup does, and managed to find a description on "bio-polymer adhesion complex and application for individualized restriction control". I don't understand more than a fraction of what is written, but in the schematics there is a drawing of EXACTLY the cup I'm wearing. The list of example uses in the description includes prison inmates and persons under house arrest. This is a retrofitted fucking ankle bracelet.

It's originally designed to never come the fuck off through tampering. Fuck.

Day 2, 6:30 pm

Mum gave me some Vichy Laboratories excessive odor control deo roll on she bought at the pharmacy. Roll on to what, exactly? Well, she can only solve problems she knows about I guess. Should I tell her? Would she mind having a sports jock son? She would probably tell me to do whatever makes me happy. Would I be happy? Tyler certainly looks pretty fucking pleased.

Day 2, 8:20 pm

I've not spent that much time on wanking before. Like once or twice a month. But now that I can't my mind kind of wanders to it all the time. I've done some, let's call it research, that you can orgasm pretty well by putting something in your ass. Not doing that.

Day 2, 9:46 pm

Got some weird hot flashes in the cup while taking a shower. Smells as bad post shower as the last time. I don't know if it is the smell or I'm tired, but I went to bed early. I'm too hot and sweaty to fall asleep though.

Day 3, 2:12 am

Can I go to the police? This is clearly some sort of assault. Tyler would be the first one under the bus. Perhaps the coach. Probably not further than that. This is backed by serious money after all, so they will just protect themselves and their IP. Does it really matter though? By the time they've forced any action I've had this thing on me for a month, I've grown a donkey dick and gone completely mad. Much good some cash compensation will do then. And do I want to punish Tyler? Fuck yeah I want, but not like that. He's a victim too.

Go directly to a hospital then? If I can't figure out what this thing is or does, how would hospital staff be any better. They'll probably start cutting around it, and there is no telling how it will respond. It was designed to never come off, at least not without a fight. Probably horribly so, to set an example.

Day 3, 2:28 am

I'll try to sleep in the garden. It's cooler outside and doesn't stink.

Day 3, 4:51 am

Dozed off a bit I think.

I've been thinking about the construction of the cup. There are a some design details that has been nagging me. For something that small it appears to be almost magical in abilities and power storage. But then it hit me, it's not crammed packed with batteries, electronics, vials of chemicals and all other stuff you might need to build something like this.

It's biological. Perhaps not in the "alive" sense of an organism, but "alive" in the sense a virus is alive. It's a biochemical robot following instructions encoded in DNA, or something like it. If you consider it a manufactured parasite it all makes sense. It has access to the resources of a full human body and can leech heat energy and pee chemicals off the body indefinitely. The "bio-polymer" attach to the skin, and perhaps even have direct access to nerve impulses. There is really thin membranes in the dick, so it can probably send stuff directly into the blood stream as well.

Fuck.

Day 3, 9:36 am

I just realized I can't remember a thing that has been said so far in school today. I need to cum!

Day 3, 11:23 am

Becky spent her presentation on "Manspreading". She probably started working on the talk already last week, knowing her, but she clearly directed a lot of the points directly at me. Looked directly my way for most of the talk. No, Becky, I'm not subconsciously asserting dominance.

I CAN'T PHYSICALLY CLOSE MY LEGS, BECKY!

I found a different pair of chinos that works better, Becky. No matter what I do, there will be a pretty sizable bulge down there though, Becky.

Day 3, 14:02

God Dammit! The inside of the cup just went super cold 10 minutes into math class. I couldn't finish a single thing. Just not jumping and screaming was hard enough. It's mostly back to normal now, I think.

Day 3, 15:14

This is what I think happened. They started to test the cups on inmates. By mistake it started to leak chemicals or active DNA from the device into the inmates. They had tested the cup technology artificially before, on pigs perhaps, and hadn't seen these effects. But they didn't put it on the pig’s dick, did they.

So suddenly their inmate control device has turned into the worlds best slow release injector for men. Perhaps even the original formula made dicks grow. They just made the minimal needed changes and paid coach to start human trials on teenagers.

Then why the fuck do I need to keep this log? They must have so much more data on what is done to us to have a useful trial. I guess this might come in handy in the inevitable court case.

Day 3, 16:40

I'M SO HORNY ALL DAY.

I went to have a cold shower. If anything things just went even worse. How is this happening! FUCKING FUCK TYLER FUCK

Day 3, 20:18

Why do I have to do this? I know what the end point is going to be. A fucking dumb, arrogant jock dick. Assuming it is inevitable, and I don't see any way out, why not have it over and done with tomorrow. Just walk to the gallows and submit. Whatever that thing is doing, physically and mentally, is minimized the sooner it's off me. Back when Becky would speak with me she told me a rumor that the nerds gone jocks all had monster cocks. She didn't say anything about the regular jocks, so it probably is specific to this procedure.

And if they, the old jocks, are not joining up hand over fist to get such dicks, the procedure itself, or the side effects, must be pretty discouraging. Otherwise they would just cram the cup down their own pants.

Let's get rid of this thing first thing in the morning.

Day 3, 11:49 pm

Fuck, it vibrates.

I've been sweating balls, trying to sleep naked without any sheets. I was just sort of tugging at it, to see if I could feel anything in the dick, when it started to vibrate. It's been going for like 15 minutes now.

Day 4, 2:11 am

I smell.

The cup stinks, but I smell. While trying to ignore the humming dick I noticed that my armpits smell like moist gym bag.

I showered like 10 hours ago. That's never been a problem before, so it's definitively changing me somehow.

I fucking need this thing off me ASAP!

Day 4, 2:20 am

fucking god dammit it went ice cold again

Day 4, 7:38 am

So I went to the locker room. Once inside I realized I didn't really have a plan. What if they were not all in on it? I would appear like a lunatic, ranting about sci-fi balls cups. Turns out I didn't need to worry. First guy who saw me, Derek or Devin or something. Big guy, short buzz, looks intimidating. Anyway, he saw me and started shouting "You are not supposed to be here." I was like "I need to get something removed".

He walked up right into my face. "You are not on the list. Tyler fucked up so someone has to be punished. Fuck off!"

I hesitated to leave. He took one step forward, physically pushing me backwards and almost had me trip over. "GET OUT!" he shouted right in my face.

Day 4, 9:16

I've been locked inside the disabled toilet and crying since leaving the locker room. How long can I go with this thing on? You physically die after about a week without sleep, but it is letting me sleep in short bursts, so perhaps it could keep up indefinitely. I can't. I won't. Why shouldn't I just tell everything to mum, have her call the school, the coach, the press. Whatever is needed for someone to get this thing off me.

I should think this over carefully. But how is that possible if you are sleep deprived, horny AF and your dick is on vibrate mode? I can't stay here though. I'll walk home and tell mum first thing she gets home.

When I open the door, the first thing I see is Tyler, leaning against the opposite wall and smiling a smirk.

- Sup bro? - FUCK YOU! You ruined my life! - It was a shit one anyway. You should get another one. - That's not happening either, is it?

Suddenly I was bawling my eyes out. Exhaustion, sleep deprivation, rejection, horniness, anger. It was all coming together.

- Heyyy bro, come here.

I fucking hated him, but somehow I didn’t just bolt. I walked right into his arms and let him hug me. I realized that his change in appearance and personality had obscured his bodily changes. Just feeling his arms around me, I could tell he had gotten a lot stronger.

- You know Steve O'Conner in the chess club, right?

It was such an odd non-sequitur. I had to struggle a bit, but yeah, I'd helped him with a science project last year.

- A little bit, why? - I talked things over. Give him this and you are back on the list, second place.

He handed me another cup, packaged in a sealed, tearable plastic bag. I know I should feel sorry for Steve, but the only thing I could think of was my vibrating dick.

340 notes · View notes

phantasticworks · 5 years ago

Text

If You Don’t Love Me, Pretend - Chapter Five

An early update for once? Perhaps. Thank you everyone for reading and for all the lovely comments I’ve seen, I appreciate it a lot!

read on ao3

Words: 12.6k

Summary: Dan and Phil face more difficulties in their personal life while they wait for a decision to be made on their foster parent status.

Warnings for this chapter: swearing, mentions of alcohol and sickness

The next morning is arguably a bit better than the night before, in some ways. In several other ways, however, it’s worse.

