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shwazzberryswriting · 3 years

Text

Fate's Funny Games

Pairing: Doyoung x Original Female Character|Reader

Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Romance, Fluff and Humor

Summary: Doyoung meets a familiar stranger when he goes on a 5 Minute Dating Challenge

Word count: 6.1k

Rating/Warnings: Mature / Explicit Sexual Content *Part 5 of my "The NCT Frat House Series"*

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience if anyone has been waiting for an update on my series! Please enjoy my first Doyoung fic! Apologies ahead of time for any errors. Thank you for reading

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The 5 Minute Speed Dating Challenge guaranteed a date within 5 minutes or your sorry ass would get a drink on the house. Anita knew how desperate it was to give a gimmick like the Dating Challenge a try, but she reasoned that if things didn’t work out at least she’d get a free drink. All she had to do was have 60 second conversations with each new potential date until they rang the bell. If both parties couldn’t agree to ring the bell, they moved onto the next potential date.

She regretted wearing a strapless black leather dress and gold stilettos as the Dating Challenge called for her to get up and sit in a new chair every 60 seconds. She was expected to do this until she came across a person she’d ring the bell for. After 4 losers who couldn’t keep her interested for 60 seconds, she was considering giving up and asking if she could get her free drink already.

“Hello, I’m Doyoung,” her new potential date said as the two of them sat down across from each other, a silver ringer sitting at the center of the table.

He was wearing a well tailored navy blue suede suit, the white button down shirt had a large collar that highlighted the length of his graceful neck. How was it possible for a man to simply exist with effortless grace? His black hair was styled into a handsome quiff, and he eyed her with a confident smirk.

Before she could introduce herself, she realized that the man was actually not effortlessly graceful, just well trained. It had been 6 weeks ago when she first met him. He’d been wearing a blue tshirt and a pair of snap button joggers.

Anita had to hand it to Doyoung; he cleaned up well. She almost didn’t recognize him. If she hadn’t met him weeks ago, she wouldn’t have known that he was a frat bro. Before her sat a well groomed man whose gaze made her blush. Yet, she resisted the urge to giggle as the mental image of a red faced young man crouched over, crying into his lap, came to mind.

“Doyoung?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “I thought your name was Dongyoung?”

“Er, um, that’s my legal name,” he said as his eyes softened. He scanned her face carefully.

She grinned at him, sitting up straight. She tucked her flat ironed hair behind her ears, and waited for him to figure out where he’d seen her before. That was, if he could remember. He’d been very drunk when they first met. She had been wearing scrubs with her hair tied back, so she was curious if he would recognize her.

“I’m Anita,” she said. “Do you remember me?”

“We’ve met?” he asked. He gave a small laugh into the fist he raised to his mouth, his eyes lighting up with his smile. “I can’t believe it. I couldn’t possibly have never seen someone as beautiful as you and forget.”

“How well does your memory run if you were drunk?” She couldn’t stop herself from teasing him, feeling blood rush up her neck.

“So I was drunk?” he said, resting a hand on his chin. He shut his eyes and gave a dramatic sigh as he threw his hands onto the table. “I refuse to believe we’ve met. How is it possible you know me and I don’t know you?”

“Laceration onto the right hand, 2 stitches,” she said, picking up his hand to run a finger over a pink scar at the center of his palm.

“You’re the sweet nurse!” he exclaimed, sitting up straight. His eyes seemed to look past her face and he frowned. “I’m going to kill Taeyong.”

“Taeyong, that’s your friend,” she said. Doyoung refocused on her. “He annoyed you because he wouldn’t sit still, and then he tore your pants open.” Doyoung’s face reddened as she kept talking. “You were upset at having your calf revealed. Your friend was kind enough to button your pants back together.”

“He said you weren’t my type, and I had romanticized our meeting.”

“You were very inebriated,” she said with a smile. “You cried a lot.”

“You saw me at my worst,” he said, shutting his eyes with a grimace.

“If that’s your worst, it’s quite infectious.”

He crossed his legs, and ran a hand through his hair. She felt her cheeks turn warm as he shifted to face her and smiled. She recalled how Taeyong had annoyed him so severely, Anita had to ask Taeyong to take a snack break and get something from the vending machine.

When they’d been alone, Anita hadn’t started stitching his wound yet. She had been injecting the area around his cut with novocaine to numb him up, but he had still cried. When she asked him what he did to calm down, he’d responded that he played the piano and sang. She had offered to sing with him to help calm his nerves.

They had sung a Charlie Puth song together. Doyoung’s voice was angelic, and even under the stress of having an open flesh wound while inebriated, Anita knew that Doyoung was a gifted singer. He’d complimented her voice between sobs when she began stitching him up. At the time, Anita had found Doyoung endearing for a drunk frat bro; she hadn’t even thought of possibly running into him outside of her work, much less at a dating game.

He was handsome, incredibly polite (almost to the point of parody), and a good dresser. Anita felt grateful that she’d run into him at a dating game, although she realized her predicament sounded like a poorly setup joke. An ER nurse walks into a bar with a frat bro during a Speed Dating game. The way he smiled at her washed away her concerns.

“Can I be honest with you?” Doyoung said, leaning over the table. “I’m doing this for the free drink, but I like you a lot.”

“We can say we’re not interested in each other, and share our free drink,” she said. “We can leave for a real date afterwards.”

His eyes lit up with excitement, and they both sat back in their seats as they waited for the timer to sound off. Doyoung convincingly stood up with a frown and groan as he looked around in feigned embarrassment that he hadn’t landed a date. She subtly walked over to the bar with her coupon for a free drink, and ordered a martini.

“So what was it about me that stopped you from ringing the bell?” Doyoung asked after ordering a bottle of Modelo.

“I suppose you seem a little arrogant,” she replied. She smirked, picking up her martini.

“Arrogant?” he said, looking surprised. He took a long drink from his beer after the bartender handed it to him. “I didn’t land the date five times, so you can be assured I’ve been humbled.”

“What was it about me that stopped you from ringing the bell?”

“You know my medical history.”

She burst out with a loud laugh, and took a subtle sip of her martini. Her cheeks were feeling hot as he beamed at her. He licked his lips before taking another drink.

“I guess we weren’t destined to be lovers,” she said after they let a moment of silence pass between them. “Goodbye, Dongyoung.”

“It’s Doyoung,” he called after her as she walked out of the bar.

She stood outside by the door, and pulled out her phone. Hoping she hadn’t scared him off, she rested her back against the brick wall of the building and updated her best friend, Sheena. Sheena had talked Anita into giving the 5 Minute Speed Date Challenge a try.

Anita: I think I just made a love connection with a former patient “Oh, Anita,” Doyoung feigned surprise a minute later. “What are you doing out here?”

“Do you know a cafe with good coffee?” she asked, putting her phone back into her purse.

“There’s Regular,” he replied. “It’s close to my frat house.”

“NCT.”

“Yes!” He smiled from ear to ear as they began their walk. “How do you know about the NCT fraternity?”

“You and Taeyong told an elaborate story about your frat party.”

“I’m having heart palpitations wondering what happened that first night we met each other.”

“You shouldn’t worry,” she said with a laugh. “If my first impression of you was bad I wouldn’t be going on a coffee date with you.”

“I’m worried about what the preconceived misconceptions you have of me are...and what I have to do to change that.”

“Buy me an iced macchiato, and we can start fresh.” She tried to mitigate his concerns.

“Do you need some assistance?” he asked, holding his arm out to her. She’d groaned as her ankles began hurting from walking in her 4 inch heels.

“You’re such a gentleman,” she said, taking his arm with both hands. She leaned against him for support. “How far away is Regular?”

“Just around this corner and then it’s at the end of the street. You look stunning in those shoes.”

“Thank you. Even if my feet are going to be on fire tomorrow, it’s worth it to know I ended my night in your arm.”

He grinned as she gave his arm a squeeze, resting her head on his shoulder. He picked a table at the far left corner of the cafe when they arrived, and insisted she sit down while he would get her macchiato for her. While waiting for him to return, Anita checked her phone to see that Sheena had texted her.

Sheena: 😜 get it girl! get it!! if you get laid you owe me dim sum!😋 😘 if you get married you better buy me my bridesmaid dress!😝😝

Anita: Aiyaah! Jumping a bit far into the future! Don’t give my mom ideas. Please don’t tell my mom. I’m serious.

“I didn’t keep you waiting?” Doyoung asked, setting her iced macchiato down in front of her.

“Your cappuccino looks...nice,” she said, staring at the blob design on the foam. She assumed it was supposed to be a leaf.

“It was made with a lot of care,” he said with a chuckle. “The barista’s my friend. Jaehyun! Anita likes the leaf!” “OK Doyoung,” the tall barista behind the counter mumbled out, glancing away from the espresso machine for a second to give them a dimpled smile. “Thanks. Enjoy your coffee.”

She grinned as Doyoung drank his cappuccino and said that he could taste the love and care that his friend had given to the drink. Her iced macchiato looked lovely as the cold milk foam clouded into the brown coffee at the bottom. She mixed the drink with her straw before taking a sip. The milk softened the intensity of the coffee, and she took a bigger sip as the cold coffee soothed her nerves.

“This is the best macchiato I’ve ever had,” she said. “Did you want to take a sip?”

Doyoung took a drink, and gave an impressed nod. “That is very good! I should have gotten an iced macchiato instead.”

As Doyoung discussed his internship at a law firm, working his way toward law school, Anita sipped her coffee, in admiration of his ambitions to become a lawyer. A trio of young men entered the cafe, and Anita noticed one of them pointing at Doyoung’s back. The blonde haired man wearing a black leather jacket walked up behind Doyoung and greeted him with a loud screech.

“Doyoung! Wassup, man?”

Doyoung shut his eyes for a few seconds before sitting up straight and turned his head over to look at his friend.

“Haechan,” he addressed his friend.

“Uh, are you on a date?” Haechan asked. He looked from Doyoung to Anita, and waved his hand. “Hello, ma’am. I’m Haechan, Doyoung’s little brother.” “We are not brothers,” Doyoung said with an edge in his tone.

“That’s mean, man. I’m telling Kun. And Taeyong.”

“Oh, are you fraternity brothers?” Anita asked, hoping to quash whatever tension there was between the pair. “NCT?”

“Yeah,” both men replied. Doyoung sounded annoyed as he grunted his response while Haechan smiled from ear to ear with a bright tone.

“Haechan, this is my date, Anita,” Doyoung said after a moment of silence passed. “She’s quite lovely, so be a gentleman around her. Anita, this is my fraternity brother, Haechan. He’s still young.”

