#i feel like i know nothing about the phandom anymore :'c

[ectopuppy]

im kinda starting to regret doing the old pm calendar instead of the dannymay one...

[adorkablephil]

Fic: The Body Electric (Epilogue)

Title: The Body Electric Summary: Filmmaker Phil Lester finds his computer infected by a surprisingly endearing artificial intelligence virus that calls itself D.A.N. Phil just calls him Dan. Rating: Mature (But there’s no sex here.) Word Count: 1.8k Tags: Phandom Reverse Bang, Science Fiction AU, Computers, Virus!Dan, Rather Unconventional Romance Thanks: This story was inspired by a prompt from the artist @lilacskylester in the @phandomreversebang. Their art for the fic is here! The story is straying from the original prompt, but that’s still where the inspiration came from. You can also read the whole fic on AO3

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[ The Body Electric Chapter Masterlist ]

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Epilogue: Hacker

Sitting at one of the window seats at my favorite Starbucks, dipping an almond biscotti into my pumpkin spice latte, I notice a tall guy with a dark quiff staring at me oddly from the queue at the counter. He’s cute, in a dorky kind of way—kind of gangly and awkward, as if he doesn’t quite know what to do with the length of his limbs.

In my experience, that doesn’t necessarily translate into a lack of coordination in the bedroom. I’m just saying.

Also, even from this distance, I can see that his socks are two different colors. I have a weird thing for guys who wear mismatched socks. I like the way it implies a relaxed refusal to comply with societal expectations. I’m not a big fan of societal expectations in general, whether it comes to gender roles, sexual identity, physical appearance, sock choice, or pretty much anything else.

I’m just not a big fan of people telling me what to do or who to be.

I dip my biscotti back into my drink and take a bite. Biscotti by themselves taste like cardboard, but pretty much anything tastes good if you’ve got a tasty dip. I chew and swallow, then glance back toward the queue.

The guy with the quiff and the mismatched socks shoots me another strangely intense look, and I smile. Maybe he’ll have the guts to come over and say hi. I don’t have to be at work for another half hour, so I wouldn’t mind a bit of flirting with a cute stranger to start the day off nicely.

He lurks awkwardly near the pick-up area after placing his order, but then the barista booms, “Pumpkin spice latte for Phil!” and he jumps, then walks over to pick up his drink. He glances at me again, obviously nervous, and I give him another encouraging smile.

He sips from his drink, still standing near the counter, and jerks his mouth away from the cup abruptly. Probably burnt his tongue. He shoots me another glance and smiles sheepishly, so I finally just motion him over, and he comes to sit across from me at the table. He takes the lid off of his drink and blows on the hot liquid. I notice his lips are soft and pink, his face pale and narrow with killer cheekbones.

“Hi,” I say, and take a sip of my drink. “Pumpkin spice latte, huh?” Phil gapes at me for a moment, and I begin to question his intelligence. “They just announced it when you picked up your order,” I remind him with a chuckle.

“Oh, right.” He ducks his head and blushes, and I realize he’s just really nervous for some reason. And he keeps shooting quick glances at my face then looking away again. “I’m sorry,” he says in obvious embarrassment. “This is just really weird.”

“Why is it weird?” I ask, taking another sip of my drink. “Do you not usually talk to strange men in coffee shops? Or do you not usually drink pumpkin spice lattes?” That gets an honest laugh out of him, and his face looks much more relaxed afterward.

“No,” he says, still laughing, “I always drink pumpkin spice lattes. It’s an annual rite of passage. It’s the start of the lead up to the Big C.” I raise an eyebrow in question. “Christmas!” he explains.

I nod knowingly. “Of course. There needs to be a specific dividing line for when the festive season actually officially begins, and the arrival of the pumpkin spice latte at Starbucks is that line.” He nods solemnly, taking my fake seriousness as it’s intended, and then grins.

It’s a nice grin. A nice smile in general. And his tongue peeks out just a little bit out of the corner of his mouth, which is perhaps the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen on a grown man. It should look silly, but it just looks cute as hell.

“That’s why I’m drinking one, too,” I admit. “I think they’re too sweet, personally, but who am I to argue with festive traditions?”

Phil looks aghast. “There is no such thing as too sweet!” he insists.

I just shake my head sadly. “Here I had such high hopes for us, but we’re clearly hopelessly incompatible on a basic molecular level.”

His face lights up. Almost literally. It’s like something within him just shines, and I notice the beautiful color of his pale eyes, multiple colors all at the same time. One of the colors is actually yellow, as if sunshine itself is beaming from the center of his irises. I’m a little stunned by the sudden output of pure wattage, to be honest.