In the light of day, it’s easy to forget any of the conversations they’d had the night before that may or may not have left Dan feeling guilty and sad, but one thing that’s not easy to forget is the headache he’s got. He expected it, naturally, but he had been half-hoping that the paracetamol from the night before would have had a bit more effect on his head, rather than just relieving his nausea of the night before. He groans at the light coming in the window, rolling over and throwing an arm over his eyes. As he does this, he realizes that he’s got a fair bit of space on the bed, which he’s a little surprised by.

Sure enough, when he sits up and glances around, the bed is empty besides himself, which he frowns upon realizing. It’s not like he fully expected Phil to stay with him the whole morning, but, well… he’d hoped.

Just as he goes to crawl out of the bed and into the bathroom, Phil steps into the room, his eyebrows shooting up when he looks at Dan. “Oh, good, you’re up.” He smiles, and Dan shifts, wondering if he’s in a good mood or just pretending to keep things from being awkward.

“Yeah,” Dan croaks, cringing when he hears his voice.

Phil nods to the water on the nightstand, leaning against the wall beside the big mirror he hates cleaning. “I brought that in here about an hour ago, but you were dead to the world.” His lips quirk up as he says this, and Dan can’t help but mirror his small smile as he takes a sip of the water, now room temperature.

“Thanks,” he says appreciatively, balancing the cup on his knee. “How long have you been up?”

Shrugging, Phil moves to come sit beside him, his eyes watching the cup warily. Dan rolls his eyes and brings his other hand up to clutch the cup, mainly to calm Phil’s nerves about the precariousness of it. “I’ve been up since nine, and it’s almost twelve now, so… that long.” Phil shrugs before he brings his hand up to Dan’s forehead. “How’re you feeling?” He asks, his blue eyes searching Dan’s face for any sign of discomfort.

Dan subtly presses forward, pressing his forehead harder against Phil’s hand, mainly because it relieves a bit of the tension. “My head hurts,” he says simply.

At this, Phil snorts, dropping his hand. “I’m sure it does, mate. You drank a lot.” His eyes drop then, staring down at the glass rather than at Dan’s face. Dan can imagine what he’s thinking, but he’s already decided not to share the truth behind the way he’d acted the night before. He did, however, come up with a semi-convincing half-truth.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, moving his hand to poke Phil’s thigh. He smiles when Phil rolls his eyes at the childish gesture. “I… I guess just having your family here sort of overwhelmed me, and I got to thinking about it and how they probably think this is crazy, and I guess I just feel like you’re going to change your mind,” he admits, staring down at his hands wrapped around the glass of water. He’s surprised at how easy it comes to him, but then he realizes he’s really not lying. Sure, it wasn’t unfounded fear, but beneath the anger of hearing Martyn trying to dissuade Phil from doing this with him, Dan truly did believe that the main reason he’d acted that way was because it made him afraid that Phil would change his mind.

“Dan,” Phil says quietly, causing Dan to look up. He gives him a soft smile, knocking his knee against Dan’s gently. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you. I told you I would do this, I’m going to do it. You know I don’t back out of things once I’ve made up my mind.”

His words do ease some of Dan’s anxiety about it, but he’s still concerned about what would happen if Phil regretted it or decided at some point he didn’t want to do it anymore. Honestly, it would be better for him to just admit it now, even if Dan didn’t want it to happen, because it would be much harder if they’d already started fostering when he comes to the conclusion that Dan fears he might. Still, Dan desperately didn’t want that to happen at all, so he really hopes that somehow it won’t.

Rather than sit and dwell on this on a perfectly good Saturday morning, Dan nods, smiling weakly at Phil. “Okay.”

Phil smiles before moving to stand up. “Think you can get up or do you just wanna have a lazy day today?” He asks, reaching for Dan’s almost empty cup, likely to refill it.

“I think I’m going to take a shower and see how I feel after that,” Dan replies, handing him the cup and sliding off the bed. “Did you want to do anything today or is it okay if we just hang out here?” He rifles through his side of their closet as he speaks, glancing over his shoulder when Phil doesn’t immediately answer. It’s only then that he realizes he’s very much underdressed, in only a pair of boxers for once, not even a t-shirt thrown over it. He blushes as he feels Phil’s gaze on him, stuttering out an apology as he shuffles to the bathroom, not even waiting for a response as he goes to take a shower.

Slightly mortified at the fact that just happened but not fully understanding why, Dan starts the water in the shower, waiting for it to get nice and warm while he brushes his teeth. A moment later, he pulls his boxers off, tossing them off to the side somewhere and stepping into the shower, pulling the frosted glass door close behind him. He was so grateful that the en-suite bathroom had such a huge shower, and he was even more grateful for the nice clouded glass.

He's reminded just how thankful he is for this type of glass when the door to the bathroom swings open a minute later, nearly making him jump. Luckily the glass is pre-made to be hard to see through and the steam from the hot water had managed to make it even more so.

“I brought you some more water and paracetamol, Dan.” Phil’s voice carries from the door, and Dan can just make out the vague outline of him through the glass. “I’m gonna pop down to the shop, do you need anything?”

Dan thinks for a moment as he lets the water run over his hair, considering Phil’s offer. “Lemonade would be nice,” he calls back softly, incredibly aware of the fact that the only thing keeping Phil from seeing his naked body is a layer of glass. He can’t explain the slight spike in his heart rate at the thought, although he chooses to blame it on nerves.

“Okay,” Phil laughs quietly. “I’ll be back in a bit, call if you need anything.”

The door closes behind him softly, and only then does Dan relax, closing his eyes as he tries to get his thoughts on literally anything other than the fact that his best friend was so close to seeing him so… exposed, for lack of a better word. Sure, they’d known each other for ten years and had lived together for a good portion of that, and there’d been that time, nearly a decade ago when they’d met… but Dan refuses to remember that, so he goes right back to thinking about how much his head hurts instead. Anything to keep his thoughts away from… that.

He showers quickly, although he does want to take advantage of the vacant flat and relieve some stress, he’s just not feeling up to it. His head is hurting and he’s just not feeling well enough to even enjoy a proper wank, so he doesn’t bother. Instead he showers as quickly as he can, skipping conditioner in favor of getting out and back into bed sooner.

He changes into the sweats and t-shirt he’d brought in, taking the paracetamol Phil had left for him and hoping he can stomach some crackers or something to avoid getting sick. He’s surprised only slightly to find that Phil has also left him some toast on his nightstand, and while it’s probably not as warm as it would’ve been if he’d eaten it when it was made, the gesture behind it makes him tear up a little bit. He blames this on his hangover, shoving whatever pathetic emotion that is down while he goes to eat his toast.

After he’s finished and laying on his side, his eyes closed as he tries to encourage sleep, he listens carefully for any indication that Phil has returned. He hates himself a little for it, but he desperately misses his best friend, and he feels that with everything that’s happened he hasn’t really had any time with just Phil lately. He can’t explain it really, but he misses how things were before everything became such a complicated charade.

At some point between laying down and going down this spiral of thoughts, Dan must fall asleep, because the next thing he knows, he’s being woken up by the feeling of a blanket being pulled over him. “Phi-?” He mumbles, his voice coming out garbled with sleep.

“Hey. It’s just me. Go back to sleep.” Phil’s voice is quiet and soothing, and Dan sighs in relief, catching the older man’s hand as he pulls the blanket up and over Dan’s shoulders.

“Missed you,” Dan sighs, squeezing Phil’s hand once before letting go. He’s exhausted and doesn’t want to open his eyes, but just knowing that Phil is there makes him feel at ease. “Sorry I’ve been such a shit friend lately.” The words tumble out of his mouth without his permission, but they’re true and need to be said, honestly.

“Dan...” Phil sighs, sounding tired. “You need to quit apologizing. Everything is fine. Just get some rest, okay?” Dan feels his hand come up to brush against his forehead, and Dan nearly shivers at the contact.

“M’kay.” He feels the bed shift again, probably indicating that Phil is leaving, and Dan reaches out to tug on his T-shirt. “Stay here?” He pleads. He was whiny when he was ill, but he felt less guilty about it since he was also half asleep.

A sigh escapes Phil’s mouth, but Dan feels him shift to lay down. “Just for a few minutes, then I’ve gotta go do some things. Okay?”

