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slasherhaven · 4 years

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The Sinclair Brothers Relationship Headcanons

Bo Sinclair:

Bo can be an absolute flirt when he wants to be. As soon as you roll into town, he's got his eyes on you.

He's charming and charismatic. He expects you to fall for that.

Always flashing you that million-dollar smirk. He's always freaking smirking!

What he doesn't expect you to do is to care so much about him. To ask about his past, about his brothers. To be understanding and sympathetic.

He can brush off your concern and affection quite often but would sulk if you didn't provide it. Honest and sincere affection just isn't something he's used to receiving or giving.

You spend a lot of time sitting in the garage, watching him work and chatting with him. Sometimes he pretends like your presence is bothering him, like you're getting in the way, but would never send you away.

You're the only one who can calm him down when he gets angry or worked up. But sometimes you still just have to give him time to cool off.

When it comes to affection, Bo is kinda 50/50. It's the little things that he has to get used to, like when you lace your fingers through his, when you kiss his cheek or press a quick peck to his lips.

He's better when it comes to make out sessions, that's more his style. But he thinks your little signs of affection are cute and wouldn't ask you to stop, he's just not used to them.

Bo likes showing you off to the rare visitors that wander into town.

If a visitor looks at you in a way that Bo deems inappropriate? That poor soul stands no chance. Before just killing the guy, Bo is going to make it very clear that you are off limits.

Bo likes his petnames for you. Darlin', sweetheart, babe, doll, baby girl/boy (especially if you're quite a bit shorter than him).

Bo isn't too insecure, not about his appearance anyway, more so about how he treats you. The only physical feature of his that he is particularly insecure about is his scarred wrists. He's sensitive about them as they constantly remind him of how he got them in the first place. The first time your fingers even graze against them, he pulls his hand away.

Kissing his scarred wrists, proving to him that they don't bother you. That you love every part of him. He can't help but sigh and let his eyes flutter close, allowing himself to feel his adoration for you and yours for him.

Of an evening he likes to sit with you in the living room. Just the two of you in quiet, a drink in his hand and you sitting on his lap. You resting against his chest while he wraps an arm around you, holding you securely, occasionally pressing a kiss to the top of your head. Smiling and smirking to himself whenever to press a kiss to his neck or jaw.

Vincent Sinclair:

As soon as he sees you, he's infatuated. And then you just had to go and be so kind and sweet towards him, never even giving him a funny look, are you trying to steal his heart? Well you succeeded.

Bo definitely notices his brother's crush on you and teases him about it.

Vincent does what he absolutely shouldn't do. He goes to Bo for advice but after receiving that advice, decides to completely ignore it. That just didn't sound right to him.

You are absolutely his muse. He had dozens of sketches of you and is extremely tempted to sculpt you but is a little worried you'd be creeped out by it.

You're his muse before you even start dating. He can't help himself from drawing your features. I fact, you're his muse before he's even built up the courage to be alone in a room with you.

Watching him work and constantly being impressed by how detailed his sculptures are.

He never ties his hair up when he works, resulting in wax drying among the strands. Thankfully, he kind of loves sitting while you brush it out of his hair.

He likes when you call him 'Vinny'. It might be a little silly but he likes it.

He feels all warm and fuzzy on the inside when you hug or cuddle him.

Has heart eyes whenever you defend him against Bo or if you snap at Bo to leave Vincent alone.

It takes a little while for him to remove the mask, terrified that you won't like his face. That it'll scare you or that you just won't be attracted to him anymore.

But Vincent trusts you so eventually he will give you what you want, he'll take off the mask with enough loving encouragement.

When he takes it off, you're both sitting on the bed in front of each other. He slowly removes the mask and places it beside you both.

He hangs his head so that his hair covers his face. You move to kneel in front of him, gently pushing his hair out of his face and lifting his face to look at you.

He is a little surprised by your smiling face, that you aren't repulsed by him.

Vincent absolutely melts when you stroke your thumb over the scarred side of his face.

He has to admit that it feels great to finally get to kiss you properly, instead of a quick kiss to the mask.

From then on, Vincent will leave the mask off when it's just the two of you. The way that you look at him and love him is gradually building his confidence. Though he still might have days were he's feeling more insecure, just show him lots of love.

Lester Sinclair:

Lester has eyes for you ever since he found you trying to kick your broken down car back into action.

You won him over when you didn't look at him in fear or disgust, just sighing at your useless car before giving him a small smile.

As he is supposed to, he tells you about the nearby town and offers to give you a lift. Stupidly, you accept.

During the drive he tries to ease the tension or just keep you at ease, making light conversation and making bad jokes.

But if you laugh at those bad jokes? You have his heart already.

After his brothers decide not to kill you, for whatever reason that may be, Lester is genuinely surprised to find that you seem to prefer him to his brothers.

It's Bo that usually earns people's attention and trust, yet you seemed to gravitate towards him. He didn't understand it but he wasn't going to complain.

He starts showing up freshly showered and in clean clothes. Trying to impress you and doing his absolute best to not smell of roadkill.

His brothers notice and Bo teases him for it. Vincent thinks it’s sweet but none of his business.

But Lester doesn't care because it seems to be working!

Bo may try to flirt with you just to see how angry and red he can make Lester. Hopefully this encourages Lester to hurry up and tell you how he feels though.

In the end Lester is a softy.

He loves giving and receiving affection.

He’s smiling so wide whenever you wrap your arms around him or kiss his cheek.

Will hold your hand everywhere.

Unless you tell him not too, he’ll stand behind you with his arms wrapped around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you talk to his brothers.

He’s just so proud to be with you!

Lester has quite a bit of energy. He likes to joke around with you.

He also likes to dance with you even though he’s not a very good dancer.

Hope you enjoyed! If anyone knows the name of the dog that’s with Lester, please let me know! 😂

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #Slashers #slasher #house of wax

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slasher-lovers-blog · 4 years

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So this is kinda a personal one but, I was wondering if you could do like 2 different asks for the Sinclair brothers, Thomas, and Billy Lenz. I really love your work. ☺️

1.) a fem s/o who has to tell them she can’t have kids but really wants some

And 2.) Fem s/o who’s enlisted and is being deployed the next day (nsfw) 😏

Feel free to completely ignore these. Have a good day/night!

I'm glad you like my work! And sorry that it took long 🥺🤗 warning: NFSW

1) a fem s/o who can't have kids and tells the slashers

Lester Sinclair

Lester wants to be a father one day but don't wanna rush anything

He will ask you one day for kids but when his s/o tells him that she can't, his heart breaks..

Don't worry though, he will love you still and maybe one day you guys can adopt a kid, if you two want

If you adopt a kid, he will love them like it's his own, being a happy family

Bo sinclair

When you tell him the news, he's suprised and will think about it

Bo will remember it but won't love you less because of it

He isn't the type to be a father, because of his past and all, he kinda is happy that he can't have kids

But if you ask him to adopt a kid, he will accept as long as you teach him how to be a father

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent would be working on another wax figure, when you tell him

When you tell him that you can't have kids, he freezes and stops working

He turned to you and tilted his head, confused

When you explain it to him, he wil respect it and accept it, still loving you

If adoption is a choice, he will do it for you

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas dreams of having kids with his s/o, it's sure that he has a breeding kink

But one day, after you return from the doctor with the results

Thomas had tried multiple times to get her pregnant but with no result

When you finally tell him the results, that you can't have kids

His dream shatters into pieces but you tell him that you still want kids

So adoption it is, and it will happen one day...

Billy Lenz

Okay, he is not the type to think about having kids but he has a breeding kink, just to dominate you

If you tell him you can't, he is reliefed but if his s/o starts to tear up and tells him she really wanted kids then he might think for a solution

And adoption is the first choice you both make

_____________________________________

2) fem s/o who is enlisted and is being deployed the next day

Warning: nfsw

Bo Sinclair

You finally got the job, working as a assisten with a mechanic, it wasn't gonna be easy you know that

You headed to town and saw the man with who you gonna work with, he looked handsome and had a sweet smile

He greeted you and explained what you have to do

You quickly knew what to do and did as you were told

Months passed and Bo started to act kind towards you, more soft at times

You were working one day as you felt his hands grab your waist

"Baby girl, you obey really good," he purred into your ear as he leaned closer. "Maybe you deserve a reward".

You whimpered under his touch, being needy for him

It doesn't take long before you sucking him off, tears in your eyes as he pumps himself inside your mouth.

Lester Sinclair

Lester teached you how to pull heavy dead bodies of animals to the pit, out of the truck

It wasn't a easy task but you did it anyway

After months of working together, you slowly got feelings for Lester, sometimes dirty thoughts slipped into your mind while watching him work

It wasn't easy and you couldn't take it, you asked him out and after dating for awhile, things got heated soon

Lester was new to it all but you leaded him, sliding himself in you. With a moan you adjusted to his size and he continued ...

You both were exhausted after you finished, hoping you remember to take the pill afterwards

Vincent Sinclair

You were a artist just like Vincent, and that was a good thing if you two work together

You checked every day if any wax figure need fixing, and always returned to Vincent.

As months passed, you noticed how Vincent acted odd around you, more nervously and shy then before

Vincent was nervous because he liked her, but scared to be rejected and to shy to ask

One day he finds his courage and went to you, telling you the truth in sign language

That's were it went pretty fast, before you realized months had passed, dating Vincent and soon you found yourself in his bed with him

He roamed his hands over your body, stroking his fingers on your nipples as he listened how you moaned softly

Vincent was gently with you the whole time, giving you kisses on your shoulders and neck, even between your breasts

Thomas Hewitt

Okay, you were a victim at first but when Thomas sees you defending yourself against Hoyt, he liked you

He asked his family to keep you, saying that she is usefull and will help around, Luda agreed and accepted it with some concern still, Hoyt was harder to convince but it worked atleast

You helped Luda around with doing the laundry, cleaning the house and sometimes helped tying up the victims

Thomas didn't allow you into his basement, protecting you against what was downstairs

One day you couldn't handle it and confessed to him your feelings, he turned red and blushed

Two years passed and both were ready to be sexual interactive with each other

You sneaked into his room and smiled as he was in his underwear only, mask still on

He blushed as he noticed you staring and slowly you started to make out with him

After a few minutes he was eating you out, rubbing your breast and waist.

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

Hey! I hope you love this! Ik that it really ain't that good, but hey we got em slasher boys 😏 i didn't do billy lenz in the last because i didn't know how that would work, sorry!

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scarofthewind · 5 years

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Wondering || b.k.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader Prompt: The Reader starts thinking that they deserve to be a villain Words: 1,013 A/N: This is based off the song Wondering by Julia Lester and Olivia Rodrigo. I’ve been obsessed with this and wanted to do it for a while. Minor spoilers from season 3. Enjoy~

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Numbness consumed your body as you sunk to the ground. Again you had failed at a practice that everyone else, including Mineta, could get through. “Maybe you should’ve been placed in a lower class.” Harsh words from the class badmouth echoed in your head as he spoke freely. The class stood there, some in anger of what he had said, others in quiet agreement.

“Bakugou that’s enough.” Deku stepped in but it was too late. The words had already sunk in.

“You are going to tell me that I’m wrong?! Look at her, she can’t even keep up with us, her quirk is complete shit too!” The blonde grew angrier by the second and you wanted to sink into the ground.

Aizawa stood off to the side, watching you carefully and looking to All Might for help with Bakugou. “Young (Y/N), do not listen to-” All Might placed a hand on your shoulder but you shrugged him off, standing up.

“He’s right.” You bit your lip so hard it bled. Bakugou stared at you with a shocked expression. “But that’s not what you mean to say, is it, Katsuki?”

The boy grit his teeth and he looked at the wounds you’d gathered from today along with the ones that were still healing from yesterday. For once he saw how hard you were working physically to be here. “I’m strong. For a villain.”

All Might started to object and Aizawa stepped forward but you moved away from them. “That’s what everyone thinks when they see my quirk. I’m used to this. Not having friends because they are scared of me, or having people hate me because they are afraid.”

“(Y/N), it’s not like that-” Bakugou started to say.

“It is.” You snapped, blood rolling down your fingertips. “No matter how hard I push myself I can’t be good enough. Some people aren’t made to be heroes.”

“That’s not true.” All Might said sternly, grabbing you by the shoulders and making you face him. “Everyone graced with a power can be good or evil. The quirk doesn’t decide that for them, they themselves do.”

For the first time in a while you felt something click in your head and you began to cry. Aizawa dismissed class for the rest of the day and took you back with All Might.

Bakugou stood there for a few minutes before feeling his heart sink. He’d never known how deeply you felt about your quirk and now that he knew, he wished he didn’t. Kirishima placed a hand on his friends shoulder, “If that was you trying to tell her that you liked her, it was very bad.”

“Shut up.” Bakugou scoffed and walked off to his dorm.

After a long talk with All Might, Aizawa and even Present Mic, and a quick heal from the nurse, you went back to your room feeling like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Stepping foot into the dorms, you walked to your room and found a note on the door.

‘Meet me outside when you get back -Katsuki’

You folded the note and stuck it in your pocket, turning back around and going outside the building. A few yards away, Bakugou stood looking up at the sky. “I always wondered why you always looked so sad.”

The hair on your arms raised as you made your way closer to him. “Why did you call me out here?”

“I’m apologizing for what I said earlier.” Bakugou turned and looked at you, a small blush forming on his face. “I am horrible with words and I never should have opened my mouth.”

“Your temper needs to be fixed.” You smiled softly at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “But go on.”

Bakugou sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, “After seeing you like that and hearing what you had to say, I felt horrible. So I’ve come up with a deal.”

You tilted your head. He proposed, “I help you with training during our free hours each day.” You stared at him with shock.

“You’d help me?” You asked, watching as he nodded and looked down at his hands.

“When I got kidnapped by the villains during the training camp, the only thing I could think of is that they wanted me because of how evil my quirk could be. A small voice in my head wondered what it would be like to be on the other side for once, but rationality said that the hero way is the only way for me.” His red eyes locked with your understanding ones.

“What’s the catch?” You cleared your throat, thinking about the deal and trying to not cry in front of him for the second time that day.

“You help me become a better person.” In a normal classroom situation, you would’ve laughed, but here and now, you saw the desperation in him and could only smile in response.

It seemed too easy for him to just ask of something so simple from you when you’d be taking his free time to train. “Katsuki, why are you doing this?”

Without missing a beat, the boy responded with a loud voice, “Because you deserve to be a hero.” Bakugou watched as tears fell from your eyes again and he moved towards you. “You are stronger than you think, (Y/N).”

He wanted to reach out to you so badly but his ego told him to stay put as you wiped the tears from your face. Your heart exploded into a million butterflies at his words and a new beat of courage found its way into your heart. You looked up and him and sniffled, trying to control yourself.

“Lesson number one; Comforting a friend who is lost.” You felt a few more tears slip past your eyes before Bakugous shirt soaked them up. His arms were stiff at first as they wrapped around you, but within seconds, he was hugging you close to him and nothing felt more aligned in the universe than in that moment.

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x y/n #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha bakugou #🏵.original work #🍰.fluff

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lifeofroos · 4 years

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ToN Spoilers!!!!!!!!!!!!

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Part 1 of another three-part arc in Nico’s therapy journey.

This Might Be Crazy: Vanilla Milkshake

Don’t you see?

Stop it, there is nothing to see.

You hurt all of your friends.

Shut up.

Just face the truth. You belong with us more than we do.

My eyes flew open. I looked up at the ceiling above my bed. At first it was a bit of a blur, but it quickly got clearer. This was not the first time it had happened, so I knew what to do.

I rolled out of bed and walked to my closet, where I kept a small stash of Demeters’ Divine Orange Juice Boxes. With one in my hand, I walked to the most shadowy place of my cabin. You’ve asked for help way too often. He is fed up with it by now. Shush. I clenched my fist around the juice box and stepped into the shadows.

I stepped out behind the potted plant that stood in front of Dionysus’ bedroom. ‘Dionysus? I need help,’ I asked, while knocking on the door. The first time I had been here, I had been terrified. Terrified because of the voices in my head that wouldn’t let me sleep and terrified because I was about to bother the god of madness in his sleep. By now, I was used to it.

I heard Dionysus stumble around behind the door. A few seconds later, he stuck his head out of the room. ‘Do you want to go straight to Denny’s?’

‘Yes, please.’ Denny’s radiated weird energy, even more so around two thirty A.M. Still, I had come to associate the place with therapy sessions. It just worked better there.

‘Then we’ll go.’

A blinding light, and the next moment we were at Denny’s. The usual server, Mary, was standing behind the counter. She looked up from her novel for a moment. ‘Hey.’ She slightly bowed her head to Dionysus, before she disappeared into the kitchen. Dionysus walked over to our regular booth. I quickly followed.

‘So. I am assuming the voices have been whispering to you in your sleep again.’

Whispering? They screamed. ‘Yes. But that is not really what I want to talk about. You’ve taught me how to silence them, so that I can go back to sleep after they wake me up. Right now I want to talk about what they are saying, because they keep going on about a real fear of mine.’

‘Alright. We’ll do that.’ Even though it is two A.M. and tomorrow I have to take care of a camp full of brats again, his eyes were saying. Yet, he did not say it out loud. ‘What is this fear?’

‘That I hurt the people around me.’ So, the easy, surface-level part was out. Now I needed to gain enough courage to talk about the second part.

I was quiet for so long that Dionysus felt the need to ask another question: ‘Are you afraid they will walk away because you hurt them?’

I shrugged. ‘I think… that is only a small part of it. A larger part of it is that… I’ll hurt them, but they will still stick around…’ I shrugged for a moment, while trying to find the words that seemed correct, ‘...even though I am a toxic influence on them.’ I looked down at the table.

‘What makes you think you are a toxic influence on people?’

Before I could answer, Mary came towards us, with a Vanilla milkshake. ‘With extra ice-cream.’

I smiled. ‘Thanks, Mary.’

‘My experience is that ice-cream helps wtth curing stuff.’ She got a serious expression in her eyes and nodded a couple of times (Mary was a daughter of Aphrodite. I assumed ice-cream had helped with quite a bit of heartbreak). ‘I’ve never seen anybody who didn’t feel better after eating ice-cream,’ I told her.

She smiled and walked back to the counter, to read her novel and be bored again.

I took a sip of my milkshake. It was cold and sweet and creamy. ‘Well I… Sometimes I lock people out when I am upset, even Will.’

‘Don’t you think that Solace knows that about you, respects your wishes when it happens and loves you regardless?’

I shrugged. ‘I try to tell myself that, but that’s so difficult.’ I shrugged again and took another sip of my milkshake. Yum.

Dionysus kept looking at me. ‘You have a natural talent for friendship, Nico,’ he said after a bit of thinking. I raised my eyebrows. ‘I have what? I am a son of Hades.’

‘So? I thought you did not judge yourself on who your parent is.’

‘Still!’

‘You managed to make friends with the troglodytes, I heard…’ how did he know that? ‘...That is quite impressive, even to me. I don’t know how you did that…’ he let the sentence linger in the air. I assumed he was thinking about how he would make friends with the troglodytes. ‘...and you managed to make most campers a lot less distrustful of children of Hades. You did not hear it from me, but the same goes for a lot of gods. And for Lester. Even they trust you.’

‘Including Zeus?’

‘We don't go around picking the rotten apples and presenting those as if it is the whole crop.’ I wondered how many extra punishment years as a camp director he gained from saying those words. ‘Well, if you are certain…’

Glass shattered. I heard growling. I jumped out of my chair and turned around. I could see a few shapes by the door. Mary came running from behind the counter, armed with a gun. Dionysus stayed in the background, seemingly debating whether destroying the creatures was against the ancient laws or not.

And the creatures… What were they? I could not tell. They had big, slimy beaks and bulging eyes. Whatever they were, It did not look like they could be reasoned with.