“You had high hopes for us?” he asks, still beaming at me like the freaking sun. “Based on what?”

“I like a guy with mismatched socks,” I say with a smirk, getting my metaphorical feet back under me. “But the real problem is that I need to get going to work soon.” I give him a more genuine smile. I wouldn’t mind getting his number.

Phil’s eyes grow wide. “It’s Derek!” he murmurs in this voice that sounds almost awed. He seems to be staring at my smile, but he must have seen someone else behind me.

I look around. “Did you see someone you know?”

Phil blinks a few times and shakes his head. “No. Sorry. Just … you were telling me about your job,” and the weirdness seems to have vanished, leaving just his cute sort of awkward oddness behind. “What do you do?”

I sigh. I hate my job. I hate talking about my job. I hate everything that even remotely pertains to my job. “I’m a solicitor, specializing in cyber crimes,” I admit with chagrin. “I love the cyber part, but the solicitor part is a huge drag. I don’t know why I ever studied law.” I’m leaving a lot out—such as my own extracurricular forays into the “crime” part of “cyber crimes”—but I just met this guy. “What about you?” I ask, taking another sip of my PSL and noticing that it’s only half finished. We’ve been talking longer than I realized, and my drink is beginning to cool. I set the remaining half of my biscotti on my napkin, not really interested in it anymore. And I really do need to get to work.

But you know what? Fuck work. I hate that job. All those classes in computer coding, and I end up a fucking bureaucrat.

So if talking to a cute guy makes me late for work for once, who gives a fuck? Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to get fired. I can become a pianist or sell Kanye CDs on the street or something. Become a fashion model for Alexander McQueen. Make baking videos on fucking YouTube. Anything would be better than this hell job. Talking to this cute guy is definitely better.

“I’m a filmmaker,” he tells me, and I’m instantly intrigued.

“Really?” I ask, and he nods.

“I started out making movies when I was a kid. I wanted to be the next Wes Craven,” he says.

“Ah! Horror films!” He nods. “I fucking loved The Ring!”

“Me too!” Phil enthuses, and then he just sits at looks at me for a long moment as we both sip our drinks. His has apparently cooled down enough for him to drink it normally now.

“Do you feel like we’ve met before?” Phil asks out of nowhere. He’s giving me that weird stare again.

I raise an eyebrow and smirk. “Aren’t we past those kinds of pick-up lines? I think we’ve already established that I’m into you.”

He blushes the prettiest pink I’ve ever seen, the shade of his cheeks almost matching his lips, and he looks away before glancing back at me, looking adorably shy. “No. It’s not a pick-up line. I really want to know. You don’t … I don’t seem familiar to you?”

I shake my head. “Should I remember you from somewhere?”

“No. No, you shouldn’t,” he replies, and I think there’s a bit of sadness in his tone. Did he think I was someone else, and now he’s disappointed? Well, I don’t need that kind of baggage.

“I should get to work,” I say abruptly, and scoot back my chair to stand, prepared to toss the rest of my stupidly sweet PSL into the rubbish bin.

But Phil jumps to his feet and pleads, “Wait!” We stand there a moment, just watching each other, and then he takes a deep breath and says, “I’d really like to see you again. If you want that. I … I like you. More than I thought I would.”

That seems like an odd thing to say, so I raise an eyebrow. “More than you thought you would?”

Phil shrugs uncomfortably. “Well, at first you reminded me of this other guy, but once I started talking to you … I don’t know…” Yup, baggage. I don’t need that.

I head to the door and toss my cup into the rubbish, and Phil follows me. Gotta give the guy points for persistence. “Look,” he says firmly, “I know I’ve been a little weird.” I shoot him a look and he sort of laughs. “Okay, maybe a lot weird. I’m just generally kind of awkward, but … you seem really cool … and I’d really like to get to know you better. Nothing about any other guy. Just … you. I like you.” He bites his lip, and there he goes again with the adorableness. I’m not immune to it.

I can’t help but smile, and his shoulders drop about two inches in relief. “Okay. Meet me here again for coffee tomorrow? Same time. We can talk more. And maybe you can show me one of these horror movies of yours.”

“One’s showing at the independent film festival next week,” he says with shy pride. The combination of humility and self-confidence makes him even more attractive.

“It could be our first real date,” I suggest, half joking. “Will it scare me enough to make me leap into your lap?”

“One can only hope,” he replies with a grin. “Some people really like it. I hope you will, too.”

We stand and smile at each other until somebody pushes past us to get out the door. I really do need to get to work.

“So … I’ll see you here tomorrow?” I ask, and I find that I’m really looking forward to it.

“Definitely,” he says. “I promise.”