“Hi,” Anita said with a small hand wave.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Haechan said, returning the hand wave. He touched Doyoung’s hair, and smiled as Doyoung turned around and swatted his hand away.

“Let’s get out of here,” Anita said immediately, not wanting Doyoung’s little brother to ruin their date.

As they walked back outside, Anita regretted her suggestion. She felt like needles were prickling her feet with every step she took. She leaned up against Doyoung as he offered his arm to her again.

“It’s a warm night,” Doyoung said as he looked up at the moon. “We could walk around the campus.”

“My feet are killing me,” she admitted. They stopped walking and she added, “I wouldn’t mind a foot rub.”

“If you can walk for a couple minutes, we’ll be at my frat house,” he said. He grinned as she held onto him tighter. “I can give you a foot rub beside our pool. It has a nice view.”

She took him on his offer. Her body was warm, knowing it wasn’t just the martini that made her this way. Even her inability to think straight wasn’t really the booze talking; her adrenaline was rushing through her body as she anticipated some alone time with Doyoung. They shared a smile as they walked through a crosswalk, making sure to avoid a puddle half hidden in the shadows.

“What’s it like to work in an ER in the middle of the night?” he asked her.

“Hectic,” she replied. “It can be quiet some nights, and then there are nights where a lot of drunk college students come in.”

“Do they all cut their hands open?” She felt his body tense up.

“You’re not the first nor the last,” she assured him, taking hold of his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Small lacerations like yours are easy. I don’t mind them. I’m terrified of the ones who are unconscious.”

“Do you get a lot of those?”

“Not lately, thankfully.”

The NCT frat house was large, and despite it nearing 10:00 PM on a Thursday night the house was filled with small clusters of people. The kitchen was busy with what looked like a food science project as the air in the kitchen was hazy with smoke. Half a dozen people were talking loudly while the acrid smell of burnt cheese filled the first floor.

“Open the windows!” Anita heard a voice command in the kitchen.

As they walked up the stairs, some of the gamers were shouting at each other as they stuck their heads out of their rooms. The chaos of the frat house distracted Anita’s mind away from the pain of walking up 2 flights of stairs. Once they made it to Doyoung’s room at the far east end of the attic, Anita fell onto Doyoung’s bed and bent forward to take her shoes off.

“Shit, I wanted to show you our pool,” he said as he took off his suede jacket. She bit the inside of her cheek, pleasantly surprised to hear him swear so casually.

“Too late,” she replied, setting her shoes down at the foot of the bed. “My feet hurt so bad, I don’t think I can stand up for at least 2 hours. Your bed is very soft.”

Doyoung had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt but stopped at the third to stare at her stretching her legs. Anita gave him a smirk as she caught him staring. She curled her toes before setting them back down on the ground.

“So what are we supposed to do now?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Her face felt much warmer than the rest of her body. The heat was becoming uncomfortable, but she didn’t know how to start taking her clothes off. Feeling a little shy as she worked up the courage to egg him on, she cleared her throat and sucked on her bottom lip before speaking.

“You brought me up here, you tell me.”

He sat down beside her and brushed her hair behind her back. He placed his hand at the back of her neck before kissing her. She returned the soft kiss and rested her hand on his shoulder. As soon as she reciprocated the kiss, he pushed forward to make her lie down onto her back. She uncrossed her legs as she felt his hand massage her thigh.

“Your skin is even softer than I imagined,” he said before kissing her cheek. He kissed her neck, and planted a trail of kisses across her chest. “Can I eat you out?”

“Doyoung,” she gasped. He was so forward. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze as he planted a kiss on her left shoulder.

“It’s my turn to take care of you,” he insisted.

“OK,” she said breathlessly. “Yes.” She reached out to run her fingers through his hair as his lips kissed the exposed parts of her breasts. His tongue glided across her breasts before he closed his mouth to kiss her skin.

“You taste so sweet,” he said between kisses he planted from her right breast over to her left. His hands grabbed her breasts over the fabric of her dress. “Do you like what I’m doing?”

“Yes,” she replied breathlessly. “You’re making me so hot, Dongyoung.”

His fingers pinched her nipples through the fabric, and he moved to sit up slightly as she moaned. He grinned, licking his lips slowly as his right hand slipped under the top of her dress and bra, groping her.

“This is the only time you can call me that,” he said, his fingers gliding over her hardened nipple.

“Dongyoung, I like that,” she panted as his mouth returned to kissing the exposed skin of her breasts. His long slender fingers pulled her top and strapless bra down to expose her breasts.

“Gorgeous,” he said, staring at goosebumps forming on her breasts as they were exposed, the room cooled by the air conditioner. She felt bashful once more as heat coursed into her core and face, making her shiver while she threw her hands up to touch her cheeks. They burned up her hands.

“Dongyoung!” she moaned out as his mouth captured her left breast into his mouth, his teeth grinding on her nipple before he wrapped his lips around it to suck it. She moaned and whimpered as she raked her fingers into his hair, her pussy aching with need as his mouth teased her body. She hooked her left foot under her right ankle as the heat continued to build. The discomfort of arousal had her wiggling her hips.

He moved to give her right breast attention with his mouth as his hands reached under her to unzip her dress. She immediately began unhooking her bra as his hands helped slide the dress off of her. He sat up to help her take all of her clothes off. As he pulled her panties off, he planted kisses onto the inside of her thighs, starting with her right side before moving over to kiss her left side.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said softly, his head between her legs. His fingers spread her folds and he licked his lips before saying, “You’re so wet.” He slid his middle finger up against her slit. “And so hot.”

“You’re teasing me,” she panted out, grasping onto his bed sheets beneath her. His fingers sent hot flashes of pleasure up her spine. “You like playing with your food, don’t you?”

He grinned before kissing up and down her pelvis. He gave a quick lick against her slit, barely flicking her clit, and she took a sharp inhale as her hips shook. The move surprised her. She felt him kiss her folds, his tongue slipping out with every kiss. When her hand reached out to grab his hair, his hand took hold of her wrist and intertwined her fingers with his.

His other hand hooked under her leg to wrap around her thigh, shifting her leg to hook over his shoulder as his tongue began sliding up against her clit. A moan escaped her as his hand massaged her thigh. He kissed her labia before pushing his tongue out against it. She squeezed his hand hard as the pointed tip of his tongue dove in deeper to lick up and down against her vulva.

“You’re so beautiful with your cheeks red like that,” he said when he came up for air. “Do you like it when I lick you here?” His tongue swirled around the bulb of her clit, and she moaned. He swirled his tongue around it a few more times before flicking up and down, making her buck her hips.

“Yes, you’re so good at this, Dongyoung. You’re going to make me come.”

She shut her eyes and smiled as his tongue pushed into her entrance. Hoping he was encouraged by her praises, she squeezed his hand tight again as his tongue pushed in and out of her for a few moments before he flicked his tongue up against her slit. His tongue played with her clit before he closed his lips around it.

“Dongyoung,” she gasped out. Her free hand grabbed his hair and she lifted her head up to look down at him. He’d stopped sucking on her clit, and released hold of her thigh.

“I like your fingers in my hair,” he began, taking both of her hands into his, “but this is about you. I won’t let go of your hands until I make you come. Is that OK with you?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head immediately. “Your mouth is amazing, Dongyoung.”

Their intertwined hands fell to the inside of her thighs. He applied pressure to her thighs to keep her still while his tongue slid up and down her slit. His lips closed to kiss and nip her folds, his tongue lapped up and spread her slick heat along her folds. When his teeth grazed against her clit, she squeezed his hands tight as she thrust up.

“I’m going to come,” she was barely able to breathe out as her orgasm came. Doyoung’s tongue was furiously licking up and down her slit as she moaned out his name in a weak voice. “Dongyoung, yes, Dongyoung.”

“You’re an open book when you’re happy,” Doyoung said with a devious grin as he sat down beside her, unbuttoning his shirt. When he set his shirt down onto the back of his desk chair, he turned back to Anita. Her body was completely relaxed, aside from her fast beating heart. She managed to give him a lazy smirk as he laid down beside her. “You’re gorgeous.”

His hand slid over her cleavage before cupping her right breast. She stroked the back of his hand with her fingers before sitting up.

“Look at how gorgeous you are,” she replied, moving to straddle him so they would be face to face. He grinned up at her as she ran her hands down his chest to stroke his stomach and the sides of his body. “You’re so hot. I love how smooth your skin is, and you feel so strong.”

“I have been working out,” he said, smiling as he looked down.

“I feel something quite strong down here, too,” she said as she thrust her wet cunt against his clothed crotch. He grunted as he laid down onto his back, his hands on her hips. She breathed loud as she felt her clit rubbing against the clothed heat of his cock. “It feels so big and hard, Dongyoung. Be gentle when you enter me.”

They moaned together as she gave a sharp thrust up. He groaned as she shifted so that she could start undoing his pants. She gave a small chuckle as she saw that Doyoung’s precome had stained his boxers.

“Are you that hot for me?” she teased as she collected the last drops of his precome with the tip of her finger. She bit her bottom lip as his cock twitched when she swiped her finger against the tip. He took a loud gulp of air as she ran her finger down his shaft, throwing his head back into the mattress.

“So we both like playing with our food,” Doyoung said as his hands reached down to grip onto her wrists. “You’ve made your point.”

“Dongyoung can play, but when he’s played with, it’s not as fun?”

“Keep up your attitude,” he said as he sat up, “and I will have to punish you.”

“Oh?” she asked as Doyoung lifted her arms up to rest onto his shoulders. He kissed the inside of her elbows before directing her to wrap her arms around his neck. He wrapped one arm around her waist. “What kind of punishment?”

Without warning, he kissed her, shoving his tongue into her mouth. She groaned into his mouth, tasting her earthy come on his lips and tongue. Pushing against his chest, she broke the kiss before sliding her hands down to pinch his nipples. He gave a surprised moan before flipping them over, his body over hers.

“Don’t move,” he said softly before sitting up. He took the rest of his clothes off before grabbing a condom from his nightstand. Once the condom was securely covering his cock, he returned to her and caressed her body and legs before grabbing her legs to rest against his body.

Anita gave a slow inhale of breath as Doyoung pressed the front of his thighs against the back of hers, standing on his knees as his hands held onto the front of her calves. He slid his hands down her knees toward her thighs and then back up to rest onto her calves. The feel of his hands on her body lit her body up and she licked her lips as she watched his eyes on her body. She moaned as she felt his cock slide against her slit.

“Gentle,” she requested in a soft voice, feeling Doyoung release her left leg to direct his cock into her entrance. “Dongyoung, God, yes. You’re so big. Gentle!”