Mary aimed her gun at one of them. She fired, and one of the things went down. She fired again, and managed to take down the other one as well. The third one, however, dodged her bullets and got further into the Denny’s at a freakishly high speed.

Mary took a few steps back while grinding her teeth. I took a step forward, not really sure what to do without a weapon. Just as it was about to bite me, I stuck out my hand - stupid? Yes. Did it work? Also yes, because as soon as I touched the creature its hide and soft tissue began to melt away, until only its bones remained.

It took a few seconds until the horror dawned on me. By that time, Dionysus had gotten closer to me. ‘Nico…’

‘What…’

‘Nico…’

‘What did I just…’

‘Come, it’s…’

‘I just…’ I sunk to the ground. I heard Mary gasp in the background. My eyes darted over to the bones of the creature. They were still standing, like the creature was still there. I could swear I saw them move.

Until Dionysus made it disappear, I could not tear my eyes away from the bones. ‘Come, Nico. The monsters are gone.’

The monster is never gone. For you are still here. You turned a living creature into a pile of bones! Isn’t that something only a true monstrosity would do?

I did not have the strength to reason with the voice. They were right. They were so, so right. I was a monster and I was a danger to my friends. Imagine if I… if I would… tear their skin away…

I couldn’t even breath. From the corner of my eye, I could see Mary coming closer. ‘Nico…’

‘Stay away. Stay far, far away. I might…’ She stopped walking, seemingly unsure of what to do.

‘Nico di Angelo. You are having a panic attack,’ I heard Dionysus say in a calm voice. ‘Try to breath, deeply…’ I did not. Why would I? ‘Come on.’ You can’t make me. He came closer. ‘Get away.’

‘What are you going to do, kill me?’

I might not. But perhaps you will have to live further as nothing but a pile of bones.

The world will turn to bones around you.

‘The… the world will…’

‘Nico di Angelo. I am giving you one last chance. Try to take a deep, deep breath. Try to get calmer.’

My entire body was shaking. Dionysus’ face appeared in front of mine. I could only focus on his eyes. Soon, my entire field of vision was a pool of swirling purple. It got darker, little by little, until the world was black.

#Tower of nero #pjo #percy jackson #nico di angelo #Dionysus #trials of apollo #denny's #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #writeblogging #writeblr

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unorthodoxsavvy · 4 years

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Trying To Catch And Rescue A WILD Pigeon (fic)

This fic is for the wonderful @ttlmt who I know you all are already following wile they’re away as a coming-back present (and for a thank you for using their bad luck with timing of Phil uploading videos to give us not one but 2 new Phil videos while they have no service and cannot watch them).

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.6k

Characters: Dan Howell, Phil Lester, Steve the Pigeon, Scraggy the Pigeon

Ships: Dan x Phil, Steve x Scraggy

Find me on Wattpad

Phil was sitting on the couch, legs on top of Dan’s, scrolling through his twitter notifications, when one caught his eye.

“please help steve. his foot is injured and he might get really sick !!”

Phil went back to the photos and videos he’d shared of Steve for a closer look. They were right- Phil could see what looked like a piece of rope that had become tangled around the poor pale pigeon’s foot and it looked as if it was cutting off circulation.

Phil showed the photo to Dan.

“Why don’t you put some more seed out and try and get a better look? You know he’ll show up if you do.”

So that’s what Phil did.

Phil sat right up against the sliding glass door, nose almost pressed to the glass and fogging it up slightly. When Steve swooped down to start eating, Phil could really see his foot. It was swollen and whatever had gotten wrapped around it was frayed, almost as if he’d had to free himself from being stuck on something but hadn’t gotten it all off, just managed to cut himself loose. It was bent inward slightly.

Phil sighed sadly. Of course he was going to help Steve, he loved Steve, but how?

Well, he knew the best thing to do would be to call an expert, so he moved outside to get comfortable and looked up the number for the RSPCA on his laptop.

The automated system picked up, stating that unless it was an emergency, than to please wait.

Was this an emergency? It wasn’t a pet, but it was in danger, Phil thought. He didn’t know how long it’d been tied around his foot, and he didn’t know how much longer Steve could hold out on his own- but this was a wild pigeon… it didn’t matter to him, of course- an animal in trouble was an animal in trouble. But he didn’t know the policies here, so he decided to send an email.

He expected them to confirm that it was not a big deal, and was surprised when the answer he received implored him to take care of Steve as soon as possible, as this was an emergency, and to call them right away.

Phil dialed again and waited for someone to pick up.

“Name?”

“Steve.”

“Steve what?”

“Oh my name! I thought you meant the pigeon’s name,” Phil laughed awkwardly, remembering that some places called pets in by their names instead of their owner’s. It wasn’t so far-fetched, right?

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Dan filming him on his phone.

Phil listened to the professional on the other end of the line, using his computer to look up things like addresses for offices to help and phone number for local vets, but they stressed that it would be best if Phil could catch Steve himself. Of course Phil agreed to, and hung up.

“What did they say?” Dan asked from behind the camera.

“They want us to catch Steve and bring him to a vet.”

“How the hell are you supposed to catch a bloody pigeon?”

“I don’t know!”

Phil started looking up methods to catch a pigeon.

“This one says to throw a towel over it, but that seems traumatizing.”

“As if you could ever manage to do that,” Dan scoffed.

“This one says to trap it under a box! How are you supposed to get it out from under the box! It’ll just fly away!”

Dan stopped filming and put his phone down to sit across from Phil at their patio table.

“Why can’t you just convince him to come inside or something? He’s already half way there.”

“How are we going to catch him inside?” Phil asked, but just then his eye caught a phrase on page 2 of his google search.

“What if we train him to climb into a pet carrier,” Phil asked, focused on the page the link had brought him to.

“I mean that sounds more manageable than anything else you’ve found.”

So they went and bought a pet carrier.

Phil had Dan film him talking about his plan of putting seed in the carrier to lure Steve in gently as well as him explaining how he’d packed a towel in the bottom for maximum comfort.

Dan and Phil, though mostly Phil, over the next few weeks, made sure to try their best to only feed Steve and place heaping amounts of encouraging seed in the pet carrier. A new pigeon had shown up as well that Phil had named “Scraggy” because of her disheveled appearance, but she’d taken a liking to Steve. Phil knew he needed to help Steve get better so he could be reunited with his lovely Scraggy.

While this training was going on, Phil had taken to emailing various vets around the area looking for help. One responded kindly that they’d be willing to make an appointment for Steve. Eventually, though, they had stopped replying and Phil decided to pluck up te courage to make a phone call. It was for Steve, after all.

Phil had Dan film him again as he made an appointment for Wednesday.

Everything was set, and the only thing left to do was to catch Steve on that fateful Wednesday morning.

What could go wrong?

Wednesday morning arrive.

There was no sign of Steve.

Finally, after waiting around for hours, Dan spotted him in the tree.

“Get the carrier out,” Phil instructed.

“If he flies away when you come near it, how are you going to close the door?”

Phil’s eyes drifted in thought.

“Oh! What if we tie a string around it and close it by pulling the strong from inside?”

Dan rolled his eyes.

“Our lives are already a cartoon plot, might as well.”

And so that’s what they did.

Except, they didn’t have any string. Or yarn. Or anything, really. All they had were cords.

Dan offered up his spare phone charging cord and started filming Phil tying it around the cage door.

“Alright, why don’t you pull it closed while filming and then I’ll run over and lock it shut.”

Dan looked up at him.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes?” Phil smiled sheepishly.

Dan made a big deal of huffing and puffing about the plan but Phil knew that Dan would do it for him.

Phil sat the pet carrier full of seed laid upon the towel on their porch.

Dan crouched behind their ottomon watching as Steve slowly made his way into the pet carrier.

“Now,” Phil said when Steve was inside.

Dan pulled the phone charger.

Steve’s tail got stuck in the door but Phil was there in a second to push the door closed, and by that time Steve had already taken another step in. Scraggy was right behind the pet carrier, confused.

“Sorry Steve.” Dan zoomed in on the pet carrier. “We’re trying to rescue you.”

Scraggy waited patiently on the porch.

“Alright let’s head out.”

Phil walked down the street holding the pet carrier with Steve inside while Dan walked next to him and filmed.

The foot and car traffic were insane that afternoon, of course.

They made it to the vet without much incident, and the vet assistant met them at the door. They reassured Phil that Steve would “probably be fine” (which Phil didn’t like the sound of), and promised to call him with an update when they were done.

It was then Steve was handed over from the care of two bumbling idiots to animal medical professionals.

The two of them walked back home to wait.

It was only two hours, which, when you thought about it, didn’t seem too long, but for Phil it felt like ages.

Finally Phil noticed he had a voicemail, and had Dan record him while he played it out loud.

“I’m just calling you to let you know that the pigeon that you brought in to us is all done! He’s alright, we got the string off his foot, he did have to loose a toe unfortunately, but they adapt to that very quickly.”

“Do you want to pick him up now?” Dan asked after the recording was finished playing and Phil had finished talking to the camera.

“Yes, please.”

They walked back to the vet and picked up their bird.

They ended up needing to go in their lift to get back to their flat, which they had already ridden down to get to the street on their way out, and Phil wondered what it was like for Steve to ascend vertically without actually flying, and if he could tell they even were from inside the pet carrier.

Finally, it was Phil and Steve on the porch once more while Dan filmed.

Phil made a moment of opening the door to the pet carrier while the cacophony of London sirens clashed in the background. Phil had just put some more bird seed up on their feeder a moment before as an apology for Steve. To Phil’s surprise and delight, Steve flew up onto their railing area and then hopped down onto the feeder.

Dan and Phil laughed.

“I thought he’d be scared of me, but he’s just like ‘food?’” Phil bent down smiling to the camera.

Quickly he was joined by Scraggy, and the two of them sat in the feeder eating away as if nothing had happened.

Phil shuffled back inside.

Over the next few weeks Steve kept returning with Scraggy, and to Phil it looked like they were even building a nest. Phil knew that he couldn’t have Steve dependent on the birdseed alone forever and pledged to started weening him off the food.

Maybe some day in the future they’d have baby Scraggy and Steves.

And hopefully, if they did, none of them needed to be brought to the vet.

However, Dan and Phil had already proven to themselves that if that were the case, they were ready.

#phan #dnp #savvy's fanfictions #savvy's writing #phandom #steve the pigeon #scraggy the pigeon #dan and phil #dan howell #phil lester #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #phanfic #phanfiction

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everythingoesnk · 5 years

Text

Oh What a Night

summary; you’ve been the stylist for everyone involved in A Hard Day’s Night, including The Beatles. at the premiere afterparty John has a clear goal: you

word count; 2 684

warnings;

********

Flashes, screams and a deafening round of intense applause landed upon the four of them, welcoming their presence to the party. Each person in the room cheered flagrantly to show their support and devotion.

Tingles coursed through your being when your eyes found him among the crowd, instantly bringing heat to your face and chest.

Except for the bath scene where he only had swim trunks on, in every shot of the film he was sheathed in the same suit. The one he slipped on for the event seemed pretty similar, all black and classic, but the difference was that he chose to put on a bow tie instead of a tie.

He looked so fine. You were fanning yourself without even knowing you were.

Of course you wouldn’t pick up on the fact that the other three cherished the same option. You only had eyes for him.

That small switch on his attire was enough to awake the butterflies in your stomach.

At the same time that he smiled back at everyone who interacted with him, he looked like he was searching for a particular face.

You quickly turned your back at him and joined the first group of people you bumped into to prevent him from seeing you.

While pretending to follow the thread of what they were discussing, deep down in the depths of your heart you knew that what you really wanted to happen was the opposite. For him to find you, take you home, sing near your ear and spend the night together under the covers.

But no, that wasn’t happening. Not after the countless times you refused to go on a date.

For months, ever since he’d been introduced to you on set, John had been insisting, more like pressing, to invite you somewhere to get to know each other. It was like an obsession, he just wouldn’t stop dropping the subject at any chance he got.

It’s not like you didn’t want to, but you were under pressure at the time. You were instructed to get the work done, not to befriend or flirt with the stars, and your priority was to not get fired.

John assured multiple times that he wouldn’t get you in trouble, If they ever consider firing you they’ll have to talk to me first being his exact words. Yet you didn’t succumb. The flirting and courtship never went away, though.

Did you have a reason to reject him now that you weren’t professionally linked? Technically, no.

Completely zoned out, you were biting a nail when a male voice you were familiar with told you if you kept going you’d end up losing a finger.

Lifting your eyes you cracked a smile, relieved to finally talk to someone you knew.

“(Y/N)” George Martin greeted, happy to see you. He placed a hand on your arm and rubbed it up and down a few times. “How are you, darling? Everything okay?”

By the end of the filming you two established a solid friendship.

Given that after the director yelled ‘Action!’ you weren’t needed, you sat one day with him without knowing who he was or why he was there, and kept doing so ever since during those gaps you had for yourself.

“Yeah! How about you? Did you just get here? I haven’t seen you around”

“I did, but I’m not staying for long. I’ve a lot of work to do tomorrow and I don’t think I’ll enjoy myself with all the stuff I have going on in here” he said, pointing at his head.

“I understand”

“What are your plans then, did you sort things out?”

His question concerned a series of issues you mentioned him you had with a girl you shared your flat with, but she finally paid what she owed.

“Yes. She moved out, by the way. And I haven’t changed my mind, I want to study fashion”

“You’ll be great. I can’t wait to see people on the streets wearing your designs, or myself”

You smiled widely. He told you he loved them when you showed him your sketches.

Then, one instant later, for whatever reason, George’s eyes were no longer on you but over your shoulder. They stayed there for a good ten seconds before he looked down at you, a half jovial smile adorning his lips.

“See, I’m supposed to meet a few people and if I don’t I’m screwed”

“Oh”

“Have a good night, (Y/N)”

“You too, George” you replied, watching him flee away.

You slowly turned around with your brows furrowed, glancing down at the floor thinking about how fishy his farewell had been.

You shook your head. He had to go, nothing to overthink.

However, something inside you suggested to look ahead, and when you did, your mouth hung open.

John was prowling his way towards you.

Panic washing over your rationality, you found yourself not knowing what to do. Why were you intimidated in the first place? You weren’t sure.

But you were positive you weren’t in high spirits to deal with him now.

You began to walk in the direction George departed.

John, seeing your intentions to escape, jogged until he positioned himself before you, blocking the way.

You moved to the side and he did too. Considering your odds, you stood still.

It was pointless, so you sighed as a surrender, showing him he won the battle. But at the very first sign that he lowered the guard, you sprinted to the left.

Bold of you to assume that he wouldn’t get his hands on you.

“Dirty, dirty girl,” he taunted, his top teeth tugging at his bottom lip while he made sure you wouldn’t break free, hands gripping firmly at your sides, “were you running away from me? Why?”

“I wasn’t” you lied. “I need to go to the restroom”

“To fix yourself up for me?”

Without much effort, he spun you around and captured you in his arms before you had the opportunity to attempt to leave. Though he was aware that you soon quit insisting to free yourself, and that made him grin broadly.

John bowed his head first, and the tip of his nose touched yours on purpose. He threw it back a little afterwards, just to be able to see you properly.

You were blushing so bad it wasn’t funny.

A naughty smile curved his lips.

“I’ve always loved the way your cheeks turn into biteable apples whenever I’m around. Would you be so considerate to grant me the pleasure to have a taste?”

You wanted to slap him and the little demonic version of you settled in your mind who was nodding her head frantically. The angelic version shrugged her arms and pouted.

“Will you please let me go?” you asked with a stern look.

“Under one condition. Maybe two”

You rolled your eyes and listened closely.

“Let me go with you to the bathroom. A thing could lead to the other and—”

You brought your hand up over his mouth and he smirked against your palm.

The shudders that reverberated all the way through your body made you angrier. Your anatomy wasn’t helping you at all, anxious to find out what words would have rolled off John’s tongue if you had let him finish speaking.

He crossed his eyes playfully and you had to bite your lower lip to stop a giggle from emerging.

Ungluing your hand from his face, you held up a finger against your lips, motioning him to stop being so loud.

He grinned whilst nodding his head, eyes boring into yours but falling and lingering on your lips eventually.

A waiter carrying a tray with two full glasses approached and John took them from him without asking. The guy’s face was to frame, but when he saw it was the incomparable John Lennon of flesh and blood he murmured an almost imperceptible polite ‘Sir’.

John reached his hand out for you to take the drink.

“Champagne?”

The two of you swallowed the liquid in unison.

After some time of non-existent conversation and you staring at the other end of the room where Ringo was happily dancing with Maureen, you dragged your eyes back to John hesitantly.

He’d been checking you out.

He met your gaze with a filthy look and drank the remaining bit of whatever was left at the bottom of the glass, not losing eye contact in the process. It gave you fever to witness him so greedy for you.

A stirring in your abdomen made you press your thighs together, but you put on a straight face setting aside how your brain released dopamine galore.

John’s eyes twinkled.

“Don’t you stand there like you’re drained of any emotion towards me”

You gave a harsh short laugh while your heart throbbed roughly in your chest. The audacity.

“You’re so full of yourself”

“Nope. I don’t think it has anything to do with my ego”

“What’s your excuse, then?”

“You make me nervous”

For a brief moment, you considered he possibly had pushed his reckless behaviour away.

You huffed, a rosy blush staining your cheeks, and he massaged the back of his neck.

John looked at you and felt shy all of a sudden.

“Did you have a good time watching the film?”

“I did. The whole thing is amazing, Lester really did a good job. My favourite part is when you’re all dancing to Can’t Buy Me Love”

He stared at you, really stared at you.

Enraptured by the tenderness in your voice, he found the confidence to pluck up the courage to step closer to you.

“What about the other condition?” you reminded.

John chuckled. Eagerness coloured his tone.

“Never mind”

“Is it what I think it is?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“You tell me”

“Was it a date?”

“What? Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Can you repeat?”

“Was it a date?”

John paused.

“A date?”

“Yes, a date” you answered, raising your voice.

The crowd surrounding you lolled their heads in your direction.

“Gee, (Y/N),” John teased, glancing at the bunch of people that had their eyes on the both of you, “no need to roar. I’m blind, not deaf. And yes, I agree to have a date with you” he added, flashing a glowing grin to you and the audience, exultant that he got you where he wanted.

Shit. A tedious warmness rose to your neck and up to coat your face.

“No, no. You know I didn’t mean to ask you out”

John emitted a lazy whine.

Shaking your head you turned it to the side, folding your arms. John paced forward and poked you under your ribs. You jumped and slapped his hand.

He tugged you against him, but you wouldn’t jerk your head his way, refusing to look at him.

Chest to chest, yours was raising and falling with nervous breaths.

John wanted to lift your chin, but you wouldn’t let him.

“(Y/N)”

Nothing.

He tried again, angling you to look into his eyes.

“Can’t you see I’m just hopeless?”

His voice felt like a loving, almost romantic, caress.

“Now that shooting’s over I won’t get to see you anymore”

He suspired.

“Won’t you miss me?”

Very easily, you could feel your walls slipping. Beating around the bush, you were certain that you would. He didn't have a clue about how a dreamy smirk would be roaming your lips every day when you left the set to go home, recalling whatever cocky and goofy pick-up line he told you with the hopes to gain your affection.

Your pulse was racing.

You nodded, staring right into his pupils.

“Then stop playing so hard to get. I could be kissing and touching you right now and we’re having this absurd conversation instead” John observed, recovering the composture and standing on his full height.

Overwhelmed, you couldn’t even verbalize a monosyllable.

John grabbed you by the hand and spotted the door where he first walked through.

Excusing himself to everyone that wanted to stop him and chat, and ensuring that you were okay along the way looking back every once in a while, he took you to the rear of the hotel that luckily happened to be deserted.

Like the gentleman he truly was, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

Glancing down at you, his fingers still holding the top part of the lapels, the beat of his heart was quickly out of control.

