#<- pretend that’s a ? i don’t wanna retype

[drowsyr]

hihihi friend anon here! i live for your stobin headcanons don't apologise for it being long!!

my friend and i make friendship bracelets for each other every year for our birthdays, but because we were born like two days apart we just end up making them together and swapping. i remember one year i made us matching ones in the colours of the upside down (blue, red, orange, black)!

also yes stobin closet jokes. dustin says something about a coat hanging in his closet for winter and robin laughs so hard, like giggling, that she has to down an entire glass of water.

oh aro stobin is my favourite thing <3 idk if you've read the "aro stobin cinematic universe" series (2 works so far, they're phenomenal) but it was sosososo good!!

steve's parents definitely own a bed that is very big so sometimes stobin have their sleepovers there and jump on the bed like little kids. not like mr and mrs harrington will find out anyways!

also dustin finding it so cute that stobin dyed their hair to match..... he takes a million photos on his mom's camera :O

steve and robin take hair curlers and shit and have a proper spa day one day and they look fabulous after <3

also i love your friendship bracelet headcanons they are so sweet 😭😭

stobin house sitting for the hendersons and breaking into claudia’s hair curlers and making facials… steve is a career cat sitter for claudia i know this is true

erica does make fun of them for being dorks and matching their hair but also she totally idolizes robin so she’s like mocking them to their faces but laying out a full legal defense to her mom about why she should be allowed to dye her hair and getting brutally but lovingly shut down

also yes i know that the harringtons have like a california king and robin makes so many innuendos about why but steve will literally plug his ears + go lalalala. i feel like they use steve’s parents room when they wanna pamper themselves like for a spa day but otherwise sleep in steve’s or even at robins place just bc they’re cozier <3 i know robins twin bed is a safe space for them.

i haven’t read rebel robin but i’m actually obsessed with her hippie parents and i love when people hc the buckleys as suspecting that robin is gay and trying to be supportive of her relationship with steve but also very confused by it (shoutout to findafight’s recent post obvi).

to me the buckleys are a jello family and i think steve tries so hard to be casual about it but he hates it like jello is an evil texture. i’m torn bc i can so clearly imagine robins parents loving jello but i feel like she would think it’s a bad texture as well… but also the idea of steve over for dinner at the buckley house and mrs buckley sets down like one of those awful intricate 70s jellos in the center of the table and everyone digs in and steve is sitting there like yeah🤢😃thank you mrs buckley😃🤢this is great🤮😃

[pendinganchor]

from someone who knows what it’s like to not have anyone say happy birthday to you, if you are someone who thinks “we’ll plan a surprise party and all pretend we forgot their birthday” is a good plan, please never be in charge of planning someone’s birthday

[fullofsadeem]

Talk to me like you want to, like you’ve been looking forward to the whole day, like you went back and forth rehearsing what exactly was that you were gonna say. Talk to me pretty or don’t talk to me at all, talk to me sober not after a bottle of alcohol. When you say everything pretty but that pretty has a scent, smells like you won’t remember in the morning, like you’ll pretend it wasn’t actually what you meant. Talk to me with courage, talk to me with fear, talk to me like all you wanted was to have my presence near, like my voice slows your heart rate, like my singing makes you calm, like a phone call from me feels like a warm kiss to your palm, talk to me like you need to, like your brain is overflowing and you want your thoughts to go wherever it is that mine are going. Talk to me! Because you like the way that I sound, because hearing my laugh makes your knees wanna hit the ground. Talk to me like I’m water and it’s been a hot fucking day. Talk to me like you could sit with me in silence, but your eyes would still have so much to say, like you think I speak in poetry, like your ears have arms to hold, like you forgot to be scared of love, forgot all these rules that you’ve been told. Talk to me like you can’t wait to, like you’re typing and retyping what to send. Talk to me like I’m your favorite song, that you keep restarting so it doesn’t end. Talk to me like you respect me, like anything else would hurt your soul. Talk to me like you’re not afraid to profess your love in front of the entire world. Talk to me like I’m not a mind reader, like it’s my first time being alive. Talk to me like we’re stuck on a very long road trip and the sound of my voice is gas to drive. Talk to me like you wanna know me, like you’re writing the biography of my life, like you’re really hoping to add a chapter that will describe how you asked me to be your wife. Talk to me like you’re still learning to, Like you’re nervous but there’s no chance in hell that you would ever have these feelings for me…. And that I would not be able to tell.

[moonlit-jeno]

foolish (m.)

pairing: wong yukhei x reader

genre: explicit sexual content | slight angst

words: 2.7k

The little gray bubble stares up at you mockingly, your phone screen glaringly bright compared to the darkness of the night. You type, delete, retype. Lock your phone, shove your face into your pillow and scream. Pick your phone back up, and repeat.

You promised you wouldn’t do this. The pounding of your heart against your chest reminds you what a bad idea this is, the sudden shakiness of your hands as you clutch your phone. You remember last time, how you’d ended up at Hendery’s doorstep, sobbing and babbling about how you thought it would be different this time, about how you thought he was different.

But it’s late and your bed is so empty and fuck, it’s already been a month since the last time you’d seen him. Texts of “I miss you” and “you’re the most perfect girl i’ve ever met” cut a little deeper, seem a little more genuine in the loneliness of the night.

It’s a bad idea. You should’ve blocked him. You still can block him. The phone wobbles in your hand as your thumb hovers over the button. Another text pops in.

lucas [1:13am]: please baby, i need you so bad

That does it. That feeling of being needed fills you, makes you smile as you picture him laying alone in bed, you on his mind.

You forget the block button and type out a quick message.

you [1:15am]: how bad?

lucas [1:19am ]: {one attachment}

Fuck. He’s palming himself in the picture, hand somehow looking small compared to the hardness pressed against his sweatpants. Lucas is shirtless and the picture captures his abs, cuts off just above where his plump lips are parted.

you [1:20am] : doors unlocked

You’re weak.

Lucas only takes 10 minutes to get to your apartment. You don’t actually leave the door unlocked, your subconscious’s final effort to keep you protected, and so when he knocks on the door it’s rapid and impatient.

One look through the peephole confirms that it’s only him in the desolate hallways and you open the door, wearing nothing but the red lingerie you know he loves.

He gapes at you for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish as his eyes run up and down your body hungrily. You tug him inside with a hand on his wrist and that seems to snap him out of it. “Holy fuck,” He growls, turning you around and pressing you up against the door. “The things you do to me.”

“And what do I do to you?” You ask as innocently as possible, made difficult with his lips on your neck, his body pressed against yours. He slips his thigh in between yours and grinds it against your core, making you whine and grip onto his shoulders.

“I think you know.” He laughs, but it’s humorless. His lips press against yours hungrily and you welcome him, losing yourself in the man in front of you. “But let me show you, just in case you were confused.

It’s easy for Lucas to pick you up and carry you to your bedroom, throwing you onto the bed with enough force that you bounce a few times. He pauses to take his shirt off, throwing it to the corner of your room. And then he just looks at you, groaning softly as he drinks in the image of you all laid out for him.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He seems almost annoyed as he says it, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you.

“I bet you say that to every girl you sleep with.” You’re stupid to say that, because any response he gives is going to destroy you.

Lucas attaches his lips to your neck, kissing you softly before moving down your body. He bites gently at your nipple and you arch against him. “You’re wrong. None of those other girls have anything on you.”

It’s the worst response you could’ve gotten. Because it gives you hope, makes you think that you actually matter to him. At least you would still be grounded in reality if he agreed with you.

He massages your breasts with those large hands of his, pausing to undo the clasp on the front. Sweet kisses are pressed to the flesh, his tongue darting out to swipe at your nipple. “Yeah? And what makes me so different?”

You shouldn’t ask. Because you know that it’s going to be a bunch of bullshit, and it’s going to float around your head for weeks until you find him under yet another girl and your heart breaks all over again.

“I can’t get you out of my head.” He responds, kissing his way down your stomach. “All I can think about are those sweet noises you make, the way you fucking melt under me.”

His hands caress your body so lovingly that it’s easy to pretend that he cares. And you shouldn’t give in to that fantasy, but it’s so easy to let that barrier crumble, to let the pleasure drown out the voice screaming out how bad of an idea this is.

Never sleep with an ex. It’s in every book, every show, every song. Hendery and Renjun tell you that so often that the words play on a never ending loop. But it’s different because it’s Lucas. He’s kind and sweet and you’re still so hopelessly in love with him.

He sucks a hickey into your hip bone and you squirm, thighs trying desperately to clench together for some much needed friction. “And your pussy is so tight baby, so small. No matter how many times I fuck you, you always need more, yeah?”