Dan only hums in reply, already too gone in unconsciousness to respond.

~~~

The rest of the day is slow, even by their standards. Dan wakes at one point to find Phil asleep next to him, and from the looks of things, he’d never left to go do some things after all. The thought makes Dan smile, and he tries his best to be subtle as he studies Phil as he sleeps. He’s vaguely aware of how creepy this is, but he brushes the thought away. They share a bed, and he’d just woken up to find Phil asleep not six inches away; of course he was going to look at him, he was bored, and it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. At least, that’s what he tells himself to justify it as his eyes study the shape of Phil’s lips and the lines around his eyes.

When Phil eventually wakes, Dan has the common sense to act like he’d only been awake a few minutes rather than the half hour he’d probably truthfully been up. Luckily, Phil buys this easily, more concerned with how Dan is feeling.

“I’m better. The nap helped,” he admits, sitting up and stretching. He smirks at the face Phil pulls upon hearing his back pop, and just to be a pest, he does the same motion again.

“Stop that!” Phil complains, shoving him. “It’s disgusting.”

Dan shrugs before climbing out of bed and grabbing his phone. “Wanna go watch Riverdale with me?”

Phil sighs dramatically but nods. “Yeah. We should order something. How does Chinese sound?”

“Sure,” Dan agrees easily, leading the way to the upstairs lounge. They had the one downstairs, but their TV was upstairs, which sometimes, he admitted, was a little annoying.

Their day is completely unproductive in every sense of the word, but Dan feels more relaxed than he has in a while. They don’t talk much, only to make fun of the characters on the show they’re watching. They certainly don’t talk about what had happened the night before, which Dan is honestly grateful for. Instead they spend the rest of Saturday and most of the day Sunday just hanging out and watching various shows and movies on Netflix. At some point Phil makes them go grocery shopping, but other than that, they stay completely unproductive.

By Monday, Dan feels well rested and ready for another week of school counseling and after-school foster carer training sessions. He’s standing in their bedroom buttoning the buttons on the solid black shirt he’s picked out for today when Phil walks in, his eyes raking over Dan as he walks over to their bed. Dan quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on this, considering Phil was probably just amused at the fact that he was in all black, yet again.

Proving his thought correct, Phil nods to the closet as he climbs onto the bed and leans back against the headboard. “You have shirts that aren’t black, you know. And so do I.” His eyebrow is raised as a smile twitches at his lips, clearly challenging.

Dan shrugs, fixing the cuff on his sleeve. “Yeah, and? This one looks good.” He goes to put on his shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Phil’s feet as he pulls them on.

Phil’s foot comes up to prod at his hip gently, and Dan smiles a little down at his shoes that he’s pulling on. “I didn’t say it didn’t,” Phil replies quietly. He’s watching Dan with an odd look on his face, and when Dan sits up to meet his gaze he feels a little self-conscious.

“Yeah?” he teases, dropping his hand to Phil’s foot and tracing the stars on the sock he’s wearing.

“Of course. We both know you look good in black,” Phil shrugs as if it’s obvious, and Dan feels a weird tug in his chest at the half-compliment. “It’s just like staring into a black hole when I look at you.” Phil grins as he says this, clearly finding himself very funny.

Rolling his eyes, Dan squeezes Phil’s foot before standing up. “You’re hilarious.” He grabs his phone from the end of the bed before lightly tapping Phil’s thigh with it. “Do you want to come have lunch with me today?” He’s not sure why he’s feeling so clingy all of a sudden, but he really does want them to have lunch together, since they haven’t done it in a while during the work week. It wasn’t uncommon for them to do it, but lately things have been so busy with either Phil’s job or his own, and they hadn’t been able to since before the whole fostering thing happened.

Phil nods, moving his foot to press his toes against Dan’s leg, as he’s standing so close to the bed. “Sure. Do you want me to pick something up on my way?”

“Yeah, that’ll work. Indian?” He’s hopeful as he says this, as he’s been craving Indian food lately.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want. See you at twelve?” Phil tilts his head and he looks so adorable sitting there looking up at him, Dan just wants to lean down and kiss him. Obviously, that would be completely weird, so he doesn’t do it.

Instead, he pokes the arch of Phil’s foot, making him jerk it away immediately. Dan only smiles and does it again, causing Phil to squeal and tuck his feet under the duvet. “See you later, dear. Don’t forget to stop for Indian food or I’ll break your hands,” Dan tosses the words over his shoulder as he walks out of their room, cursing himself for the term of endearment almost as soon as it’s left his mouth.

Phil doesn’t even seem to notice it, thankfully. “Be safe driving and wear your seatbelt, Daniel!” He calls back, making Dan smirk before muttering an agreement.

He drives to the school carefully, just as he’d promised, his seatbelt nice and snug across his chest. He’s only a little distracted this morning, mainly just replaying their conversation from earlier, his mind almost unable to wrap around the simple domesticity of it all. It had always been like that, he was sure, but lately it just seemed… sort of amplified, in a way he couldn’t really grasp entirely. Sure, a few aspects of their friendship had changed in some ways, but not in ways that should make Dan feel like he does now. He feels… content, actually. Content in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while.

Dan clears his head quickly when he gets to the school, trying to force himself into his work persona. He had things to do today, mainly things that involved schedules and some administrative work he didn’t want to bother with, but those were the perks of working in the education system, he supposed.

He’s barely even settled into his chair in his office when there’s a knock, the door opening before he can even respond. He isn’t too surprised to see Louise standing there, a smile on her face. “Sure, Lou, come on in, I’m not busy or anything.” He rolls his eyes fondly as he waves her in, knowing that she won’t be the slightest bit offended by his sarcasm.

“You’ve just gotten here, Daniel, we both know you aren’t fussed with work yet,” Louise laughs as she comes in, settling herself in one of the chairs across from him.

When she doesn’t immediately offer an explanation for her presence, Dan raises an eyebrow at her in question. “Can I help you?” he asks, trying not to laugh at the look of offense on her face.

“What a way to make a girl welcome!” She giggles along with him, clearly not truly bothered by his attitude.

Dan rolls his eyes before leaning on the desk, smiling at her. “Right, where are my manners?” She starts to answer, and he shoots her a look. “How are you, Louise? It’s so good to see you. Would you like some tea? What do you want?” He counts each question off on his fingers before smirking at her. “That cover everything?”

Louise rolls her eyes at him, giving him an unimpressed look. “Honestly, Dan, can’t I just come by and visit my favorite counselor?” Her voice is sweet, and he’s immediately suspicious.

“No,” he answers immediately, shaking his head. “I think you’re up to something.”

She looks guilty, and he knows he’s right. “Alright, fine, I did have a question, or more of a request.” She bats her eyes at him as if it’s going to soften the blow for whatever horrible thing she’s about to say, and he just waves her on to get it out. “Well, you’re obviously very busy these days with wedding planning and what have you.” Dan’s proud of himself for containing his confusion for a second before he realizes what she’s referencing. Then he’s stiffening in nervousness, worried about whatever is about to come out of her mouth.

“Yeah…” He drags the word out, looking at her with narrowed eyes. “And you’re mentioning this because?”

Louise smiles and sets her hands on the desk, looking like she’s about to try and sell him a membership to some sort of exclusive company. “Well, obviously I’ve met Phil before, but not as your fiancé,” she starts, and Dan’s stomach twists. He’s afraid he knows where this is going, and he’s not sure he likes it. “So, I think you should have him join us for lunch!” She beams, as if this is the best idea she’s ever had.

Dan raises an eyebrow at this, propping his chin up on his hand. “Is that so?” He asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The blonde rolls her eyes, her smile dropping in favor of a pout. “Please, Dan! I know he comes to lunch sometimes, but I just want to know more about your relationship, and I feel like what better way to do that than having you both here for lunch?”

Her request actually makes sense, and he almost hates it that much more because of this. And it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she joined them for lunch, he supposed, since the more people knew, the more believable their little charade would be.

He sighs dramatically, sitting back in his seat and tossing his hands up in defeat. “You’re in luck this time,” he drawls, rolling his eyes as he pulls his phone out. “Phil was coming for lunch today anyway.”

Louise claps her hands excitedly, a huge smile on her face. “Yes! This’ll be so much fun, Dan.”

The brunette snorts at the idea that this is going to be a fun experience but chooses not to comment on that. “I need to ask him if it’s okay for you to join us though, because when we made plans this morning it was just going to be the two of us.” He shoots her a look as if this is an inconvenience for him, which he supposed it wasn’t really. He was just being a little reluctant because he wasn’t positive they could pull off the whole relationship thing to someone who thought it was actually real. Even though they’d pulled it off with Hazel, he wasn’t sure they could really convince someone who already knew them, but he guessed they were going to find out.

“Oh, hush. You get enough of him at home, share the man a little.” She winks as she says this, and Dan’s cheeks flush at the implications behind her words.

He rolls his eyes at her as he dials Phil’s number, glad that he knows that Phil won’t have left for work yet and should be close to his phone. It takes him a moment to answer, and when he does he sounds a little breathless. “Yes?”

Dan frowns, glancing at the phone for a moment before bringing it back up to his ear. “Are you okay? You sound strange.”

Phil clears his throat, and Dan thinks he almost sounds… embarrassed? No, maybe not embarrassed. Perhaps a little guilty. Dan hopes he hasn’t broken anything but knowing him there was honestly no telling. “I’m fine.” His voice does sound a little more normal, so Dan just assumes his phone was in a separate room and he’d had to rush to get it before it stopped ringing. That explains the shortness of breath when he’d answered, at least.

“Alright… I have a question.” Louise smiles sweetly at him from across his desk, and he rolls his eyes. “Do you mind if Louise joins us for lunch today? She insists on fleshing out every detail of our romance, preferably over lunch for some reason.” Louise shakes her head at this with a huff, but Dan only smirks.

He hears a laugh from the other end of the line, and Dan smiles since Phil hadn’t gotten annoyed at the suggestion. “That’s fine with me, Dan. Just text me what she wants from the Indian place and I’ll bring everything over around twelve.”

Dan nods, glancing over at Louise and giving her a nod, to which she claps quietly, a look of excitement on her face. “Alright.” Hyper-aware of Louise’s presence, he averts his eyes to his screen, slightly uncomfortable with the pressure of acting like a couple, even when his supposed other half wasn’t even present. “See you then, babe. Be safe.”

Phil giggles, likely at the pet name, and Dan vows to kick him for making it even more embarrassing as soon as Phil gets here. “Bye, Dan. Oh, I mean, bye babe.”

He tries very hard not to blush at the term, because it sounds very different coming from Phil’s lips, and Dan hates it. He hangs up without any further comment, well aware that calling Phil out about it with the audience he has will only end in an awkward explanation.

“There. Happy?” He says snidely, crossing his arms childishly as Louise stands, nodding happily.

“Very. See you at lunch, Dan!” She trills as she steps out of his office.

Before the door closes, he calls out, “Text me what you want for lunch, we’re having Indian takeaway!”

She responds with an affirmative and shuts the door. As soon as he hears the click, he drops his head to his desk, feeling as if he’s went and gotten himself into a proper mess.