The bow tie suddenly felt too tight in his collar.

“Are you going to kiss me now, John?”

He swallowed and directed his gaze down to your mouth, his own watering.

Muscles in your tummy clenching, you put your arms around his neck.

“Please say yes”

“I’m not sure I can deny you anything, love”

And the next thing he did was brush his lips over yours, relishing their sweetness before fully capturing them.

You pressed your body against him when he placed both hands on either side of your face, cradling it lovingly, melting under his touch. More than once you fantasized about this, but never would you have guessed you’d instantly become addicted to his taste.

A husky grunt erupted from his throat, and in perfect harmony, he massaged your tongue with his. Movements that you reciprocated.

You breathed his name, which made him want to be a little rougher on you, trailing his hands around your back until they cupped your ass.

“John, John”

You stopped kissing him when guests of the party unlocked the door to leave.

You were embarrassed by the possibility of being seen, but they were so intoxicated and high that they didn’t even notice you were there. Not that they’d remember the next day.

John’s eyes locked on yours when you looked up at him through your lashes.

He also looked like he didn’t have his feet on the ground. He was drunk on passion. John felt the warmth in his body rose above the stars at you nibbling on your lip.

“I’m marrying you” he noted in a thick voice.

“You wish” you answered, one big smirk quirking up a corner of your mouth.

“Tonight I’m content with taking you with me, but I am putting a ring on you sooner or later”

Love growing in your chest, you pumped his arm and ruffled his hair.

“Who says I agreed to spend the night with you?”

“I think we both know you're dying to"

“Convince me” you provoked.

John crooked an eyebrow at you, and stuck his tongue out to sweep his saliva over the lower lip.

“We’re playing games, is that it?”

You shrugged and scooted sensually to reach the door, twisting the knob and stepping one foot inside.

“You have one hour before I leave to win me over. Or else you’re sleeping alone”

“If you insist. By the end of the night everyone will know you’re mine” he said, and spanked you on a butt cheek.

You smiled, excited about how delicious his promises sounded. There was also a flicker of fervour and lust in his eyes.

“I look forward to see how you intend to do that”

“Did you forget who you’re talking to? Dearest, I have plenty of ideas and two hands to make you lose your mind. Five minutes is all I need”

“I’ll give you three”

“One is fine. I love challenges”

You laughed and let him take your hand in his, interlocking all the fingers.

John moved his mouth extremely close to your ear. You closed your eyes, heart crying for one more kiss before joining the multitude.

“Don’t leave my side. Don’t make me have to punish you”

“Is that a threat?” you susurrated, turned on by the danger laced to his tone.

“That is a threat. Be a good girl”

You nodded, and raised your head to get a glimpse of him.

He made you feel fragile and powerful at the same time.

“You’re so beautiful, (Y/N). Let’s go inside, let me show everyone who’s the luckiest man alive”

The night had just begun.

#john lennon #john lennon x reader #paul mccartney #george harrison #ringo starr #the beatles #brian epstein #george martin #john lennon imagine #john lennon fanfiction #john lennon fanfic #tayloredstarr

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

quiet on widow’s peak (9)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.1k (this chapter), 29.6k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

The sleep Phil has is restless and patchy. He wakes up so many times, spikes of panic cutting through the calm as he tries to remember where he is and who's breathing next to him. Dan is either a very heavy sleeper or very good at pretending to sleep, because Phil jerking awake never makes them stir.

It's a comfort, to look at Dan and see their blurry face slack with a peacefulness that wasn't there all night, but Phil doesn't do it for too long. Watching someone sleep is the pinnacle of creepiness. He just looks for a couple of seconds until his heart rate slows back down and he can roll onto his side. He faces away from Dan so he isn't tempted to keep looking at them, staring at the boring wall instead and waiting for sleep to momentarily take him again.

He's still tired when he wakes up properly to Dan tossing and turning, but he decides that's his cue to be awake.

"Hey," he murmurs, reaching for Dan's hand. He squints, but he can't tell if Dan is having a nightmare or if they're awake without getting even closer to their face. "It's okay. You're okay."

Dan takes a deep, shuddering sort of breath and cradles Phil's hand in both of their own. It's like they're afraid he's going to let go. "Sorry, fuck."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," says Phil. His stomach is doing a weird twisty thing at the sound of Dan's voice all husky with sleep. As long as he acts normal, it's fine, right? It's hard to convince himself of that when Dan's hands are pressed to his own and making him feel impossibly small. "How did you sleep?"

"I mostly slept fine," Dan says, and Phil nods like he didn't already know that.

"Good. You needed it."

For a moment, Dan is quiet. Then, they shuffle onto their side so they can properly face Phil, who has to fight the urge to hide away from their gaze. It's a good thing that he can't see the depth and warmth and sparkle of Dan's eyes without his glasses on.

"You didn't sleep very well," they say like it's a fact. Phil doesn't bother trying to deny it, he just shrugs. "You could have woken me up."

"Why would I do that?" Phil asks, puzzled by the offer.

Dan smiles, and Phil reaches for his glasses. He feels so vulnerable without them, and the sensation of not being able to see the way Dan is smiling while Dan can probably read every tiny emotion on his face is anxiety-inducing.

He leaves his other hand in Dan's. Maybe it would be easier if he just let go, but he finds that he doesn't want to.

The world comes into focus, and Phil blinks over at Dan like it's his first time seeing them. They look so different with their lashes clumped together and lines creased into their soft cheeks by the pillow. Curls are in complete disarray, and Phil presses his fingers into his palm so he doesn't try to brush the frizzy, unruly mess off Dan's forehead. Their smile doesn't fade when Phil just kind of stares - if anything, it gets even wider.

"You stayed with me all night," says Dan. Their tone is dry, but Phil imagines there's not a small amount of sincerity behind it. "You didn't have to, like, be alone."

Alone isn't something Phil had felt at all. Dan's steady breathing and the warmth of them emanating from their core even when they weren't touching were the only things keeping Phil grounded every time he woke with a start. He doesn't know how to say that to this person he barely knows, though, wouldn't know how to say something so open to most of the people in his life, so he just chuckles.

"No use in neither of us getting any sleep," he points out.

Dan is very warm, and Phil can feel his palm starting to get sweaty where it's trapped between both of theirs. He makes an apologetic face and pulls his hand back, patting it on his flannel pyjamas. Dan doesn't seem bothered by the lack of contact, but they also don't seem relieved - Phil can't tell what they're thinking at all, if he's honest.

"So," says Dan. "Where do we go from here?"

Before Phil can even think about it, he echoes the question in falsetto. It's louder and more obnoxious than he intends it to be. He swings his legs out of bed and reaches for his phone on the nightstand to try and hide a blush. "Uh, we go eat breakfast. Lunch, I guess."

"You lied," Dan says to his back. "You are always thinking about Buffy."

"Not always," Phil says weakly.

"Often enough."

"Once More With Feeling bypasses my brain entirely. It's just a primal call and response to anyone as obsessed with the show as teenage me was."

"I've never seen the show the whole way through," says Dan. "But Buffy is a style icon of mine."

Phil's tired brain offers him a half dozen mental images of Dan in various Buffy outfits before he shakes his head to try and clear it. He's never been particularly interested in boys wearing girls' clothes, but the concepts of gender identity and presentation are so blurry when it comes to Dan that he's going to have to rethink that position. They're not 'girls' clothes' on Dan. Maybe there's no such thing as 'girls' clothes' at all.

It's too early in the day for a deep dive on his own perceptions of gender, though. He thinks that sort of existentialism can wait until after his second or third coffee.

Phil's parents eat lunch with them and do their best to make small talk, but only Chris is On enough to properly converse with them. At Phil's umpteenth 'huh' of the early afternoon, they give up entirely and migrate to the lounge to watch tv.

For a long few seconds, the kitchen table is quiet. Then, Dan stands and starts to clear everyone's plates.

"You don't have to do that," Phil says, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I need to do something with my hands or I'll lose the plot," says Dan. They dump the dishes carefully in the sink and start running water. Having their back to the group seems to give them the courage to add, "I don't have all my meds with me. I didn't exactly expect to be out all night."

"What d'you take?" Chris asks.

"Little fucking nosy of you," says PJ.

"Well, one of us might have what he needs, love. I'm not just asking for the hell of it."

Phil feels a bit like his mum has possessed him when he clicks his tongue disapprovingly. "You really shouldn't share medication," he says when Chris gives him a look.

It makes Dan laugh, anyway, so Phil feels like he's done something right. They still don't turn around, just washing everybody's dishes and looking so weirdly at home in Phil's clothes, Phil's old kitchen. Phil doesn't realise he's staring at their back until someone kicks him under the table.

"Earth to Phil," Chris murmurs. He's resting his chin on a hand and smirking, but his eyes are too sharp for how little sleep he must have gotten. Phil feels heat rise to his cheeks and pulls his coffee closer to use the steam as an excuse.

"I don't need anything, really," Dan hums. "Thanks for asking. My brain just struggles a bit."

"A big mood, as the kids say," Chris says sagely.

Dan laughs again. It isn't as loud as Phil knows it can get, but it still fills the room and makes everything seem a bit brighter. "Do the kids say that?" they ask. "Is that what they say?"

"I believe it is," says Chris.

There is another stretch of silence. Phil watches his friends' faces as the elephant in the room weighs on them all. He's making a bet in his own mind about who will be the first to break when Dan turns around and bluntly says, "I still don't think that was a ghost, but I really fucking hated it."

"Sorry," says PJ, "but what else could it have possibly been?"

"I dunno," says Dan. They cross their arms over their waist, holding onto their own elbows. Phil is beginning to recognise the position as a protective one for them. "But I'm sure there's an explanation. Sleep paralysis is normal."

"The way it happened was not normal."

"What do you think it was, Dan?" Sophie asks. Her tone is much kinder than PJ's, but she seems just as skeptical.

Dan's dimple is pulling downwards in unhappiness or discomfort, so Phil waves a hand to get everyone's attention on himself instead.

"Why don't you guys tell us what exactly happened to you," he suggests, meeting Dan's eyes almost apologetically. He knows that none of them want to relive it, but it's easier if they're all on the same page here. "And we can toss around theories later."

PJ says, "It was a demon. I could see it. It was tall and humanoid-ish and had a Cheshire Cat smile and it kept going closer to Chris and Soph just to watch me panic. Then it would laugh and sharpen its claws on the wall. It felt like hatred and fear in a physical being. I really don't think our protection sigils did fuck all, but it didn't actually touch any of us, so maybe they helped a bit?"

Dan says, "It was nothing of the sort. I saw the same shit you did, Peej, but that doesn't mean anything. Haven't you ever heard of mass hysteria? Folie à deux - not the album - isn't unheard of. Maybe there's a high level of carbon monoxide. Maybe the asbestos got to us. I don't fucking know, but there's a hundred explanations before you hit demon. But, yeah. It looked like what PJ says. It felt like I was frozen for a fucking week, not just a few hours, it was awful. Zero out of ten, would not do again."

Sophie says, "It smiled at me and I felt cold."

They pile into the basement to recuperate so they aren't bothering Phil's parents. Or, more accurately, so Phil's parents aren't bothering them. Most of the games are packed up, but Phil finds the Wii and its small collection of disks in a box under the stairs. He sets it up, hands his friends the controllers, and sits back to zone out while they tear each other apart at Mario Kart.

Phil doesn't consider himself a skeptic. He knows that his threshold of belief is a lot lower than he makes it appear to be in his videos, but he'd never call himself a Scully. He always thinks about the supernatural aspects of any case he's looking into, even if he doesn't commit a hundred percent to the mentality that it must be something weird. He usually just prefers the weird option to the more common and boring reality of things.

So this thing with the Wilkins place is downright terrifying. Not only is it in Phil's proverbial backyard, too close for comfort in a lot of ways, but he hasn't had an experience quite so chilling since he was sixteen and dipping his toe into this hobby at Martyn's side.

He and Martyn still aren't sure what exactly left those finger-shaped bruises on Phil's ankles, but it's become a funny story in the years since.

Maybe this will be something to laugh at in a few years, too. Phil hopes so.

"You sure you don't want to play?" Dan asks, breaking into Phil's reverie. They're in first place and not even looking at the screen, their concerned brown eyes focused on Phil. Phil gives them a small smile and shakes his head.

"No, I'm alright."

"Phil, please take the controller from him," says Chris. He seems annoyed, but Phil can never tell how much of that is a show. It's possible that Chris isn't actually competitive at all and just likes to work Phil and PJ up by acting like he, too, would rather eat a whole head of lettuce than lose. It's also possible that Chris genuinely feels that way. "He's not even fucking trying and he's kicking our asses."

"Maybe you deserve to have your ass kicked a bit," Phil says, watching the screen to see how easily Dan ducks around various obstacles.

It still jolts a bit, hearing the people around him make an assumption - however logical it is - about how Dan wants to be addressed. Phil knows it isn't his place to correct them, especially since it seems like they're not using any less correct terms than he is, but it still rankles a bit.

"Fuck's sake!" PJ exclaims, looking like he's a hair away from throwing the Wiimote at something. He's never actually hit that level of gamer rage, but getting lapped by someone who keeps checking their phone during a race seems to be getting on his nerves. Phil reaches out and pats at PJ's mess of curls.

"You'll be okay," he says, dry. "They're just better than you, you'll live."

Maybe the pronoun use is a little more pointed than it needs to be, but Dan gives him such an exasperatedly fond grin that Phil can't bring himself to regret it. There is a brief beat of quiet, and then PJ groans again.

"It's not fair," says PJ, gesturing dramatically with the Wiimote. Sophie leans out of the line of fire. "This is unacceptable. We have to play a game they're bad at, now."

"I don't care what you call me," says Dan. They sound more amused than anything else. "As long as you know I'm winning anything we play."

"That's why they call him Winnie," Chris says in that very mild voice he uses for absolute nonsense. He puts his own controller aside and flops onto his back on the basement floor, stretching. "I can't do it, I can't play another round of this farce. I'm going upstairs to let my future mum-in-law dote on me."

Phil sighs. He can feel Dan's eyes on him again, and he shrugs helplessly in their general direction. He does not control the Chris. "Please stop saying things like that. Dan is going to think I'm mixed up in… this."

He gestures vaguely at the three of them, and Chris' eyes sharpen like he's spotted prey.

"Oh, so you want Dan to know you're horrendously single, then?" Chris gives Dan a wide, conspiratorial sort of grin. "He's useless at this, you know."

"Me rejecting you doesn't make me useless," Phil huffs. He can feel a flush creeping up his neck, because Chris is more right than he wants to admit, and Dan is smiling back at Chris like they're in on the joke.

"I think it demonstrates a lack of taste," Chris sniffs.

"You know what I think?" Sophie asks, stretching her arms above her head. "I think I need a shower."

"Me too," Dan says with an unnecessary little sigh. Phil pinches his own thigh to circumvent the mental images before they start. It's annoying to have such a good imagination, sometimes. "And I need to take my meds. Is there a bus that runs around here or something?"

"Don't worry about taking the bus," says PJ. "I'll drive you."

"I don't mind," says Dan.

"I mind," says PJ, more firmly. He stands like he's planning on dragging Dan to the car himself if Dan tries to say no again.

Dan's shoulders relax forward. Phil knows the anxiety of riding unfamiliar public transit all too well, and he definitely wouldn't make Dan do something so harrowing after they got roped into ghosthunting. He's glad that PJ is on the same page again, keeping Dan in that sense of protection that being a team gives them.

It's only been a weekend, but Phil is already reluctant to let Dan go home and leave the team bubble. He wants to insist on coming along, but he knows PJ probably wants solitude on the drive back.

Still. Phil chews his lip and looks down at his phone so he doesn't have to see the looks on his friends' faces when he says, "You can keep the pyjamas. If you want them."

"Okay," Dan says softly. "I will, thanks."

He knows that he should look up, should smile at Dan or stand and hug them before they leave his life, but that all feels so big at this moment. Phil's anxiety lets him wave and murmur a goodbye before he's left alone in the basement. At least, he thinks he's alone, until he sighs heavily and Chris responds from the floor. "Oh, you're fucking mooning over him, aren't you? This is awful. I preferred the ghost."

Phil takes a shower after his friends have, to be polite, and it feels incredible to wash off the dirt and dust from the attic. It feels less incredible when the door opens.

He hadn't bothered locking it, because his parents' shower is loud and it should be obvious that he's in there. At least the curtain isn't see-through. He takes a moment to just stand under the spray, bewildered, before it occurs to him that he can ask what's going on. It probably isn't a serial killer. "Er, hello?"

"Hi," Chris' voice comes, tense. "We've got a problem."

"I'm a little busy," Phil says pointedly.

"Well, get your hand off your knob and get out here," says Chris. "We need to figure this out before Peej gets back."

Phil rolls his eyes, but doesn't bother arguing about why exactly he's busy. He rinses the last of his mum's conditioner out of his hair and squints at the unfocused, opaque shower curtain like he'll be able to see Chris if he just tries hard enough. "Figure what out, mate?"

"All of the footage is fucked," Chris says, blunt. "It's corrupted to high hell. Every single second. There's no evidence we were even there at all."

#quiet on widow's peak #words words words

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hphm-etched-engraved-everlasting · 4 years

Text

2. Em

Author’s Note/Table of Contents

If I had to be honest, I had no idea just what Hogwarts would be like.

All my life I have heard of my siblings facing trouble there, and it was a never-ending topic of conversation among my family. Amidst the hardcore studies, there was trouble brewing. After I received my letter, my parents almost stopped me from going, and I didn't have any trouble agreeing with them when they shook their heads. But Clara kept begging and pleading, telling them that she'd keep me safe. It was then when she told me what she was truly hiding, and I had to say, I've never felt more moved by the amount of care she had for me.

So they said yes. And that was when I began to wonder just what laid in store for me--just one month ago.

Walking into Hogwarts now still felt like walking into a dream, really. It was like stepping foot into a trance you knew you wouldn't want to wake from. Huge chambers filled with history and mystery made up this incredible fortress for us to study magic--and, in my family's case, solve a huge case that would potentially put the school at ease once more. Candles burned bright everywhere, flames in torches lit with a warm welcome glow. Everywhere I looked, there was something cool to see--even now, as I stood in the Great Hall, a small soul among many others my age gazing at a worn old hat atop a tall stool.

The hat suddenly ripped open at the brim and began to sing its song.

As years passed in this hallowed school I aged to do my task To sort all younger magic folk In houses--which, you ask?

Brave Gryffindor, we are to start For sheerest courage and dare With loyalty and strength to heart They'd sacrifice and care

Sweet Hufflepuff, ah yes, that's one To see the hard work shine Among their brethren in the sun Always patient, just, and fine

Then Ravenclaw, intelligent With smarts and certainty Give credit to the ones who went To read, to know, to see

Shrewd Slytherin, the ones so sly They love to meet their match By any means, they dare to try Ambition, that's their catch

They started off as founders four To build this wondrous school They made me with their goal of core The custom, placement rule

So put me on, try me out And I will look to see The house where you belong, no doubt The house where you will be!

For a talking hat, it wasn't a bad verse at all. I glanced over at the Gryffindor table and caught my older sister's eye; she just gave me an encouraging nod as she clapped with everyone else.

"Now, when I call your name, you will come forward to be Sorted," Professor McGonagall told us then. She unfurled a long scroll in her hands then, and began reading it aloud.

"Ahn, Eunice!"

A tall girl with tan skin and a rebellious white streak in her black hair walked up and put the hat on her head. I counted approximately ten seconds as she sat on the stool before the hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

I glanced over at the table where everyone was wearing black robes followed by green accents--the same table where Eunice Ahn was walking to. I shouldn't be surprised to see them grinning like maniacs at the new addition. Like the Sorting Hat said, they'd achieve their means by any means necessary.

"Amherst, Remy!"