Your underwear is wet and sticking uncomfortable to you, only made worse when Lucas lowers his head and licks teasingly at you through the fabric. You whine and cant your hips up, desperate for more friction, but he just pins you back down. “Always so desperate for more.” He sighs, eyes on you as he continues to tease.

And you hate it because he’s right. You are desperate for more, desperate for him. And when he slides your panties off, delivers that first touch of his tongue to your bare skin, it makes you keen. “Lucas, please.”

Your hands thread through his hair and he groans against you, lapping at your hole before moving up to flick his tongue against your clit. “So sexy, baby. You’re an addiction.”

He finally buries his head between your thighs and gets to work, eating you out with a fervor that has you screaming, legs shaking where he holds them down. Dark eyes remain on yours for the whole time and you force yourself to keep his gaze, to stop your eyes from rolling back in your head. He pulls away with his lips and chin glistening. “You’re like a drug.”

A harsh bite to your inner thigh and then he’s diving back in. He adds his fingers to the mix and you’re gone, mind blank of everything except for Lucas, Lucas, Lucas.

It hasn’t been long since you last fingered yourself but your hands are tiny compared to his. The one finger he has inside of you is already a stretch. The second finger he slides into you gives you a fullness you weren’t prepared for and he knows it, smirking as you sob his name, back arching as you come for him.

Lucas works you through it easily, sweet kisses to your core until you’re shoving at his head, pushing him away.

“Taste so sweet, baby.” He brings two fingers up to your mouth and you let them slide past your lips, sucking your arousal off of his fingers. A deep groan leaves Lucas as you start to bob your head shallowly, eyes locked on his through the entirety of the pseudo blowjob. “I need to be in you.”

His sweatpants are thrown somewhere across the room and his dick springs up, slapping against his lower stomach. You nearly moan as you see how hard he is, how big he is. It doesn’t matter that you just came. Your pussy clenches in need as arousal fills you.

“No underwear?” You try to tease him but your voice comes out breathless. He gives himself a couple of pumps, throwing his head back and groaning. “And you say I’m desperate.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” He laughs, kneeling between your spread legs and lining his dick up. You hum, eyes fluttering closed before you slap him.

He makes a wounded noise and furrows his eyebrows. You point to your nightstand. “Condom.”

“But we never use condoms!” Lucas protests. He looks vaguely offended.

“We never used condoms when we were dating.” You correct him. “Past tense. You know, before you decided you wanted quantity over quality.”

Lucas rolls his eyes. “You really want to start this argument now?” He acts like you’re yelling at him for something petty like forgetting to do the dishes instead of what he actually did.

“No, I want you to get a condom on and put your dick in me.” You push him off of you and stretch out to reach into your drawer, only slightly distracted by the way he kneads at your ass as you throw lipsticks and lotions aside to find the little foil packet. You throw it at him.

Sighing, Lucas rolls it on. He spits in his hand and pumps himself a few times. “Wanna fuck you from behind.”

You flip over and you should be relieved because now you don’t have to look at his face, but a part of you is disappointed.

The feeling doesn’t last long. Lucas pushes in and fills you up so much that there’s no room for anything else, forcing every thought out of your head. He only pushes halfway in before you have to stop him, tell him to slow down.

It’s overwhelming, the stretch burning as you try to relax your muscles enough to take him. He smooths his hand up and down your side, presses kisses into your spine as you shake. “Take your time baby. I’m not going anywhere.”

He doesn’t mean it, at least not how you want him to, but your brain tells you he does. That he’ll be here in the morning, that he’ll wrap his arms around you and hold you close. You force the thoughts out of your head and push yourself backwards, taking more of his cock.

Lucas slides his hand from your stomach down to your core, pressing his fingers to your clit. Sparks of pleasure shoot up your spine and you moan, pushing back against him as the pain bleeds into pleasure.

“Please.” You pant out, letting your head drop to the pillows. “Lucas, please fuck me.”

“So polite.” He says, easing himself the rest of the way into you. His breathing is labored and he grips at your hip as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You’re reminded of just how desperate he was before he came over when he starts fucking you at a brutal pace. His hips slam against yours, filthy noises filling the air as skin slaps against skin.

One large hand splays over your lower back, pushing down so that your ass raises even higher in the air, your chest pushed against the bed. The angles even tighter, makes him feel even larger.

“You’re so fucking big.” You babble, hands clutching desperately at the pillow. “Fuck, Lucas.” His name comes out closer to a sob and you can feel tears in your eyes as he snaps his hips into you harder, deeper.

His groans are liquid sex and they fill you with even more heat, leaving you to writhe against him as he keeps you pinned down. “I’m gonna come.” You sob out, tears slipping down your cheeks as the pleasure consumes you. “Please, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna- ohgod.”

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as Lucas keeps pounding into you, drawing out your orgasm. It’s so much, too much, and you whine as your knees slide uselessly against the sheets. He says something but it doesn’t register over the white noise filling your mind

Lucas doesn’t give you a break, even as you’re crying out from the overstimulation. Instead he lifts his hand from your back. You try to scramble into a better position, thinking that he’s giving you a break, but then he’s grabbing both of your wrists in one of his hands, holding them at your lower back. Your face presses into the mattress and you turn it to the side, ragged breaths leaving you as you adjust to the overstimulation.

“Baby,” He coos, using his grip to pull you upright, your back flush with his chest. His free hand ghosts over your neck, slides down to pinch at your nipples and massage your breasts. “Love you like this, all fucked out and pliant.”

Lucas mouths at your neck, bites at your earlobe. “Such a little slut for my cock.” You only moan in response, turning your head to search for a kiss. He gives you what you’re looking for, licking past your lips and sucking on your tongue. “Mhmm, that’s right baby. Love being fucked dumb, yeah?”

“Y-yeah, love it. Love you.” You whimper, pulling away from the kiss and throwing your head back so that it rests against his shoulder. The words just kind of slip out and it doesn’t register that you shouldn’t have said them. Lucas must hear them but he doesn’t mention it, just drives his cock into you deeper, harder.

He drops his free hand to your stomach, keeping you anchored to him even as you try to arch away. You’re nearly powerless like this, only able to bounce on his lap in an attempt to meet his thrusts. The hold he has on your wrists is too strong for you to break out of but you need to hold onto something, desperately need something to ground you as you feel your orgasm rushing to the surface.

“Lucas, I- you’re gonna make me come again.” You whine out, words broken with moans and gasps. “Fuck, I’m- Yukhei.”

He snarls behind you, somehow finding it in him to fuck you even harder. His thrusts are getting sloppy though, and you can tell he’s close, too. “Say that again.”

“Yukhei!” You sob, feeling your orgasm build and build until it’s too intense for you to handle, and even then it keeps building. “Yukhei, pleasepleaseplease-“

Your mind blanks out when you come, nothing but white noise and bright lights filling your head. It seems to last forever, too, waves and waves of pleasure crashing over you. You only come back to Earth when Lucas shoves your chest down to the mattress, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you know that there’s gonna be a bruise in the morning. You make an absolutely inhuman noise as you squirm in oversensitivity, bucking your hips up as he sloppily fucks into you.

“So tight, so fucking tight.” He spits out, bringing one hand down hard on your ass. “God, you feel so fucking good.” He slurs out your name and then he’s coming, hips stuttering as his dick twitches inside of you.

The aftershocks leave you shaking, melting into the mattress. Lucas rolls off to the side, laying on his back and panting. He’s also shaking, but after a few deep breaths he pulls himself together, tugging the condom off and tying it.

You watch him warily, expecting him to either pull you closer or get up and leave. It would almost be better if he chose the second option.

He chooses the first.

“Come here, baby.” You’re pulled onto his chest and you hum, eyelids heavy as you curl up around him. A soft kiss is placed on your forehead, your sweaty hair pushed out of your face. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

The compliment has you glowing like the summer sun, smiling happily as he continues to praise you, continues to run his hand up and down your back softly.

You just hum in response to whatever he says, too tired and mindless to come up with a response. Lucas seems to feel the same way, his praises eventually fading off into soft snores. He always has the most peaceful sleeping expressions and you want to see him but your eyes are too heavy to open.

“Please be here in the morning.”

He’s not.

[evolsinner]

⊱┊11

it’s sunday night once again, except the circumstances are now different ~ where once i couldn’t wait to see sir on monday, now i cannot wait for him to reply so i know what the fuck is happening.

been refreshing throughout the day, but no new mail.