She could only breathe out, “Gentle!” in desperate pants as she struggled to remember how to breathe properly, the feel of Doyoung’s body over hers becoming the only thing that mattered.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he grunted as he pushed in deeper. She moaned as the walls of her cunt were pushed apart by Doyoung’s cock, the heat from him surging deep inside of her. Every motion of his cock sliding in and out of her built up more heat. As he began thrusting in and out, she nodded at the pleasure he was giving her. “Can I give you more?”

“Yes,” she said, grinding her hips against his. “Am I doing good?”

“Yes, so good,” he replied immediately, building up his speed. “How hard do you want it?”

“God, yes!” she moaned as he thrust in deeper. “Give it to me.” He gave her a few seconds to adjust to the depth before he continued his building thrusts, each push sending her closer to her orgasm. “Don’t stop, Dongyoung. I like that.”

Their thighs slapped loudly as Doyoung leaned back to dive his cock deeper. She moaned out his name between breathy squeaks of, “Yes!” The bed shook in a fast, steady rhythm as he gave short guffaws at her moaning out his name.

“I’m coming!” he gasped out as he slowed his thrusts, shifting her legs down to rest onto the mattress, placing his body between her legs as he withdrew from her. He grinned lazily as he sat at the foot of the bed. She shut her eyes and threw her hand down to her clit to rub it with two of her fingers. She’d been so close to her orgasm.

“Dongyoung!” she cried out with a shaky breath as she felt his thumb slide against her entrance. It moved up to help her rub her clit. She came as his thumb pressed against the pad of her middle finger, causing a hard push down on her clit. Her eyes remained shut as she focused on her breathing, taking her time to come down from her high.

When she opened her eyes Doyoung was getting into bed with her, running his hand over her hip as he spooned her. He sniffed her hair before planting a kiss onto her cheek. She stroked his arm and reached behind to caress his thigh. It was a nice surprise to be with a partner so affectionate post-sex, and she told him as much as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Your life is to care for others, you deserve to be taken care of,” he said before kissing the back of her ear. “This doesn’t even make up for tonight. I’m sorry you had to witness my chaotic fraternity. I’m also sorry I never gave you a foot rub.”

“Well, my feet still hurt,” she said, rubbing her big toe against his foot, “but don’t let go.”

She held onto his wrists as she felt his hold loosen.

“Hmm?” he hummed against her shoulder, his lips kissing her skin.

“This is going to be our last night together here,” she offered, pressing her body closer to his. “We’ll savor the noisy sounds of your roommates, and appreciate that I have a place of my own. I mean, if you want to come back here we certainly can, but please give my place a chance.”

“You don’t have to sell it so hard,” he teased her. “Do you think I’d want to bring you to this hell house? Yuta probably heard our entire time together, and he’s not going to let me live it down.”

“Yuta? One of your frat brothers? Little brother?”

“Older.”

She gave a soft chuckle, feeling his body tense up.

“Older siblings' teasing is definitely more embarrassing. It’s sweet how you all seem like actual brothers. Are any of you actually related? Haechan looks like you.” “Don’t say that,” he whined gently. She squeaked out a yelp as she felt him nip at her earlobe. He chuckled and planted a kiss onto her shoulder. “Don’t ever bring up his name when we’re intimate. And we don’t look anything alike.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.” She chuckled as he kissed her cheek. She reached up to rake her fingers through his hair a few times. “Thank you for a lovely date.”

“Mmm,” he hummed as she felt his arms weigh down on her hip. “I should be thanking you.”

He’d barely mumbled the words out of his mouth before she heard him snoring. She giggled and sighed as she shut her eyes to join him in sleep.

----

“Dongyoung! Dongyoung!” a voice came with a loud knocking. “Are you awake, Dongyoung?”

Anita raised her head as she opened her eyes. The sun was out, making Doyoung’s room light up in warmth. His room felt cozy with white furniture and sky blue bed sheets. Glancing around, she could tell he was well organized, a definite bonus.

“Get the fuck out!” Doyoung shouted as he threw a pillow at his door.

A good looking blonde haired man had stuck his head into the room, his face lit up with a shit eating grin. Doyoung’s grip on the blue comforter tightened as he pulled her closer to him. Doyoung’s roommate hadn’t seen anything aside from her face, but they did make eye contact.

“Sorry!” the roommate said immediately, shutting the door closed. Anita felt her face grow hot as she turned her body around to bury her face into Doyoung’s chest. They heard his roommate laugh loudly as his feet thudded down the hallway noisily. “Hey, bros! Doyoung got laid! Johnny! Mark! I just walked in on him! Oh! I mean Dongyoung! Our friend DONGYOUNG! Winwin! Hendery! Guess what I just...”

There was loud chatter as Anita heard some pairs of feet descending down the stairs. The roommate who had walked in on them was talking the loudest while she felt Doyoung’s body tense up. There was a ripple of loud laughter.

“Fucking Yuta,” Doyoung groaned. “I’m sorry, Anita. I’m sorry. We’ll never return here and we’ll pretend you never met Yuta because I’m going to kill him.”

“Your brothers can’t scare me away, don’t worry,” she said with a laugh, sitting up to look down at him. “I have 2 older sisters and they would have been worse than Yuta. Come on, let’s go get some coffee.”

“Patient and understanding,” he said. He took her hand and kissed it. “You have no idea how lucky I feel.”

“The feeling is mutual,” she said as she bent down to plant a kiss onto his soft, pink lips.

Doyoung checked the hallways to make sure his roommates on the third floor had left for the day before leading Anita to his bathroom. As they showered together, Doyoung took the opportunity to eat her out again. With the water steaming up the shower, Doyoung’s phone blasting Janet Jackson’s 90s love jams, and his tongue playing with her pussy she felt like she was in heaven. She tried to moan out, “Dongyoung,” as sweetly as possible when she came, wanting him to think of only her when he heard his name.

His grip on her thigh tightened when she came. He lapped up her come before flicking his tongue against the bulb of her clit, making her knees go weak as she came again from the overstimulation. His arms wrapped around her body as he stood up and held her close as they stood under the warm water. She shut her eyes and moaned as she felt Doyoung’s hands between her legs.

“Thank you for cleaning me up,” she said lazily, trying her best to hold onto his shoulders, watching him wash her up.

“I’m free today,” he said, looking up at her. “If you want to do anything today, let me know.”

“Let’s get dressed first,” she replied. As good as it was to be given an orgasm as her wakeup call, Anita needed coffee to take on the rest of the day.

Anita dressed quickly. It wasn’t ladylike to toss her undergarments into her purse, but she felt it was better to go commando until she could go home. After braiding her damp hair down her back, she checked her phone to see she’d gotten a few texts from Sheena.

Sheena: let me know when you get home good morning 🌞 did u get laid?

Anita: Good morning, bestie. You’re so nosy I’m at Doyoung’s.

Sheena: 👀👀 I’ve been staring at my phone for the last 2 hrs waiting for your response! DIM SUM! U OWE ME! 🍲 🥟 🥢 when are you free? I want to know everything 🤓 👀 🏃‍♀️

“Did you still want coffee?” she asked. “I do want to go home soon, so I can change clothes and shoes.”

“I can drive you home,” he offered, sitting beside her on his bed. “I have a car.”

“I’m, like, 80% positive that my best friend is making her way to my place right now,” she said, feeling her cheeks warm up. Her eyes were focused on her phone. “You don’t have to meet her if you don’t want to.”

“I’d like us to have coffee with Sheena,” he offered immediately. She looked up to see that Doyoung’s cheeks were flushed. “You met my friends, so I think it’s fair for me to meet yours. We’ll see whose friends are worse.”

Anita laughed as she took Doyoung’s hand and stood up.

“Sheena’s the best!” she assured him. “She might try to embarrass us if she finds us cute, though.”

“What are friends for?” he asked. “If it weren’t for Haechan challenging me to a stupid game, I wouldn’t have ended up in the ER, and we wouldn’t have met.”

She realized he was right.

“If it weren’t for Sheena insisting that I give the 5 Minute Dating Challenge a try, we wouldn’t have met each other again,” she said, throwing her hands up to touch his neck as he placed his hands on her hips.

“Fuck, we do owe it to our friends,” he groaned. He pecked her on the lips. “Jaehyun dared me to give the 5 Minute Dating Challenge a try.”

Fate had a funny way of bringing them together, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. She kissed him, certain that she wouldn’t let him go. His arms wrapped around her waist, telling her that he wouldn’t let her go either.

------

Thank you as always to anyone who has read this!

#nct scenarios #nct smut #nct doyoung #doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung x oc #nct au #nct college au #nct university au #nct fanfic #nct fluff #nct frat #nct fiction #fluff and humor #doyoung smut #nct 127 #fluff and smut #short coffee date #no beta read

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dramaticlester · 4 years

Text

Miles of skin

summary: there’s so much dan loves, it’s hard to list it all

genre: fluff,

warnings:swearing, sexual scenes (not too detailed), lots of body imagery

hair

When Dan was 18 and dreaming up his ideal partner, it never started with black, straight hair. It was usually blonde, maybe slightly ginger, and swept away from their face. his ideal man was a model. he thought of them stood on a beach, perhaps, their hair blowing in the wind. jaw strong and chiselled, Dan much smaller, nestled in their arms like a prize.