Next, a burly boy with ash blond hair walked past me--almost pushing me to the side--and put on the hat.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

On and on, the list went, each person trying on the hat and getting their results shouted to the entire school a minute later. Some people barely had the hat on for a second before its decision was announced. Others took longer. I remembered this one boy, Cedric Diggory, sitting on the stool for almost two minutes before the Sorting Hat declared that he'd be put in Hufflepuff House. Each time someone was sorted, though, thunderous applause could be heard from the various house tables, all around the Great Hall--now that I looked at every house, I wondered where the Hat would put me. It didn't help that the lower Professor McGonagall went down the list, the closer the time for my Sorting got.

"Lester, Felicity!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Lian, Michael!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Lin, Emily!"

That was it. The bomb had finally dropped, and the Hall had gotten so eerily quiet, one could hear a pin drop in the middle of the room. Then I heard the whispers.

"Another Lin?"

"No way. I thought Jacob only had one sibling!"

"Looks like we were fooled."

"Better not have another snob walking around the place."

Snob? I took it that another Emily must have left some muddy tracks somewhere in her Hogwarts reputation, but that wouldn't mean that I would be the same. I couldn't be. True, not many people knew about Jacob Lin's second little sister--mostly because my mother didn't want anyone to know that she had failed not just one other child, but two children who didn't deserve the pain that was losing their eldest brother. Still, who gave them the right to openly judge me when they've only just known about me for the first time?

The hat eventually dropped over my head, obscuring the vision before me--all the heads craning at me, trying to get a better glimpse of me. Then I heard a small little voice in my head.

"Another Lin. Yes, they were right. I wasn't expecting another sibling of the infamous curse-breaker," it seemed to say. "But here she is. My, what an intriguing personality. You seem to be different from your siblings."

"In a good way?" I whispered, my mouth barely moving.

"I see courage and loyalty, yes. Your greatness is strong, but there is something else. I see a thirst for justice. I see a will to work hard, and spread kindness among others. You will prove yourself, little Em, in a way you might not expect."

Silence ensued. Then--

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Thunderous applause suddenly came from the Hufflepuff table on my left, and I saw Clara stand up at the Gryffindor table to give me applause, too. I got off the stool and looked at her; she nodded and jerked her head to the Hufflepuffs, and I saw another girl about Clara's age with blonde hair in plaits and bright blue eyes wave me over.

"Wotcher, Emily!" a girl with pink hair greeted me with a grin as I approached the table. "You're Clara's little sister? She's hardly mentioned you much."

"Tonks, that's not nice. I'm sure Clara was only doing it to protect her," the girl with blonde hair said with a frown. "I'm Penny, by the way. I hope you enjoy it here in Hufflepuff."

"Of course. I really look forward to some fun times here," I responded politely, though I knew that might not happen. At least, from the way things were going, it wouldn't be.

The rest of the Sorting continued without me paying much attention--all I could remember was loud roars from the Gryffindor table as a pair of redheaded twins got sorted there. The moment everyone was seated, the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, stepped forward.

"To our new students, welcome! To our old students, welcome back!" he commenced. "There will be a time for serious speech, but for now, we feast. Tuck in!"

Suddenly, the plates were filled with food I could never imagine having eaten at home. Heaps of golden mashed potatoes with the slightest sprinkle of parsley, juicy steak with savoury barbecue sauce, steamed vegetables of various kinds bringing colour to the meal. As everyone else grabbed their forks and knives and began to grab their servings of food, I too began to help myself to everything I could see.

"This looks incredible!" I exclaimed, shovelling a small spoonful of mashed potatoes in my mouth. "Mm. I can see why Clara loves the start-of-term feasts so much."

"Any feast is a great feast here at Hogwarts!" Tonks exclaimed with an eager nod. "Ooh, wait till you get to the Halloween feast. Always good spooky fun."

A girl with short silver hair nodded. "At least we'll be safe from the threat that is Greyback returning to Hogwarts." She then turned to me. "Your sister was really brave, stepping up to stop him."

"That's Chiara," a boy with dark brown hair introduced her. "And I'm Diego Caplan, the greatest dueller at Hogwarts."

Did I just imagine that, or did he just smirk at me? I laughed and took a quick swig of my pumpkin juice. "Ah, I remember you. Clara told me quite a bit about you, Diego."

"All good things, I hope." Diego smiled and produced a bouquet of roses out of nowhere, handing them to me.

"Ooh. They're beautiful, Diego," Penny approved with a nod as I took them--hey, it was a friendly gesture, after all. "Nice welcome gift."

"Wait till you get to the Hufflepuff common room! I've got a cool present for you too!" Tonks said excitedly, clapping her hands.

The rest of the time, we were eating and laughing together, just Clara's Hufflepuff friends and me, until dessert came around. Clara then came over to the Hufflepuff table just as I was grabbing a fruit tart, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Come on. I want to introduce you to the rest of my friends."

So I took the fruit tart and went with her to see some of her friends from other houses. It kind of saddened me to see that I wouldn't be able to meet Bill--from what I heard in Clara's stories, he was a crucial part in Clara's education and growth here--but the others were just lovely company all the same. There was Tulip, who was also quite the troublemaker at school. Andre, the fashionista and Quidditch fanatic who simply nodded at my choice of wardrobe and complimented me with the rose bouquet I held. Barnaby, a Slytherin who looked confused half the time, but was genuinely kind. Charlie, the redhead who loves dragons to no end. I found myself at ease with Clara's friends, but I knew that I would have to make some of my own, too. They wouldn't be around here forever. By the time I enter my third year, I would have to have some friends of my own age.

I just hope I could without the judgments going around.

"This is weird," Clara eventually commented to me. "I told you about Ben, Merula, and Beatrice, didn't I?"

"Ben, Merula, and Beatrice? Yeah, I remember." I nodded thoughtfully, glancing at the doors of the Great Hall. "But you told me you never really liked Merula."

"Doesn't mean that she'd be fully fine on her own. I know how bad she got it last year--almost as worse as me." She glanced around the Great Hall, a concerned look in her eyes. "They're not here. That's troubling."

"You think they didn't come? Or that they wanted to skip?"

All Clara could do was heave a long sigh before Professor Dumbledore reappeared on his grand podium, clapping his hands. I quickly returned to the Hufflepuff table, grabbing a custard cream and quietly munching on it as he talked.

"Students of Hogwarts, your attention, please."

The Great Hall fell silent once more--so quiet, you could hear the echo in Dumbledore's voice greatly magnified across the chamber.

"It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to the start of a new year at Hogwarts," he said, sweeping his arms out in a grand gesture. "And with a new school year comes new opportunities, to further your studies...develop new friendships...grow as young wizards and witches...and apply difficult lessons learned to build a brighter future."

Or will learn, in my case. Still, I was enraptured by his speech. That was what Hogwarts was made to do--that was the purpose of the school. Raising young people with potential...I nodded quietly, sparing a glance at my sister, who was just looking at him with a serious glint in her eyes.

"In recent years, we've been through some trying times," Dumbledore continued. "But Hogwarts remains an institute dedicated to learning, and there is no place here for those who seek to threaten it. And so, Professor Rakepick will no longer be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. All are urged to let the proper authorities deal with her and the Cursed Vaults."

I could see Tonks looking like she was holding back tears. Penny turned as white as a sheet of paper. Diego's eyes narrowed at the announcement, and I wasn't sure if it was my imagination again or not, but he seemed to spare a glance at me--a concerned glance, as if silently asking if I was okay.

"Your priority should be your lessons, and preparing for your wizarding careers," Dumbledore encouraged with a solemn nod. "Our staff is here to support you in those efforts. Do not hesitate to ask for help. Now it is time to wrap up the feast--I imagine your cozy beds are awaiting you."

At these words, everyone got up and huddled towards the door in large masses. From afar, I could hear another girl's voice calling, "Hufflepuff first-years, come over here please!"

I quickly finished off the custard cream and was about to walk over to her, but was stopped by Diego again, who reached a hand out to me.

"If you need anything, little Em, just let me know," Diego said. "Anything that bothers you, you can tell me--and the other sixth years. They're good people. Clara trusts them, even me."

His eyes glinted with concern when he said this, and I nodded, taking his hand and shaking it. "Thanks, Diego. I'll keep it in mind," I responded lightly.

Then we parted ways while the Hufflepuff prefects lead us to the common room--a cozy little place below the castle, where everything glowed topaz and gold. It reminded me of a hobbit hole, with tunnels and circular doors branching off to the various dormitories. As I entered my dormitory, I barely noticed the other girls coming in--I suppose everyone was just as exhausted as I was.

I quickly got changed and climbed into bed, my head hitting the pillow before closing my eyes.

Would I really be safe here, or would I face potential betrayal too, the same way Clara did? And when it happened...what would it take for me to protect myself?

#here's chapter 2 #in little em's pov #let me know what you think #hphm #hogwarts mystery #cursed vaults #hphm clara lin #hphm em lin #year 6 #hphm spoilers

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captainkippen · 5 years

Note

hi how about mary’s song (oh my my my) by taylor swift and tyrus for the song inspired one shots! i love your writing

Fun fact, this is my favourite Taylor song.

Mary’s Song

-- a tyrus fic

Cyrus was seven years old when TJ Kippen and his family moved in next door. Their first meeting wasn’t the smoothest, what with Cyrus accidentally running TJ down on his new bike and all, but it kicked off something incredible. They say the greatest romances are the kind you never expect but Cyrus wasn’t sure that was true.

Their dads build them the treehouse when they were eleven. It was a joint effort to give Cyrus and TJ somewhere to play that the adults could keep an eye on so they’d stop running into the street outside (too many narrow misses had occurred with Cyrus and cars) but it didn’t do much to stop the two from getting in trouble. It was an even sort of structure, twelve feet up in a tree that sat between the border of their two gardens, and perfectly safe as long as you didn’t jump down the ladder. They lit it old camping lamps and fairy lights dug out of the Goodman family’s garage so in the summer evenings when all the grownups were having drinks the boys could climb up and escape for a few hours in the dark.

At night, the treehouse was magical. It had an air of secrecy and enchantment that made it feel like stepping into another world altogether. Cyrus loved it more than any place he’d ever been and it was possible that TJ loved it even more. They would lie down in there and gaze at the stars, which peered out through the tall tree branches, talking about anything and everything. It was an unspoken agreement in the treehouse; a place of confidence. Any secrets you told would not leave those walls. It was safe.

“TJ?” Cyrus asked one night when they were twelve.

TJ turned his head and looked at Cyrus right in the eye, making his throat go dry and tight. That had been happening a lot lately, Cyrus couldn’t begin to explain why. The two of them laid side by side looking at the bright moon through the window. Reality felt miles away.

“Yeah?”

A pause while Cyrus mustered up the courage followed, but TJ waited patient as ever to hear him out.

He took a deep breath. “I. I think- I’m gay.”

“Oh. Okay,” TJ said, then turned away again.

Cyrus frowned. “Okay?”

“So you don’t have a crush on Andi then?” TJ asked, turning his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Andi was one of his best friends, a girl he’d known since elementary school, she was awesome but he couldn’t imagine having a crush on her. Cyrus stared at him. The tips of his ears were going red.

“No…” He said, then, “Do you?”

“What? No!”

“Okay… good,” Cyrus said slowly. “Glad we got that covered.”

There was another brief pause which might have been silent if it didn’t seem like Cyrus could almost hear the cogs in TJ’s brain working. He’d really thought his best friend might have something more to say about him coming out than ‘oh, okay’. In a strange way, he found himself a little annoyed at the lack of reaction. And why on earth would TJ think he had feelings for Andi?

“You know,” he said. “It’s okay if you do have a crush on Andi.”

“I don’t!”

He wasn’t sure he believed him.

TJ sat up a little, pushing up on to his elbows and turning to look at Cyrus again properly. “So… do you have a crush on anyone?”

Cyrus looked away to pick at his shoes and mumbled a negative. TJ narrowed his eyes.

“Liar,” he said, poking him. “Tell me the truth.”

Cyrus sighed. “Fine. I might… I kind of like Jonah.”

“Jonah Beck?!”

He nodded.

TJ groaned. “But he’s the worst. He totally hates me.”

“But he doesn’t hate me,” Cyrus said, struggling not to laugh at TJ’s expression. “‘Sides, he’d probably hate you less if you didn’t act like such an idiot around him.”

At that, TJ grabbed a pillow and thumped him with it. It was with the ensuing pillow fight that the conversation was brought to a staggering halt, and they spent the rest of the night clearing up stray feathers, promptly forgetting all discussion of crushes. Or at least, that was what happened for Cyrus. Unbeknownst to him, the thought of Cyrus liking Jonah lingered in TJ’s mind for many nights to come.

Watching tiny white feathers flutter down out of the tree house window from where they were sat on the patio, the boys’ parents smiled and exchanged looks sweet amusement. Over the years, barbecues in the garden had become one of their favourite group past times. The Goodmans and Kippens were as good friends as their sons.

“One day those boys are going to grow up and get married,” Mr Kippen joked, listening to the distant sound of teenage laughter as he took a swig of his beer. “Attached at the hip they are.”

“Oh man, can you imagine the chaos they’d produce if they had kids?” Todd, Cyrus’ stepfather, laughed in return.

Neither of their wives laughed, they merely just looked at one another with identical knowing smiles, and Mrs Kippen rolled her eyes as she raised her wine glass.

“To our sons, for bringing us together,” she said, and it was with a great cheer that the rest of them clinked their glasses together in a toast.

At fourteen, playing dares had become TJ’s favourite thing. He’d become friends with two boys, Lester and Reed, who were as reluctant to talk to Cyrus as he was to talk to them. They were the popular kind of boys known for being loud and obnoxious in class, causing trouble, and generally being a nuisance. The two of them gave him an uneasy feeling, but he didn’t dare voice that to TJ. He didn’t want to be seen as uncool. Sometimes he wished he had the courage to - it might have stopped TJ from dragging him to all their awful hangouts.

There was one day in particular spent out on the dirt tracks where the bikers spent their time, Reed and Lester smoked and TJ talked to them about something incomprehensible to Cyrus while he hung back and watched on with thinly veiled disgust. An hour in a couple of unfamiliar girls showed up and it was no time at all before Reed was rounding them all up into a circle on the ground, announcing they were going to play truth or dare, which made TJ grin wildly. The uneasy feeling was a firm brick in Cyrus’ stomach. He wanted to go home and watch the collection of terrible eighties movies that TJ’s dad had dug out of the garage for them last week. Sitting in the dirt with a group of people he didn’t trust was not his first choice on how to spend a Saturday, especially with a sleepover game involved.

“You in, Goodman?” Reed asked. There was a challenge in his tone that made Cyrus want to tell him to go shove it, but instead, he just sighed.

“I’m in.”

He should’ve known Reed was up to no good.

Two rounds in, and that’s when it happened. He heard the words, but didn’t really register them, he’d been a little zoned out with boredom. Then TJ was leaning towards him, saying something, and at first Cyrus just nodded in confusion. Then, TJ reached up to cup his face and he pulled away startled.

TJ had been dared to kiss him.

“Igottago,” Is all that he could say as he jumped up and sprinted away, his heart pounding, and he could hear TJ shouting after him as he went. He didn’t stop. He ran all the way home.

Later, and by later I mean by about half an hour, TJ found him hiding in the treehouse under a pile of blankets.

“Cy?” He asked quietly.

Cyrus lowered the blanket from his face to peer at him. TJ looked shamefaced, shuffling his feet awkwardly and biting at a hangnail. Guilt sat heavy in his eyes. They looked at one another in silence for a moment before TJ sat down with a sigh.

“I can’t believe you ran this whole way,” he complained. “How did your lungs not give out?”

“I’m good at running away from my problems,” Cyrus joked half-heartedly. “You know that.”

“You don’t usually run away from me though.”

“You’re not usually a problem.”

TJ let out a huff and grabbed the edge of the blanket Cyrus was tucked under, wiggling until he was shoved up against him and blanketed neatly under it too. He lay on his side, one eyebrow raised and looking at his friend, while Cyrus stared at the wall ahead unwilling to meet his eye.

“Wanna tell me what that was about?”

“Not really.”

“Cy.”

“Ugh. Fine. I just… I don’t like your friends, okay?”

TJ snorted. “Yeah. I figured that out, but don’t deflect I know that’s not what this as about. C’mon, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”

That was the annoying thing, Cyrus knew he was right. He rolled on to his side, only a little reluctant, to look at him as he spoke.

“I didn’t want my first kiss to be a dare.”

TJ frowned. “You haven’t had your first kiss?”

“Don’t you think I would’ve told you?”

“Oh. I just- I don’t know, I just thought that time we played seven minutes in heaven at Andi’s… you and Jonah might’ve- I thought you guys kissed.”

“We didn’t.”

The guilt in TJ’s eyes returned. “Hm.”

“I would’ve told you,” Cyrus said quietly.

It was another few moments before Cyrus mustered up the nerve to speak again.

“I want it to be with someone who loves me.”

“What?”

“My first kiss. I… I just want it to mean something, you know? I don’t want it to be done because of a dare.”

TJ smiled. “Yeah, I get you. I’m sorry about all that.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. And don’t worry, I won’t make you hang out with Reed anymore. I know you don’t like him… I guess I just kind of wanted you guys to get along, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said. “I tried. I really did.”

“I know. It’s okay, not everyone gets along all the time,” TJ said, then he paused. “Cy?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, you said you wanted your first kiss to be someone who loved you.”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

Cyrus stared at him.

“I’m just sayin’, if you wanted to get your first kiss out of the way, I could…”

“You’re offering to kiss me?”

TJ shrugged at him and grinned. “Nobody better to have your first kiss with than the person who knows you best in the world, plus I know I’m cute. You could do a lot worse.”

Cyrus snorted. “You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“I do.”

The kiss was lovely as far as first kisses go. Soft, tingling, and the kind of kiss that made you warm from your cheeks down to your toes. In the future, the memory of it would keep Cyrus awake at night while he touched his lips and thought about the way TJ’s hair fell into his face when he laughed. It was beautiful.

They ended up falling asleep up there together, eyes drifting closed from the hazy warmth, and didn’t wake up until they were called in for dinner.

At seventeen, Cyrus and TJ had their first serious fight. It was late at night, coming back from a party, and they both sat in the front of TJ’s truck with the anger threatening to boil over any moment. Their friends sat in awkward silence in the back, rolling out of there as fast as they could when TJ pulled up outside of Andi’s house and slammed the doors shut after themselves as they raced to get away.

TJ cut off the engine. Cyrus folded his arms and stared straight ahead. They had reached a stalemate in terms of progress - Cyrus wasn’t sure he wouldn’t curse TJ out if he spoke and TJ wasn’t sure he wouldn’t say something regrettably mean if he didn’t calm down first. It took a few minutes before he finally broke the silence.

“You don’t get to be mad about this,” he said, voice controlled as he gripped the steering wheel in a tight grip.

Cyrus turned and looked at him with an expression of disbelief. “I don’t get to be mad about this? Are you serious?”

“It’s none of your business,” TJ fired back.

Cyrus let out a dry laugh void of any humour. “None of my business? It’s my friend that you’re cheating on-”

“I told you already that I didn’t-”

“-don’t tell me you weren’t because I saw-”

“-cheating on Natalie because we-”

“-you kissing Kira. You were literally making out in the bathroom with her-”

“-broke up!”

Their bickering ceased immediately and Cyrus frowned.

“What?”

“Me and Natalie,” TJ said ground out, refusing to meet Cyrus’ eye. “Broke up.”

“...Seriously?”

He nodded.

“When?”

“Like two days ago, I don’t know,” TJ sighed.

The anger in the set of Cyrus’ shoulders fizzled out and he relaxed, reaching out to put a comforting hand on TJ’s arm.

“What happened?”

TJ lifted his shoulders in a small shrug and leaned back. “I don’t know. Stuff. She said I was too distracted… that I needed to figure my shit out. Told me I didn’t really love her.”