**********

Author’s Note: Now THAT is the end! I hope you enjoyed it!

[allmytwistedshadows]

Sleepless

Pairing: Dan Howell x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes (Anon)

Request: Hey, your writing is amazing 😍 Can you do Dan Howell x reader, where Dan can't sleep, the reader comforts him and they become a couple? Thank you 😘

Summary: (Y/N) is a friend of Dan and Phil’s, spending the night after working on a collab with the pair. When his insomnia is at a high, though, he isn’t sure what to do. Of course, he isn’t the only night owl in the flat that night; and what’s a guy to do when something is troubling the one he cares about?

Word Count: 1,628

Warnings: Swearing, more than probable sardonic humor, rusty writing (Sorry it’s been a while)

AN: I’m not used to writing from Male POV so I’m sorry if it’s sucky.

“I will never be able to look at a spatula the same thanks to you,” (Y/N) said with a laugh, rising from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting next to fellow YouTubers and friends Dan Howell and Phil Lester. Dan thought it would be funny to remake the popular Cards Against Humanity video he did with Tyler Oakley three years ago. “Honestly, I am never making pancakes again because I know I can’t without thinking of--”

“What? No!” Phil cried, cutting the (h/c) haired boy off. “The (Y/N) Specialty Pancakes are the best!”

“Sorry Philly,” he said apologetically. “They’re no more now that I’ve seen the horrors of what Dan thinks a spatula can be used for.”

“That was a card well deserved,” Dan said with an awkward grin as he held up his win cards. 

The three laughed together before making the decision to order a take-away and watch reruns of Spirited Away for the night. While Phil went to go take care of the take-away, (Y/N) decided to help clean up everything. While Dan took care of the camera and the lights, (Y/N) took care of the pile of cards on the floor.

“If I were smarter I’d be making Phil clean this up,” he mumbled as he tried to straighten the cards out. “The sore loser.”

“Yes; but, as the Phandom loves to point out, it’s one of the many qualities that makes him so endearing,” Dan returned lightly, laughing silently to himself. “Not to mention it’s so hilarious to watch when I’m editing.”

“I’ll definitely give you that one,” (Y/N) agreed with a grin. “But can you please leave me falling off the bed out? Pretty please?”

“Nope,” Dan said with a smug grin. “If the world sees my shame--not once but twice--then they get to see your shame as well.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate me too,” Dan said without missing a beat. When he didn’t respond after a moment Dan was quick to add, “Kidding! Look at me: all jokes and grins. Haha great times.”

“Y’know, one day you’re going to meet someone who doesn’t appreciate your sardonic sense of humor,” (Y/N) spoke as he started setting the cards back in their box.

“Yes, but you do get and appreciate it so I’m fine,” Dan counters, pointing at me briefly with a wink.

Stopping what he was doing, (Y/N)’s face went blank as he looked up at the dark haired boy. “Daniel.”

“(Y/N).”

“Please, never do that again.”

“Pft. Okay hater.”

“Oh please. You know you’d have said the same thing.”

“Yes, but I said it internally.” The both of them laughed as (Y/N) sat on the edge of Dan’s bed. “Okay, moving on from my self detrimental mind, please tell me you weren’t serious about not making your specialty pancakes anymore.”

“I don’t even know why you guys love them so much,” he said as he brushed aside some hair that had been hanging in front of his (E/C) eyes. “They’re just my mom’s pancake recipe with carefully timed food coloring.”

“Blasphemy,” Dan spoke, placing a hand on his chest.

With a roll of his eyes, (Y/N) rose to grab the top of the box from Dan’s desk. “Well you can relax, Danny,” he assured him, purposefully using the nickname that Dan not-so-subtly dislikes for being “too American” for his taste. “I assure you that I will make the pancakes again.”

“Good because we took the liberty of buying everything you need to make them tomorrow morning.”

(Y/N) groaned as he rolled onto his side in the guest room. He stared at the window, mentally cursing himself for forgetting his melatonin when he agreed to stay the night. Having gone through this many times, (Y/N) knew better than to try and make himself sleep. So he sat up and pulled the duvet away as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. Jamming his feet into slippers, (Y/N) rose from the bed and began to walk silently to the kitchen. Two in the morning or not, he’d be damned if he didn’t get whatever juice he could find.

When he got to the kitchen he opened the fridge and looked around for orange juice, apple juice, prune juice--any juice. There was soda, ribena, milk but absolutely no juice. 

"You mean to tell me I came on the one night these two don’t have any juice?” he grumbled.

“Have you met Phil?”