But Phil, he wasn’t like that. Phil had hair as black as anything, in a straight fringe across his forehead. he wasn’t a chiselled model, and he certainly wasn’t much taller than Dan. when he stood on the beach, he squinted and complained that his glasses were going to blow away, and took time to swipe his hair away from said glasses. Dan couldn’t stand nestled under his arm, more like the other way round. but Phil was special. As Dan got older, he realised that the perfect guy wasn’t perfect. His Phil wasn’t perfect, either. But he was the closest, he thinks, he could ever get. He didn’t want perfect, anymore, he wanted his Phil. His Phil with the stupid straight emo hair that, when he got older, started being pushed into a quiff. Phil looked sexy with a quiff.

eyes

Dan had never been one for beautiful eyes. he didn’t look into someone’s eyes and feel taken away by their colour, or shape, or size. when he was younger, he struggled to look into people’s eyes, anyway, preferring to cast his gaze between their eyebrows or down at the floor. he struggled to feel any connections and he certainly did not believe eyes could hold pain or happiness. he just didn’t believe it. he hated his own eyes, too. he hated their colour and the almond shape, his obnoxiously long eyelashes that curled into his eyes sometimes and hurt. but, then he met Phil.

it was when Dan saw a picture of Phil that he started to doubt his own intuition. you could go swimming in those eyes he thought. in fact, he commented it, right there on the very photo. the camera he used for YouTube did no justice. when they met, it was the first pair of eyes Dan could look straight into. the first pair he could see love brimming in, focused solely on him. Dan was elated. it was the first pair he saw the pain in, shown by shed tears as they hugged goodbye at the train station. it was the first he saw untainted happiness in when Dan agreed to move in with him after announcing he would be attending Manchester university. they were, undoubtedly, just eyes. but my god, they were the most beautiful pair Dan had ever seen. though, Phil.s favourite activity was to argue that Dan's were, in fact, the “most beautiful plus 1.”

lips

Dan always thought lips were just lips. he didn’t understand why he was so chapped, he didn’t understand why people got injections to plump them up, he didn’t understand at all. the only time he really concentrated on people’s lips was when he couldn’t be bothered listening to what they were saying, so he’d lip-read instead, albeit rather unsuccessfully. he never looked at someone and thought fuck, they should do something about that or wow I wish I could kiss them. well, until he met Phil, of course.

after he’d noticed Phil's eyes, his gaze wandered down to his lips. plump and inviting, pink and so smooth. Dan suddenly felt the need to apply five tubs of Vaseline. he stared at Phil’s lips the day they met, and not just to lip read. Phil didn’t really hint at much, but Dan saw how his lips curved into a smirk, obviously. they’d gotten on the Manchester eye, hands clasped between them. Dan thought he’d been subtle. Phil had bitten his lip, Dan had reciprocated without thinking. that’s when he was kissed. soft and gentle, unsure yet so passionately. it was wonderful, chapped against smooth. Dan reiterated his apologies for his chapped lips. Phil laughed and stroked his thumb along the bottom one, pulling it and watching it ping back into place. another gentle kiss. you’re perfect.

neck

Dan didn’t have a neck kink, he told himself, he just found it really fucking arousing when someone kissed his neck. or if he was indulging himself alone, or perhaps on Skype to Phil, he swiped his thumb along the side now and then, gasping at the spark of unadulterated pleasure. but he didn’t have a neck kink. Phil changed things for him, though.

the first time they made love was wonderful. Dan experienced things he’d never felt, just taking and taking from Phil's body, only able to emit the smallest gasps of love. Phil gave it all to him, never held back. he showed Dan what he’d been missing.

they were moulded together, one entity. Phil buried deep inside him, his head tugged into his neck as he whispered encouraging words. Dan’s eyes were squeezed shut, alleviating his senses most deliciously. that’s when Phil had whimpered against his neck, the blow of hot hair making Dan tip his head back and let out an almost scream. a quiet scream, no doubt. Phil had smirked, pulling back to look at Dan’s face (which was turning more crimson by the second.)

“you’re beautiful,” Phil had whispered, kissing the corner of Dan’s mouth before moving back to his neck. he started kissing at first, barely applying much pressure, revelling in the short intake of breath from Dan’s mouth. then he applied more pressure before he was nibbling at Dan’s neck, moving along until he found the place that made Dan tense up, letting out a shrill moan and a large breath of air. Phil kept at this spot, sucking and sucking until the mark bloomed up against the pale skin of Dan’s neck.

Dan had come with a shout and then a whisper of Phil's name, Phil's mouth against his neck and his tip pressing against the most sensitive place inside of him. Dan vowed to never let anyone love him the way Phil did ever again.

shoulders

shoulders were never something Dan thought about. they usually resided underneath someone's clothes, occasionally flexing when the person lifted something or wrote. it was never anything special, nothing that made Dan want to strike up a conversation with a person or beg them to pin him down to a mattress. they were shoulders.

when he met Phil, he noticed that Phil's shoulders were broad. they were the type of shoulders you would associate with a man, though stereotypical. when Dan hugged him for the first time, he allowed himself to notice the muscle under his shirt, allowing his hands to find a home on top of them when they pulled away, not-so-discretely squeezing. Phil was his boyfriend, his man. he was the one Dan cuddled up to, a hand placed over his heart, head bracketed between Phil's chin and his shoulders, loved and protected from the whole world. dan felt pretty damn undefeatable with his head nestled there. he was the one who let Dan throw his arms around his neck when he was happy or encased him when he cried or screamed. he was the one who used the strength within those shoulders and arms to carry Dan to bed when he fell asleep on the sofa. he was nothing less than the love of dance life and his shoulders, though minor, were strong. they were Dan’s favourite place to sleep and his favourite place to wake up.

tummy

Phil always joked over messenger about actually having a dad bod hidden beneath the camera.

“id love you all the same,” Dan insisted every time, fondness twinkling in his eyes. Phil would smirk, leaning closer to the camera with his tongue caught between his teeth. Dan longed to be with him.

when Dan saw the first full body picture of Phil, his jaw literally dropped. Phil was beautiful, Dan had known that even just from looking at his face, but seeing his whole body was something Dan kept locked in his mind all the time. Phil was hot. not just hot, but hot. he was something Dan would've never dreamed of because his mind wasn't capable of conjuring something so wonderful. Phil had sent it to him shyly, telling Dan to check his messages whilst they were on Skype. Dan had stared at the picture for too long, only remembering he was on a video call when he heard Phil cough. he looked up just in time to see Phil cast his eyes down, blushing and his lip pulled between his teeth.

“you're fucking beautiful, Phil Lester,” Dan had whimpered, tears in his eyes. “I want to be with you so bad right now.”

“what, you don't think I'm too fat, hm?” Phil had whispered. Dan suddenly realised all of his jokes, were actually issues. Dan had stared at the screen, not quite sure what to say, not quite sure how to articulate what a fucking masterpiece Phil Lester was.

“I say this with all the love I can muster,” Dan had said. “shut the fuck up.”

Phil had giggled, finally looking back at Dan.

“Phil, how’d I get so lucky?” Dan settled on, shaking his head in disbelief.

Phil had never needed to complain about his appearance after that, because every day, Dan told him he was beautiful.

to this day in 2020, Dan tells him he's beautiful. whether its when Dan wakes up first and watches Phil for a while before carding a hand through his hair and muttering a “you're pretty, Lester,” or whether it's after a shower when Phil's skin is dry and flaky, and he's squinting trying to see through the fog without his glasses (Dan will usually slip his glasses back on, kiss the tip of his nose, unravel the towel from around his waist, and drop to his knees. Phil doesn't need words at times like this.)

legs

growing up, Dan had always had little stumpy legs that kept him below shoulder height of everyone. people made jokes about how his little legs couldn’t keep up in the playground, or his mother would tell him his legs were too little to climb the trees, and the workers at the fair told him he could ride when he grew a few more inches. it was frustrating for Dan... well until he hit 14. it was as if overnight, he became a lanky 6-foot-something lad, who didn’t quite know how to control his long limbs, constantly carving his shin off the coffee table and walking into open doors because he couldn’t see them at eye level. Dan hated long legs. well... his own.

Phil was also 6-foot-something. if Dan thought he was tall when he met Phil he was the short one. he had to look up at Phil and when they hugged, Dan's head just about reached his shoulder. Dan loved to run his hands up and down Phil’s legs when they were lying together on the bed, Phil giggling and tugging at Dan’s fringe with a “get back up here.” Dan wasn’t sure what it was, but Phil’s legs set off some kind of primal, animalistic urge within him. he wanted to cover every inch with his lips, kiss and nip his shins till they were red, suck on his thighs and leave bruises that still wouldn’t be faded by the time he got back to Manchester. he loved to hang behind Phil so he could watch how his legs moved, long and lean as he took clumsy steps downstairs or long strides down the streets of London. he loved to watch Phil try to fold his legs up in the bathtub, insisting that they could both fit. even when Dan's legs length surpassed Phi’ls, he was never quite as mesmerised. Phil's favourite part of Dan's body was probably his thighs, as he spent most of his time caressing them and squeezing and kissing them, but Dan didn’t understand how he could love Dan's so much, but hate his own. it was something they could argue about though when they lay sated and naked, curled up together.

“I love your thighs,” Phil would mutter.

“Yeah, well, I love yours more,” Dan would grin, kissing the top of his head.

“in this essay, I will explain why yours are better...” Phil would joke. they never took it much further though, just silently knowing that they were right.

bum

Dan kind of understands this one. he wouldn’t date someone based off their ass, but it didn’t hurt to feel the appeal. Dan's own wasn’t too flat until he crammed it into his obnoxiously tight skinny jeans that pushed it down so much that it looked like nothing. he didn't mind though, anything for fashion. Phil would usually pout quite a bit though, pulling Dan forward by the belt loops and kissing him, trying to sneakily undo the button and tug them back down.

“looser ones,” Phil always murmured against Dan's lips, crossing his arms when Dan would roll his eyes at him.

“what do I do for you?” Dan would sigh dramatically, kicking them off and putting Phil's favourite pair on.

but Phil's ass was perfect. it was impossible to crush as, even when he’d wear a pair of Dan's jeans, it was still there. Dan usually always slapped his ass when he bent over as a joke, giggling as Phil would jump and whine “Dan!” Dan couldn’t help it though.

when they kissed, his hands usually started on the small of Phil’s back. ever since he’d grown, Phil’s go to was to stand on tippy toes so he could reach around Dan's neck, insisting it brought them closer together when Dan would complain that his back hurt. he was only joking really though, as this way, when it got heated, Dan could move his hands down over the curve of Phil's ass, pulling him closer to press flush against each other, or even grind their bodies together if things got especially heated. it was just a wonderful part of Phil that Dan loved so much (especially whenever he was big spoon at night time and he could feel it pushed up against his body)

everything

Before they met, Dan never appreciated the beauty of the human body. with Phil, he appreciated it. because contained within that body, was the most beautiful soul, the funniest personality and the most gentle, loving giant he’d ever known. It was the perfect body for Dan’s favourite person in the whole world. He wouldn’t change a thing about it, ever. from his brilliant blue eyes down to the tips of his toes, Phil was beautiful, inside and out.

and Dan never tried to stop himself from falling deeper in love every day..

#phandom #phan #phanfiction #Dan and Phil #danhowell #phil lester #cute #body positive #love #lovers #dramaticlester

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calmgotmelike · 4 years

Text

Hey guys! So this is something I wrote awhile ago and idk if y’all will like it but wanted to post it 😊 let me know what you think and/or if I should write more. If you have any questions about horse stuff feel free to message me! The cover page has all the horses on it! I’ll reboot with the order of which horse is which.