~~~

When twelve finally rolls around, Dan is filtering through a stack of paperwork on his desk for students who would be taking their GCSEs at the end of the year, double checking that each of them was scheduled in a testing area and had an assigned date for their exams. He’s so focused on his work that he doesn’t notice the door swing open, until he hears a voice.

“Whatcha doing?” Dan glances up at the sound of Louise’s voice, finding her smiling as she bustles in with a bottle of Diet Coke.

He smiles at her, gesturing to the papers. “Working on GCSE scheduling,” he glances over at his phone, checking the time. “Phil should be here in a few minutes, I reckon.”

Louise nods, sitting in one of the chairs across from him. “How’s the scheduling coming along?” She asks, leaning over the table to look at the paper he’s been writing on.

He moves it so she can see it too, running his pen along a column. “It’s fine, but I actually had a question about this. I know this is just the first draft that you guys had sorted, but would it not make more sense to move the few year tens that are taking it to an earlier period? There’s a few that have some of their electives during that time, and I don’t think they should miss them.”

The blonde slips into professional mode seamlessly, her eyebrows furrowing as she scans the paper. “Hm… I’m not sure, Dan, because if we do that, we’ll need to move-“

The door opens then, interrupting her sentence. They both glance up and a smile graces Dan’s lips easily at the sight of his best friend. Phil shoots them a sheepish look after realizing they’re talking about something. “Sorry, should’ve knocked.” He glances over at Dan, an embarrassed smile tugging at his lips as he walks over to Dan’s side of the desk, setting the food down.

“You’re fine, love, you don’t have to knock.” Dan smiles, not even realizing he’d used the endearment until it’d already slipped out. He doesn’t even consider feeling embarrassed about it though, not after the smile that graces Phil’s face.

“Hi, Louise,” Phil smiles and nods to the blonde before surprising Dan as he leans closer to him, bracing one hand on the desk as he presses his lips to Dan’s cheek softly. The younger man tries very hard to fight the annoying fluttery feeling in his chest at the contact, since he knows it’s only for show because Louise is there. It’s brief, but he can still feel the warmth of his lips even after he pulls away. “Sorry I’m a bit late, but the food is fresh and warm, that’s for sure.”

Louise has such a pleased smile on her face as she looks between them, Dan very nearly rolls his eyes. “You’re perfectly fine, Phil. Sit, sit, I haven’t seen you in so long, we have loads to talk about.” She pats the seat beside her and Dan sends her a pleading look, mentally begging her not to make this weird or uncomfortable. He had a sneaking suspicion she was going to get way too personal and he would much rather avoid that.

“You’re right, it has been a while! We’ve just been so busy with the fostering and everything, it’s-“ Phil stops almost immediately, his eyes widening as he shoots Dan a panicked look.

There’s a silence in the room where Dan contemplates jumping out the window to avoid Louise’s reaction, but then Phil would be on his own with her, and he couldn’t do that to him. So instead of that, he just sighs, sending Phil a smile that says It’s fine, before glancing over at Louise. She looks a mix of confused, excited, and angry, and he knows she’s feeling left out of the loop.

“Before you ask, Lou,” Dan starts, holding his hands up when the blonde looks at him. “I wasn’t hiding it or trying to be sneaky. I just didn’t want to tell anyone until we got further along in the process.” He glances over at Phil, who looks guilty. He sends him a reassuring smile, hoping that that’s enough for now.

“I… I’m just surprised, is all,” Louise admits finally.

Dan shifts in his chair, unsure of how he’s meant to take that. “Is that, like… an insult?” He asks tentatively, sharing a look with Phil.

“No, no, definitely not!” Louise rushes to say, holding her hands up as if to wave away the accusation. “I just… I’m surprised that you two are doing something so big so soon, before you’ve even married.” She doesn’t sound judgmental in the slightest, but still Dan feels a pang of hurt in his chest and looks down, chewing his lip anxiously.

Phil, always in tune with Dan’s every thought and emotion, speaks up then. “Well, we’ve been together ten years… does it matter that we aren’t married yet?” Dan’s eyes flit up to meet his, almost in panic, but Phil is just studying him carefully with a small smile on his lips. “I mean, marriage is essentially just a piece of paper, right?” He turns to look at Louise now, and Dan’s a little nervous for the direction this conversation seems to be taking. To distract himself, he begins pulling out the containers of food and sorting them out to who they belong to.

“Well, I mean, in some ways, yeah,” Louise says slowly, apparently not following exactly what Phil is saying. Dan’s heard the speech, or a variation of it, a million times, so he’s pretty sure he knows where it’s going. Phil was against marriage, denying that it held any real value. Dan didn’t disagree exactly, but… he wasn’t so sure he wanted to relive this conversation in front of his coworker and good friend, especially since they were still trying to keep up the appearances of an engaged couple.

Phil shifts in his seat, glancing over at Dan as he does, their gaze catching for only a moment before Dan looks down again. He didn’t want to look at him while he heard Phil tear apart the concept of marriage, he just couldn’t do it, not with the circumstances. He braces himself for what he knows is coming, because he definitely can’t just tell him to stop talking, not since he’s gotten this far.

Instead, Dan is surprised when he hears Phil say something else entirely.

“Well, think about it. Marriage is symbolic. It’s not going to make me love him more. I won’t wake up the morning after the wedding thinking, “wow, I love this human more than I did before. That’s ridiculous.” Phil shakes his head. Meanwhile, Dan is trying desperately not to show his inner turmoil over hearing Phil say that four letter word with such ease, in association with him. Sure, they’d said it to each other over the years; they were best friends, of course they loved each other, but it had been a while since it had been expressed so bluntly. The fact that the context was different in this situation also didn’t do his clenching heart any favors.

Louise seems dumbstruck, and Dan meets her gaze with an embarrassed sort of smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever considered it like that. That’s… quite a good point, actually.” She seems to have a strange sort of moment then, where she just sits back and looks over at Dan, an odd look on her face. Dan hands them each their food, hoping the conversation will change course now, but of course Louise has to go and say something else. “What made you decide to do it, if you think it’s just symbolic? What changed your mind?”