Cyrus made a sympathetic noise and tried to ignore the feeling of secret joy rattling around in his chest. Now was not the time to be happy that TJ was single. He was clearly upset. He needed his friend there for him.

“I’m sorry. That really sucks,” He said. “...How come you didn’t you tell me?”

TJ shrugged again.

Cyrus pulled back and rested his head against the back of the seat. “So… you and Kira?”

“Not a thing,” TJ reassured him. “I was just trying something.”

“Oh?”

He sighed, Cyrus gave him a curious look.

“I think Natalie was right,” TJ said. “I had stuff to figure out.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He half expected TJ to say no. Over the past couple of years, his friend had become less and less likely to talk about anything related to feelings. Cyrus didn’t like it but he had learned to live with it. As long as TJ told him the really important stuff then it was fine. That was why he was surprised when TJ next spoke.

“How d’you know if you love someone?” He asked.

Cyrus blinked at him. “I guess it depends on the kind of love.”

“Like… love love. Romance, marriage, valentines kind of love.”

Cyrus wanted to say he didn’t know, but he also knew he couldn’t lie to TJ. He knew firsthand that being in love felt like you were tripping over your own heart, again and again, every day. It felt like fire and devotion and hopelessness. It was awful and perfect at the same time.

“You just do, I guess,” Is what he told him instead.

TJ wet his lips - his most noticeable nervous tick.

“Why do you ask?”

“I think Natalie was right about me not loving her,” TJ said, then swallowed hard. “‘Cause I think I’m in love with someone else.”

Cyrus’ heart broke in two. He looked away. “Oh.”

“Cyrus.”

It took him a moment, but he forced himself to look at TJ. The look in TJ’s eyes was nothing like what he’d expected. It was open, unadulterated honesty. Perfect, lovely, and lonely all at once. Cyrus had seen that look on his own face in pictures of them together. He recognised it at once.

It was love.

Their second kiss was as perfect as the first, with more desperation and longing than they could’ve put into any sentences they said that night. It was the promise of a future, a vow protecting their past, and a mark of everything they had shared so far.

Their wedding was beautiful. It was held in the Goodmans’ back garden, treehouse in view, with all their closest friends and relatives packed in to watch them tie the knot. Cyrus cried outright, TJ tried not to and failed at the sight of both of their mothers shedding a tear, and when they said their vows they both knew they meant every word of them deep in their bones.

Todd clapped TJ on the back and told him he was excited to see the two of them build a tree house of their own, and when the line for giving congratulations had finally died down TJ and Cyrus managed to sneak up the tree themselves for a few minutes alone.

They laid down on the dusty old floor and looked out at the sunlight filtering through the trees.

“I can’t wait to spend my life with you,” TJ whispered, taking Cyrus’ hand.

Cyrus squeezed his fingers in response and with a soft smile he said in return, “Me too. Hey, you remember that time we were in here and you asked if I had a crush on anyone?”

TJ snorted. “Yeah, and you said Jonah.”

Cyrus laughed. “Yeah, well… I have a secret to tell you.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t Jonah. It was you.”

Cyrus was twenty-seven years old when he and TJ moved into their new house. They say the greatest romances are the kind you never expect but after twenty years of back and forth flirtations, shared memories, and stolen kisses, Cyrus came to believe the best romances were the ones you should have seen coming from a mile away.

#tyrus #andi mack #my writing #Anonymous

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slasherhaven · 4 years

Note

Hello, I hope I'm not bothering you, but could you write for Vincent with a pregnant reader who ran away from her abusive boyfriend and found herself in Ambrose when her car broke down, and Vincent felt protective of her and didn't let Bo hurt her? Maybe after the child is born, she encourages them to call Vincent "daddy"?

Vincent Sinclair with a pregnant future S/O who is escaping from an abusive relationship:

You were heading into the unmapped town for some gas but of course nothing could be so easy for you, since your car broke down just outside of “Ambrose”.

A man had come by in a truck, he was dirty and a little strange but seemed nice in his own way. He had offered to take you into town, said that the man who owned the garage would get your car, fix it up, and set you on your way.

You were cautious but didn’t have much choice, so you let the man drive you into town.

He couldn’t help but glance at your round stomach, his own twisting uncomfortably, knowing you were pregnant. He also couldn’t help but glance up at the bruise under your eye.

“...when are you due?” the man, Lester, asked. There was something strange in his voice, sympathy...guilt?

“...about a month” you answered and the rest of the drive was silent.

You got into town, dropped off at the garage. But instead of leaving town again, you saw Lester’s truck driving up to a house. Obviously, you didn’t think anything of it at the time.

You talked to the man who owned the garage, Bo. He seemed nice, happy to help, even charming. He asked what you were doing in town, squinting suspiciously when you shrugged, avoiding the question.

He told you that he had to get something from the house, so the two of you headed up there. Lester’s truck was there but no sign of the man.

As soon as you stepped into the house with Bo, Vincent was watching. Bo left you in the living room when he went to get whatever it was that he said you needed.

That’s when you caught a glimpse of yourself in a small mirror on the mantle piece. You gently touched the bruise under your eye, tears forming. You sighed, collecting yourself, holding your stomach protectively as you paced the living room.

Bo wasn’t stupid. Your car only had two bags in it. One carrying your things, your essentials, packed in a rush, carrying light. The other filled with baby products. You were bruised, quiet, avoiding small talk type questions. You were running from something.

And Vincent didn’t need to see your bags to know that. He could see what his twin saw. You were running and all three brothers had a feeling they knew what from.

And so an argument ensued.

Lester stayed out of it, hanging his head and just waiting. Normally Vincent would be quick to give in to Bo, but not this time.

Vincent couldn’t let Bo hurt you. You had been hurt too much already, and you were pregnant. They just couldn’t do this, not this time.

Even Bo was struggling with the morality of killing a pregnant woman.

“She’s due in a month...” Lester spoke up, giving Bo a pleading look, please just let her go...

“And what do you want me to do about that?” Bo asked, uninterested with the information.

“Let her go” Lester sighed.

“...fine” Bo nodded, he could do that, just this once.

Bo began to leave the room but Vincent grabbed his arm, turning him back to him. Bo only had to look at his town to know what he was thinking.

“No” Bo stated firmly. That was not happening.

“Maybe Vinny has a point...” Lester looked between the twins, also knowing what Vincent was thinking and agreeing with him.

You need somewhere to stay. A town that wasn’t even on maps was a perfect place to hide from whoever you were running from.

“We can’t. She’ll find out about the town, then we can never let her go” Bo reminded them but Vincent tugged on his arm again, harder this time. “...how long do you think we’re going to let her stay here?” he asked sarcastically.

“...” Vincent just gave him a look. Even with the mask, Bo knew what he was thinking. For the foreseeable future, for good if that’s what it took.

“No” Bo said even firmer this time. “...you’re both ridiculous, but fine. But since this was your idea, she and the baby are you’re responsibility, I’m not dealing with that shit. Got it?” he asked, staring his twin down. Vincent nodded.

Bo cursed to himself before leaving the room, going to find you.

It was a long, tense conversation. Bo practically interrogating you about where you came from, where you’re going, and why.

Eventually you broke down and told him. That you’re running from an abusive partner, don’t really know where you’re going. Just trying to get away.

“My brother...suggested you stay here, if you have nowhere to go” Bo told you.

“Brother?...Lester, right?” you questioned, assuming that’s why the man from the truck came up to the house.

“My other brother, Vincent. You haven’t met him yet but he knows what I know, says you should stay here. Lester said you’re a month away from popping, you can’t be on the road alone when that happens” he explained.

“No...I mean, thank you but it’s too kind. I couldn’t intrude” you shook your head, eyes wide at the offer.

“Whoever you’re running from won’t find you here. Look, I’ll let you leave now. It’s my brothers that are worried about you, especially Vincent” he shrugged. “Look, I’ll introduce you. But...he ain’t much of a talker” he offered.

Next thing you knew, you were speaking with the three brothers. Bo didn’t seem to care what you chose to do. Lester was eager for you to stay, claiming that Vincent was too. But when you looked at the masked man, he just nodded. Bo was right, he wasn’t much of a talker but that was okay by you.

And, eventually, they talked you into staying.

Bo kept his distance but wasn’t mean to you, that was fine by you.

Lester ended up going home, apparently he lived just outside of town.

Vincent was the one who kept you company, even if he was quiet.

He was always fretting over you, nervous about the pregnancy. He barely knew you but already cared so much. It was a...nice change.

He was quiet and you didn’t understand the mask, but it wasn’t your business. But he kind and gentle. Never touched you unless you told him it was okay, didn’t even stand too close.

But he was always worried about you and you knew that.

The two of you became close quickly.

Something about him just told you that you could trust him. Everything about him was a refreshing change. You liked him a lot, even after only a couple of weeks.

You opened up to Vincent. Telling him everything about your abusive ex and how you finally decided that you had to leave them to protect your child.

A month passed. All your bruises had faded like they were never there, Vincent was always by your side, and your baby was due any day, it was starting to feel like you were getting to start fresh, even after such a short amount of time.

And finally the baby came, sending the four of you into a panic.

This wasn’t exactly how you had expected to give birth to your first child.

Bo drove you to the hospital and Vincent went with you both. You and Vincent sitting in the back seat, him trying to calm you down while trying to not freak out himself.

Bo couldn’t have complained more when he had to be the one to take you inside while Vincent waited in the car.

After, what felt like, an eternity, you got to leave the hospital and take the baby to their new home in Ambrose.

As soon as you returned to the house, Vincent was by your side, worrying about you.

Bo went to grab a beer and Vincent sat you down, you needed rest.

Vincent couldn’t help but stare in awe as you cradled your new born baby to your chest. Over the last month, he had fallen hard for you.

“Do you want to hold them?” your voice broke him out of his trance. His eye widened as he looked at you, hold them? You would let him do that?

He paused before nodding.

He sat down beside you and you carefully passed the baby to him. He held them like they were the most precious thing in existence.

“Their father...he’s a terrible man and I’m glad I had the courage to leave before he had the chance to hurt them. I’m glad I came here, found this place and you. I’m glad they would have had a chance to meet you, Vincent” you told him, making him look at you. In awe again.

He wanted to tell you that he was glad too, that he would never ever hurt you or your child, that he would be here for you for as long as you allowed him to be.

Thankfully, you already knew that. Because you reached out and took his hand in yours, squeezing it gently.

Vincent completely melted when your baby cooed up at him.

“Hey, they like you” you smiled softly.

Vincent looked back down at your child and just fell in love with them, just like he had with you.

“Look at you, Vincent. You’re a natural” Bo teased as he stepped into the room.

But you just smiled, he was right. Vincent also smiled under the mask, he was okay with being a natural at this...

Time continued to pass, Vincent right by your side.

He as wonderful, more so than he needed to be.

He cared for you and your child more than anything.

If the baby cried, he’d offer to check on them. Even if the baby didn’t cry, they were just sleeping, Vincent would check on them.

So much time passed that you had practically become family. The brothers loved having you and your child around, even Bo did though he wouldn’t admit it.

Eventually you found out the truth of the town and you were rightly horrified.

Vincent was horrified as well, terrified that you would leave now. Or worse, Bo would have to do something to stop you from telling anyone on the outside.

You needed some time but this had become your home and it was Vincent...you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you. Until now you didn’t think he would hurt anyone.

No matter what he did, you saw the fear in his eye, he was scared to lose you and your child. He wasn’t angry...he was scared and sad. He was still your Vincent.

So...you stayed.

And you didn’t regret it.

Eventually your child began attempting to talk. At the moment, all they could say was “mama”.

But then something incredible happened.

You were playing with your child and Vincent walked into the room.

Your child’s face lit up as they exclaimed “daddy!”

You both froze.

Vincent didn’t know what to do. He could cry from he overwhelming emotion he felt but he was also worried about what you felt. Where you mad about it?

He looked to you for how to respond.

But you relaxed, smiling slightly as you gestured for him to join you. And he did, sitting down beside you.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll try to get them to stop...but I don’t mind, if you don’t mind” you told him.

Vincent had to do something, this was a moment, even he knew that. It was important.

So, he gently took your hand, squeezing it and nodding. You smiled before leaning into him, pressing a gentle kiss to his masked cheek before leaning against his arm, the two of you playing with his child.

Having your car break down just outside of Ambrose and meeting Vincent was the best thing that ever happened to you, you truly believed that.

Vincent hated that you had to go through so much pain to end up here but he was glad that you found them, that he could help, that he could have even met you and your child.

Now, the two of you were his world. He would do anything to protect you both. He loved you both.

#vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher #my writing

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blissedoutphil · 5 years

Text

Dan The Personal Assistant Part 7

Dan has to submit an application video to be an assistant for a company President, Mr. Lester. But what happens when he accidentally sends a wrong video?

3343 words of Dom!Phil, sub!dan, facefucking

~Part 6~

or read on ao3!

And so that was how they continued for the rest of the week. Dan stayed in his corner, not having the guts to tell Phil that he actually hated it. Phil barely played with him; he used the vibrating buttplug once, but that was all the fun Dan got. He really would rather be edged by the plug and denied release again than doze off by the wall. The only times he was tasked with things to do were when Phil asked him to fetch him things from the other end of the room, or make him a drink.

Dan was bored out of his mind, and it was actually making him start to dread going to work. He’d take anything by this point, even the most hardcore shit he’s ever done would be better than doing nothing all day. Even their lunchtimes were awkward, and Dan felt as if Phil didn’t want him there anymore, wasn’t interested in him anymore. Deep down he knew that it was just Phil trying to maintain a professional relationship and not get too carried away, but he really missed the attention he used to get from Phil.

Phil, on the other hand, was losing his mind. The more he didn’t allow himself to play with Dan, the more he just craved for the boy. What a fool he was for thinking that this arrangement could dissipate his feelings for the boy. But he thought that at least Dan was benefiting from this idea, judging by the way he still seemed eager to follow his orders and wasn’t averse to them. So he did it for his boy’s sake.

----------

Phil huffed as he slammed his office door shut. The meeting he just had didn’t go well in his favour, and angry was an understatement of how he was feeling.

He began walking towards his desk when he caught sight of his boy sat on his rug.

“What are you doing out of your corner?” he asked, voice menacing without meaning it to be.

Dan had meant to talk to his boss about their new arrangement for a while now, but never mustered up the courage until Phil left for his meeting. He’d spent the whole 2 hours that Phil was gone planning the entire conversation in his head, making sure he’d remember his points and hyping himself up so he wouldn’t change his mind about doing it. He’d moved from the corner to wait for Phil at the usual spot he used to laze around on before Phil set the new rules.

However, he hadn’t taken into account the possibility that Phil’s meeting could go bad and turn his mood sour. Dan looked up at Phil in shock, wanting to answer his question but unable to find his voice.

“I-I...” Dan stuttered, instinctively leaning back when Phil started walking towards him. A boss in a bad mood still intimidated him.

If it was any other time, Phil would’ve been intrigued by Dan’s sudden change in behaviour. But in this moment, he was already angry and wanted some downtime by himself to cool off, and Dan breaking a rule just worsened his temper. As if his body went on autopilot, Phil stepped close to his boy and towered over him. Without a second thought, he proceeded to cool off the way he used to.

He unbuttoned his trousers hastily, not missing the way Dan’s eyes widened, the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped.

“Open,” Phil commanded in a gruff voice, and Dan didn’t need to be told twice.

If Dan had known that being angry would make Phil use him then maybe he would’ve tried making him angry sooner. He eagerly knelt up and opened his mouth. Phil was barely hard, but he could change that real quick.

Phil had no desire to go slow and sweet. He grabbed a fistful of Dan’s hair, tugging at it as he pushed the boy’s head down onto him. He groaned as his dick was engulfed in the warm, wet mouth, feeling himself get aroused.

Dan licked around Phil’s cock, feeling it harden in his mouth. He’d missed the weight of it on his tongue, the taste of his boss and his musky smell as he buried his nose in Phil’s crotch.

Phil didn’t loosen his grip on Dan’s hair, instead holding him in place. As he grew harder, he began thrusting his hips. Dan was blinking up at him with his damn doe eyes, and Phil could feel the fire in him turn from rage to lust.

Dan’s hand moved up to fondle Phil’s balls, but Phil swatted them away.

“Hands behind your back,” Phil growled, and Dan had to stifle a whimper as he did as he was told.

Dan was absolutely loving the rough treatment, and he felt his own dick grow hard as Phil kept thrusting relentlessly into his mouth.

Phil pulled out for a moment to let Dan gasp for air. He couldn’t resist smacking his dick against his boy’s rose coloured cheeks. Dan looked debauched, his mouth open, lips slick with saliva, and eyelashes fluttering every time he was slapped with Phil’s dick. Phil couldn’t believe he’d been refraining himself from this pleasure, and for what?

He pushed back into Dan’s mouth, feeling his tip hit the back of Dan’s throat. Dan barely gagged, and Phil was glad that his training hadn’t gone to waste while he wasn’t being used.

Dan swallowed around Phil, and Phil couldn’t help the moan he let out. He pushed himself impossibly further into Dan’s mouth, relishing in the boy’s choked whimpers as he held his head in place.

Phil’s thrusts got rougher as his orgasm drew closer. Dan relaxed his jaw and let his boss use him, unable to do much besides just taking whatever was being done to him. His grasp onto his forearms was tight, nails digging into his skin.

Phil groaned as he reached his climax, and he felt Dan swallow as he came in his mouth. He shuddered in pleasure and only pulled out when he was done coming.

Dan panted and licked his lips, looking up to see Phil gazing back down at him. Phil was smoothing the hair he’d been pulling, and Dan felt bashful suddenly. He nosed at Phil’s softening dick, and gave a shy smile. He was just happy to be doing what he was here for in the first place, and by the looks of it, Phil was too.

But all too soon, the soft moment was over as quickly Phil tucked himself back into his pants and went back to his desk. Dan was left kneeling there half hard and confused. He almost forgot how he ended up out of his corner, but when he remembered his little monologue, he wasn’t sure if Phil would want to listen right now.

Phil seemed to remember that Dan was for some reason out of his corner only after he sat down. The boy was sitting on his heels on the rug, hands still loosely gripped together behind his back. He was stealing glances over at Phil, probably thinking that Phil didn’t notice. He seemed like he wanted to say something but was unsure if he could.

Phil mentally smacked himself for acting on impulse like that after days of having things under control. But at the same time, this was what he’d hired a personal assistant for anyway, so he had nothing to feel guilty about, right? He could do this, as long as he didn’t let emotions come into play.

Dan bit his lip, still tasting his boss on his tongue. Should he speak up now? He couldn’t tell if his boss had fully calmed down yet. But just as he opened his mouth to say something, his boss beat him to it.

“Get back to your corner,” Phil spoke, voice low and tone warning Dan that he shouldn’t try crossing him.

Dan sighed inaudibly, dropping his hands to the rug to crawl back to his place. But as he looked at the wall he’d been stuck at for days, he felt that he just can’t do it anymore.

“Sir I-”

“Why are you being disobedient?” Phil snapped, looking up from his paperwork.

Dan was honestly a bit taken aback, he’d never seen his boss this angry. He had half a mind to explain himself, but decided it was best to just do as his boss says. He apologised softly before quickly going back to the wall.

He really didn’t have it in him to go against his boss’s orders.

---------

Phil leaned back in his seat as he tried to cool down. He felt bad for lashing his anger out at Dan, who’d been nothing but a good boy the entire week. Except for some reason being out of his corner when he returned from the dreadful meeting. He looked at the clock and realised it was almost lunch, so he quickly ordered some food.

His mind wandered to his past assistant, who would’ve spoken his mind despite Phil’s orders. He figured that perhaps Dan had wanted to explain his behaviour, but he was too good a boy to speak out of line. He’d have to ask him about it at lunch.