5sos x horses; Luke Hemmings x Nicole

Chapter 1

The trailer door swung open and a beautiful chestnut warmblood backed out with his head held high and his tail brushing against his legs,as he swishes it back and forth. His name was etched on the silver plate attached to the cheek piece of his orange halter. The scripture was neat and straight, etched in all capital letters "CRASH" centered in the middle of the plate. Crash was a heck of a horse, strong and trained to the t. He excelled in everything he did. He won almost all the Jumper shows he entered and excelled in dressage. Crash was sent to my farm as a retirement home, even though he's only about 6. His owner decided that he should retire from the show life and just be a normal horse so I bought him to teach people how to jump and use him as a beginner level show horse. I took Crash from the trailer hand and led him into the barn.

The barn had about 12 stalls with an attached indoor riding arena at the end. There were 6 sets of cross ties in the isle between the stalls. There was a room 5 stalls deep on the left that was filled with saddles,halters,leads,bridles, and everything the horses needed along with their food.All the stalls led out to long stretched out paddocks, leaving the horses plenty of room to run and graze. All the horses were outside in their pastures when we entered the barn and I brought Crash into the 4the stall on the left. I released the lead from the place it was clipped on his halter, letting him loose in his stall. He instantly gulped up some water and moved to his hay with a wag of his tail. After waving off the trailer hand, i climbed up into the hay loft and pushed down 8 bales of hay, landing them right outside the front door of the barn.

"Oy,Nicole! You almost crushed us�� there sweetheart." a thick Australian accent called from below. I smiled as i climbed down the ladder faced with 4 boys covered in hay. "Sorry guys!" I giggle as i grab each hay bail and quickly stack them in a 4X4 pile. "Haven't brought the horses in yet?" A voice asked form behind me. I turn around to face him. He is tall, about 6'3", with bright blue eyes and blonde hair that was styled up into a quiff. "The new horse came just a few minutes ago,Lucas.I haven't had time." I smiled at him as i walked up to him and quickly kissed him on the lips. If you couldn't tell the blonde,tall boy is my boyfriend Luke. With him he brought his friends Ashton,Calum,and Michael. Ashton is tall but the shortest of the boys. he has curly brown hair with emerald green eyes and is always smiling. He wore a ripped up muscle tee and black skinny jean identical to the rest of the boys. Calum has black hair with a blond streak in his bangs that is swept off to the side just over his chocolate brown . Michael has a different hair color every time i see him, but today it was red and styled in a messy wind swept look hiding a little bit of his jade eyes from view.

"Do you guys wanna help me get them in?" i asked as i ran down to the end of the barn entering the stalls and clipping the doors to the paddocks open and sliding the stall doors closed behind me. Ashton and Calum did the same as I saw Luke and Michael struggling to open a hay bail. "Um,Nicole do you have like a knife or something?" Michael yells to me as i meet Calum and Ashton by the tack room, all the stalls ready for the horses. "You don't need one,Mike." i say as i walk over to them and take the baling twine and popping it off the hay. "Your girlfriends got some muscle, Luke" Michael nudges Luke in the arm as he watches me break open 4 more bales of hay. "It's because I've been opening hay bales for you for like 3 years." i turn around and look at Michael who is shocked for being called out on not be able to do it. The rest of the boys start laughing at Michaels lack of words and soon he joins in realizing i

was joking.Partially. The 4 boys helped me get hay in all the stall, Luke tossing a broken up bale over his shoulder and walking to the end of the barn, throwing 2 flakes in each stall until he ran out.

As soon as the hay was in all the stalls, Calum turns to me and asks "can i do it this time?" I laugh as I nod my head and grab onto Luke's arm as he comes up next to me. Calum put his fingers in his mouth and whistled loud and long and there was a moment of silence throughout the barn then there was the sound of thundering hooves. All the horses came running in as we stood at the beginning of the barn and watched as the horses started to nibble on their hay. In the stall to our left was Cam, a big chestnut suffolk punch. His coat glistened from the sunlight peeking in through the door behind him, making him look as if he was sparkling. On the Right side was Joe, a big black percheron with a huge head and body. His mane was perfectly straight and flopped to one side as he ate his hay. Beside Cam was my favorite horse, Baelfire. He is a beautiful bay Arabian with a beautiful white blaze going down his forehead and ending at the end of his nose.

Across from Baelfire was Jade. I have had Jade since she was a foal.I rescued her form an animal shelter after her mother passed away and needed constant care. There was about a month where i was sleeping in the barn with her ,feeding her bottles every 3 hours. Now she was one of the best horses I've ever trained. Even though she is about 7 years old, she is trained to understand my vocal commands and i use her all the time to teach the barn kids how to ride. She is a beautiful white Warmblood mare and is one of the most beautiful horses I've ever seen. Next to Baelfire was Luke's horse, Coal. We had gotten him about a year and a half ago as a 5 year old and Luke instantly fell in love with him. Horses then turned into a passion for both of us. Luke worked hard with Coal to make him the excellent horse that he is today. Coal is absolutely spoiled too. Luke always sneaks down and gives him twizzlers and candy, which Coal loves and can now smell on anyone, even in your breath. Across from Coal is a horse named Klaus who is the biggest horse in the barn. He is a beautiful black and white shire with with fluffy white feathering on his jet black legs. He has a straight blaze running down the length of his face and ending right above his nose. Despite his big body, he's the sweetest horse and everyone who meets him instantly falls in love with him. Next to Klaus is Crash the warmblood that I received this morning. He was settling in nicely as he munched on his hay looking up and down the aisle at the horses around him. Across from Crash is Beck. Beck is a solid colored golden paint with a flaxen mane.Beck is sort of the barn stud. He always has the 2 barn mares around him and he is always very possessive over them. The other horses let him think he's the boss but when he steps out of line the horses put him right back in his place.

Next to Beck is an empty stall at the moment. Across from the empty stall is the tack room filled with saddles and bridles,along with brushes,first aid supplies, and a bunch of other horse necessities. Next to the tack room is a chestnut warmblood gelding named King. He is the old guy on the farm at the age of 24,which is just a number to him. King loves to run and he loves to act like a 2 year old and run around the paddocks with the young guns of the barn. We never count King out because of his age. His age just makes him more experienced. Across from King is the other barn mare Aussie who is an Australian Stock horse. She is a beautiful dark bay with light points and legs. Aussie is a great trail horse and has received many ribbons in reining and barrel racing. I still take her to shows every once in a while but here new favorite thing to do is to go swimming in the lake down one of the trails. Next to Aussie is one of my favorite horses, Dino. Dino is an 18 hand giant Warmblood and is ever pound of 2,000lbs. Dino is a dark bay with light dapples on his rear and white socks on his two front legs. Across from Dino is a small Paint named Mason who is very vibrant red paint with one brown eye and one blue eye. Mason is The youngest horse that i have at just about 3 years old. He is ridable, but is very green and needs a lot of help. Every one of these horses holds a special place in my heart and they are all family to Luke and I.

"So you guys ready to go now?" I ask as I enter the tack room walking down the line of bridles hooked to the wall and grabbing the black leather bridle with a snaffle bit on it and a silver tag on the brow band reading "Baelfire". I then grab my saddle from the saddle rack to the left of all the bridles, along with a saddle pad and girth. "Ash here has never ridden a horse, Nicole" Michael says as he grabs Ashton's shoulders and pushes him a little. " He can ride Jade! Where did Luke go, he can help" I ask Michael as Luke is no where to be found. As if on queue, Luke comes out of one of the stalls and starts walking towards us. "Well i was tacking up Coal cause i had a feeling you were gonna ask me to help Ash." Luke announces as he comes up next to me with all my tack in my arm and grabs my saddle and places it on the saddle rack near Baelfires stall. " Thank you, Baby." i say as walk up to where he was with my saddle and i attached my lips to his. At first it was a soft kiss but then it grew into more of a kiss.I started to

Laugh into the kiss as Baelfire reached his head out of the stall and grabbed Luke by his t-shirt. Luke pulled away from the kiss feeling the pressure of Baelfire pulling on him and once he got his shirt free, he said "I guess i have some competition, Hey Baelfire." Luke giggled as he scratched Baelfires head and started walking towards the tack room. "What do you want Jade in,Nicole?" Luke yells over his shoulder as he enters the tack room. " Throw her in the kimberwick and use Mason's saddle." I yell as I get a halter on Baelfire and pull him into the aisle, attaching him to the cross ties. "What the heck did you just say?" Ashton giggled as he looked at me like i had 3 heads. "It's the tack Ash. Luke will show you." I laugh as i return to Baelfire and start brushing him off. Calum and Michael come out of the tack room with tack and place them on the saddle racks that are on the wall down the aisles. "Are you guys taking Beck and Dino?" I ask as the walk down to the end of the barn and into stalls. "Yes,Nicole. Is that a problem?" Calum sasses as he gives me a grin and enters Dino's stall. " I laugh and continue brushing.

Luke comes out of the tack room with Ashton in toe and sets the tack down on the saddle rack with a Purple saddle pad. I put Baelfire's light blue saddle pad on his back along with the saddle. I then attached the girth and tightened it on both sides. I unclipped Baelfire from the cross ties and slip the reins over his head and slide off his halter. I slowly push the bit in his mouth and pull the crown piece over his ears and adjusted the nose band and throat latch. I left the reins over his neck and just let him stand there as I put on his light blue splint boots. Once I was all tacked up. I looked behind me to see everyone tacked but Ashton. "Whats the hold up Luke?" I ask as i come up to Jade's side. "Umm, well i can't find her girth" He says as he scratches the back of his neck and looks around the tack room. I go in the tack room and look under some of the saddle racks and find the girth we were looking for under one. It must have fallen while we were moving all the tack around. I exit the tack room and hand Luke the girth as he hands it to Ashton, he instructs him on how to put it on. "Ok. Ash so you buckle it like a belt and then you go to the other side and tighten it a bit." Ashton does the girth no problem and then picks up the bridle from the saddle rack and moves to her head and unclips her from the cross ties and bridles her. After he is done bridling Jade, He puts on her purple splint boots and she is all set to go.

We all went outside with our horses in one hand and a helmet in the other. Michael led Beck out in his dark green saddle pad and splints which contrasted perfectly with his light coat color. Calum came out next with Dino in a Teal saddle pad and white splint boots, not matching the teal because we couldn't find teal splints in his size. Finally Ashton and Luke come out with Jade and Coal and join us in the little field in front of the barn. Luke put Coal is a bark blue saddle pad and splints, which kinda matched with Baelfire and I. Luke,Calum,and Michael all hop on their horses and put their helmets on. I tie up Baelfires reins and let him nibble on some grass and walk over to Ashton to help him get on. I walk over to Jade and tighten her girth and roll down her stirrups. "Ok Ash so all you have to do is put your foot in the stirrup and pull your self up into the saddle." I instructed as I held on to the stirrup on the right side of the saddle while Ashton was on the left side. Ashton put his foot on the stirrup and pulled himself up into the saddle like he had been doing it for years. "We have a natural here boys" Calum says as he drops his reins and puts his hands up in the air celebrating that Ashton got on. I adjusted his stirrups for him as well as tightening his girth one last time and then walked back over to Baelfire. I untied his reins and jumped on his back, clipping my helmet in place before i adjusted my girth and stirrups.