Phil glances up at her, a conflicted look on his face before he looks over at Dan. Dan’s stomach churns at the fond smile on Phil’s face when their gazes meet, unable to help himself from mirroring the expression. “Dan did.” His eyes are light and if Dan didn’t know any better, he would say that he was being absolutely honest, rather than lying through his teeth like Dan knew he was for the sake of keeping up their appearances.

Only able to handle so much cheesiness at once, Dan rolls his eyes, fondly. “That’s enough of that for today, I think.” It’s nearly impossible for him to will his blush away, but he thinks he manages it well enough. “How’s work been today?” He directs this question to Phil.

His blue eyes light up, and Dan has to repress a smile at how cute he looks so excited about his job. “It’s actually been great. I think we’ve got a few guests lined up for the new game segment we’re trying out for the next couple weeks. I’m really hoping that’s a success, since we’ve got Nick Jonas and Demi Lovato coming on to play in about two weeks. Oh, and we’ve been planning more for the project we’re working on this weekend.” Phil glances at Louise then, a sheepish look on his face as he seems to realize that he’s only speaking to Dan, not really explaining the things he’s doing in detail since Dan already knows so much about it. “Sorry, I get a little carried away about the radio show. If someone doesn’t stop me, I’ll talk for hours.”

Dan rolls his eyes, nodding. “I can attest to this.” Phil pouts at him, but then Dan finally processes something Phil had said. “Wait, this weekend? What’s this weekend?” His eyebrows knit together as he thinks back to their calendar, trying to remember if Phil had a trip coming up. He thought it wasn’t another two weeks until he was meant to have a work trip, so this must be something else.

Phi shoots him a curious look. “We’re filming that mini documentary this weekend. In Ireland,” he adds, as if that’ll help jog Dan’s memory. “Did you forget about that?” He doesn’t sound upset or annoyed, just curious, and Dan ducks his head and shrugs.

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s a little sad that Phil wouldn’t be home, as he hadn’t prepared to be alone for an entire weekend. He’s vaguely aware of how pathetic that sounds, even in his own head, but he felt that he’d grown sort of reliant on the constant company, and it would just be strange to be alone for that long after so long of sharing their space all the time. He shrugs in response to Phil’s question, stabbing a piece of chicken with his fork. “No, I guess not.”

Louise pipes up then, a look of glee on her face. “Aww, poor thing, you’ll miss him, won’t you?” She says this so sweetly, and Dan can tell she’s just eating up this opportunity to tease him about his relationship. If only she knew the truth.

He rolls his eyes at her. “Obviously I’ll miss him, Lou.” He shakes his head at the ridiculousness of such a question. Even if they weren’t pretending to be in a relationship he’d miss him; Phil was his best friend.

“Dan’s clingy, isn’t he?” The blonde turns to Phil, a sly smile on her face.

Dan glares at her, crossing his arms. “I am not,” he protests, rolling his chair over to his mini fridge to get a drink. He only had one bottle of Coke, and he made a mental note to get more the next time he went to the grocery store.

Phil smirks at him, shrugging. “A bit, but not in a bad way,” he answers Louise’s question, causing Dan to send him a heated glare. “I’m the same way, Dan, and you know it.” Phil only rolls his eyes at the look on Dan’s face, not affected in the slightest.

“Whatever,” he mumbles, taking a sip of the drink before handing it to Phil. “You’re lucky I’m sharing this now, after that comment. It’s my last one.” He’s fully aware of how childish he sounds, but he feels it’s justified after Phil called him out like that.

“Thank you, love,” Phil says sweetly, his eyes dancing with amusement when their gazes meet. Dan almost takes the drink back then, just on principle, but he isn’t that cruel.

“You two are well adorable and all, but it’s a bit like watching two children fighting,” Louise observes, looking highly amused by this.

“Believe me, I know,” Dan sighs, dropping his chin onto his hand as he gets back to his food.

The rest of their lunch is spent talking and teasing, and Dan eases into their charade more than he thought he would. It’s honestly no different than normal, aside from a few added pet names here and there, which Dan doesn’t mind in the slightest. In fact, he’s quite enjoying it, fake as it is, because hearing those terms drop so easily from Phil’s lips is a little intoxicating to him.

Eventually, though, it ends, as Louise is called back to her office about fifteen minutes before their break ends, a disciplinary matter awaiting her. She insists that they meet for lunch more often, sending Phil a wink as she leaves them alone. Dan, drained from every aspect of that interaction, drops his head to his desk, sighing. He hears the chair in front of him shifting as Phil stands, followed by the sound of his footsteps drawing closer, sitting on the edge of the desk beside where Dan’s head was. Dan sighs again when he feels Phil’s hand drop to his hair, his hand raking through the curls in a comforting way.

“You okay, bear?” He asks softly. Dan’s heart clenches at this particular nickname, as he’d always had a soft spot for Phil calling him that. It’d been happening more recently, he’d noticed, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain about that.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, tilting his head to look up at Phil. “Just… Louise can be a lot.”

Phil smiles at this, nodding. “Yeah… But I think we did okay, yeah?”

Dan can only return the smile, nodding. He closes his eyes as Phil pets his hair for a few more moments, wishing more than anything that they were home. With a resigned sigh, he sits up, effectively causing Phil to remove his hand. “I guess you need to get back to work.” He hates the idea, but he’s comforted in the thought that he’ll get to see him later at home.

“Yeah.” He tilts his head, concern on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look tired.”

Dan shrugs this off, clearing the food items off his desk. “I am tired,” he jokes, not missing the look Phil sends him. “I’m fine, promise. What time are you coming home?”

Phil sighs at the change in topic but answers him anyway. “The show’s over at four, so I’ll be home after that.”

“You don’t have to stay and work on anything else?” Dan asks timidly, unsure if he should even hope that he says no.

A smile tugs at Phil’s lips, and he doesn’t hide it very well at all. “Nope. I’ll be home as soon as I can be.” Then, surprising Dan for the second time in one hour, he leans in, kissing Dan’s forehead gently. “See you at home, Dan. Be careful driving, okay?” He waits for Dan’s nod of affirmation before he smiles and stands, carrying the trash from their lunch out with him as he goes.

“Thank you for lunch,” Dan calls before Phil gets to the door, propping his head up with his hand and sending Phil a tired smile when he looks back at him.

Phil just shakes his head, a fond look on his face. “I’ll see you later, Dan.”

Dan can only smile at this, watching as the door shuts. Only then does he let himself consider that today felt different, that he felt different. He absolutely refused to acknowledge the little voice in his head that wanted to give him suggestions about why that might be, and instead dragged his paperwork back out, busying himself with important things, like his career.

There was no room for second guessing his relationship with his best friend in his life right now, especially not with everything that was currently staked on them successfully acting as if they were a happy couple. He absolutely wasn’t about to ruin that with any of these irritating thoughts about what he used to feel. Even if things did feel a little similar to that time now, he couldn’t simply put aside everything else about their life or their friendship to revisit feelings he may or may not have felt nearly ten years ago. That was ridiculous.

At least, that’s what he tells himself repeatedly the rest of the afternoon, as he struggles to focus on the rows of names on the sheets in front of him.