*refresh.*

nada.

i heave and open up his facebook profile. i’m not gonna do anything… i just wanna have another look.

“huh?”

hold on a sec, did he block me?

i retype his name in the search bar, but a bunch of other people with the same name pops up.

he did!!!

was it because i was snooping as deep as 2005? it’s not like i could help it! can’t believe this fucker. the audacity to have me, his wife, blocked. then why, all of a sudden, am i more attracted to him? what is wrong with me?!?!?!?

anyways, as if i care, i’ll just make another account, ha.

*ding.*

a blue box has popped up on the top right corner of my 13” laptop screen.

my heart stops.

opening it, it reads:

<no subject> isaac killian to: rosé blackburn

we need to talk. i’m a few houses down the road from yours, under the sycamore. meet me there.

how does he know where i live? moreover, he’s already using the phrase ‘we need to talk’?? there’s only one way to find out what we so desperately need to talk about {even though a sad part of me kinda knows already, ugh}.

i throw on a random hoody and silently run down the stairs. i slide my feet inside the ugg boots and take a peep through the living room to the kitchen. mum and dad are both lost in conversation, tidying up from dinner. perfect.

i quietly leave and spot the shiny red suv quite a while away. the evening’s chill wears down on me. with one hand, i hold down my hood, and with the other, i hug myself. i jog to the sycamore tree, why is this so embarrassing? he’s so watching me in his side mirrors.

when i get close enough, i see him reach over and open the passenger seat door in advance.

i hop in.

“rosé.”

i face him.

he scratches his head, apprehensive. for once, his hair is messy instead of perfectly slicked back. the way it’s parted in the middle with the choppy strands landing equally on both sides, and how the ends of the strands closest to his face curve slightly inwards. gah, it’s so cute and so 90’s.

then, “is that mine?” he glances down.

i follow his line of sight and discern that i grabbed his hoody, not mine. “oh shi..yeah, it is. i’m sorry.” i get ready to take it off.

“no, please don’t apologise. looks good on you, keep it.”

my heart.

“and,” he clears his throat, “your clothes from last night, they’re in the back.”

“right. thanks.”

“sorry couldn’t contact you sooner...had a bunch of assignments that needed marking.”

still waiting for the elephant in the room to be addressed.

“you know what happens now, right?”

there it is.

i sigh, pissed. “really?”

“i have work tomorrow and you have school.”

“thanks for reminding me,” i glance out my window.

“rosé,” he lays his hand on my shoulder.

i look at his hand, then at him. it gets awkward, so he quickly removes his hand before speaking again.

“i’m twice your age.”

“that didn’t stop you last night, did it?”

he blinks, shooked. “you’re right, it didn’t, but you’re still too young and it’s still not right.”

“young, yes. minor, no.”

“rosé, fraternising with a professor is against the school’s policy.”

“fucking isn’t fraternising, sir.”

he stares at me like i’m that kid that never learned to not talk back. “my point being ~ it’s worse.”

“so, you regret it then?”

“more like i can’t stop thinking about it.”

*silence.*

was he meant to say that?

he shakes his head like he’s trying to get the right thoughts to stay. “i..we shouldn’t have done what we did. it was unprofessional on my behalf and i guess rash on yours.”

‘rash’, yeah right. “i won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“that’s not what i’m worried about, i trust you. i don’t trust myself.”

i frown for more elaboration.

he continues but with more bluntness now, “how the fuck am i supposed to teach my class and imagine you as my student at the same time?”

i smile on the inside, guess he’s fucked up as much as i am about this. “then don’t imagine me as your student,” i offer.

“rather want me to imagine you all naked then?” he looks at me with an entertained expression. “is that it?”

“if you can handle it,” i raise my eyebrows.

“if i can.. jesus chr..” he chuckles, shaking his head.

did he just figure out i’m too much for him?

“i can handle it,” he answers in a conceited tone.

we’ll see about this. i grip his shoulder for balance and step over. sitting on top of him, i bring my hand into the hole between us. my fingers fondle around for a minute. he tries to hold a straight face, ‘cept i can already feel him getting hard through his khakis.

“can you handle it now, sir?”

he leans into my face, “fuck you.”

now that’s starting to become a thing. instead of ‘always’ or ‘forever’, ours is ‘fuck you’. great. how cute.

“hey,” i take pretend offense, “you can’t talk to your student like that.”

“i will destroy you, rosé blackburn,” he adds succinctly.

i was just about to destroy him when i notice a 2017 ford f~150 raptor supercrew heading our way. from the hollering, i can make out exactly who it is. even without that cue, i’d know it’s him because, at school, he kept bragging on for a full month about how his dad let him borrow his pickup truck turned desert racing machine. who the fuck cares?

“fuck! oh my god!” i slouch my body into sir. “they’ll see us!”

“relax, my windows are tinted.”

“it’s fucking theo..!” i hiss.

his huge black raptor drives past us, music blaring with theo and his friends shouting like a wild pack of wolves.

🎶it don’t matter, be combative or be sweet cherry pie it don’t matter just as long as i get all you tonight

i don’t know what they are listening to, but they are drunk out of their minds from the way they are singing the lyrics. so reckless.

“you see what i mean?” sir clearly makes his point as i slowly bring my head back up to eye level with him.

and then tries to say something else, but i shove my lips right against his.

he pulls away for a sec, “you can’t leave like that again. i would have made you breakfast.”

awwhhh, next thing i knew, i was pregnant!

“yeah?” i grin. “what would you have made me?”

“pancakes, of course.”

i giggle before a small frown interrupts it, “hey, how’d you know where i lived?”

“oh,” he says. “the school’s system. has everything.”

why, of course, silly dumb me.

[danfanciesphil]

Phan Teacher AU (Part 3)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

It’s Friday evening, finally, and Dan is in his kitchen making pasta, reflecting on the ups and downs of his first week in his new job. He stirs the penne in the saucepan, staring down into the bubbles.

The pasta does not, unsurprisingly, provide him with any insightful comments. 

Being a TA is not as bad as he thought it would be, he eventually concludes, considering everything that’s happened to him at the school so far. The children don’t tease him like he feared they would; mostly they barely even register his existence. The faculty, whilst occasionally irritating or dull, are just normal people for the most part. It’s obvious that none of them are living their dreams, but aside from making them a little snarky, that doesn’t seem to matter to them. 

None of this applies to Phil, of course. 

Dan stops stirring pasta, the tips of his fingers tingling as a wave of admiration sweeps through his body. Phil Lester is an unexpected, but very welcome, perk of this job. 

Dan had never even considered the idea that he might develop a crush when he accepted this position. Teaching has never appealed to him, so he has never found teachers attractive in the past. But, as he mentioned to Phil on his first day, Phil is not like any other teacher that Dan has ever met. 

He switches the hob off, and finds a colander in one of the cupboards. It’s not his, obviously. Dan would never be organised enough to buy a household item as obscure as a colander, but his housemates won’t mind. Probably. 

He drains his pasta, and scoops it into a bowl, then mixes it with some pesto. He adds some chopped cherry tomatoes and a sprinkle of cheese, then takes the bowl through to his bedroom. 

He’s glad he has the house to himself tonight. His roommates are out on a date together, being an excruciatingly cute couple, as always. 

He blames the exhaustion of first week in a full time job when he climbs onto his bed to eat, opening up his laptop. Facebook is open where he left it this morning, and out of nowhere, Dan gets an idea. 

He pauses mid-chew, wondering if it would be crossing a line. 

Then, before he can think his way out of it, he clicks the search bar and types ‘Phil Lester’. 

A hundred Phil’s pop up at once. Dan scrolls through them, peering at the tiny display pictures, searching for dazzling blue eyes and a mop of jet black hair. 

He’s about to give up, but then he sees it. As soon as he notices Phil’s photo, he wonders how he could have missed it amongst the sea of other Phil Lester imposters. 

He clicks the image, heart speeding up a little. Phil’s profile fills the screen, and Dan’s eyes widen, skimming over the scant information like he’s trying to soak it all up at once. 

Phil Lester  [Image]

Intro:

💼 History Teacher at Rawtenstall Secondary School 🎓 Studied History and Philosophy at University of York 🎓 Studied French History at Université Paris-Sorbonne  🏠 Lives in Rossendale, Lancashire, United Kingdom 🏠 Lived in Paris, France 🏠 Lived in York, UK 🏠 Lived in Manchester, UK 📍 From Rossendale  ❤️ Single

His eyes are drawn to the ‘relationship status’ part of his bio before he can stop them. Embarrassingly, he smiles into his pasta, as though it changed anything at all. 