When I was finished, I asked "Are you ready boys?" with a nod from all 4 boys we start heading on the trail. I gave Ashton a quick run down on how to ride, "Ok Ashton so kicking her will make her go forward and kicking her more after shes moving will make her go faster. if you want her to stop pull on the reins. If you want here to turn pull gently on the rein in the direction you want to go. Don't worry if you have a hard time, Jade knows commands so just tell her what too do. Got it?" I ask riding up to Ashton's side. He nods and gives Jade a gentle kick and we were on our way.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael 5sos #michael clifford #luke hemmings #luke 5sos #calum 5sos #calum hood #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin #5sos imagines #5sos imagine #5sosfam #5 seconds of summer imagine #5 seconds of summer imagines

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accio-kitty-malfoy · 4 years

Text

New Fic

So, I got inspiration and started writing. It doesn’t have a title yet and the first chapter is relatively short, but I think I like the direction it’s taking itself in.

Please give me honest feedback. If I have written anything that you deem problematic please let me know and give me ways I can change it to improve it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24633025/chapters/59514043

Rain pattered against the window. The sun had been blazing for two weeks without reprieve and everyone and The Burrow had been begging for even a small amount of rain or cool air. Mr Weasley was worried that his carrots, potatoes and rhubarb were going to shrivel up and his crop would be ruined, despite the watering charms he had put on them (he insisted that natural water was always better). Mrs Weasley was fretting about the heat ruining the cake she’d been painstakingly making for Ron and Hermione’s wedding and she swore that she was certain she’d seen one of the chickens faint. Hermione’s lists were practically disintegrating when touched and Ron had managed to get the worst sunburn Harry had ever seen. Ginny had been trying to practice for the Holyhead Harpies try-outs, but the ground had become hard and uncooperative and her hand were covered in blisters. Explosions and swearing could be heard frequently from the shed that George had built to start re-working on the Wheezes’ products, but he was adamant that the heat was making the magic temperamental. Harry helped everyone where he could, and it kept him busy.

He was helping Ginny train when the rain came. He felt one drop at first, then another, and another. Then there was a torrential downpour and both him and Ginny stood where them were, shocked. The ground soon turned slippery with sludge and they both took the rare opportunity to let their inner child take over and they began pushing each other into the mud. When their sides ached from laughing and Ginny’s hair was brown from the mud, they went back inside. Harry had gratefully accepted a cup of tea and small plate of biscuits off Molly after a quick shower and Ginny had gone for a long soak in the bath that Harry had put on to run.

The last few years had been hard. The war had ended, and they’d all grieved in their own ways. Molly had tried to keep everyone as close to her as possible. She had cried for days when Fleur and Bill had moved back to the cottage; believing that they were abandoning her. After a while she began to understand that they needed their space to heal and to try and be a married couple again. Ron and Hermione decided to stay at the Burrow under the condition that when they were married, they would move out. They’d been planning and building a small bungalow not far from The Burrow. Hermione and Ron had done the planning (Ron had drawn it all out) and they’d had help with the building from Dean and Seamus who had formed a construction business, gotten married to one another and adopted an ex racing Greyhound called Noodle. Neville had designed and planted a garden and small orchard.

Charlie had stayed at The Burrow for the first year, then he’d gone back to Romania to begin rebuilding the Dragon Sanctuary. It had taken George the previous three years to heal enough to begin working on the Wheezes’ products again. He’d been dating Angelina for a year and he split his time between The Burrow and her flat in London. Harry had graciously accepted Molly’s offer to live with them at The Burrow. Technically he was the owner of both Grimmauld place and Godric’s Hollow, but he just didn’t have the drive to fix either of them up or face the memories that they held. Ginny and Harry had tried being a couple again for a while after the war, but they came to the realisation that they just weren’t right for one another. They loved each other, but they were not in love. Ginny devoted her time and passion to Quidditch, and she was better than Harry could ever have hoped to have been.

The rain slowed steadily as Harry finished his cup of tea, nestled in the reading nook by the bay windows in the front room. He flicked his eyes to the door as Hermione walked into the room. She let him know that Molly was putting the food out on the table for dinner, then went to find everyone else. Ron was already in the kitchen, helping Molly set the table. He’d grown very fond of cooking after leaving Hogwarts and it was something that he loved doing alongside his mother. They’d made a pea and mint soup with fresh bread and pavlova with home grown berries for after. The family emerged from where they’d been working and relaxing and filed into the kitchen. They’d finally extended it using plans that Ron had drawn up the summer before. It made it much easier to fit everyone in and gave Molly more space to cook. It also had a magically enhanced pantry that kept each item of food in the specific conditions it needed to be in. The table and benches extended or shrunk depending on how many people needed to sit on it and spills magically disappeared. It was also fire resistant, which came in handy when Dean and Seamus stayed with them for a couple of months while their house was being finished.

Ginny was the last person to enter the kitchen. She was wearing A tank top and shorts; her muscles twisting and tensing as she moved. Her waist length red hair was scraped back into a messy bun that flopped as she plopped herself down onto the bench next to Harry.

“Thanks for the muscle potion in the bath, my shoulders were killing me” She smiled at him before hungrily tearing off a chunk of bread and dunking it into the bright green soup. Harry smiled back and followed suit. The conversation flowed easily between the family. Ron and Hermione updated Molly about the finalisations of the wedding that was going to be held in three days’ time. Fleur and Bill were expected the next day and other guests would be arriving in the days after. Charlie was arriving late that evening due to an appointment he had that day. Arthur was thrilled that his garden had had a good watering and George was telling him about the breakthrough he’d had with a few of his products that day.

After dinner Harry made himself another tea and went and sat outside. He was happy. He was at peace. But he knew that he would have to do something soon. He was growing bored of his nice existence. He knew he would have to get a job at some point and decide where he wanted to live. He had the choice of two inherited houses, or he could easily afford a flat, or even get Ron to draw up some plans for Dean and Seamus to build him a house. It was something to consider in the future. He knew that he couldn’t live off his inheritance and Molly’s kindness his whole life. He sighed and leaned back, cradling his tea between his hands. Ginny’s voice came from behind a nearby tree.

“You going to drink that, Potter, or just cradle it until it goes cold like you usually do?” She smirked and sat next to him. “Harry?” He looked up into her face. She looked apprehensive and took a deep breath. “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Sure, Gin, what is it?” His brow furrowed slightly, concern edging in.

“First I need to tell you something.” She sucked in another breath as if to steady the words that she was just about to say. “I’m not a girl. Harry, I think I’m non-binary. Or gender fluid. I haven’t quite figured it out yet.” Ginny dropped their eyes downwards and swallowed.

“Okay Gin,” Harry replied, “So what’s the favour?”

“I want you to cut my hair short. You’ve cut everyone’s hair in this house and it always looks awesome. Even Hermione’s, and you know she’s very particular about her hair, especially after the hairdresser that ‘specialised in black people’s hair’ messed it up so bad. I never thought she’d let anyone touch it ever again.”

“’Course I will Gin. How do you want it? We can have so much fun with it!” Harry could feel the excitement tingling at him.

“I’ll sleep on it. I want something edgy and awesome. Maybe some kind of quiff.” And they said that, they laid their head on Harry’s shoulder, contemplating different hair styles. He wrapped his arm around their waist and sipped at his tea. It was cold.

#drarry #nonbinary #ginny weasley #gay draco malfoy #bi harry potter #black hermione granger #asexual charlie weasley

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s-horne · 5 years

Text

16. Daffodil (unrequited love)

“You’re in love with her.”

Steve startled at the sudden change in topic from his dinner partner. He was on a date with a lovely girl, but his heart wasn’t exactly in it. The whole thing had been set up a few weeks before, Natasha being a friend of Steve’s best friend’s boyfriend. Even though he’d known about it for so long, Steve had spent the days leading up to it absolutely dreading having to go out and had made several aborted phone calls to cancel.

They’d met at a quiet restaurant and had been getting on surprisingly well. Well, that was until a sudden arrival at another table had dragged all of Steve’s attention away. Despite Natasha’s bright personality and her dry humour, Steve had found himself drifting out of the conversation quickly.

She had been talking about, well, Steve couldn’t actually quite remember what she had been talking about, but it certainly hadn’t been anything about love.

“What?” Steve looked back to see Natasha looking at him closely, one finger circling the rim of her wine glass and a small smile playing around her lips.

“You’re in love with her,” she repeated. There was no judgement in her tone, not even intonation or a lift; it wasn’t a question. It was as though Natasha was stating a fact. She said it so simply and with understanding.

“What? No, I’m not.” Steve was quick to disagree, fighting the urge to drop his gaze and hide away.

“You keep staring over there.” Natasha titled her head to the side to point subtly to the table that Steve had been staring at for most of the evening and Steve couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering over there once more.

At the table sat a giggling couple made up of a beautiful brunette girl in a flowing dress and a man in a fitted suit with light brown hair styled up in a tall quiff that was just begging to be stared at. Or pulled.

“Hey.” Natasha reached out a hand and covered Steve’s where it lay on the table, bringing his attention back to her. “It’s okay.”

“I’m not in love with her,” Steve said again, turning back to his own table and grabbing his beer.

“It’s okay, Steve. You can admit it. I’m not going to get mad and scream at you; I didn’t have expectations of a blind date set up by Clint anyway – no offence, but, well. You know Clint.” Natasha let out a light laugh as she smiled over at Steve.

Steve chuckled as well. He did indeed know Clint and his expectations had been kept pretty low as well, although Natasha really was a lovely woman and that was a pleasant surprise.

“You can tell me,” Natasha continued softly. She looked back over at the couple who had started to share their meals, holding out heaped forkfuls of their plates for the other to try, and couldn’t help but smile sadly.

The girl suddenly let out a loud barked laugh, her head thrown back and her hands reaching out for the man opposite her. Steve gritted his teeth and clenched his fist when he saw the man take her hand and press a kiss to her knuckles. Luckily, he was only looking at the back of the man’s head, his body facing the opposite way so that there was no way he would look back and see Steve staring.