---------

“Dan,” Phil called over as he laid lunch on the table.

Dan could tell it was lunchtime, but he felt like he deserved more corner time or something. He’d spent the time between the blowjob and lunch just thinking over his actions and regretting breaking the rules. He shouldn’t have even tried doing what he’d planned to. He also wondered if his boss would’ve fucked his mouth after his meeting if he wasn’t sat at the rug. Even though he’d enjoyed finally getting some sex, he felt like he didn’t deserve the enjoyment after being disobedient.

He got up anyway, not wanting to piss Phil off further. He sat quietly and accepted his food.

“Care to explain what you were doing earlier?” Phil spoke up first.

Dan was glad that at least Phil didn’t sound angry anymore. He just sounded tired.

“I-I..” Dan began, wondering if he should still try bringing it up or just forget it. Phil seemed like he had a lot on his mind, and he didn’t want to add to that.

“It’s- I shouldn’t have moved out of the corner, Sir, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” Dan lied, looking down at his food.

Phil squinted at him in disbelief.

“I won’t punish you, I just want to know what’s on your mind. You looked like you were going to say something when I came in, I’m sorry I interrupted you like, uh, that. Shouldn’t have let my temper get the best of me. And just to clarify, I wasn’t angry at you.”

“It’s fine, I liked it,” Dan admitted before he could stop himself, making Phil smile cheekily.

“I-I mean like. I’m always here when you’re stressed. Happy to help you relax,” Dan babbled.

“I’m glad that you like doing your job,” Phil chuckled, ”anyway, back to what you wanted to talk about.”

Dan took in a deep breath. He forgot his planned monologue and his confidence to bring it up was barely there anymore. But ultimately, he knew that Phil was an understanding man and would regard his opinions seriously.

“I...I don’t like having to be in the corner all day, Sir,” Dan said softly, not daring to look Phil in the eyes.

Phil raised his eyebrows in surprise. He’d thought that Dan found the new arrangement good for them.

Dan saw that Phil was just looking at him waiting for an explanation, so he continued.

“I wanted to tell you when you got back from your meeting. But I know I shouldn’t have disobeyed the rules and I’m sorry, Sir, it was silly of me.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, I’m glad you’re telling me. You know it’s in the contract that we can always adjust limits and rules if you don’t feel comfortable doing them, right?”

Dan knew it, but still he felt like it wasn’t his place to demand changes.

“I guess... I just miss getting to do all the other things in that contract, and things like earlier,” he said sheepishly.

Phil poked at his food as he pondered on what to do.

“You know why I set those new rules?”

“To have clearer boundaries?” Dan answered, though he made it sound like a question. “Sir, with all due respect, I feel that the way we were before these new rules was already good enough.”

“Yes, but do you know why I felt like this was important to do?”

It’d honestly been on Dan’s mind but he didn’t dare run his mouth with questions ever since the conversation they had in Phil’s home. He didn’t know how to answer Phil now, either, but thankfully Phil wasn’t actually waiting for an answer.

“Because I was careless with my previous assistant.”

Dan was surprised that Phil brought it up, but he didn’t say anything in case Phil would change his mind about telling him the story he’d been dying to know.

“I let our feelings get the better of us, and before I was able to take control of things, it’d gone too messy. I hadn’t meant to fall for my assistant, and neither did he. There were stupid misunderstandings, and I should’ve seen it coming but-” Phil stopped abruptly and shook his head, sighing.

Dan was trying to piece the story together. Phil wasn’t giving much details, so his mind filled in those blanks with his own assumptions of what could’ve happened between Phil and the old assistant. He felt bad seeing how talking about this still bothered Phil.

“I know you told me that you don’t feel anything more, so I believe your word for it. I wanted to add the rules to take extra precaution, but if you feel like they aren’t necessary then we can go without them.”

Now Dan felt extra bad, but he can’t possibly tell Phil that he had lied and is indeed having feelings for him. He wasn’t sure what to even say, but Phil wasn’t done; he still had more to get off his chest.

“To be honest I wasn’t sure if I was overthinking things and overreacting with all the new rules and whatnot, but I’m glad you brought it up so I know now that we don’t actually have to do all that. I’m sorry, I just didn’t feel prepared to tell you more before,” Phil huffed a hollow laugh, “which is stupid. I should be over it by now.”

Phil finally looked at Dan properly then, and Dan blinked as he struggled to find words to say. He’d thought the reason for the new rules was purely because of him talking out of line in Phil’s home.

“I know,” Phil chuckled, “I’m blabbering. Sorry. But the thing with my first assistant - I just got scared that it might repeat. I don’t want you to regret working for me too, y’know?”

Dan tried to ignore the way his heart sank. His rational thoughts told him that there was no way Phil liked him back, but he still foolishly had hope. He understood better why Phil wanted a barrier between them now. Phil clearly was so affected by whatever happened with the previous guy that he really didn’t want it to happen with Dan again. He didn’t want to accidentally fall for Dan the way he did with his previous assistant. Dan ignored his crushed heart.

“But...if the feeling was mutual between you two, why didn’t it work out?” Dan dared himself to ask. Phil’s story was still so incomplete, and he barely understood the full picture.

Phil sighed, hoping that telling Dan the full story wouldn’t be a wrong move.

“Well...like I said, misunderstandings,” Phil said regretfully.

“He was quite the opposite of you. He was bold, always wondering around the office and loving the attention, trying to be everyone’s personal assistant. And he was a good sub. He obviously loved the job, but after admitting our feelings he just. Became bratty? Like, to the point where he started deliberately ignoring some rules for the fun of it. I guess he felt like he could do whatever since he was dating the boss,” Phil paused with a hollow chuckle, the memories flooding back to him.

“I tolerated it until I couldn’t anymore. I’d given him some rough punishments that I regret. He took things too far but... I did too. So then he wanted to leave. But somehow we still loved each other? So it was tough for both of us,” Phil spoke quietly, feeling strange talking about it.

Dan couldn’t help wondering how Phil could even think of getting a new assistant after whatever he went through with the previous guy.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, it sounded like you two had a real complicated thing going on,” Dan offered.

But I would be so good for you! I won’t ever be like that guy! Dan screamed in his mind.

“Yeah, but whatever. You’re different from him, so I don’t know what I was so paranoid about. It’s like I’m punishing you for things that happened in the past that you weren’t involved in,” Phil sighed.

“But I understand why you felt the rules are important. I know I said I didn’t like them but they’re necessary so I’d accept them, Sir,” Dan insisted.

“No, you see, this was why I didn’t want to talk about all of it. I didn’t want the past to affect and dictate how we do things now. I’ve missed playing with you too, I’m not gonna lie. And if we’re sure that things won’t repeat then there is no need for making you stay in that corner everyday,” Phil said with certainty.

Dan swallowed. He wasn’t so sure about that. Of course he wouldn’t misbehave like the previous guy, but having his feelings mixed up in their arrangement was already a repeat of the past. And if he kept silent about it then what if a different kind of misunderstanding happens?

But Phil seemed set on removing the rules already. Dan thought in amusement how miserable Phil had probably been, having to stare at his ass from the other end of the room everyday but refraining himself from playing with him.

“I’ll make sure nothing would go wrong. And I need your help for that to work. Just promise me you’ll tell me honestly about everything, like you did about this new rules, which I’m happy you’ve done,” Phil smiled in appreciation.

Dan couldn’t think of doing anything other than nod, “Yes Sir.”

-------

Dan laid on the rug after lunch, happy to not be on his knees staring at the wall anymore. Phil glanced at him every so often. But they were both occupied with worries.

Dan didn’t want to admit his feelings to Phil, because what if Phil thought that things would repeat and it won’t be worth dealing with again, so he just fired Dan instead? No, Dan absolutely cannot say anything.

Phil felt worse after the conversation. He kept demanding honesty from his boy but he couldn’t admit to himself, let alone the boy, that he was falling for him. And that he was terrified of making any mistake that could lead to Dan leaving him. He didn’t know if coming clean about it would make things easier, or scare Dan away.

Technically, Phil could tell that Dan was different from his previous experience. But then again, he never knew that his old assistant could end up so different. He looked back up at Dan and saw him gazing out the window. He sighed, and reminded himself to forget the past and just live in the moment.

“C’mere, Dan,” he startled the boy out of his daydream, “I think you need a cute plug up your ass.”

-----------

~Part 6~

yay finally some sex again lol. anyway idk if it’s because I’ve been working on this update so much that I’m beginning to hate it and feel like it’s similar to the previous chapter aaa sorry but idw to restart and keep yall waiting so here you gooo I promise things will change up in coming updates ><

#Phanfic #phan smut #Smut #dan the personal assistant #My fic #phan #phan fic #phansmut

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clansayeed · 4 years

Text

Bound by Destiny ― Chapter 3: The Evidence

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny ⥽

Nadya Al Jamil (MC) has been struggling from the day she moved to Manhattan, but her new job as assistant to the mysterious CEO of Raines Corp was supposed to turn her luck around. Until she finds herself caught in the middle of a war involving the Council of Vampires who secretly run the city. An evil from the birth of Vampire-kind stirs beneath, feeding on the conflict, and finds Nadya bound to a destiny she never asked for.

Bound by Destiny and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

Everyone said nothing good would ever come of falling into an online video rabbit hole. Unfortunately for Nadya they were right.

[READ IT ON AO3]

She doesn’t see hide nor hair of Katherine in the days following the Gallery, and can’t help but suspect that’s kind of the point. Adrian doesn’t mention her name, her presence, or the fact that he essentially ditched Nadya at an event full of strangers to conclude whatever business he and Kamilah had with her.

He does make it up to his secretary just as he said. When he picks her up Monday evening there’s a sample box of gourmet cronuts from a news-featured local bakery with a reservation line as long as the one to get a photo on the bridge where King Anton proposed to Princess Caoimhe. Before she can message Adrian what he wants for dinner on Wednesday there’s an email from security downstairs about a food delivery — which just so happens to be from one of the best Brazilian steakhouses in the city. And just when she doesn’t think he could be any more impressive (or desperate for forgiveness) he sends her off Friday near-dawn with front-row tickets for her and Lily to Saturday’s evening performance of On Summit Blackspine.

“No — nope, no freakin’ way.”

With his hands in his pockets Adrian is like a wall of generosity. He simply won’t take it back. “I insist. You two were looking at tickets anyway, right?”

“Well, yeah,” she splutters, acts like she has no idea how to hold two small pieces of paper, “but we were looking at tickets, like, a year from now, and… way way up in the nosebleeds!”

Adrian completely disregards her protests; even when they start to venture into ‘why were you listening to my lunch break phone call’ territory. He doesn’t seem somber — like he’s genuinely repaying some sort of debt — at all. In fact she’s never seen anyone look so excited about something they won’t be partaking in.

He joins her in the elevator ride down but doesn’t have any of his usual things. He’s staying late but won’t hear a word of her offering to keep him company.

Before the revolving door separates them Nadya plucks up her courage and turns on her heel to look Adrian in the eyes. He startles back, but his composure is never more than a hair’s breadth away.

“You know you don’t have to do anything, right?” It’s as sincere as she can make it; any more emotion between them and she might as well be bawling into his tie.

“What do you mean?”

She groans in protest. “Adrian, you know exactly what I mean. All this stuff —” her gesture is open, vague, but he’s a smart guy, “— and whatever you have in mind about making it up to me. You don’t have to do any of it. Please tell me you understand that. I mean it. I need to hear you, like, verbally say it.”

He laughs in that familiar kind way of his; even puts on a squared jaw and teasingly stern frown when she swats his arm.

“I understand, Nadya, I do. But I can’t help it. I left you on your own most of the night, and didn’t even tell you when I was leaving. Just let me do this, please?”

Eventually his kicked-puppy eyes break her resolve, but only just. “Fine. But this is it, Raines. No more apology gifts.”

“Alright, alright! No more. Though returning the Maserati might be an issue…”

Nadya’s heart falls into the pit of her stomach. “The wha —” But Adrian’s awful at hiding his smile, even worse at hiding the shit-eating grin it grows into, and though he could probably dead-lift her without a second thought she hopes the numerous smacks she wails on his arms do some kind of damage.

He waves her off, calls out “Tell me all about it Monday!” and she’s the one left watching him retreat back into the building.

While riding the subway Nadya’s thoughts wander — and not for the first time either — to whether or not other Manhattan secretaries had such eccentric bosses. Doubtful.

There isn’t time the next night to think about Adrian’s oddities — all thanks to Lily. If she spent the whole evening worrying about work and why her boss was so nice it was a guarantee that her roommate would use any physical force necessary to snap her out of it.

“I can’t believe you had all day to catch up and you spent it rewatching AME!”

While they certainly aren’t dressed up to rival those she’d seen at the Gallery, Nadya and Lily are still the best-dressed things to grace the subway in a long time. Nadya had been ready to call a rideshare until Lily so graciously reminded her how expensive drinks and snacks were likely to be at the show — and they already had subway passes.

“The stage show debuted last year,” Nadya argues defensively, “it’s not like they’re gonna edit the script for every new episode that airs.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

They compare notes of knowledge and trade fan-theories on the ride; every time Lily riles herself up over the book plots Nadya has to pat her shoulder and remind her to use her subway voice. It may have been way too much for Adrian to spend on someone who managed his datebook but she couldn’t deny how much she missed hanging out with her best friend.

“Check it out,” Lily whispers in her ear, and Nadya turns her attention away from the seating chart above the door to the sight of Lily’s dress shirt unbuttoned and spread Superman-style; revealing her collector’s edition The Crown and the Flame book-cover tee; a memory from their first Christmas together.

It sends them both into fits of giggles — the attendees around them may be averse to laughter and joy but they certainly were not. The doors open soon after and they take their seats — smack dab in the middle of the front row.

The lights dim, the curtains part, and all the reviews Nadya read about how ‘difficult and underwhelming it was to bring something filmed on-location and with tons of CGI to the stage’ can go shove it because the Five Kingdoms are beautiful.

Lily steals her phone Monday afternoon for a quick text. Nadya doesn’t think much of it — they’ve lived together long enough with little boundary — until she’s about to go down and wait for Adrian on the curb but instead he’s blocking her path in the doorway.

“Uh…?” The confusion doesn’t last long — not when Lily practically assaults Adrian with one of her signature bone-crushing, spine-deforming, lung-shrinking hugs. She praises a litany of gracious thanks so fast she’s out of breath before Nadya can pull her off.

To Adrian’s credit he’s not phased in the slightest — back again with that silly grin. “Well that solves my mystery,” presenting his phone screen to them both, “because when I saw how the text was signed I thought you confused me for someone else.”

When she takes the phone and spots the ‘xoxo’ signed at the bottom of Lily’s request for Adrian to meet her at the door, Nadya’s cheeks burn scarlet.

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“I figured.” Though Lily doesn’t seem ashamed in the slightest. “I just wanted to thank him in person. I had the chance, so I took it.”

“I take it that means the show lived up to the hype?” Adrian looks between them eagerly; and even Nadya relents and nods.

“It was amazing.”

“They had a full. sized. dragon puppet. Of course it was amazing!”

They’re running an hour late — Adrian insists it wasn’t any trouble but when Lily’s highlights became ‘recounting the show scene-for-scene’ Nadya had to get them out — but even the CEO’s reassurance falters when the elevator door opens to Nicole standing tersely in front of his office door.

All these months and she still doesn’t understand the dynamic between Nicole and Adrian. He’s her boss, both their boss, yet sometimes it feels like Nicole is the one ordering him around, keeping him on task — a feeling curiously accompanied by her presence in the general vicinity.

Today is no different. Her frown turns into barely-expressed rage as she looks between them. If she held her files any tighter there might be nail-shaped punctures in the paper.

“You’re late.” Nicole gives a terse click of her tongue and strides between them — parts them physically — towards the waiting elevator.

Adrian glances at his watch. “Not by much. It’s not as though Lester is clamoring to see me.”

“A certain degree of professionalism is required when handling… delicate matters such as these.”

While they argue, Nadya starts slowly inching towards her desk. Tries to make as little noise as possible as she lowers her purse down and starts taking out her work. Either it works or she’s suddenly magic because they continue to bicker on as though they’re alone up in his office.

“I don’t know anyone in the world who would call Lester Castellanos delicate, Nicole.”

The elevator door tries to close behind her but her heel wedges in the gap and forces it open. It feels like a metaphor to Nadya.

“You know very well that’s not what I mean.”

Adrian raises an eyebrow. “Then what do you mean?”

There’s no questioning the spiteful look Nicole flashes behind him. Gaze pinned straight on Nadya with a crinkle in her otherwise perfect mask of stone-cold witch.

“Not here. Downstairs.”

She’s a little more than half surprised that Adrian doesn’t pull the cinematic-cliche ‘anything you need to say, you can say in front of Nadya’ line. But it wasn’t a full surprise — there were just some things she wasn’t privy to yet. The fact that she knew as much as she did with less than a year under her belt was astonishing to say the least.

Instead, Adrian casts half a look over his shoulder. His eyes not quite meeting hers.

“Very well.”

Then they’re both standing in the elevator — Nadya watching it close from the other side.

It’s either a trick of the LEDs or Adrian looks apologetic before the door shuts with a soft ding.

Lunch — the midnight version of it — rolls around and Nadya tries not to seem so obvious in how she sneaks glances at the lift. Hoping, willing it to open. It’s almost maddening. Almost; until she replays the pair’s confrontation for the umpteenth time in her head and catches something she missed before.

Her fingers fly across her keyboard; pb&j abandoned in front of her.

Lester. She knows that name; can still hear it in Adrian’s voice clear as day.

“What have you contributed, Lester?”

The browser isn��t even finished loading her results when the unease settles in. What was once a tightly-wound ball of panic that kept her from even looking in Adrian’s direction had dulled, yes, but somehow that just made things worse. There had been a chunk of time in which she really considered Adrian might be involved with killers; or that he may very well be one himself. His charm wasn’t the only thing that disarmed her — because Adrian’s charm didn’t have the same luster it did when she first started working for him.

Nadya remembers the smile he gave her as he reassured Nadya over her interview jitters. It was something easy, practiced. It was easier to fake something around someone you didn’t know — that’s how she’s lied her way through the confidence to report directly to such an important member of the industry. Now — things changed; well hadn’t they? From daily drives to silly quips hiding behind a chocolate fountain. They’d grown close.

Somehow she hopes that means it’s harder for him to lie to her. It’s certainly harder for her to see him as a murderer. Kamilah Sayeed, on the other hand…

Lester Castellanos looks exactly like a man named Lester. Either his mother was psychic or he decided to grow into a name that oozed lecherous intent. Right off the bat a few clicks here and there on her screen outline his meat-packing company (along with several FDA violations and one unionizing strike three years ago) and how his ‘father’ ran it before he took over after Y2K. Only there aren’t any photos of Mister Castellanos with his father… or without him, actually. Plenty of local news rags have snapshots of him with a pretty (paid) girl on each arm; coming out of a Lacroix spring debut, donating to Senator Vega’s reelection campaign, having some small branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art named after him for his generosity.

Nadya’s so close to giving up — to associating Adrian and Lester as businessmen of the same tycoon-ishness — when a grainy streaming rabbit hole catches her eye. Not that she’d ever admit she was looking so intently but that maroon pantsuit? Hard not to recognize.

Probably doesn’t help that she’s had more than a few dreams about it…

It’s been ages since she’s watched anything that wasn’t taken on some form of camera phone. But the date stamp in the corner and the slight lag between audio and visual definitely mark this as a remnant of the bygone VHS-era. Probably when Lester was inducted in as CEO of his company.

There. She spends what feels like hours pausing, rewinding, dragging the player to a specific spot and having to time her two-fingered assault on the keyboard just so but the victory is sweeter than she could have imagined.