His photo is the most distracting part of the whole page. Dan stares at it as he chews, taking advantage of the opportunity to study Phil’s immaculate face. There’s something different about the photo-Phil, Dan thinks, trying to work it out. Belatedly, he realises that he’s never seen Phil dressed in anything other than a shirt.

The Phil in this picture is wearing a t-shirt in vibrant blue, covered in rows of white stars. There’s a red hemline around the neck and short sleeves too. It looks a bit like he’s low-key cosplaying as Captain America on his off-day, but somehow it suits him. 

The picture-Phil is staring into the camera with that familiar intensity Dan recognises from the times he meets Phil’s gaze in real life. He’s smiling slightly, but it’s nothing compared to the way his beaming fills the classroom. 

He clicks the photo, unable to resist seeing Phil’s face larger on his screen. He really is rather unnervingly attractive, Dan thinks, staring unashamedly at the pixels doing their best to replicate the swirling galaxies of Phil’s blue eyes. 

He shovels more pasta into his mouth, sighing to himself. Just then, his phone buzzes. Reluctantly, Dan drags his eyes away from the screen, fishing it out of his pocket. 

18:54 Unknown Number Hey Dan! This is Phil (Mr Lester)

Dan chokes on a tomato. 

He reaches over to put his bowl of pasta on the bedside table, coughing, and turns back to his phone. Phil’s face continues staring out of his screen, those all-knowing, laser-eyes burrowing into his skull. Dan flushes, feeling caught out, and slams the lid of his laptop closed. 

His phone buzzes again. 

18:55 Unknown Number (the dorky guy who makes you  wear capes and help children to  build precarious structures out  of tables and chairs)

Despite feeling as flustered by this unexpected text as a yanderé schoolgirl encountering her senpai, Dan snorts at the joke. 

Fingers trembling a little, Dan adds Phil’s name to his contacts, and spends around three minutes typing and retyping a response.

18:58 Dan Howell did i forget giving you my number in a cringey attempt at gaining friends in my new job or something 😅

18:58 Phil Lester 🌠 hah! no i actually got it from the  school office 😳 

Dan frowns in confusion. 

18:59 Dan Howell Is that even allowed?

19:00 Phil Lester 🌠 Not sure. But I’m very charming, so it wasn’t an issue 😉

19:01 Phil Lester 🌠 I told them I wanted to ask you something important, related to class

Dan’s heart immediately sinks. That makes sense, he supposes, reaching for his pasta again. Phil’s just messaging him to discuss something work-related. Nothing to get excited about, after all. 

He types out a quick response, then places his phone aside, filling the disappointment-void opening inside of him with mouthfuls of pasta. 

19:02 Dan Howell Oh cool. Do you need me to do something for Monday’s class?

19:03 Phil Lester 🌠 I just need to ask you somethng in preparation

19:03 Dan Howell Ask away Mr Lester

19:04 Phil Lester 🌠 Do you think the Year Nine’s will laugh at me if I wear this in class (Attached: 1 image)

Dan stares at the message, uncomprehending. He scrolls down, laughing in surprise as he sees the photo Phil has included. 

It’s a picture of him, close up, with his chin raised, exposing his neck. Around his shirt collar is a bowtie, white with black polka dots. 

19:06 Dan Howell Without a shadow of a doubt, yes, they will laugh at you. Sorry bud. 

19:07 Phil Lester 🌠 Perfect! Thanks. 

Dan waits expectantly, glancing at his phone every few seconds as he finishes up his pasta. After he’s scraped the bowl clean, he picks the phone up again, wondering vaguely if he’s hallucinating this entire conversation. 

19:13 Dan Howell Is that it???

19:14 Phil Lester 🌠 Your TA duties are complete. Pls feel free to go forth and enjoy your weekend, Mr Howell

Dan blinks at the text, very confused. He’s about to shove the phone in his pocket, when another text comes through.

19:15 Phil Lester 🌠 And enjoy a cool photo of ur new favourite teacher, now saved to your camera roll free of charge

19:16 Dan Howell How do u know I won’t delete it

19:17 Phil Lester 🌠 Uh, you’d better not. I don’t hand these selfies out to just anyone Daniel

A little thrill shimmers through Dan’s veins at the sight of Phil using his full name. 

19:18 Dan Howell dw I’ve got it as my wallpaper already. I might even print it out, frame it for my wall

19:20 Phil Lester 🌠 Beats stalking through my Facebook albums I bet 😉

Dan’s heart actually stops for a moment, he’s sure. No, he thinks, feeling cold sweat pearling on his brow. There’s no way Phil could know something like that, surely.

He decides to try laughing it off, still terrified. 

19:21 Dan Howell Pfft as if m8

19:22 Phil Lester 🌠 tbf if you had stalked me I’d be super miffed you didn’t friend request me

Dan’s muscles melt of tension, the relief flooding out of his pores. Phil had just been stabbing in the dark with a weirdly accurate aim. 

19:23 Dan Howell aw u wanna be my fb friend? Cute.

Dan opens his laptop again, clicking determinedly off Phil’s profile, feeling his cheeks heat like he’s being watched. He’s just about to click off of Facebook altogether, when he gets a notification. 

Phil Lester has sent you a friend request!

Dan blinks at the message, gawping. 

His phone buzzes. 

19:26 Phil Lester 🌠 yes please

*

Dan spends the weekend wishing for it to end, which is an entirely new experience for him. 

His housemates invite him out for drinks on Saturday night at their local pub. Dan doesn’t bother attempting to refuse; Teddy and Tyler are not the sort of people who can be successfully argued with. 

They fail to mention, however, that they have invited a bunch of other people to join them for drinks, including Stephanie, Dan’s ex-girlfriend. As a result, the evening turns into Dan downing more pints than he is able to handle in order to deal with the glares from the girl he dumped a few months ago. 

At the end of the night, Tyler and Teddy have Dan’s arms over their shoulders, and are merrily singing The Phantom of the Opera as they drag him home. They take off Dan’s shoes and trousers for him and lay him in bed, laughing away at Dan being a lightweight, and then promptly climb in either side of him. 

Dan groans, feeling nauseous and irritable. He loves his housemates in many ways, but they are really annoying. 

“Unngh, get out,” he says, half into his pillow. Instead of obeying, Tyler and Teddy wrap Dan in their arms, squeezing him tightly. 

“Aw, Dan’s a grump because he had to face Scary Stephanie,” Tyler teases. 

“She was more terrifying than usual tonight,” Teddy muses. “Have you spoken to her since... y’know?”

Dan doesn’t reply; he’s too focused on trying to pretend he is currently alone in this bed. He has his eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to block out all evidence to the contrary. 

“Since he callously ripped out poor Stephy’s heart?” Tyler supplies, giggling. “I’d say he’s prrrobably been avoiding her since then, right Danny?” 

In the hopes it might get him some peace and quiet, Dan nods. 

“I still don’t get it,” Teddy says with a shrug that jostles the bed. “She’s pretty, and she isn’t a complete bore. Why chuck her?”

“Ted, you know why,” Tyler says, his voice mocking. “Dan’s a big fat gay now.”

Dan groans in frustration, elbowing Tyler in the side. “‘M not!” 

“Okay, that is bi-erasure, Ty.” Teddy admonishes, though there’s a smile in his voice. 

“Bi, gay, whatever.” Tyler says. “The point is, Dan’s ready to embrace his twink side at long last.”

Dan sighs, rolling his eyes despite them being shut. “Hate you both.”

“Um, no...” Tyler corrects, sounding affronted. “You love us to bits. Especially ‘cause we’re gonna take you to the hottest gay clubs in town and find you a big, beefy bear to help you transition to the dark side.” 

Tyler tickles Dan in the side, making him shriek. Teddy joins in then, laughing uproariously at Dan’s reaction. 

“No, stop, I’ll throw up on you both!” Dan cries, feebly attempting to fight back. 

“Say you love us, Dan!” Tyler cries over Dan’s agonised laughter. “Say it!”

“I’ll say it if you fuck off!” 

“Deal!” Teddy shouts. 

Despite this, in the morning, as predicted, Dan wakes up with his two terrible excuses for housemates still snoring in his bed. 

*

As soon as Dan’s alarm sounds on Monday morning, Dan hops out of bed, eager for the day to begin. 

He showers and brushes his teeth in lightning time, then spends twenty minutes sorting out his hair and changing his outfit. He tries not to think about why he’s so obsessed with his appearance today. 