“She’s gorgeous,” Steve heard Natasha say and he nodded. As much as it pained him to admit it, the woman really was and Steve couldn’t do anything but agree.

“She is. But I’m not in love with her.” Steve kept his eyes trained on Natasha once more, swallowing thickly and steadfastly ignoring the couple he had been watching so intently before. He could see out of the corner of his eye that they had started to lean a little closer together and Steve had no intention of seeing that sort of thing.

Natasha caught the slight emphasis that Steve placed on the end of his sentence and the penny suddenly dropped. “Oh,” she said quietly. “It’s not her.”

“No,” Steve said just as softly. There was no point in hiding it. Not that Steve had been doing well at that anyway.

“It’s him.” Understanding coloured Natasha’s tone, words coming out barely louder than a whisper.

Steve didn’t answer this time, choosing instead to grab the glass in front of him and threw what was left of his beer back in one gulp.

“Does he know?” Natasha asked after a moment, waiting patiently as Steve took a moment to collect himself.

“No,” Steve finally said, fixing his gaze on his placemat in an attempt to stop his eyes from wandering back to the torture in the form of the table to his left.

“I take it you know him then.” God, Natasha did so not deserve this. Steve was going to buy her all the drinks she wanted and multiple desserts. Maybe even send her a bouquet of flowers as an apology for being the world’s mopiest date.

“Yeah. His name is Tony.” Swallowing thickly, Steve’s eyes lifted again and he looked at Natasha, blinking away tears as he spoke about Tony Stark, the man who was somehow both the love and the bane of Steve’s life.

“We’ve been friends for years. We met in his first semester of college and I just never quite shook him off.” Steve huffed out a laugh and shook his head at himself. “He seemed to be there every time I turned around. He was in the coffee shop when I went in to get my morning fix, he’d be in the library when I went to study, he even got the bus at the same time that I did every Monday and Wednesday for months. One morning someone pushed him into me and he dropped his coffee all over my shoe. He made some joke about me stalking him and that was it; we just clicked. We quickly discovered that we both lived in the same dorms, even though we were years apart, and then, I don’t know. I don’t really remember when it turned into something more.”

Steve had tried everything that he could think of when he had realised he’d fallen for the younger man. He’d tried to distance himself from Tony before he realised that that wasn’t doing anything but bringing him more pain than being around Tony and not touching him did. He’d tried internet dating – never again, he’d decided after the third failed date in a row and a very near mishap with a stalker. After that, Steve had had tried channelling his feelings into new workouts at the gym – all that had done was earned him more unwanted attention and some flirty comments from Tony that gave him a lot of mixed feelings. As a last ditch attempt, Steve had even tried making a list of the things he hated about Tony. When an hour had passed and all Steve had was a piece of paper that only said ‘doesn’t love me back’, Steve had given up on that whole plan and called Bucky for a night out.

After about seven years of sheer torture, Steve had finally given in to the near-constant begging from his friends about dating once again. At the start of the night, he had honestly thought that Natasha could have been the one to pull him out of this funk, but then Tony had walked in and derailed that plan.

Natasha was beautiful, truly stunning, and the longer they had talked the more Steve liked her. She was funny, witty, smart; everything that Steve looked for in a date. Except that she wasn’t Tony Stark.

“We began to spend all of our free time together,” Steve continued, fingers trailing through a small puddle of water at the bottom of his beer glass. “We’d study together, crash in each other’s apartments, have stupid game nights with the rest of the guys that always got alarmingly competitive. We’d take it in turns to drive back to California together for the holidays – his family has a beach house there and they’d let us run riot. I don’t really know when we grew up, but all I know is that we did it together.”

Steve wasn’t prepared for this tonight. He wasn’t prepared to have to confront his feelings about his stupid man and to have them all spilled out in front of someone else for the first time. But it seemed that now he had started talking about it, he just couldn’t stop. Natasha was sitting quietly, leaning forward with her forearms resting on the table as she slowly sipped her wine.

“He’s just intoxicating; you can’t meet him and not be enthralled. He isn’t an easy person to love, not by a long stretch, but once you do fall, you just can’t stop it. There was a girl years ago – Christine, her name was – and she’d known him in his first year, when he was still young and even more stupid than he is now. She fell too, hard and fast and never quite got back up. She told me what if feels like, to love him and to know he will never love you back. And she was a girl. She had a chance.”

Steve had tried to get over Tony, he really had. Not many people believed him, but Steve had made a huge effort to try and be a better friend, not to be one that pined away and spent his nights dreaming about kissing his best friend.

Christine had noticed Steve’s pining from afar even when she’d been dating Tony, had noticed the longing just from seeing their interactions at their usual coffee-shop-lunch-date. It wasn’t something he’d ever confessed to anyone else, but she had cornered him one morning when Tony hadn’t been with him, telling him that he needed to stop panting after her boyfriend.

And Steve tried, even back then he had tried so hard, but he was in so deep already. Deeper than he had known, or ever thought that he could go.

It hadn’t been anything special that had finally prompted Steve to try again. All it had been was an evening at Tony’s where the other man had been excitedly bubbling over about some new project at work and how much he was going to love working on it. Steve hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away for the entire night.

It was on his way home in a hastily-called Uber that Steve had taken a deep breath and phoned Clint to ask him in a shaky voice whether he was up for a bit of matchmaking. Jolting the phone away from his ear at Clint’s excited squealing at finally having a chance to help Steve move on, Steve had sworn up and down that it was the right thing to do.

And Steve was ready; he had finally been ready to throw himself into that opportunity head on and embrace the change.

But then Tony derailed it. Of course he had. He’d done it without even trying.

Tony was just constantly there, always an ever-present force wherever Steve was. It was some sort of cosmic joke. The universe had set it up by putting the love of Steve’s life in every second of his day and then pulling him away before Steve could reach out and claim him. On the night that Steve had finally decided to put himself back out there and find someone new to shower with his love, Tony had also decided to go on a date.

Steve thought that he meant something to Tony, thought that they had a special relationship. Steve knew when Tony was there; whether he could see him or not, he always knew when Tony had appeared in his vicinity. He’d thought that Tony could do that too. Ever since they’d been young and dumb and the masters of pranks, Steve could never sneak up on Tony because the man always knew that he was there.

But tonight? Tony hadn’t even noticed that Steve was in the same restaurant with him, sitting no more than five tables away.

“You never said anything to him?” Natasha’s voice cut through Steve’s thoughts again, her voice soft but genuinely curious, not pitying at all.

“Look at him,” Steve said in reply, his eyes straying back over to the man across the room.

“I’m looking at you,” Natasha said softly. “I don’t see a reason that he shouldn’t know how you feel about him.”

Steve scoffed. “There are so many. I could list a hundred right now.”

“Go on then.”

“What?”

Natasha settled back in her chair, hands resting on her stomach as she leant back, appraising Steve. “If you’ve thought of so many reasons that you and Tony shouldn’t be together, then tell me.”

“It’s not that we shouldn’t be together,” Steve said, heart aching at the words, “it’s that he doesn’t like me like that.”

“But you haven’t told him. How do you know?”

“You want a list? Fine,” Steve snapped. “I’ll give you one. First, he’s insanely popular. He’s funny, he’s ridiculously smart, he’s absolutely beautiful. Oh, and he’s possibly the straightest man I know. He’s rich, absurdly clever always the most sought after man in the room, and so far out of my league that it’s embarrassing that I even have his number in my contact list.”

Natasha leant forward again and reached out a hand to cover Steve’s, squeezing it tightly. “Those aren’t reasons,” she said, impossibly softly. “They’re excuses.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply but Natasha shook her head and carried on speaking. “You’re just as popular as he is; Clint’s told me a thousand stories about a lot of people and you’re always in them, at every party. You’re funny, albeit in a sarcastic, kind of asshole way. You did a double major and then a postgrad degree in biology so you can’t say that you’re not smart too. And you have to know you’re beautiful.”

Though Steve rolled his eyes, a warm smile tugged at his lips and he felt a genuine rush of gratitude for the woman in front of him.

“He might be straight, but you can tell him, Steve. He won’t hate you just for telling him, even if he doesn’t feel the same way.”

“Natasha, it’s fine.”

“Steve, I swear. If you’re as close as you say you are then what’s to say he wouldn’t–”

“No.” Steve shook his head sadly before Natasha could even finish her sentence and turned back to her. He knew what she was going to say. “He wouldn’t feel the same way. He’s had years to give me some sort of hint. Of any kind.”

“So have you.”

Steve smiled at Natasha’s gentle voice and her attempts at convincing him that he was wrong even though they had only just met. God, she was so lovely and it just made Steve feel that much worse. But he was a stubborn fool through and through.

“You’ve had the same time to tell him that he has to tell you and yet you say that he doesn’t know and has no idea at all, so how do you know that he doesn’t feel the same way about you and just didn’t want to say anything for the same reasons as you?”

Steve blinked. She was so much like Tony, rambling on without pausing to breathe. Maybe that’s why he had felt an instant connection with her. Shaking his head slightly, Steve lifted up a rogue teaspoon, spinning it round and round between his fingers.

“It’s better this way,” he said decisively, his smile tinged with sadness.

“Is it?” Natasha didn’t sound at all convinced, but the look on her face said that she was willing to let it go if Steve could give her as straight answer on this.

Steve let himself have one last look at Tony, drinking in the sight of him before he cut off his heart. The younger man was off in his own little world, his gaze locked on the woman seated opposite him as he held out another bite of his food for her to try.

Steve could just tell that he was smiling widely as she leant in and took the piece delicately, his eyes darkening when she licked her lips far too seductively for the public setting that they were in. Steve took a steeling breath and tore his eyes away with some effort. He looked at Natasha and turned his hand over, interlocking their fingers and squeezing them tightly in a silent thanks, taking comfort in her touch.

“Yes,” he said determinedly, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “It is.”

#i wrote a thing #august in bloom #stony fic #stony fic rec #stevetony fic #stevetony fic rec #stony au #unrequited love #natasha #steve rogers #tony stark #sorry

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nebulous-frog · 5 years

Text

Not-So-Straight Best Friends

Summary: Based off this post from @pseudophan. Basically, what if Dan and Phil really were queerbaiting us this whole time but suddenly they realized they were in love?

Word Count: 1832

Genre: Getting Together, AU, crack!fic (ish? idek man)

Warnings: Vague descriptions of queerbaiting, swearing, dumbassery, first kiss... honestly idek

Author’s Note: I literally just wrote this in like. An hour or something? Hour and a half? on my phone and then found my laptop to post it. Not entirely sure what this is, pretty sure I was possessed when I started writing, but now we’re here I guess lmao

Link to AO3 Fics Masterlist

When Dan and Phil first started talking, it was because Dan genuinely wanted editing tips from Phil.