Behind Lester’s flouncy gestures for some speech about bringing ‘old industry’ back to Manhattan — the flicker of maroon. And beside Kamilah’s pixelated waves of dark hair stands a figure two heads taller and with cheekbones definitely made to exist in the time of high-definition photography; distinctive even from a distance.

Adrian’s grainy figure leans down and whispers something in Kamilah’s distorted confidence. Maybe she laughs; maybe she frowns. She doesn’t look away from Lester’s speech.

And in the corner: [03 JULY, 2001]

An uncharacteristic calm falls over her. Maybe she’s done enough freaking out for the day — or over Adrian Raines, for that matter — and she’s numb to new information. She deletes her browser history — doesn’t think it’ll do much good if anyone really wanted to see what she was looking at — and clocks back in. Loses herself in the work. For once in Nadya’s life the mindless, soul-sucking tedium of an office job is a good thing. Doesn’t really need much brain power, makes it so she doesn’t pay attention when the lift door dings and Adrian returns from his meeting with a slump in his shoulders.

That is until he looks over her shoulder.

“You’re already working on the MacCombe spreads?” He sounds surprised.

“I finished all those return calls—here —” she hands him three neon-pink post-its with different names and dates scribbled on them, “— don’t worry about memorizing them; I’ve updated your datebook with the appointments. Though this one, Volenti, is a lunch at some rooftop Italian place, so I’d avoid the morning coffee.”

She expects him to pay it all little mind. After all, this is what he’s paying her for: clerical nonsense, not to be his friend and a pesky detective on the side.

But Adrian’s all about subverting expectations; plucks the note from her fingers and frowns at the time.

“I can’t make it that day. I’m booked up all afternoon.”

Nadya quickly pulls up both his digital datebook and brushes aside an open folder to the desk calendar she has color-coded to the nines. Even Adrian’s eyes widen at the sheer mess of her incoherent organization.

“Uh, no you’re not?” Which isn’t so much questioning her boss as questioning her own appointment-making skills.

“I am. Tell Mrs. Volenti she’ll need to change it to a dinner reservation.”

“Well maybe we can squeeze—”

“Nadya.”

She looks at his face for the first time since he returned. When Adrian realized ‘professional personal space’ wasn’t really her forte — a habit picked up from living in close quarters with Lily, no doubt — he started testing his own waters until it wasn’t uncommon for both of them to just reach over one another without a second thought.

He takes up that personal bubble, now; towers over her in a way that makes Nadya shrink back in her chair slightly.

She’s never heard that sort of tone from him before. Harsh, cold, almost mean. Nadya shivers.

The hard look in Adrian’s eyes softens instantly. His tone stays firm.

“Change it to a dinner reservation. And book me up for office calls that day.” Then, as if their friendship is an afterthought; “Thank you.”

His office door closes behind him absolutely silent — she can just imagine him being as delicate as possible with the creaky old wood.

Nadya takes a few minutes to collect herself in her personal bathroom. She emerges, still counting down from one hundred, and grabs the note with Volenti’s number to reschedule.

“BOOM! HEADSHOT!”

Nadya looks down at her pint of ice cream with a grimace. No matter what the commercials said, they were liars: lactose-free ice cream was a crime against humanity.

“Did you see that? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t replicate that move if I tried.” Lily talks half to herself half to her one-person audience as she studies the controller in her hands. She brings it close and strokes her thumb over the joystick.

“Tell me your secrets… please?”

The controller vibrates — makes Lily scream in response. Then a horde of zombies swarms in on her character on the television screen and she scrambles to return to diligent gamer-mode.

Maybe time passes, or maybe Lily suddenly has the ability to teleport. Both options are equally likely as one minute Nadya successfully tunes out the groaning roar of digital catastrophe and the next Lily’s plucking the barren spoon from dangling awkwardly in her mouth.

“Hello? Ground control to Al Jamil; can you read me, Al Jamil?”

It takes Nadya a moment to blink away a sluggishness she didn’t know she had.

“You say something, Lil’?”

“I mean,” she seriously thinks it over, “nothing more than my usual gaming banter — which is still worthy of an epic quote-book. How was your trip to Planet of the Mush-Brains?”

Crouched in front of Nadya’s armchair, Lily steals a bite of melty ice cream — cringes at the lie that is ‘lactose-free’ maple pecan but forces herself to swallow it.

There’s a quip about the squishy mess that would be planet Mush-Brain on the tip of Nadya’s tongue. Instead she looks down at her half-reflection in her roommate’s smudged glasses and erupts in gooseflesh.

“Can I ask you something weird?”

“Weird on a scale of…?”

“Weird.” Nadya confirms. Lily grins.

“You fuckin’ bet.”

There’s a pause where she breathes in deep, tries to process the words about to come out of her mouth, and she goes for it.

“Do you believe in vampires?”

They’ve lived together long enough now to go through all the theories, discussions, and conversations generally reserved for the butt-crack of dawn or when midnight seems to stretch on forever. They’ve bought matching sleeping bags and sometimes have camping nights in the living room (though Lily is forever banned from buying candles — because sometimes ‘the aesthetic’ just isn’t worth possibly burning down an entire apartment building); laid head-meet-toes for hours and talked about the things that made them who they were; what they dreamed about, their genie wishes, and the things unproven that they still believed in anyway.

Vampires included.

Lily props her chin on Nadya’s knee and blinks slowly. She reminds Nadya of a cat sometimes.

“Sure,” she shrugs, “I guess. Are you talking about that video that went viral about that Norwegian metal band that said they drink each other’s blood before gigs?”

Nadya blanches. Some things should just never be said with a straight face. “No! What?! Who—where do you find these things?”

"The internet.”

“Right — I mean — no. Not Norwegians. Like… actual vampires.”

It’s stupid; ludicrous even. It’s not something she’s even going to go through the process of explaining out loud because some things even Lily might find absolutely bonkers. And she once went on a date with a Flat-Earther.

Maybe her roommate’s actually taking her seriously because she takes a long pause before answering.

“Sure, I guess. Depends on what kind.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, what lore are we talking? And also, is this a sleeping bag situation?”

Nadya wants to say yes. She wants them to push the coffee table aside and lay down together so she can vent every crazy idea she’s processing — and then some. But the room looks lighter than it did a few minutes ago and when she glances at the stove clock her heart sinks. 06:08 glaring at her in bright ugly red. Lily ‘Freakin’ Superhuman’ Spencer is no stranger to pulling all-nighters before work but Nadya has a feeling if she unloads now it might tempt her roomie to call out to stay by her side.

And while the company would be nice there was one thing she liked just a little bit more: being able to make rent.

“Nah,” she’s not convincing anyone, least of all her best friend, when she waves it off and jostles Lily onto her rear end by standing, “I was just thinking weird things.”

But now Lily’s caught the scent. Leans in sans personal-bubble as Nadya puts the melted ice cream away.

“What kinda weird things? When did you start thinking them? Who made you think weird things?”

“It’s nothing, Lil’.”

“Obviously not.”

“And you’re suddenly Sherlock Holmes…?”

“I talked to my controller, Nadi’. And you didn’t stop me.”

“Well as long as you weren’t tonguing the joystick.”

“Ew,” Lily recoils, “you know I don’t do sticks. Stop changing the subject!”

But it was just enough to get Nadya time to slip out from under the gaze of nerd-glasses scrutiny; she’s already closing her bedroom door. Lily never could resist a lesbian quip.

“Good luck at work!” She calls, and leans against her door with a heavy sigh. Nothing’s stopping Lily from knocking until she answers, or more frighteningly; nothing’s stopping her from breaking into a rendition of the song from Frozen.

But Lily respects her space. She’s just crawled into bed when she hears a call of “See ya!” and the front door slamming shut.

She texts Adrian half an hour later calling in sick. She gets sick time, right? Of course he answers when she’s on the cusp of real sleep.

[TEXT]: Are you alright?? -Adrian

[TEXT]: yeah Lil gave me her cold. sorry. can I do it like this or do I have to call hr? [TEXT]: please don’t say I gotta call nicole

[TEXT]: No this is fine. I’m sure I can survive one day. -Adrian [TEXT]: Actually take a long weekend. See you Monday. Feel better.

It’s more than she asked for so why does something uncomfortable settle in her gut? She stares at the text chain, squints until her eyes begin to blur the words, and then it hits her.

No ‘Sincerely, Adrian.’ Whatever he’s doing this early (which, honestly she’s surprised since everyone has to sleep sometime but not him, apparently) has him occupied enough not to be, well, himself. And there’s a part of Nadya that feels like if she sends him a message asking about it he might very well respond. Her fingers hover over the buttons on screen long enough for her hand to prickle with pins and needles.

She turns off the ringer, tucks the device under her pillow, and forces herself to sleep.

They are grown-ups, thank you very much. They have grown-up jobs and grown-up bills and grown-up credit cards and checking accounts and monthly interest fees. And while most of grown-up life sucked a big one, having jobs that only operated during the business week was a small perk in a sea of ‘wait, I didn’t ask for this.’

Lily doesn’t bring up the ‘V’ word all weekend. They aren’t best friends for nothing — Nadya’s way ahead of her and knows when the questions itch on the tip of her tongue. Doesn’t help that Lily’s magically, totally spontaneously decided to bring out her old copy of ‘Blood Suckers 3: Fast-Forward’ to brush up on her apparently rusty vampire-cyborg slaying abilities.

With a grocery-store pizza crisping in the oven and the tinny sounds of the cybernetically-enhanced undead wailing their deaths throughout the entire apartment things feel… normal. They feel like they used to. Before Adrian, before Raines Corp., before her internet browsing history was shamefully filled with the beginnings of research into the possibility that the creepy spookies might be legit.

There’s only one job that has followed the pair of them into grown-up life: knowing how to take care of each other. They were a bit rusty — but still got the stuff.

Lily’s eyes are glued to the screen, thumbs twitching on the joystick and slamming into buttons because hitting them harder made the little in-game avatar attack faster—obviously. Nadya can’t stop watching in amusement as she scoots, inch by inch, towards the edge of the couch in anticipation for this level’s boss battle.

“Die cyborg scum! For a third and final time!”

Any harder and she might actually break the triangle button. But Nadya doesn’t get time to warn her — not with the sudden shrill screech of the smoke detector.

“The pizza!” She’s up in a flash — yanks the pie way from the heat where it falls lamely on the floor and spews blackened bits all over the tile. The alarm chirps on out of spite.

Nadya waves a dish towel at the collecting smoke — god she really loves Lily to death but the fact that she’s the only one picking herself up to do anything is frustrating to say the least.

“Lil’! Open the windows! Please?!”

It’s enough to pull her roommate out of the distant and horrible year of 5048; then a mad dash to unlatch the fire escape window. Winter forces in like that time Lily thought they could rent out their couch space to gap-year European students. She’s chilly but effective in sucking the smoky air outside. Snowflakes flutter in but vanish on contact with the decades-old carpeting.

Above them; the sudden THUD THUD THU-UD of unfortunately all-too-familiar workboots. Then a shrill voice cuts through the aged plaster holding their building together by a thread.

“What’s that awful noise?! Marty, stop stomping you fucking idiot! I’m tryna watch my show here!”

“It’s those dykes downstairs!” Marty’s delightful holler suddenly grows sharp — echoes from his open window to theirs, “CUT THAT SHIT OUT! You ain’t takin’ us to Hell with you!”

Like a holy sign the detector ceases; angry red blinking slowing down into green, false-alarm peace.

Lily glares at the white plastic in contempt. “Rude neighbors I can live with — but a homophobic smoke detector? Nu-uh. Where’s my bat?”

While Nadya tries to dissuade her from beating them into a replacement fine Marty resumes his best lumberjack impression above them. The hazards of living somewhere with rent security.

The bat may have just been a comic-con prop but there’s nothing comical about the slew of rusty nails sticking out of the business end at odd angles. It takes a solid chunk of time to talk her down, talk her into unleashing her aggression back on Lestat-meets-the-Terminator.

After a bit of sleuthing — and with pizza crust char smeared on her cheek — Nadya holds out the culprit with all the conviction Law and Order could teach: a chunk of the plastic wrapping melted into a gloss on top of a pepperoni.

“I’ll have to call the store in the morning.”

Lily snarls at her game with new vigor. “Why?”

“Because — we caught it. What if there’s a bad batch?”

“I mean, maybe. But you don’t know that.”

“Neither do they unless I say something.”

“So…” Hunger stakes both Lily and her boss battle; ‘PAUSED’ flashing on the screen in bright blocky letters while Lily pushes up her glasses, “no pizza?”

The air hurts her face. Why did she willingly choose to live in a place where the air hurts her face?

There’s definitely an open pizza joint a few blocks over — you don’t have enough money to geomap the entire world and lie about late-night pizza — but not only are people like Nadya one of the reasons food delivery services were invented, she’s just not as familiar with her neighborhood as she once was. At the moment she blames Adrian for that.

“Stupid ritzy lunch deliveries,” she mutters, keeps her lips moving and tries not to lick them and ohp—there it goes, now her lips feel like she’s well on her way to frostbite, “stupid fancy dinner hotels, stupid employee-only rooftop restaurant, stupid DiGeronimo’s plastic-riddled pizzas of death.”

She’s glad there’s no one around to listen to her muttered tirade. Some things a woman just has to complain about alone.

“Why am I the one out here anyway?” she asks no one in particular — the snowflakes picking up speed around her, maybe, “I can’t even eat the darn pizza! — Then again I was totally gonna eat the pizza. Hey, universe, if you’re listening, I was gonna eat the pizza. I was gonna be punished enough. So like… let up on the ice age, will ya?”

The universe doesn’t let up on the ice age. If anything it feels like the snow drift is picking up speed. Flakes turn to fat droplets on her glasses that distort the world around her. Cupping her hands over her mouth does no good — can’t exactly see with fog over her lenses.

Huddled under the drooping awning of a closed bodega, her shaking hands fumble around for her phone and the map. “Nooo… how did I end up on the wrong side of the friggin’ park?!”

Lily will wait for her cheesy delight, she decides — kicks the sticky snow from her boots and trudges across the street towards the park entrance, she will wait until I’ve regained feeling in all ten fingers and all ten toes and not a minute before.

It’s all very Every Crime Serial Ever. Literally, Nadya swears she’s seen at least a dozen winter-themed episodes start with a young woman taking a shortcut in a dark park. But there’s more on the line than empty stomachs and another night of instant ramen now. Now; it’s a point of pride. It’s about making it out into the storm and returning, victorious, from the highest peak with tales of wonder and mystery.

So she keeps to the snowed-over pathways even when the cold wet starts to seep into her thick fuzzy socks — keeps under the glow of lamp posts the city abandoned a long time ago where she can find them. Distracts herself with thoughts of delicious melty cheese and sneaking a few mushrooms onto Lily’s side before she gets back to the apartment — and wonders if the delivery driver might take pity on her poor frozen soul and drive her back to her block rather than making her return with a pizza-sicle.

That’s the problem with expecting something bad to happen, though. When you expect it you do everything in your power to not think about it — to not run around freaking out over every fallen leaf and garbage-diving raccoon. There’s definitely a difference between using smart caution and just straight up stamping down every bad feeling rolling around in your gut.

Nadya, unfortunately, is prone to the latter. Years of jeers and teasing and being called irrational will do their damage eventually — and for her they come together as the knowledge that she shouldn’t be doing what she’s doing but not enough wisdom to turn back.

There’s a loud crash. Nadya screams loud enough to warm up her insides. Her keys held tightly between each knuckle in self-defense on one hand and phone ready to emergency dial with the other. Fear creeps in at the edges of her vision; makes the darkness outside the safety of the lamp’s light appear alive, undulating, thriving off her terror.

In the dark void between one lamppost and the next a hollow metal creaking grows closer—closer—closer—and she’ll never tell a living soul (that’s a lie, she’ll probably tell Lily when she stops having nightmares over this mess) but she might have accidentally unclenched her legs a little too quickly as an upended garbage can rolls a path through the fresh snow with the contents painting a trail behind.

I’m a good citizen, dang it, but I wanna keep my fingers. Because what horror movie starts with the victim being ripped to shreds while she’s saving the environment during a polar vortex?

The distant Lily-adjacent voice in the back of her head quips something like “holiday horror movies, duh!” but it’s too quiet — too soft over the sudden primal roar that carries on every gust of winter wind.

She’s cold. She’s afraid. There’s the strangest taste of almonds on the back of her tongue?

Then everything is warm and dark. She briefly considers crawling out of bed to have Lily remind her to pack a lunch in the morning.

Instead she welcomes sleep.

#playchoices #bloodbound #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #adrian raines #lily spencer #mc: nadya al jamil #nicole anderson #; my fics #oblv: bound by destiny #oblv: new chapter

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maybeformepersonally · 5 years

Text

Fic: One golden glance of what should be

Title: One golden glance of what should be Author: maybeformepersonally Rating: G / General Audiences Summary: Hogwarts AU where inter-house friendship blooms, Dan plays Quidditch, Phil cheers for him, and realisations are acted upon. Word Count: 2752 Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for @unhawkeye for the Phanfic Events Spring Fic Exchange. I’d like to thank the kind folks at Phanfic Events for organising this fest and @unhawkeye for submitting this prompt and for the lovely comment they left, I’m glad you enjoyed it! Warnings: None

Read on AO3

Sometimes, not often but sometimes, Dan regretted talking the Sorting Hat into putting him in Gryffindor. Oh, do not get the wrong idea, he liked his house. For the most part. His housemates may be a loud and boisterous bunch more often than not, but that worked well enough for Dan in group settings, since he could be involved without exhausting himself emotionally; all he had to do was make the occasional comment and laugh when someone said something funny and he was considered part of the group. He was proud of being a Gryffindor. He liked the warm, glowy feeling he got whenever he caught himself being particularly courageous, and there was nothing like seeing hundreds upon hundreds of other students, even from other houses, wearing his house colours and cheering for him when his fingers closed around the ever so elusive golden snitch. He liked earning house points, and he liked being the non-threatening, easy-going upperclassman that first years felt confident asking for help. And if he sometimes felt adrift and trapped in the stifling exuberance of his housemates, if he sometimes needed to get away from the aggressively extroverted energy of his house’s Common Room, well. There's nothing wrong with wanting some time to himself to recharge.

Dan liked his house. He was thankful he had managed to sway the Hat’s first ‘suggestion’. But being in Gryffindor meant he had to share class time with not only Phil Lester, but also Charlie Casey, who was apparently physically incapable of not flirting with Phil for more than 5 continuous minutes.

Here was the thing about Dan: he was a helplessly, desperately, poisonously jealous person by nature. It didn't matter that he had no claim over Phil, except maybe a tenuous one as a situational kind-of-friend who was happy to chat when they were both passing time and no one more interesting was around. It didn't matter that Charlie was getting nowhere with his overt flirting and only slightly more covert near-stalking. It didn't even matter that Phil was clearly not interested, because Phil was also painfully nice, and so as long as Charlie didn't cross a line, he'd put up with his annoying housemate making eyes at him and babbling at him and trying to sit close to him in class and, and, and.

Dan may have been biased, but it still grinded his gears, every single time.

“Any questions? No? Alright then! Split into pairs and start practising the spell. Remember to make that a light swish, we don’t want to have to make any unplanned visits to the Hospital Wing today!”

Dan was distracted enough sneaking looks at Phil and Charlie that the professor’s words caught him a bit off-guard. On the flip side, however, sneaking looks at Phil seemed to have paid off this time, for as soon as the instructions were uttered, Phil had turned to him with one of those bright smiles that always made a nervous wriggly feeling burst inside Dan’s chest. Is he… he is, Dan thinks wildly. Dan had, of course, noticed that Phil’s usual class partner hadn’t been present in either of their shared classes that day, but with Charlie right there he’d figured Phil would just partner with him. Then again, Charlie could be a bit too enthusiastic with his wand movements, so Phil was making the right strategic choice, really.