After his fifth change of shirt, Dan checks the time and realises he’s about to miss his bus. Swearing loudly, he bolts out of the door, just about managing to grab his bag and coat on the way. Tyler snorts with laughter at him as he goes, blowing a kiss, and Dan just legs it to the bus stop. 

He makes it, just, but only because the bus is a minute late. Luck must be on his side today, he thinks as he struggles to get his breath back on the jolting bus, sweaty and already exhausted, his stomach rumbling. 

Forty minutes later, he’s wading through the swarms of schoolkids up the front steps, heart beginning to pound as he thinks about what lies ahead. 

He doesn’t need to check his timetable to know which class he has first today.

He gets to Classroom Nine ten minutes early, unable to dissuade himself from seizing the opportunity to spend a little bit extra time talking to Phil. 

This plan backfires a little when he opens the classroom door to find it empty and dark. 

He debates what to do, dithering on the spot, and then decides to just come back in a little while. He turns to leave, and bumps straight into Phil’s chest, spilling the mugs of coffee he’s holding in either hand. 

“Ow!” Phil shrieks, and Dan plunges feet-first into the hole opening beneath him in the earth. 

“Shit, shit, sorry!” Dan cries, taking the mugs from Phil’s hands as he flaps his hands in distress. 

“Ah!” Phil hisses, shaking his sleeves as they drip with hot coffee. “No, it’s cool don’t worry- crap, that was hot.” 

“I’ll get some napkins or something- ” Dan says, at a loss for what else to do. 

Phil chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s fine, Dan, I’ll live.” He straightens up, smiling at Dan in reassurance. “So, I brought you a coffee!” 

Dan stares at him in dismay. “I am so sorry.” 

Phil laughs. “I know. It’s fine. I just hope there’s some left in the mug.” 

Dan turns his attention to the cups in his hands. “Yeah, there is. Um, thank you.”

“No problem.” Phil says with a smile, then takes one of the mugs from him. 

He steps carefully around Dan and through the open door of the classroom, sipping as he goes. 

Dan takes a moment to internally scream at himself for being such a prat, and then follows him inside. Phil flicks on the lights, then goes to put his coffee down on his desk. 

“So, you’re keen.” Phil says to Dan, grinning as he rolls up his coffee-soaked sleeves. 

Dan notices for the first time that Phil is wearing that stupid black and white spotty bow tie he’d sent Dan a photo of on Friday. 

Distracted by the sight of it, Dan takes a moment to process what Phil said. His eyes widen. “Um, sorry?”

“You’re here early.” Phil points out, one eyebrow raised. “Not often that you see TA’s getting to class before the first bell.”

“Oh!” Dan says, relieved. “Yeah, well... I just thought...” He scrambles for a reason that might not sound weird, coming up blank.

Phil chuckles. “It’s okay! I’m glad. Setting up for first period alone is always boring.”

“I’ll do my best to entertain you.” 

Phil giggles, then goes to one of the cupboards at the back of the room. He pulls out some unreasonably large rolls of craft paper, along with several bundles of bamboo sticks. 

Dan sets his mug down immediately, going to help him haul everything out. 

“Oh, thanks,” Phil says, surprised, as Dan takes some of the things from him. “Just put them on one of the tables.”

“What are we doing with these, then?” 

Phil laughs, glancing at him. “Wait and see.”

Dan rolls his eyes, smirking. “Such an enigma.”

“It’s all part of the experience.” Phil says. “I’ve got to be mysterious and keep the kids questioning everything. Their curiosity makes them more receptive, I find.”

Dan nods thoughtfully, considering this philosophy. “But I’m not a student.”

“True.” Phil allows. He places the rolls of craft paper down on a table, turning towards him. “Maybe I'm just trying to impress you.” 

Dan laughs awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He fiddles with the sticks of bamboo, swallowing. 

“How was your weekend?” He asks, deciding a subject change is probably for the best. 

“Good!” Phil says brightly. “It was my brother’s birthday. I baked him a hummingbird cake.” 

“A hummingbird cake?” 

Phil chuckles. “Yeah! It’s pineapple and banana flavour with cream cheese frosting. Also I made it into the shape of a hummingbird, because why not?”

“Right.” Dan says, at a loss for what to say. “Why not?” 

“Wanna see?” 

Dan smiles, nodding, and Phil walks over to him, digging his phone out of his pocket. Dan stares at the device in Phil’s hands as he scrolls through his photos. 

This is the object he’d used to message Dan on Friday. Dan’s number is now saved into it. He is, in some small way, more intimately connected to Phil through this rectangular slice of technology. 

“Sorry, I took lots of photos of my brother.” Phil says, laughing, swiping through several pictures of a grumpy looking man in a glittery party hat. “He hates having his picture taken. Oh, here it is.” 

Phil moves closer, his shoulder pressing into Dan’s. He’s deliciously warm compared to the chilly, early morning air in this room, and he smells strongly of the coffee Dan covered him in a few minutes ago. 

He tilts the phone for Dan to see. The cake is astonishing to behold. It’s been moulded into a 3D hummingbird, complete with a chocolate pocky stick for a beak, and covered entirely in a pastel rainbow of frosting. 

“Okay, wow,” Dan says, not bothering to hide how impressed he is. “I was expecting a half-hearted attempt to shape a flat cake into the Twitter symbol... but that’s incredible.”

Phil giggles, looking bashful. “Thanks! It was tasty too, which is a bonus.”

“What do I have to do to get you to bake for me?” 

Phil turns his head to face Dan, still just a little too close. “Hm, I can think of some things.”

Dan can feel it as Phil leans a little more into him, his shoulder pressing slightly harder. He holds his breath, feeling like a rabbit caught in the path of a devious fox. 

And then the bell rings, of course. 

Phil leans away again, still smiling, just as the first students begin to bowl through the door. Jonah happens to be one of them, and he lets out a low whistle as he walks through strolls into the room.

“Oi, sir, you givin’ Mr Howell your number?” 

Phil laughs, pocketing the phone in his hand and moving swiftly away. “Nice to see you too, Jonah. How was your weekend?”

Dan tries to hide his furious blush by going to retrieve his coffee from the desk where he left it. 

The rest of the students file in, and Phil welcomes them all in his usual chipper way. For the first fifteen minutes, Phil does a brief recap of the last lesson about the Algerian War, then introduces the topic they’ll be looking at today, following on from it. 

Today they’re going to start studying the failed revolution of May 1968 in France. 

To emulate the frustration of the liberals taking part in the revolution, they’re going to make pickets and signs with anti-capitalist slogans out of craft paper and bamboo. 

Phil gives them an entertaining rundown of all the issues the left-wing majority of French society had in 1968, and then he tells everyone to get into this mindset, and begin crafting. 

It’s a bit of a madhouse from that point on. The students, despite being in Year Nine, seem to love being let loose with the art supplies. They’re excessive with their use of paint and glitter, creating huge, garish signs with aggressive messages. 

A few of Dan’s favourites read: 

‘We stand, we march, we dab’

‘Marx’s favourite bitchez’

‘Communism ftw’

‘Destroy France’s capitalist infrastructure u cowards’

Phil is loving the enthusiasm so much that he even lets a few curse words slide, though he does insist that Jonah change his sign to ‘We are unTRUCKable’, for the sake of his reputation as a teacher. 

Once the signs are more or less completed, Phil claps his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Right! Ready to get out there and protest?” 

The class look confused, a hush falling over them as they look at one another blankly. 

“Protest what, sir?” Jonah asks.

Phil tuts. “Haven’t you been paying attention? If we don’t protest, then nothing will change! Workers and students will forever be bottom of the ladder! We have to push the change! We must make Marx proud!” 

Dan stares at Phil like he’s gone insane, as do most of the students. 

“But...” A shy, timid girl Dan thinks is called Anita, pipes up. “This is all in the past, right? They already protested this in France in 1968.” 

Phil beams at her, winking. “True. But tell me, gang, has the fall of capitalism come to pass?”

The students shake their heads, looking unsure. 

“Exactly, Anita!” Phil cries. “So, did the effort these French liberals put in have any effect?”

“No,” Anita answers, her eyes round as she gazes at Phil. “They failed.”

“So we should continue what they started.” Phil says, picking up a nearby bamboo stick and raising it high. “Who’s with me? For the revolutionaries of ‘68!”

The class cheer suddenly, finally catching the glint in Phil’s eye. They grab their pickets, and follow Phil as he strides to the door of the classroom. Not knowing how else to respond, Dan hurries after them, a little panicked as the crowd of fourteen-year-olds pour out into the hall. 

If only his deadly strict advisor from teacher-training could see him now. The Health and Safety of most of Phil’s activities would absolutely not pass regulations. 