Needless to say, it was a long day.

~~~

Phil hadn’t been lying when he said his trip to Ireland was that weekend, and even after Dan double checked their shared calendar in the office, he still frowned, wondering how on earth he’d gotten the dates mixed up. He doesn’t ponder this too long, as their evenings are still filled with foster carer training, and on one evening that week, another home visit from Hazel, which goes just as well as the last. She informs them that they have a date for their panel meeting, and they’re both excited to see that the process is moving along so smoothly.

By the time Thursday rolls around and Phil is actually getting packed for his trip, Dan is pretty much exhausted. He’s by no means happy that his best friend will be gone for four days, but he’s slightly relieved that at least he can nap the majority of the day and catch up on various chores around the house without fear of judgement.

Thursday night they’re sat in their bedroom as Phil packs his things. Dan was sitting on the bed, watching Phil with a pout on his face as he collected his clothes and shoved them in the bag. Despite his typical habit to procrastinate to the last moment with his own packing, Dan is rather bossy as his best friend packs, reminding him constantly of things he might’ve forgotten.

“Do you have your charger?” He asks, holding onto his legs as he sits criss-cross at the end of the bed beside Phil’s bag, peering over into it with concern.

Phil rolls his eyes at him, nodding. “Yes.”

“And your passport?” Dan’s aware that he sounds a bit like a helicopter mum, but he hates the idea of Phil flying on his own and forgetting something, with Dan not there to help him. Sure, he’d flown alone plenty of times, but Dan still felt that he should be there with him.

“Dan. Relax. I’ve got everything, okay?” Phil tosses a couple pairs of socks into the bag, sending Dan a reassuring smile.

Dan shifts, feeling a bit defensive. “I just wanted to make sure,” he says, his voice unintentionally small.

Phil stops moving around then, seeming to pick up on Dan’s mood. He stops and kneels down in front of Dan, dropping his hands to the younger man’s knees. “I know you’re just concerned, and I appreciate that. But I’m fine, okay? I’ve got all my ducks in a row, I promise.” He smiles then, his blue eyes bright. Dan can tell how excited he is for this trip, and he hates himself for worrying so much, probably dampening Phil’s desire to go.

“Okay,” Dan mumbles, dropping his gaze down to his hands that are folded in his lap.

“Hey,” Phil says gently, drawing Dan’s eyes back to his own. He’s got a soft look on his face as he reaches up, tucking a curl back into place atop Dan’s head. “I’m not upset with you for trying to help. I’m glad you care that much.” His lips stretch into a smile at this, and Dan averts his eyes from his best friend’s lips immediately, meeting his gaze again.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “I’d prefer if you didn’t die or run out of clothes or get there and not have your- do you have your contacts?” He breaks his own train of thought to rifle through Phil’s bag. He’s surprised when he feels his hands being tugged gently away.

“Yes, I do. And you need to stop worrying. I’ll let you check my bag when I’m done packing to make sure I’ve got everything, but until then you’ve gotta quit worrying. Deal?” He offers, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

Dan considers it for a moment before shrugging, nodding. Phil smiles and stands again, moving around the room to finish collecting all his things. Dan sighs, laying back on the bed. There’s a thought bouncing around in his head, and he knows he doesn’t need to voice it, but he wants to say it so badly it feels like he’s suffocating with the weight of it.

Finally, he can’t stand it any longer. Without sitting up, he says, “Did you mean what you said about marriage earlier?”

Almost immediately, he regrets asking, but he needs to know. The room is silent for a moment, and he’s a little concerned that maybe Phil didn’t hear, but then he hears an awkward chuckle. “Which part?” He asks, sounding a little nervous.

Dan shrugs, considering this. “The part where you said that it was basically just a symbol because it didn’t change how much you love- someone.” He very pointedly does not use his own name in that narrative, because he knows that this thing between them isn’t real, and he doesn’t want to put words in Phil’s mouth.

Again, another silence. Dan props himself up on his elbows for this, looking over at Phil. The older man is stood by their closet, his eyes locked on some spot on the lower wall, chewing his lip. He looked deep in thought, but he answers without looking away from that spot. “Yeah. That’s what I’ve always thought, to an extent.”

Dan lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, laying back down. For some reason, that doesn’t sate his curiosity about the topic, and his brain supplies that maybe that wasn’t the part of the conversation earlier that he’d wanted clarification on. He pushes that thought far, far out of his mind immediately. “Oh,” he murmurs softly, unsure what else to say.

It’s quiet for a moment before Phil comes back over, dropping something else into his bag before he comes to stand just between Dan’s legs that are dangling off the bed. Dan glances up at him at the contact, very pointedly not thinking about the fact that he’s laid down, stretched out on the bed, with Phil standing over him like this. He very carefully keeps his gaze on Phil’s face and his thoughts on things like Slenderman and dead puppies, because god knows he hasn’t had time to release any sort of tension recently, so this position could very easily become a problem.

“Why do you ask?” Phil inquires, staring down at Dan with a strange look on his face. Dan shrugs, letting his eyes trail up to Phil’s quiff and then up to the ceiling.

“No reason, I guess. I just thought it was interesting, since I’ve heard you rant about how stupid marriage is for years.” He keeps his voice neutral, and it wasn’t as if he was lying. He did think it was interesting for that reason, but he also knew that the question he’d wanted to ask wasn’t something he had any right asking.

“Oh.” Phil sounds a little disbelieving, but luckily, he doesn’t press. Instead, he just taps Dan’s thigh. “C’mere.”

Dan glances up, a little surprised to see Phil holding his hands out. Dan obliges almost immediately. He felt that he definitely deserved a hug for today, and especially since Phil would be gone for four days. He sits up and wraps his arms around Phil’s waist, burying his face in his chest. They were both tall, so it wasn’t very often that Dan got to feel so short and comforted in his grip, so he reveled in the feeling of Phil wrapping his arms around Dan’s shoulders, leaning down so his cheek is resting atop Dan’s head.

Breathing deeply, Dan decides he’s allowed one more selfish comment for today. “I’ll miss you.”

Phil’s arms tighten around him, and he closes his eyes when he feels his chest rumble with a laugh. “I’ll miss you too, bear.”

It’s hard to tell how long they sit there, but Dan eventually feels a lump building in his throat, and he knows it’ll only be a few minutes before he’s a mess if he doesn’t stop this now. He leans away, gesturing to Phil’s bag. “Get to it, mate, I’m ready to go to sleep.”

The joking tone seems to lighten the mood, and Phil laughs loudly, ruffling Dan’s hair as he steps away. “Yes, your majesty.”

Dan smiles at this, laying down on his side to watch Phil move around. It’s not long before he’s done, and after Dan checks through the bag and reminds him to get his toiletries in the morning, he’s satisfied with Phil’s packing and more than ready for sleep. He curls up under the duvet and waits for Phil to turn off the lights and join him. As soon as they’re both in the bed, Dan reaches out and pokes his best friend’s chest.

“Be safe tomorrow, okay? I know you’ll probably wake me up with your elephant feet in the morning, but I want to say it now anyway.” He brushes Phil’s hair back, lingering for a moment before pulling his hand back to his chest.

“I’m not even that loud,” Phil complains, his eyes rolling.

Dan shakes his head, smirking. “You are, but that isn’t point.” He shifts slightly closer, his expression morphing into a more serious one. Even if it was a short flight, he still worried. “I want you to text me when you get to the airport, if you don’t mind. And when you land, so I know you’re safe.”

Phil smiles, leaning across the few inches separating them to press a kiss to Dan’s forehead. Dan’s grateful for the darkness, probably hiding the blush he feels creeping onto his cheeks. “I will, Dan,” he says softly.

His chest suddenly feeling a little tight, Dan only nods, rolling over onto his stomach, not so subtly getting closer to Phil as he does it. He closes his eyes, although he knows that he probably won’t sleep until he’s replayed that sweet forehead kiss about three hundred times, committing it to memory. “Night, Phil,” he whispers into the pillow.

He feels the gentle pressure of Phil resting his hand on Dan’s lower back, stroking gently before his reply comes. “Goodnight, Dan.”

~~~

When Dan wakes up, it’s to an empty bed, and empty bedroom. He tries not to let that bother him, instead thinking positively about the fact that he got some extra sleep in. He grabs his phone to turn off his alarm, smiling when he realizes he’s got some messages. One is from his mum, and the others are from Phil.

Phil: I just left the flat and didn’t wake u up so suck it Howell

Phil: I’m at the airport now and I’m not the last crew person here thank god that would be awkward

Phil: I hope these aren’t going to wake you up, but since it’s been a bit and you still haven’t answered I’m gonna assume they haven’t

Phil: getting on the plane perfectly safe text you when I land x

That was the last message, and Dan maybe lingers too long on the little “x” at the end. Just maybe.

He showers and dresses for work quickly, counting the time around when Phil last texted him to figure out when he would land. If his math was right, it would probably be shortly after he got to the school. He messages him back just to show that he’d read his last messages, and to assure him that he hadn’t been woken up.

Dan: didn’t wake me don’t worry. am glad ur safe on the plane and didn’t die yet

He knows Phil well enough to know that he’ll find the humor in that, where some people might think he’s being insensitive and indifferent. In reality they both knew that Dan worried a lot about flying alone, whether it was him or, in this case, Phil. He just masked his concern with jokes, since that seemed to work much better for him.

The drive to the school goes by in a blur as he’s got his mind on other things, and he drops his things off in his office quickly before venturing out to the staff lounge to get some coffee. He was earlier than usual, probably due to the lack of distraction this morning. Phil not being there maybe had a positive side after all.