“Hey,” Phil said once he reached him. He even did that cute little hand gesture he did sometimes when greeting people, that movement that looked like it half wanted to be a wave if only it could gather enough motivation. The wriggly feeling intensified in Dan's chest. “Wanna partner?”

“Yeah,” Dan answered lamely. “Sure.”

The smile he got made him think being awkward was worth it, if it got him that reaction from Phil Lester of all people.

Phil walked down the moving staircase excitedly, moving slightly ahead of his mates every couple of minutes before noticing that his longer stride and bubbling enthusiasm were propelling him too far ahead, and forcing himself to slow down. It was 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday, and by all intents and purposes he should have been shuffling his feet and groaning under his breath at being out of bed so early on a weekend. But today was different. Because his efforts were for a cause. A good and just cause. And that cause was Daniel Howell, expertly flying all over the pitch and flaunting his frankly spectacular skills with a broomstick.

Today was the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match, and the whole school was vibrating with anticipation, with the sheer drama of it, the two rivals clashing in the pitch for their one and only yearly match, fighting to one-up each other at every turn, risking life and limb with gravity-defying moves for the unparalleled glory of coming out the other side victorious. Phil had the passing thought that if he was an animated character, his eyes would be shining. Possibly they’d be shaped like stars.

The overall scores so far were tilted slightly in favour of Slytherin, but the Gryffindors had a more well-rounded team, and the best Seeker in the school (Phil was adamant, despite his own housemates' protests), so the odds were looking pretty good for Gryffindor supporters. Which Phil was, today. He’d always cheered for Gryffindor when his own House wasn’t playing, but his support had become more… ardent since Dan joined the team in their fifth year. Coincidentally, fifth year was the year when Phil… noticed him.

Phil had a habit of spending more time inside his head than in the outside world with all his peers, and so it wasn’t unusual for him not to know the students from the other houses very well. Still, how he managed to overlook Dan Howell for so long was a mystery that evaded him. (Puberty might have had something to do with the ‘revelation’. Maybe. Possibly.)

Dan was just… so nice? Always, even with people who didn’t deserve it. And he was so smart, he always did well in their shared classes, but it wasn’t even that. Anyone who studied would do reasonably good in class, but Dan always asked the most insightful questions, and gave the most thoughtful answers, not like learning by rote would do, but like he had all these thought and ideas about what magic was, how magic worked, how magic affected magical people, about the implied tenets of magical society and what their implications were. Seriously, Phil didn’t know how he’d managed to escape being a Ravenclaw.

And he was beautiful, yeah, that was also a factor, but it wasn’t the only one, Phil had standards.

Dan met all of his standards, and then he went on to create a few new ones just for the sake of it. Like how Phil didn’t use to think about Hogwarts’ expectations that muggleborn children basically cut all ties with the culture they were born in to fully immerse themselves in the magical word, but ever since Dan had brought it up in class, he’d started noticing more and more the completely non-existent efforts purebloods made to learn about their mates’ culture, how most muggle references earned the speaker blank stares at best and a sneer at worst. How there was no muggle history taught at Hogwarts, to the detriment of all students, who would go on to graduate missing the history of the grand majority of humans, much of which is directly relevant to wizardkind. Like how muggle-raised first years have to quietly struggle with learning to write with a quill, since apparently that’s not used by muggles anymore? (Dan had something called a “gel pen” that could write in sparkly pink without any need to dip it into ink at all!)

The point of the matter was, Dan was on Phil’s mind all the time these days, but Phil wasn’t sure where he stood in Dan's. He always acted friendly towards Phil, even happy to talk to him, but he wasn’t normally the one to seek him out. Phil had decided to try talking to him more (it was his number one New Year’s resolution), and so far it was looking promising.

Phil doubted he’d get to talk to Dan the day of a match, let alone the most awaited match of the year for half the school at least, but he didn't really mind. He was going to get to see Dan playing Quidditch today. He was going to get to experience Dan in his element. Phil could have sworn Dan was made to be an athlete, the way he moved on a broom. It was stunning.

He was stunning.

Phil had been wrong, as it turned out. Later in the day, once the Gryffindor festivities had died down, Phil ran into Dan on his way to the library. Almost literally.

“Oh, hey, are you okay?” Dan asked, way too concerned and way too close, one hand still on Phil’s shoulder where he’d grabbed him to avoid a full-on collision.

“Oh. Hi. Yeah. Yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I’m bad at keeping tabs on my surroundings. Thanks,” Phil spewed out with no intervention of his brain whatsoever.

Dan gave him one of those sweet, soft smiles with the dimples and squeezed his shoulder lightly before letting go. “It’s fine. Just try to pay better attention next time. We wouldn’t want to have to scrape you off the dungeon floors because you were too distracted to notice the staircase had changed directions.”

Phil threw him an exaggeratedly suspicious look, “What do you know? Whatever they told you, it’s not true and they’re trying to throw off suspicion by telling you made up stories about my early days of being a perfectly balanced first year genius. Don’t let them throw you off the scent, whoever told you that clearly has something to hide.”

Dan’s laugh made his heart do a wild flip in his chest, and all Phil could do was grin really wide.

They ended up going to the library together and sitting down in one of the alcoves to read their respective selection of books, turning to each other every now and then with a comment or a question sparked by their reading. Dan has blushed and ducked his head a little when Phil had congratulated him, and they'd made plans to revise for their Charms exam together later that week.

It had been a really good day, Phil decided as he laid down to sleep that night. A really good day, indeed.

They talked a bit more often after that, then started spending more and more time together. Dan was the funniest person he’d ever met, he could always make Phil laugh, even when he was fighting down anxiety or when he’d had a really bad day. Phil felt blessed to get to know him at all.

They were brewing Amortentia, Professor Winkledge had said. It made Phil nervous.

He already knew what a correctly brewed Amortentia would smell like to him. Or at least, he knew who it would smell like. Still, when Dan turned to him with a little smile and a questioning look, Phil nodded. He wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to brew with Dan just because he had a little crush. He did take a few deep breaths in the potions ingredients cabinet to release all that nervous energy once he was out of sight, though.

Dan was diligent, and precise. He was really good at potions, and Phil was really good at spacing out watching how gracefully his hands sliced the asphodel roots. They prevailed, however, and ended up with a near-perfect potion by the end of the class that Phil had actually helped make, distractions and all. Phil was a little overwhelmed by the earthly oak scent, tinged with a hint of citrus and something sweet he couldn’t quite identify that was coming from their cauldron once they reached the final stage. But it wasn’t too bad, just a little distracting. It made him want to hug Dan, which made perfect sense, but would also be supremely weird, so he just settled for shifting his weight from one foot to another and putting his hands in the pockets of his robe in that backwards way his body naturally settled into. Some people thought it was weird, but Phil knew Dan wouldn’t mind it or ever tease him about it, except maybe good-naturedly.

Dan didn’t say what the potion smelled like to him, other than muttering “fresh”, and, oddly enough, “alive” when prompted. It had made Phil laugh.

The thing to break the mounting tension between them is, surprisingly, Charlie.

Phil was hanging out with Dan out in the grounds, close to the lake, as they sometimes did when the weather was nice, when Dan abruptly cut off his explanation on why he thought muggle technology should be incorporated to the Hogwarts curriculum and how magical folk could benefit from it. It only took Phil a moment to figure out why: Charlie was striding purposefully towards them, stopping right in front of Phil and ignoring Dan completely.

“Phil,” he declared, to Phil’s bewilderment and slight annoyance. He’d been fascinated by Dan’s commentary, and Dan was never annoyed or patronising when Phil asked questions about the muggle world, which meant Phil had already derailed Dan’s explanation half a dozen times, out of a deep curiosity for the subject matter. For all of Dan’s patience with him, he seemed significantly more short-tempered about this interruption.

Charlie cleared his throat and, continuing to ignore Dan standing right there, stared straight into Phil. “Phil, would you like to go to tomorrow’s Hogsmeade visit with me?”

Phil stared, incomprehensive.

“He’s already agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow,” Dan jumped in to his rescue.

Charlie frowned, but didn’t turn to look at Dan when he spoke. “A date takes precedence over friends hanging out. I’m sure you’ll understand.”

Well, now that was rude, and uncomfortable. “No,” Phil said without meaning to. Or rather, he did mean it, but he’d rather have said it less bluntly. “I mean, that’s not-Dan and me are going-it’s a date. We’re going as a date. I’m sorry,” Phil blurted out.

“Oh,” Charlie finally turned to look at Dan as he said it. “Oh.” After another two or three long seconds that felt more like an hour to Phil, Charlie said, “Okay,” and promptly left.

Phil waited until he was out of sight, then cast a sound barrier, just in case.

“Um. Sorry, I didn’t-I shouldn’t have dragged you into that without asking first.”

Dan shook his head, dismissing Phil’s worries. But he looked thoughtful, so Phil braced for one of Dan’s sharp, insightful realisations.

“Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?”

“Yeah?” Phil ventured, confused. “We’d already made plans to...”

“No, I mean…” Dan was blushing, dear Merlin, really blushing, his entire face was a light pink and one of his dimples was showing even though he wasn't even smiling, and it was the cutest thing Phil had ever seen in his life. “I mean, like a date. If you want. A real date, not just... to fool Charlie...” he trailed off.

Phil thought this is what a deer in the headlights must feel, except opposite. Like, the same feeling but with opposite tension. In that deer probably weren't eagerly looking forward to being run over.

“Yes?”

“Is that a question?” Dan was looking straight at him, despite his bright blush, head held high. Brave, a Gryffindor through and through.

“Yes.” Before Dan can ask if he means ‘yes, that was a question’, he barrelled on. “Yes, I’d really like to go on a date with you tomorrow, and also today, if you want. Like tonight. Or right now. Right now is good, we’re already here and this is a good place for a date, I think… Maybe I think any place is a good place for a date with you” Phil ended in a quiet voice, heart pounding with adrenaline and nerves, even as he could see the tension drain out of Dan like a physical presence, and the gorgeous smile he got in response made him smile back instinctively.

“Yeah?” Dan asked breathlessly, but it was rhetorical. When Dan reached out and took one of his hands in his, lacing their fingers and squeezing them lightly, Phil thought this was a whole new kind of magic he had never known before.

#phanfic #phan #hogwarts au #gryffindor!dan #hufflepuff!phil #am i writing now #Phanfic Events Spring Fic Exchange #amortentia smells a lot like plants to dan that's why he said 'alive'#also uh the dannie in me really jumped out in this fic huh #tbh at least 80% of my phanfic writing is just me raving about how much i love dnp so

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jestbee · 6 years

Note

WHAT DID YOU SAY TO THEM

Not a lot is the short answer. But, in case you wanted long detailed post about it all, my entire meet & greet experience is below the cut

So we got there super early and we were sat at this bar/restaurant that’s attached to the venue and we looked up at a window across the way and I thought, fleetingly in the back of my mind, “That looks like the back of Phil’s head”. But I didn’t say anything to my friends because I thought I’d come across as a bit of a weirdo. Who recognises the back of someones head? Inside a building? In silhouette?

Anyway. Turns out it was Phil’s head, and then Dan came to the window wearing his grid jumper and waved and we all waved back (I’m sure I looked like a stunned idiot) and then he got his phone out and held it up while he continued to wave at us.

Consequently, I’m half convinced he has a photo/video of us on his camera roll somewhere. A very odd thought.

So that was the first moment. The one that was to kick off the weirdness of seeing them in real life and- let’s be real- the low key panic attack I was just going to have for the next two hours until it was all over.

And I remember Dan smiling really wide and I was just like, ‘oh my god, he’s real’ which is a stupid thought to have, but it wouldn’t be the last time I thought it.

When the time came we went to the foyer of the venue and they had all the merch but you couldn’t buy it yet but they were setting it up in the vip area upstairs so we could buy it there.

There were so many cool people, other fans just having fun and it was really nice to be in an atmosphere where you knew we were all there for the same reason. Gathered because of two tall ex-emos that somehow make our days a little brighter.

There was also a line of old people buying tickets to other things at the box office looking around like this was the oddest thing they’d ever seen. They were right. It probably was.

We were counting down, watching the merch trolleys being wheeled back and forth to the lift and it was getting more and more real. Then it was 4 o’clock. People started doing that British-person-shuffle thing where you all try to get as close to the place you are supposed to be as possible. As if that will get you in quicker. It rarely works but we all try.

They took the barrier down. It was starting.

The venue staff looked at our tickets and then gave us a wrist band and we went to an upstairs area (that was actually like a bar you usually go to before shows) and the m&g backdrop was there and a merch stand and a playlist playing out of a Beats Pill speaker just plugged in in the corner. I mean.... what?

World wide tour, neon lights and a fancy set and this is the production value Nottingham could provide. Well done hometown, well done.

We sat on some tables near the front of the room and there was a stoic security guard in a grey suit standing at a door next to the screen like something out of a movie. Everyone made so much noise every time the door vaguely moved and we were all on edge.

The room was buzzing. People were hyped.

So at this point I got SUPER nervous and my face and neck starting getting hot, even my ears felt like they were about to spontaneously combust on the side of my head. Thank god for @ineverhadmyinternetphase and @charlottekath who were also nervous but totally encouraging, because I never would have coped without them

The organisers put a line of green tape on the floor and they were giving out Haribo... I think. I’m a vegetarian so I didn’t get any. I couldn’t concentrate anyway.

Also the line for merch was REALLY long at this point but we thought we’d go after our m&g. Good decision. There was no queue after cus everyone was queueing for m&g so we walked straight up.

Plushies had almost gone though but we were lucky and snagged 2 of the remaining 3.

They had more later, downstairs, this was just the vip stand.

So it then came time to line up behind the green tape and we all got in a queue and we were 5 PEOPLE FROM THE FRONT and at this point I began to panic a little and I was half convinced I was going to leave... Seriously, I just had the thought that I could turn around and go because why was I putting myself through something I knew was going to give me anxiety, you know? Why did I need to do this?

Good friends, my pals. Good friends. They pointed out that I’d regret it if I left which yeah, I would have. I stayed.

On shaking legs goddammit it, I stayed.

So then it was explained that the boys were on their way and that there was a lot of people there but that we had time and we would definitely all get to meet them so no pushing etc. The crowd kept cheering and being loud when she was talking which was annoying but everyone was just so excited!

So, you had to have your 1 thing to sign, you could get a selfie/photo whatever and then you’d have your wristband cut off and get a little vip merch tote thing. Have it all ready in your hand before you go round. Trust me, it makes it so much easier!

I wasn’t taking much more in by this point because the heat in my face and neck was uncontrollable and at this point I was hitting myself in the knuckles with a sharpie because I think I was very near a panic attack.

Then it was TIME.

They came out through the side door. The cheer started at the back and followed down the line like a wave at a sporting match and then.... they came round into full view.

I was just... stunned. Into silence.

Literally lost the ability to speak.

Most people comment on how tall they are. I can deal with tall. I’m used to tall. I’m not used to two nerds I watch on my computer screen suddenly appearing in real life.

I was mostly struck by how Dan was wearing merch actually. He really followed through on that. Plus it was the one I wanted to buy so I was glad to see it in person.

Dan asked us all how were were doing and everyone cheered appropriately.

Then Phil said (quietly and mostly to Dan) “Thank you for coming”

Then Dan said louder to the crowd “Yes, Thank you all for coming!”

And that was cute as hell, because Dan clearly does all the shouting and Phil giving him that little prompt was just... wonderful. The way they work together so easily is just lovely.

So then they went back behind the screen thing and the moment came.

Everyone moved forward, I was panicking and hitting my knuckles with the pen and counting down the number of people left to go before I would have to do it.

Then it was our turn. We’d already talked about how I was going last out of the three of us because I am a wimp. So those two went up together and I watched them in the reflection of the glass and they were all laughing and I was like, SO SO HAPPY for them. Honestly, my friends are the best and getting to experience this whole thing with them was the best.

After what seemed like a hilarious conversation I won’t spoil here because you can probably read about on their blogs, it was my turn.

But first:

“Is that a letter?” she said.

They collect the letters and things before you go round to see the guys and then put them in these neat large brown envelopes with “Dan and Phil” written on and the venue and date.

“Yes,” I said, “But it’s not from me. It’s from my friend. In California.”

Sometimes when I am nervous I ramble. But, @adorkablephil that one was for you. I wanted to make sure I mentioned it.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Then I had to go around the screen.

Before I got there, in fact for the entire 7 months since I bought my ticket I have been saying the same thing. I was looking forward to my Phil hug and I didn’t think I’d be able to handle meeting Dan in person. I don’t know why. He was intimidating to me for some reason.

But, let me tell you. I was not prepared for the absolute force that is Phil Lester.

I rounded the corner and Phil immediately smiled and held his arms out and I just kind of shuffled over and gave him a hug and he was like “hiiii”

Then I got a half-hug from Dan in that way that he does and I was so happy about it. They are both like, SO lovely. And gentle.

Phil was just... I don’t know. Dan looked like Dan does on my laptop screen. Just, in real life which was bizarre yeah, but Phil... Phil looks different. I don’t think if its the hair or just that I’m not yet used to 2018 Phil but he looked his age. Which... if you’ve been paying attention to this blog at all you will know is totally my jam.

I’m a Phil girl. I’ve become a Phil girl. I think it’s just time I admitted it.

I didn’t intend on saying much. I didn’t have anything planned and there was no huge statement I wanted to make. I never would have been able to manage it, my anxiety levels were pretty high at this point and I just wanted to enjoy the moment without any added pressure to say anything like, meaningful.

And I was still pretty much stunned into silence anyway so I think I went “Hi.” all quiet and squeaky. Then the conversation went like this:

P: Do you want us to sign your calendar?

Me: Oh, Yes please.

I passed them the calendar. Backwards. Of course. I’m an idiot.

D: Do you want us to sign May?

Bless this boy for checking. God amongst men. Cus I didn’t have it in me to correct it unprompted.

Me: Oh. Actually, June please.

They flipped it over, both with black sharpie in hand, poised and ready.

I almost let it go. I had a plan that I almost let slide because, hello awkward, but I didn’t. I summoned the courage to finally like, actually speak.

Me: I, um, I brought a silver sharpie. Cus... it’s black.

I meant the page. June is the black background photo and I didn’t think the black sharpie would show up.

At this point I kind of thrust the sharpie at them and Phil smiled again. I died.

P: You’re so prepared

D: We’re never prepared for anything in life just generally

I laughed.

At this point I realised my error in only bringing only one pen because then they couldn’t do the crossed-arms thing to sign. But it was okay. Phil still held the calendar but Dan signed first and then passed the pen over to Phil. Seamless. Wonderful.

At this point I’m digging my phone out of my front pocket and my hands are shaking.

Phil puts the pen lid back on and passes it all back to me and I like, fumble with all my stuff and flicking open the camera app at the same time.

D: Would you like a photo?

Me: Yes please could you... *passes him my phone*.

I never give anyone my phone. Ever. But here is Dan Howell with his huge hands on my phone just handling it like a pro and it was great.

So I sort of awkwardly shift to the middle of them and Phil leans in SO close behind me and Dan takes the picture and I think I don’t look too bad. A little stunned, of course, but that was to be expected.

Me: Thank you so much.

D: Thank you for coming, I hope you enjoy the show.

Me: You too

What? You too? Ugh I’m the worst.

P: Bye!

Me: Bye!

Then I get round the other side and the guy with the totes looks at me like really hesitantly, like he’s approaching a scared animal and says “Can I cut your wristband off?”

I held out my wrist. Silent and shook and shaking. He cuts the wristband off, He gives me a tote bag, I clutch it and the calendar to my chest and wander back over to my friends and finally, mercifully, collapse.

The camera app is still open on my phone. My ears are still hot and my knuckle has a bruise forming I’ll definitely regret tomorrow but this has been one of the best things ever.

I had to drink two beers with lunch just to get over it.

#jane answers #jane met dnp #dnp #interactive introverts #dan and phil #Anonymous

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