“What do we want?” Phil cries, oblivious to his own rule-breaking as he marches the gaggle of teenagers down the corridor. 

“Revolution!” Jonah shouts, laughing. 

“When do we want it?” 

“Uh, 1968?” Someone calls out, and Phil chuckles.

“Ideally, yeah, but forty-nine years later works too.” 

Marvelling at the boldness of this man, as usual, Dan jogs to the front of the pack of students, marching along beside Phil. 

The rest of the class begin a chant of their own, their signs waving above them in the air as they walk determinedly through the school. 

Several classroom doors open, and students and teachers alike poke their heads out into the corridor, laughing and pointing as they pass by. 

“You’re nuts,” Dan says to Phil, feeling breathless with the adrenaline of this mad activity. “Won’t the other teachers hate you for this? You’re probably disrupting a few classes.”

Phil laughs, shrugging. “Maybe.”

He grins at Dan as he veers unexpectedly to a nearby door leading to the playground. He holds it open for the students as they march through; several of them high five he and Dan as they go. 

Dan smirks at Phil. “I think you might be some other people’s favourite teacher too.” 

*

Dan tries not to be too gloomy as he helps gather up all the students’ pickets at the end of class. There are now just under three and a half days separating him from his next chance to assist Phil in the classroom. 

Sure, he might be able to snag some of Phil’s attention during lunch and break times between now and Thursday, but it’s not the same as having a full hour with him. 

“Guys, before you leave!” Phil shouts as the students pack away their things. “I thought that, as we’re studying the ‘68 revolution, it’d be cool for you to see a French film from around that time! Cinema is really important in French history, as a lot of the prominent left-wing figures were filmmakers, and they produced some really cool stuff about this period.” 

Dan looks up in interest, wondering where Phil is going with this. 

“So basically, as there isn’t enough time to show a whole film during class, I thought it’d be fun to have a little film night this week!” Phil tells everyone, beaming. The class squeal in excitement. “I thought Wednesday evening would work. I’ll bring a film in, and if you’re free that evening, stay behind after school and we can all watch it together!” 

The class all begin chattering at once, the excitement evident in their voices, even if it’s difficult to distinguish exactly what they’re saying. 

“Sounds like you’re all keen!” Phil laughs. “So if you can make it, I’ll start the film at about four on Wednesday.” 

“Have you invited Mr Howell, sir?” Jonah calls out, turning to wink at Dan. 

Dan glares at him, trying to suppress his own urge to blush. 

Phil chuckles, turning to Dan. “Is Mr Howell interested in coming along?”

Dan reaches up to rub the back of his neck, feeling awkward. At least twenty-six pairs of eyes glue themselves to him, eagerly awaiting his response. 

“Um... sure.” Dan says at last, shrugging like it isn’t the most exciting thing he’s been invited to in months. “I’ll try and make it.” 

The class laugh, and Jonah chucks a ball of leftover craft paper at him. “Oh, got something better to do, sir?” 

Dan chuckles, rolling his eyes. “Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”

“Awesome.” Phil says; Dan catches his eye, and has to keep himself from grinning. 

*

“Hey, we’re going to the pub tomorrow.” Tyler tells Dan on Tuesday, falling face first onto Dan’s bed. 

“I’m never going to the pub with you and Teddy again after last time.” Dan tells him, kicking Tyler with his foot in a vague attempt to push him off the bed. 

He’s been scrolling through Tumblr for an hour or so now, but just because he’s been holed up in his room since he got in from work, does not mean that Tyler gets to just wander in and annoy him. 

“Aw, come on, that’s mean.” Tyler says, pouting at Dan. “Stephanie won’t even be there this time, I swear.” 

Dan swallows, shaking his head as he turns back to his screen. “Nope, sorry.”

“Dan, you know we’re not gonna let you mope about the house while we go out.” Tyler says, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, you don’t need to worry.” Dan says, feeling awkward. “I won’t be here.”

Tyler is quiet for a moment, then perks up, catlike, catching the scent of some gossip. “Oh?”

Dan just presses his lips together, saying nothing. He reblogs a photo of a cute panda, trying to stay calm. 

“Teddy!” Tyler yells, making Dan jump. “Dan’s keeping secrets!”

Dan looks up at him with scorn. “Tyler, don’t be-”

Teddy bursts into the room, wearing an apron with a naked man’s torso on the front, a spatula in one hand. 

“Secrets?” Teddy asks, wide eyes darting between Tyler and Dan. “What secrets?”

“Dan has secret plans tomorrow night.” Tyler informs him, grinning. 

“Plans?” Teddy repeats, acting shocked. “But Ty, Dan doesn’t have any friends apart from us!”

“Wrong.” Dan says gruffly. “You two are not my friends, I hate you both.”

“Is it a date?” Tyler asks, sucking in a gasp. 

Teddy leaps onto the bed beside Tyler, squealing. “Oh my God, is it a date, Dan?!” 

Dan rolls his eyes. “For Christ’s sake, no. It’s not a date.” 

He could never, in a million years, be that lucky. 

Just then, his phone pings. Ignoring the probing eyes of his two housemates, Dan plucks the thing out of his pocket to look. 

18:34 Phil Lester 🌠 excited for some french cinema tomorrow night? je suis trés  joyeux que tu viennes! :)

Dan’s heart flutters, registering who the text is from, and then his phone is being plucked out of his hand. 

“No!” Dan cries, lunging for Tyler. “Wait, don’t-”

“Okay, who is Phil?” Tyler asks, holding the phone out of Dan’s reach; Teddy grabs hold of Dan by the waist, restraining him. 

“Ooh, Phil!” Teddy repeats, giggling. “I knew you were looking for a man.”

“I honestly loathe you both.” Dan grits out, struggling uselessly against Teddy’s grip. 

“French cinema?” Tyler asks, tilting his head to one side. “Is that code for something?” 

“Give me back the phone, Tyler.” Dan says, going limp in Teddy’s arms, defeated. 

“We’re just taking an interest in your personal life, Dan,” Teddy says soothingly, patting Dan on the head. 

“Phil’s just... he’s a guy I work with.” Dan says, feeling the redness spread over his cheeks and neck, betraying him. 

“Hmm,” Tyler says, throwing Dan’s phone aside at last. “A guy who is ‘very happy you’re coming’ tomorrow.” Dan blushes harder, not having worked out what the French bit had meant just yet. “Is ‘Phil’... how do you say, un beefcake?”

“Is he a teacher?” Teddy asks excitedly, releasing Dan in order to cover his own mouth with both hands. 

“He’s a teacher, yes.” Dan confirms, snatching up his phone and pocketing it. 

“God, that’s hot.” Tyler sighs, looking wistful. “And he speaks French. Think of the roleplay opportunities.”

“Aw, we can try some schoolteacher roleplay, babe,” Teddy assures Tyler, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Fine, but I get to wear the cute schoolgirl outfit.” 

Teddy rolls his eyes. “Fine.”

“I’m pretty sure I can smell burning,” Dan says, sniffing the air in distaste. 

“Shit!” Teddy exclaims, grabbing his spatula and jumping off the bed. 

As he bolts out of the door, the fire alarm begins to shriek, making Tyler scream with laughter. 

“Everything’s fine!” Teddy calls from the kitchen. 

Despite the irritation sitting under his skin, eventually Dan finds himself joining in the laughter too. 

*

Dan is half an hour early to the film screening. 

He would have come straight from his last class, which ended at 3pm, but he decided to make a quick trip to the grocery store round the corner from school. 

He returns with two enormous bags, shuffling through Phil’s classroom door with some difficulty. Phil looks at the bags in surprise, coming over to help Dan haul them in. 

“What’s this?” Phil asks, clearly intrigued. As he takes one of the bags from Dan’s hand, he looks him in the eye. “Hi, by the way. Haven’t seen you all day!” 

Dan chuckles, setting his own carrier bag on Phil’s desk. “Hi. I brought popcorn!” 

“Oh, God,” Phil moans unexpectedly. “As if you could get any more amazing.”

Dan chuckles awkwardly, a warm glow spreading through his gut. “Uh, you like popcorn?”

“It’s literally my favourite food of all time,” Phil tells him seriously. “How did you know?” 

“Damn, I need to be more subtle with my stalking.” Dan says, making Phil laugh so much that he drops one of the bags. “Anyway, it’s not all for you.” 

“In that case, the kids better hurry up before I inhale it all.”