He’s just gotten back into his office when there’s a knock on his door. “Come in,” he calls, setting his mug down and moving to open the curtains. He glances to the door when he hears it open, pleasantly surprised to see Charlotte. “Charlotte! How are you doing?” The girl smiles timidly before pointing to one of the chairs. He nods, gesturing for her to sit as he does the same. “Everything okay?” he asks when she doesn’t speak.

She fidgets for a moment before she finally brings her gaze up to meet his. “They terminated our parents’ rights yesterday,” she says, so quietly that he almost thinks he hasn’t heard her properly.

After a moment of speechlessness, he finds his words somehow. “I’m so sorry that this happened to you, Charlotte,” he whispers, his voice full of hurt. His heart ached for this child, and he’s suddenly thrown back four months ago, when this child had sat in his office telling him exactly what was going on at home. She didn’t realize how much her decision to tell him affected not only her life, but his as well.

The girl only nods, tucking her hair back behind her ear. “I only wanted to tell you since… you know, you helped us out. Thank you, by the way.” She briefly meets his eyes before dropping her gaze back to her hands once more. “It sucks and everything, but we’re so much safer than we were. And that’s because of you.”

He can’t help it when he stands and offers her a hug. She stands quickly, and he gathers her up in his arms, holding her tightly. There were rules and regulations about student-teacher contact, but this child had been through so much, and she needed a hug. “I’m so sorry this happened, Charlotte, but I’m glad I could help in some way.” He hesitates for a moment before pulling away, holding her at arm’s length. “You know, because of you, my fiancé and I decided to start fostering.”

She looks surprised, and he’s not sure if it’s because he’d just mentioned having a fiancé or if it’s because of his admission to fostering because of what he’d seen with her situation. “Really?” She asks, her eyes lighting up.

Dan nods, moving to sit back in his chair. “Yes. I’ve wanted to do it for years, but after that day… Well, that really gave me the push I needed to do it.”

Charlotte sits back down carefully, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I think that’s great, Mr. Howell. And I think you’ll make a great parent.” She smiles before blushing, nodding to the filing cabinet in the corner. His gaze wanders over to it, and he notices what she’s looking at. “Is that your fiancé?” She asks timidly, referencing the picture of him and Phil on their trip to Japan.

He nods, his heart swelling with something he thinks is pride. “It is.” He smiles, looking at the picture for a long moment before turning back to her.

She smiles back, nodding. “You look good together,” she compliments before going to stand. “I should get to first period, but I just wanted to come by and let you know what happened and say thanks.” She grabs her backpack and is on her way out the door as she speaks.

“Thank you for telling me. Stop by anytime you need me, Charlotte.” He watches the door close, his smile slowly slipping into a small frown. Of course, he loved seeing the children he worked with, and he was glad she felt comfortable coming to speak to him, but seeing her had been a reminder, like a splash of cold water to the face.

Regardless of whatever he thought his feelings could be concerning Phil, this whole act had a purpose. A purpose that was bigger than both of them. It was entirely based on the idea that they do something to help these kids who didn’t have anyone else. There wasn’t any time or place for him to feel the sort of things he thought he’d been feeling lately, and this had just been a good reminder of why. He vows to keep himself in check from now on, but when his phone dings with a new text, he already feels his heart change pace.

He’s beginning to think that he’s totally fucked.

~~~

“Tilt your screen down, you spoon, I can barely see you.” Dan is laughing as he gives the instructions, but he honestly just wishes Phil would fix the damn laptop, so he could see his face better. They were Skyping, and while he felt codependency was written across his forehead, he really didn’t regret it; he missed Phil already, and this was just so nostalgic for them, as their friendship had started online all those years ago. There’d been many late-night skype calls back in those days, and he was honestly a little excited for the nostalgia of it.

Phil does as he’s instructed, tilting the screen until Dan can clearly see his face. “Better?” He asks brightly, grinning with his tongue caught between his teeth.

Dan nods into his own little laptop camera, smiling. “Yes.” His eyes take in what he can see of Phil’s hotel room from this angle, and he raises an eyebrow. “I like your hotel room. The BBC is doing a nice job putting you guys up.”

Rolling his blue eyes, Phil shifts to lie down on his side, adjusting the laptop as he goes. “Thanks. I booked the rooms for this trip.” He rolls his eyes again, showing his distaste for the task. “This one isn’t terrible, but the room service isn’t great.” He frowns at this, and Dan watches him glance up at something Dan can’t see. His heart squeezes a little at how tired Phil looks all of a sudden.

“Well, why aren’t you just out to dinner with everyone else? I’m sure no one else is hanging out in their room alone.” He means this to be teasing and light, but he doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that crosses Phil’s face as he frowns.

“Because I wanted to talk to you,” he says almost immediately, the honesty in his voice sends Dan spiraling into his own mind; what if, what if, what if.

He has paused for too long. Phil’s frown reappears, deeper-creased. Say something, Dan. He has to say something. “You could’ve texted or something. You know, if you’d wanted to go out.” Guilt courses through him at the idea that he’s holding Phil back, and he hates that feeling so much.

Phil shakes his head, moving his laptop away from him a bit. “I wanted to see you, too,” he says softly.

Every feeling Dan has ever had is shoved under a magnifying glass, a hundred, no a thousand times bigger and warmer than before. But he’s playing it cool. “Yeah?” What if, what if, what if, WHAT IF- “I wanted to see you too.”

There’s a silence when they just look at each other for a moment, and Dan feels so comfortable that he’s actually surprised. He would’ve thought that surely after all these years it would feel weird skyping, after so many years practically attached to the hip, but it actually didn’t feel much different than it used to. He’s annoyingly reminded of the similarities as his heart swells when Phil begins talking about his day. Just like old times.

They talk for less than an hour, but Phil’s eyes keep drifting to a certain point and he keeps snapping his head back to the camera, and even if Dan doesn’t have to work in the morning, Phil does. “Okay, go to sleep, granddad. You clearly can’t stay up past your bedtime,” Dan jokes, wishing more than anything that he was there with him. He shakes his head to clear that thought immediately.

Phil yawns then, only adding to Dan’s point. “I swear I wanted to stay awake longer,” he smiles blearily. “But I’m not going to lie, I’m exhausted.”

Dan nods, trying not to laugh at him. “I know, I can tell. It’s fine. Just text me tomorrow and let me know you’re okay. If you’re not exhausted when you get back to the hotel I’ll call, okay?”

The older man smiles warmly at this, propping his head up on his arm as he gazes into the camera, and Dan feels that gaze is looking right into his soul. “I can’t wait.” He pauses for a second before shifting, glancing away before his eyes flicker back. “I wish I was home,” he admits carefully.

Dan feels his heart jump into his throat, and he nods sharply. “Me too,” he breathes, hoping to God that he doesn’t do something ridiculous like cry. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Phil. Get some sleep.”

“Okay. Night, Dan.” Phil’s eyes are already closed, but Dan is positive he’s not actually asleep yet.

“Night,” he breathes. He ends the call, wishing more than anything in the world that he didn’t feel the cold in his chest that he currently felt.

~~~

The weekend goes by in a blur of cleaning, a trip to the grocery store, and a handful of calls and texts with Phil. Dan was surprisingly productive with all his free alone time, and the flat honestly looked great when he was finished. He also took the liberty of buying some simple sheets for the twin bed in the spare bedroom, spending probably an hour making the bed and tidying up the relatively empty room. Ever since Hazel had told them the date for their panel meeting that would determine their approval for fostering, he was giddy and nervous. Cleaning the spare room just helped calm his nerves slightly, but he wasn’t positive how much it was helping.

Monday is slow at work, but he’s counting down the hours before he gets home. Phil’s flight wasn’t landing until nearly midnight, so he’d likely be asleep before he got in, but he was more than relieved that he was finally going to be home. Not that he’d been that pathetically alone; he just liked having company and it was strange to go from having his best friend around all the time to only having a few texts or a call.

When he gets home, Dan tries to stay awake and wait for Phil to come home, but he’s exhausted, so he’s asleep before ten. It’s a restless sleep, though, as if even in sleep his body knows he’s anticipating something and can’t properly rest. So, he’s not really surprised that he wakes up easily enough when he feels the mattress dip with the weight of another person.

He rolls over, his eyes bleary as he opens them, blinking a few times to see properly. Phil is there, putting his glasses on the nightstand with his engagement band and plugging his phone up. He probably doesn’t even realize Dan’s awake, but when he turns back around to settle into bed, his eyes immediately meet the brunet’s.

“Hi,” he breathes, his blue eyes dull with exhaustion, even as his lips curl up into a smile.