(Y/N) jumped slightly, turning quickly to see Dan sitting at the small kitchen counter with the orange juice next to him. Half of Dan’s face was illuminated by moonlight, giving him an almost mysterious sense of whimsy. The sight made (Y/N)’s chest tighten as his heart beat in his throat. Of course, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if that was from the jump scare or from something that he had spent a long time denying for the sake of their friendship. “Bloody hell,” (Y/N) muttered upon settling down. “Why am I not surprised you’re lurking in the dark.”

“I suppose the feeling’s mutual you nocturnal freak,” Dan stated as he slid the juice container towards the other boy.

(Y/N) grabbed a glass from the cabinet and then moved next to Dan, taking the container and pouring himself a glass. “So why are you up?” the (h/c) boy asked before taking a sip of the juice.

Dan shrugged, swishing his juice around. “Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

The other boy examined Dan with inquisitive (e/c) eyes, seeing the way his fingers fidgeted and how he couldn’t quite bring his dark eyes to meet him. “You’re lying,” (Y/N) concluded. 

Dan bit his lip ever so slightly, the simple motion making something unexpected flutter in (Y/N)’s chest. “Maybe,” Dan admitted quietly.

“What’s really up?” (Y/N) questioned as he set the cup down on the counter and crossed his arms over his chest.

“I just,” Dan started, his eyes searching around as if trying to figure out how to say it. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.” (Y/N) frowned and looked at the curly haired boy in front of him. Dan took (Y/N)’s silence as he had intended it--as a prompt to go on. “I’ve been having nightmares.”

“About what?” (Y/N) asked softly, not wanting to push him too far.

“A lot of things,” Dan stated vaguely before he received a raised eyebrow from the (h/c) boy and sighed. “Death, okay. I’ve been dreaming about death.”

“Oh,” (Y/N) started, sounding surprised. “Could it have something to do with Spooky Week? You and Phil have been playing so many scary games that maybe it’s just you thinking you guys it’s in the games.”

“It’s not,” Dan insisted, finally meeting his eyes. (Y/N)’s heart ached upon seeing the unshed tears making the beautifully dark eyes glisten. “Because it started before Spooky Week and it’s not me and it’s not Phil.” Dan looked down again before he spoke quietly, as if trying to keep him from hearing. “It’s you, (Y/N/N). You’re the one dying.” (Y/N) was taken aback just from the pure shock of it--the idea that Dan was even dreaming about him. “Every night you’re in trouble and I can’t save you--and I can’t stand it. I-I can’t take it because-because I can’t imagine my life without you in it and the thought of you not being there anymore is--it’s just too much.”

“Dan,” the other boy started softly, moving to stand in front of him, “I promise you that nothing is going to happen to me. You’re stuck with me to annoy you for the rest of your life.” (Y/N) took Dan’s hands in his own, drawing their eyes together.

“I just--I can’t bare seeing you die every night because-because--.” Before (Y/N) could ask why Dan’s grip on his hands had tightened and, suddenly, his lips were pressed against Dan’s. Before (Y/N) could even really react Dan had pulled away suddenly and began stammering. “I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have done that, (Y/N/N), I’m--”

(Y/N) cut Dan off in one swift motion, pressing their lips together once again. In that moment he let go of any concern he had harbored in the past about ruining their friendship because, in that moment, he was kissing the boy he had been fantasizing about in secret for the past year or so. So, (Y/N) pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around Dan’s neck. Once the shock had worn off on Dan’s end his hands moved to the (h/c) boy’s waist. 

(Y/N) sighed as he felt Dan’s hands hold him tightly by the waist. The two stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, moving their lips against each other’s slowly. (Y/N)’s fingers curled into Dan’s dark curls, tugging gently. Dan made a small noise of pleasure against (Y/N)’s mouth. The sound made (Y/N) grin slightly against his lips before he pulled away just enough to look into Dan’s eyes--blown wide from what had just transpired between them. 

“I promise you,” (Y/N) spoke softly, “that I am not going anywhere and, as long as I’m with you, I’ll always be more than fine.”

Tears welled up in Dan’s eyes before he pulled (Y/N) into a tight embrace. The two boys stayed like that for a while, finding comfort in each others’ embrace. At some point in the night, neither could tell you exactly when, they had grabbed their juice and went into the living room to lay on the couch together and watch Spirited Away until they inevitably fallen asleep, tangled in each other’s arms. And, when Phil found them like that the next morning when he woke up, he simply smiled and moved to cover his two friends in a blanket so to not disturb what had to be their best sleep in a while.

AN

Okay so it’s reeeaaally bad especially at the end but I really wanted to finish this. I kinda rushed it at the end and it shows but, whomever the anon is who requested it, I hope you like it.