Dan laughs, watching fondly as Phil flits around the classroom, closing blinds and straightening chairs. The projector is on, currently throwing an image of Phil’s desktop background onto the smartboard. Behind his jumble of icons, there’s a picture of what seems to be a large, photoshopped capybara taking up an entire paddling pool. 

Dan decides not to question it. 

“So what film have you picked for us all?”

Phil beams at him. “It’s called Les Quatre-Cents Coups. Have you heard of it?”

Dan shakes his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in an almost smile. It’s obvious to see how passionate Phil is about this subject; he talks animatedly, looking eager and focused.

It’s adorable.

“Wow!” Phil exclaims. “I’m kind of jealous. I wish I could go back to a time before I’d seen it.”

“What’s it about?” Dan asks, mostly in an effort to keep Phil talking.

“Oh... well, it’s about a little boy mainly. An underprivileged boy living in Paris. But it’s about much more than that really. It’s about the oppressive structures of French economy in the fifties, classism, the bourgeoise... and it’s about growing up, y’know? How even if we all experience it differently, there’s a certain relatability about puberty too.” Phil pauses, reddening a little. He chuckles. “I mean, that’s what I take from it, anyway. I studied the history of French Cinema for a while, so I’m a bit of a geek about it. But you can form your own opinions, obviously.”

“Me?” Dan says, laughing. “I dunno. I don’t know the first thing about film. Apart from that I like going to the cinema.”

“Well that’s a good place to start.” Phil tells him happily. “There’s all sorts of theories about spectatorhood, and why audiences enjoy the activity of going to the cinema, watching films as a collective experience...”

Phil trails off again, shaking his head.

“Okay, you have to stop me if I start rambling, Dan. I get carried away.”

“I think it’s cute.” Dan says before he thinks about it.

Phil’s eyebrow lifts in surprise, but he seems to take the comment in his stride. Dan, on the other hand, blushes furiously, cursing himself for being so transparent.

“I think you’re just too nice to tell me to shut up,” Phil jokes, but he lets his eyes linger on Dan’s, warm and fond.

Luckily, before Dan can shove his foot any further into his mouth, a couple of girls from the class wander in, looking trepidatious.

“Hi, uh... can we come in yet, sir?”

“Of course, Joanna!” Phil says, jumping down from his position on the desk. “Hi Bethany! Would you guys mind helping me and Mr Howell to set up?”

They jump to the tasks Phil gives them happily, chattering to him about the petty dramas of their day, complaining about their homework and the fallouts they’re having with friends.

Dan watches with amusement, marvelling - as always - at the ease with which Phil converses with his students, giving each one his undivided attention while they’re speaking, never replying in a condescending tone.

He’s such a rare gem of a teacher, Dan thinks. Phil sends Joanna to the staffroom to collect bowls, and they put one on each table, filled with popcorn.

Soon enough, the other kids begin to arrive, all wearing the thrilled grins Dan remembers from when he used to stay behind after school. There’s something about being in the building outside of the mandatory hours that just seems a bit naughty. It doesn’t matter that they’re here for what is essentially an extended history lesson - the students are excited to be involved in this extra-curricular activity.

Dan hasn’t asked them, but he’d bet a lot of that excitement comes from having Phil here, providing his ever-shining rays of brilliant, sunny exuberance.

The kids take their seats, restless at first, but settling in once Phil dims the lights and presses play. Dan finds a seat on one of the empty tables at the back, and is all prepared to expand his cultural knowledge with some French Cinema. Then, once he’s sure the film is running, Phil walks to the back of the class and slides into the seat right beside him.

Immediately, Dan releases any hope he was holding onto of immersing himself in the film.

“Ready?” Phil asks in a low, quiet voice that pierces straight through Dan’s gut. 

He’s leaning in close, eyes sparkling as the light of the opening credits reflect in them.

All Dan can do is nod silently, and try not to let the squeak out of his throat.

Phil’s one of those people who doesn’t shut up during a film. Dan hates those sorts of people usually, but he can’t seem to find Phil’s inability to keep his comments to himself anything but ridiculously cute.

His musings vary from the way in which the cinematography emphasises certain aspects of the narrative, to the strange dress sense Parisians had in the days of the 'nouvelle vague’, as he calls it.

He talks so much that he is shushed by the students more than once, but he just giggles and apologises in a stage whisper, to which the students roll their eyes.

“See that?” Phil says at one point, basically pressing himself against Dan’s side in order to point at the screen. “The photo of the man Antoine is putting on his shrine? That’s Balzac. He’s one of the founders of realism in literature.”

Dan smiles. “How meta.”

The responding look Phil gives to Dan is something so warm and proud that Dan wants to melt it down and spread it on a thick slab of toast.

“Exactly.”

Their hands meet in the popcorn. It’s like something out a cringey teen TV show. Phil just laughs and winks at him, but Dan about faints from how fast the blood rushes to his cheeks.

Phil seems to have no issues about personal space, and allows their legs to rest comfortably against each other beneath the table. He’ll grab Dan’s shoulder during his favourite scenes, eyes shining, breath held as he watches the screen.

Honestly, by the time the final shot (apparently an incredibly famous moment in film history) appears, Dan is not totally sure whether he’d be able to say what the film had been about. He’d spent quite a lot of it staring at Phil, and the rest of it thinking about how it felt - elating, blissful, drug-like - to sit beside him in the darkness, in a room where everyone else was steadfastly facing the other way.

Phil turns to him as the image fades to black, a knowing glint in his eye.

“Did you like it?”

Dan stammers out something that isn’t really words, and nods emphatically to make up for it. Phil grins at him, tongue slightly visible through his rows of teeth, and then he stands up, much to Dan’s dismay.

“So that was Les Quatre-Cents Coups!” Phil says to the class, climbing up to sit on the desk at which he and Dan had been sat. Dan cranes his neck upwards, leaning back in his chair to watch as Phil crosses his legs underneath him on the table. “Could someone get the lights, please? Thanks Bethany.”

The lights flash on, garish and bright, and the class groan, rubbing their eyes.

“What did we all think of it, then?” Phil asks, beaming.

“Awesome!” Someone shouts.

“I thought I hated black and white films, but that was cool.” 

“I loved it! Paris is so beautiful.” 

“That kid was well sick at acting, sir.” 

Phil nods encouragingly as students call out their opinions. 

Jonah snorts loudly. “I couldn’t concentrate on half of it. Kept gettin’ distracted by Mr Lester and Mr Howell flirting in the back!”

Phil laughs, shooting Jonah a disapproving look. His smile stays in place though. 

“I’m sure Mr Howell has far better options, Jonah.” Phil teases, and Dan just tries to pretend he’s somewhere else. 

He might kill Jonah at some point, he considers. 

Then, someone sticks up their hand. Phil points at the kid, smiling. 

“Yes, Matt?”

“What’s the title mean in English, sir?”

“Well, the English version of the film is called The Four-Hundred Blows.” Phil answers. “Which is actually an inaccurate translation, as it doesn’t mean anything. The original title comes from a phrase that people use a lot in France - ‘faire les quatre cents coups’ - which kind of means ‘to raise hell’. It suits Antoine, don’t you think?”

“Suits me, sir!” Jonah calls out, making everyone chuckle. “I’mma start sayin’ that. What was it again? Fair lezzer cooper?”

Phil laughs, hands holding his ankles as he leans backwards. It’s such a sweet action, so innocent and playful, that Dan can’t help smiling.

“Faire les quatre cents coups,” Phil corrects gently, enunciating each word. “I think it suits you as well, Jonah.”

Joanna is sat at the table in front of theirs, her chin in one hand as she gazes up at Phil, marvelling.

“Do you speak French, sir?” Joanna asks, obviously smitten. Dan can relate.

Phil beams at her. “Yeah, I do! I spent a year studying in Paris.”

Dan’s eyebrows lift in surprise. He’d suspected that Phil knew a few phrases, but the fact he speaks fluent French is a surprise. Why is that such an attractive quality?

He imagines Phil speaking to him in that low, quiet voice he reserves for when he wants to tell Dan something the class or another teacher shouldn’t overhear, but in French. A warm trickle runs teasingly up his thighs, like light, tracing fingers. A full body tremor comes over him. 

Phil throws a glance towards him, presumably having seen that peculiar reaction. Dan doesn’t miss the way his mouth twitches in a smile.

“That’s so dreamy,” Joanna sighs, retrieving Phil’s attention. She sits bolt upright, blushing. “I mean! It’s a dreamy language.” The rest of the class chuckle, and she reddens further. “I wish I could speak it is all!”

“Well, you’re in luck!” Phil announces suddenly. “Because as you may or may not be aware, our Year Nine History trip is coming up in two weeks time!”