Dan doesn’t even think before scooting closer, pressing his face to Phil’s chest and wrapping an arm around him. “Hi,” he whispers back, snuggling into his side. He smiles as he feels Phil return his embrace, one of his hands stroking down Dan’s back while the other tangles in his hair.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” Phil says softly. Dan tries to ignore the way he feels Phil’s lips press into his hair.

He shakes his head a little. “I’m not.” Something about saying it into the darkness seems a little less scary, a little less real. As if the darkness masks any meaning he may have behind the words.

“Me too,” Phil murmurs, shifting so that he’s lying on his back rather than his side, allowing Dan to properly rest his head on Phil’s chest. The hand in Dan’s hair doesn’t stop petting gently, and with the silence that falls over the room, it’s all too easy for Dan to fall asleep, content in Phil’s arms.

~~~

The next few weeks after Phil’s trip passes in a sort of blur, with Dan’s twenty-eighth birthday passing by quietly due to all the focus being on the foster situation. Phil offers to cook and invite some friends over, but ultimately Dan decides he just wants a quiet night in. It’s just a birthday, and he’ll have another in a year, and they can do something more exciting then.

Just a couple weeks after his birthday, they find themselves back at Hazel’s office for the panel meeting. To say that Dan was a nervous wreck would be an absolute understatement. He’s shaking so much that Phil insists on ordering them a cab rather than trying to drive. The whole ride there, he’s got the older man’s hand clutched in his in a death grip.

“Dan, please relax,” Phil says gently, his purple thumb stroking the back of Dan’s hand gently. “Everything’s going to be fine, just take a deep breath. Everything is fine.”

Dan tries to do this, he really does, but he finds it ridiculously hard to relax. “I need a distraction. God, I can’t do this,” he bursts, a wave of panic washing over him. His palms are sweating and he could swear his heart is breaking his ribs. This was the most important part of the fostering process, and if they couldn’t get approved, then this was all for nothing. Living together, getting so close, the whole fake relationship was a waste of time, and Dan’s sanity.

“Dan. Stop. Look at me.” Phil’s voice is firm, and Dan looks to him with wide eyes, frantic. Phil brings his hand up to cup the back of Dan’s head, his fingers brushing through the curls there gently. Dan swallows hard, the closeness and intensity of Phil’s gaze making him nervous in a new way. “It’s okay. Everything that’s happening right now, it’s all okay. We’re going to be at Hazel’s office and she’s going to take us to a room where there are people who are going to help us, okay? They’re not the enemy, you need to remember that. They’re doing their job to make sure that the best people are the people who get to foster, alright?” His words are quick and quiet, and Dan can only nod.

“What if we aren’t those people?” He breathes, finally daring to let his fear out in the open.

Before he even has time to process it, Phil’s pulling him closer, and Dan’s heart rate spikes. He only pulls Dan against him, allowing the younger man to rest his head on his shoulder, his face pressed against Phil’s long neck.

“You can’t think that, bear. You heard Hazel. She thinks we’re fantastic candidates. Do you honestly think she’d let us get our hopes up if she thought that we wouldn’t get approved?” Dan shakes his head slowly, and Phil presses a chaste kiss to his hair. “Exactly. She wouldn’t do that. So, this is all going to be fine. Just take a deep breath.”

For the rest of the ride, Dan does exactly that. He breathes slowly, feeling his nerves slowly calm down as Phil continues running a hand through his hair, soothing him with the motions. Dan even feels a bit silly when he feels a tear creep down his cheek, and he brushes it aside with a shaky laugh. When they pull up to the building, Phil pays the driver and tugs Dan’s hand to get him out of the car. They walk in with their hands intertwined, and the contact is incredibly grounding for Dan.

Hazel meets them at the front desk, a bright smile on her face. “Wonderful, you’re here! Shall we go then?”

Phil gazes at Dan, squeezing his hand reassuringly before nodding to Hazel. “We’re ready.”

And as they follow Hazel back to a room where the fate of their foster carer status will be decided, Dan isn’t sure that he’s ever been ready for this at all.

---

Five days.

It takes five painstakingly long days after the panel meeting for Dan to get the call.

Five days of anxiously chewing his lips to the point of bleeding, prompting Phil to have an intervention. He buys Dan several packs of gum and keeps an eye on him, ensuring that he’s chewing on that instead of destroying the skin on his lips even more.

Five days of pacing the flat every evening after work, worries flooding his mind, often late into the night. The third night of this, Phil gets up, finally tired of the noise, and drags Dan back to bed, spooning him the minute they’re back under the duvet. Dan’s certain that Phil’s tight grip on him is only to ensure he won’t get up and start pacing again, but he blushes furiously as Phil drifts off to sleep, his grip loosening around Dan’s waist.

When his phone finally rings on Monday evening, he’s almost frozen by the sound, staring at his phone as if it’s going to catch flames.

“Are you going to answer it?” Phil asks gently from his spot beside Dan. They were sitting on the couch, trying to watch an anime, although Dan had been lost since they started watching, his thoughts too messy to focus on the show.

He shakes his head emphatically, his eyes pleading when he looks to Phil. The older man takes the initiative immediately, sliding his thumb across the screen before putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

A woman’s voice answers, and she doesn’t sound like she’s preparing to deliver bad news, which Dan takes as a good sign. “Is this Mr. Howell or Mr. Lester?” She asks.

“Yes, this is Mr. Lester,” Phil responds, glancing over at Dan. He frowns, lifting his hand up and gripping Dan’s chin softly, his thumb brushing over his lips. Dan hadn’t realized it when he drew his bottom lip into his mouth, but now that Phil was pressing the pad of his thumb against them, he quickly released it from his teeth, smiling sheepishly. Phil drops his hand, leaving it resting on Dan’s knee.

“Great! This is Maria, from Bridging the Gap Fostering. I’m calling about the panel decision.” Her words bring a new wave of nerves to Dan, and he doesn’t even think before he reaches for Phil’s hand, intertwining their fingers and squeezing hard.

Phil mirrors the gesture, staring at Dan as he responds. “Right. What’s the decision?”

Dan feels like he’s in one of those terrible dramatic movies where there’s the long, dramatic pause before news is delivered, and his stomach is twisting. He has no clue why this lady seems to take so long to respond, but maybe he’s only being dramatic because he’s so nervous for the answer. Either way, he waits, holding his breath, for her response.

“Well, the board was very impressed with your application,” she begins. Phil squeezes his hand harder then, a smile tugging at his lips. “And I’m very pleased to tell you that you’ve been approved. There will be a foster carer agreement sent to the address you’ve given us, and after that…” She continues speaking, but Dan isn’t listening anymore.

The words “you’ve been approved” are bouncing around in his head, and he can barely contain his relief and excitement. It takes every ounce of his willpower not to immediately pounce on Phil for a hug, but the older man is actually listening to her words, which is probably good, since it’s probably very important.

“Yes. Alright. We will. Thank you so much. Goodbye.” Phil’s got a grin on his face as he hangs up and places the phone on the coffee table.

They exchange a look, and before Dan can even think better of it, he’s scrambling over to Phil, throwing his arms around him. “We got approved!” He shouts, likely blowing Phil’s ears off due to their proximity.

“We got approved,” Phil cackles, tightening his arms around Dan.

“Oh my god.” Dan sits back after a second, his cheeks a little warm when Phil smiles fondly at him. “I… I can’t believe we got approved. We got approved. We actually got approved.”

“I know, Dan, I was here!” Phil laughs, shoving Dan’s knee gently.

They’re both just sat there smiling like idiots for a moment before Dan shakes his head, leaning back on the couch and staring at the ceiling. He was so relieved it was as if he was coming down from some adrenaline high. “We’re going to do it, Phil. We’re actually going to get to be foster parents.”

He feels Phil bump his shoulder and turns to see Phil’s grin, his tongue between his teeth in that endearing way that he has. “We certainly are. Domino’s to celebrate?” He’s got his laptop already open, and Dan can’t help the grin that works its way onto his face. He was so happy, so relieved, that they were actually going to do this.

“Domino’s!” he cheers, leaning his head on Phil’s shoulder as he watches him order.

And for the first time in a long time, everything feels blissfully uncomplicated.

#phan #phanfiction #foster parent au #foster parent #bbc producer!phil #student counselor!dan #parent!phan #parent!au #friends to lovers #best friends #bed sharing #fake relationship #i swear the children are going to show up eventually i promise im not parent!phan baiting on purpose #fluff #angst

8 notes · View notes