The class immediately descend into loud, excited chatter; students grab at each other, squealing.

“Hey, come on, guys! Calm down, we’re here after hours, remember?” Phil calls out, but he’s grinning, evidently pleased by their enthusiasm. The class simmer down gradually, their buzz of excitement still palpable in the air. “So, yeah! We’re off to Paris for a weekend! If you can make it, it’s only fifteen pounds per student, and if you can’t stretch that, come and have a word with me, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Dan’s eyes soften as he listens to this last part. This man really is one of a kind.

Again, the class begin talking animatedly about the trip, discussing outfit choices, places they want to visit, room sharing, and other trivialities.

“Are we going up the Eiffel Tower, sir?” Someone asks.

“I’m scared of heights!”

“Where are we staying?”

“Are we sharing rooms?”

“Are we going by coach, or ferry?”

“Ooh, maybe we’re flying!”

“Can I bring my dog?”

“Hey!” Phil interrupts, hands held up in surrender. He’s laughing at them all. “All questions will be answered in class on Monday. I’ll also be sending out permission slips tonight via email, so get your folks or guardians to print them off and sign them, then bring them to me when they’re ready.”

“Sir, I just have one more question!” Jonah cries out, sticking up his hand and waving it. “Just one, sir, please?”

Phil sighs, clearly debating it. Eventually though, he rolls his eyes and nods, smiling. “Go on then. Just one.”

Jonah grins, eyes flicking to meet Dan’s. “Is Mr Howell coming with us?”

Phil lets out a low chuckle, his vivid blue eyes sliding to Dan’s, questioning. 

“I don’t know,” Phil says in a voice that surely isn’t appropriate for the situation at hand. Dan swallows, feeling singled out by the gaze. “Is he?”

(Part Four!)

[shinwnn]

just friends au jimin

summary: basically you and jimin are the cutest best friends ever and youd be a perfect couple and he sees that and you kinda see that but you don’t wanna be in a relationship rn (why?? i dunno what r u thinking)

you’ve been studying all night for your finals tmrw and at 3 am you finally decide to go to bed 

you check your phone before going to sleep and see a message jimin sent you 4 hours earlier 

“power through!! this test is going to be a piece of cake for you”

with whatever energy you had left, you tried to type out a message

 but your eyes were already half way closed at this point so it came out like

“thsnkd jimn ilovek u good mnigjt“

and as soon as the text goes out you cringe a little bc jimin has been your best friend for years and yes, you love him, but a few weeks ago when he asked if you guys could be more than friends you rejected him

so this sleepy “ilovek u” felt like you were taunting him 

when you get a text back though, you let out a breath you didnt know you were holding bc jimin doesn’t seem to notice at all

“don’t stay up so late next time okay? you need to take care of yourself. good luck on the test! :~) ily2” 

you smiled to yourself and cuddled up against a stuffed polar bear he won you at the carnival a few months ago before you fell asleep with the warmest feeling in the world

(one that you’ve noticed that only your best friend can bring you for some reason)

what you don’t know is how hard it was for jimin to type out that last text

he was in the practice room working on his piece for his big national dance competition and was beating himself up over not being able to do a small part as good as he wanted to

but all the anger, stress & frustration he was building up faded away when he saw you had texted him

and when he saw your poor attempt at an “i love you” his heart fluttered but immediately dropped

last week, while you guys were at your favorite cafe doing homework (which you guys always did at least twice a week), jimin looked up from his essay to see you staring so intently at a math problem and he couldn’t help but just smile and be overwhelmed with love

he is just SO fond of u and he shows you that everyday with how much he cares about you but it hurts him that he hasn’t been able to tell you that he loves u as so much more

and he had known that he liked you as more than a friend right when you started hanging out

but something about that moment with you sitting across from him, ur messy hair, tired eyes and all, he just wants to tell u that it doesn’t matter how many dancing competitions he doesn’t place at, or how many sleepless nights he spends practicing bc you make everything good. you’re comfortable for him and you’re home to him and he loves you

and while this is all going through his head he’s just looking at you

when u look up from your work and meet his gaze you raise your eyebrows at him and look at him expectantly bc he seems like he REALLY wants to say something right now

you: what?

jimin: what?

you: you look like you have something really important to say

jimin: i just can’t stop thinking about the fact that alaska has more caribou than people. it’s just so ......fascinating

and you roll your eyes but you can’t help but laugh bc jimin’s face is lit up and seeing you laugh just makes him smile even more and you can’t help but wonder if this is the world’s brightest smile

but still, you know your best friend well and you know that jimin’s joking to cover up what’s really on his mind, so you keep pushing him to tell you

and he doesn’t want to, mostly because he’s really afraid of what happens next

you turn your attention back to your work, knowing that he’ll break eventually

but what you don’t expect is how quickly he does

bc hearing your laugh and watching you wrinkle your nose in the cutest way he’s ever seen gave him a sudden boost of confidence 

so he leans forward across the table and quietly says

“hey... i like you.. a lot”

you look up again, wide eyed, and see how hopeful he looks and you just... freeze

bc ofc you’ve thought about this. 

ofc everytime jimin walked you home or stayed up late to listen to you rant or brought you lunch when he knew you weren’t eating enough you’ve thought about what an amazing boyfriend he’d be

and everytime you guys can tell what the other is thinking through just a look, or laugh for hours at a joke no one though was funny, you’ve thought about the fact that maybe you’ll never find anyone as perfect for you as jimin

but you’ve also thought about that fact that you didn’t feel like either of you were in a good place for a relationship

you were both busy with school, jimin was always overwhelmed with dance practices and competition training,  and you’ve been trying to balance your current job with interview after interview for a better one

mostly, you knew how important dancing was to jimin as a part of his future and you wanted him to focus on that.

 you came to terms with the fact that you’d only be a distraction, and that no matter how much it might hurt whenever you pulled out of a hug before it got too long, or broke eye contact when you saw how much love there was in his eyes, you knew that in the long run, this was what would be best for him

right?

in that moment, with him looking at you so warmly you wanted so much to intertwine your fingers with his and tell him that yes!! you liked him too!! so much!! 

but instead you said

“yeah jimin, i know. i like you too, that’s why we’re friends.”

you tried to keep a light, casual tone in your voice and smiled weakly at him before throwing yourself back into your work

jimin’s smile faded and he paused a little from shock of what happened before shaking his head and tugging on  your sweater so you’d look back up at him

“no, no, not like that. i mean- yes like that. i do like you as a friend. but also more than that. you know? like i like you a lot more than that. as like, a girlf-”

he was nervously rambling and he still hadn’t let go of your sweater

you cut him off “right, friends. you’re a really good friend jimin. my best friend. you know i really appreciate that right?”

and in the way that you guys have always been able to read each other, jimin knew that this was your way of saying no

he slowly let go of your sweater and leaned back into his chair

you refused to look up from your assignment, but if you did you would’ve seen a heartbroken boy going over and over in his head about what he possible could’ve done wrong

by the time you guys left the cafe to get dinner together, you were both talking like normal again, there was an unspoken agreement to pretend like nothing had happened

but it was impossible

and that’s why when jimin reads your text, he rereads it 20 times and types out “i love you too” before deleting it and retyping it 20 times 

and he finally settles on a simple ily2, but still his finger hovers over the send button before he finally presses it

back to the morning of your test, you wake up at 7 and check your phone, smiling to see a text from jimin.

“morning! i’ll be over at in 15 with breakfast.”

you sigh and close your eyes, thinking what you did to deserve this boy as your friend

after rolling out of bed and starting to get ready, your doorbell rings and you open the door to see jimin (somehow looking amazing this early in the morning) holding two bags of food and smiling in a way that even his eyes are smiling with him

he comes in and starts to set up the food in your kitchen and he knows where everything is because he’s over practically all the time

and you’re just watching him thinking “god I’m an idiot why wouldn’t I want to date him? he’s literally perfect??”

sleepily, you walk over and ruffle his hair and look at him lovingly (but like friend lovingly (you swear)) 

and he stops arranging the plates to look back at you and was about to tell you off for messing his hair up but you’ve never looked at him like that before 

like he’s seen you look at him thankfully or with pure joy or fondly

but this is different

and when he told jin abt you and how you had rejected him, jin told him to use a pick up line when the time is right

but he doesn’t throw out a cheesy line in fear of ruining the moment so instead he says “why are you looking at me like that?”

“don’t get any ideas jimin, i’m just thankful for the food.” (nice save)

“of course! what are friends for?” he says winking at you

because right, you’re friends.

 just friends.