They pretended they became friends after that from a shared interest in Muse, but it really wasn’t anything like that. Instead, their friendship formed from a shared love of sports. The first time they met each other in person, they went out for beers at a pub in Manchester and then kicked a football around at Phil’s place. They didn’t hug, they didn’t have an emotional moment. They did a manly handshake and carried on. That night, Dan slept on the floor, a respectful, definitely-straight, no-homo-possible distance from Phil.

Years down the line, they wouldn’t remember whose idea it was. Dan would suggest it was Phil’s, since Phil was the one who knew about publicity already, but Phil would suggest it was Dan’s, since he was so keen on being friends in the first place. Whoever started it, they had long ago decided to pretend to be in a relationship that they were intentionally hiding from their audiences.

They created imaginary stories and scenarios and sent them out to the public, watching as their fans ate up every last bit of the fake relationship.

It was all an elaborate ruse to keep fans invested and draw in a wider audience. They even made their personas intentionally nerdy to really grasp the attention of a specific demographic.

To really sell it, they went on a few holidays together and tweeted about each other all the time. Eventually, they moved in together, partly maintain the shady lie.

But it wasn’t all a lie. They really were best friends and did everything together, just as any other guy best friends would do. They knew each other’s favorite athletes, attended sporting events together, played wingman for each other (whenever possible, that is; they had to be careful so no fan would see them dating or flirting with someone else).

And so it went for years. Dan and Phil hid their true sports-loving lad personalities from the internet successfully, even going so far as to act differently around friends so they wouldn’t accidentally let it slip. They were content with this, too. It made them money and people looked up to them, respected them, loved them. It was everything they’d ever wanted.

Except it wasn’t.

Dan was totally straight, of course. Of course. But he couldn’t help but admire Phil’s physique. He’d stopped exercising quite so much a long time ago to help with the nerdy image, but his arms were toned in just the right way for a camera not to notice. Plus, it wasn’t like Phil ever took his shirt off on camera. His abs were killer. The only reason they made Dan feel weak was because he literally wasn’t as strong as Phil. Right? Right.

And then Phil started asking Dan to play wingman more often.

“Come on,” he’d whine. “I haven’t gotten laid in ages and you’re such a good wingman.”

And Dan would feel his jaw clench, his hands twitch. “No,” he’d say. “I don’t want to.”

“I’ll buy your drinks, though,” Phil would promise.

Dan would scoff and shake his head.

“Why are you being such a dick?” Phil would accuse with a glare.

And so it went, over and over until Dan finally agreed to just do it already so Phil would quit bothering him.

They went out to a higher-end bar to avoid fans. The lighting was dim and the music was loud to encourage closeness, but Dan just found it annoying. He wanted to go home.

Not long after they arrived and got their beers, Phil bumped Dan’s arm with his own.

“Look at her, over by the loo. Wavy brown hair.”

Rolling his eyes, Dan turned his head to find the girl in question. He could see why Phil had noticed her. Her crop top showed off a flat stomach and her short shorts showed off long legs stuffed into knee-high stiletto boots. Her pale skin shone through the darkness of the bar. Dan turned back to his drink.

“You gonna go talk to her or do I have to?” Dan asked, voice betraying no emotion as he raised his beer to his lips.

“Well, obviously you have to. You’re my wingman, remember? Go talk me up.”

Dan sighed through his nose, too quiet for Phil to hear, and downed the rest of his drink in one.

“Here goes,” he said with a nod at Phil. He crossed the room to stand in front of the girl Phil fancied, thoughts racing with every step. The closer he got, the more repulsed he was by this whole plan. All he had to do was talk to her but that was supposed to get Phil laid and Dan suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with some strange girl. Come to think of it, he didn’t like the idea of Phil sleeping with anybody. Well. Anyone but one specific person…

Dan stopped a few feet from the girl, eyes wide. He didn’t want to do this. He wouldn’t do this, he couldn’t possibly. It would break his heart, right as he’d finally discovered how it beat. He sized the girl up once more, then turned to look at Phil, who was nonchalantly leaning up against the bar and pretending not to pay attention. Phil would be so pissed, but Dan couldn’t help it. He had to do what had to be done.

He crossed the last few steps towards the girl.

“Hey, that guy over there? Black hair, quiff?”

The girl looked disinterestedly over his shoulder at Phil. “Yeah, what about him?” she asked, clearly suspicious.

“He’s got…” Dan grasped for an excuse- “he’s got chlamydia.”

The girl wrinkled her nose. “Sucks to be him, then.” Then she stalked away, boots clicking on the tiled floor as she walked out the door.

Moments later, Phil appeared at Dan’s elbow.

“The hell was that? You’re usually so good!” he asked, perplexed.

Dan fought the blush threatening to creep onto his cheeks at the compliment and scrambled for an explanation. “She- uh- she said she’s a lesbian.”

Phil frowned. “Oh. Guess it wasn’t meant to be, then.”

“Guess not,” Dan agreed with a pitying nod. “Alright, let’s go home, then. We’ll try another night.”

Phil’s brow scrunched up and Dan had to fight the desperate urge to rub away the wrinkles on his forehead.

“Give up after only one failure? No way, Howell, we’re not going home tonight until one of us gets fucked.”

Dan sighed again. He wasn’t really in the mood for getting fucked, at least, not by anyone who wasn’t Phil.

The realization hit him like a train again, but he had no time to recover as Phil grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the bar so they could scout their options once more.

Phil sent Dan out to try three more girls, and each time Dan purposefully botched the interactions.

Finally, a defeated Phil agreed to give up for the night.

Life continued on as normal for the two of them for a while as Dan desperately tied to figure out what to do with himself. His jealousy had awakened feelings inside himself that he’d never expected to feel and suddenly he wasn’t quite as straight as he thought he was and being around Phil was simultaneously too much and not enough.

He was in love with his best friend. His straight best friend, who he half-pretended to be in love with.

God, it was complicated.

Every little thing Phil did would send butterflies racing through Dan’s digestive system or blood rushing to places it ought not be rushing to and Dan was having a very hard time coping with his body doing all of that all at once and could Phil be a little less sexy for two minutes?

He was a goddamn mess, basically.

And then there came a day when he just couldn’t take it anymore.

They were playing FIFA together and nothing in particular caused it but Phil laughed at something Dan said and he looked so pretty and suddenly there it was.

“I love you.”

Dan’s eyes widened. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud to Phil, not ever, and here he had. Shit, what could he do? What should he do? Play it off as a joke? The thought of turning something so serious, so heartfelt, so real into a joke was almost too much to bear-

Phil snorted. “Yeah, of course, I love you, too.”

In a split second, Dan realized he couldn’t keep living like this. He had to come clean.

“No, really.” He paused the game, ignoring Phil’s protests but refusing to meet his eyes. “I love you but, like, not work-related.”

He was met with a deafening silence. The tension was killing him, so he forced himself to look up at Phil.

Shock, confusion, and something unnameable played in his expression, his jaw dropped open and eyes searching Dan’s face. Dan had expected anger, disgust, betrayal maybe, but this was very different. He thought he’d known every possible expression Phil could make after being friends and living together for so long, but this was something new and unexpected and frightening but the tiniest bit exciting, as well.

The seconds crawled by until finally Phil shut his mouth with a soft clop and his eyes stopped their searching, landing on Dan’s mouth. Time stopped then, and then suddenly Phil’s lips were on Dan’s and hands were grabbing and feeling and wandering and Dan felt dizzy with it all when Phil pulled back a few seconds later, eyes wide again and his hands still buried in Dan’s curls.

“I’ve never done that before,” he blurted. “Kissed a guy, I mean. I’ve never felt like this before, either, though, so I guess it makes sense that it would make me do things I’d never done. What the hell is wrong with me? This is insane-“

Dan’s heart sank. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, I understand you don’t feel the same-“

Phil’s lips were on his again and Dan let out a squeak and then a moan as Phil took his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled.

“Sorry, you were getting the wrong idea,” Phil hurried to say when he properly pulled back, hands still in Dan’s curls and holding him in place so he couldn’t chase after Phil’s lips like he so desperately wanted to. “I love you, too, not work-related. Well, I mean, sort of work-related because that’s how I fell in love with you and why I thought this would never happen and wanted a distraction and-“

Now it was Dan’s turn to interrupt Phil.

“We’ve wasted enough time already, don’t you think?” Dan gasped when he broke the kiss.

“I guess you’re right,” Phil replied. “Carry on, then.”

And “carry on” they did.

#phan #phanfic #phanfiction #crackfic #fluff #getting together #food mention #first kiss #friends to lovers #my brain just yeeted this into existence i apologize lmao

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icequeenjules26 · 5 years

Text

Digging in the sand, looking for Gold

Summary: When Dan's Beach-Volleyball partner retires, he's not sure how to continue his career. By coincidence he meets the aspiring Youngster Sascha, his best friend Marcelo and physiotherapist Phil, who shakes believes and rules Dan has lived by for all of his life. Suddenly, Dan's life becomes a lot more complicated...

Word Count: 11,8k

Tags: Strangers to lovers, Slow Burn, Fluff, a bit of angst

A/n: This is my first fic for this year's @phandomreversebang! Art is by @penisdinosaur, beta'd by @rubberbandx, big thank you to both of them!

Read on AO3

For as long as Dan could remember, sand was everywhere.

Even when he wasn’t currently on court, when he was training in the weights room or running his laps on track, jogging in the morning, even on vacations - there was always sand. He could feel it in his clothes when he moved, no matter if he had actually worn them on court yet or not. He could see - hear it trickling out of his hair when he shook his head, even right after a shower. There was sand at the bottom of every bag he owned, used for training or not - it didn’t matter.

Sand was his everlasting companion, like family members - they were always there, and sometimes they showed up out of nowhere even when you definitely did not want them to.

But even though sandy clothes or bags usually meant displeasure to normal people, like an itch they couldn’t scratch, to Dan it was comforting - it was home. It was that little piece of his life that he brought everywhere, that he couldn’t shake even if he wanted to; it was his sign of belonging. Whenever he felt foreign, strange, he’d see a few grains of sand, like the Universe showing him You’re not alone. You belong.

Other people would look at him funnily whenever he mentioned it and his own rationality told him how absolutely insane it sounded, but it didn’t matter. It was the way he felt.

As long as the sand would follow him, he would be okay.

That’s why his partner’s retirement hit him even harder. Sure, he could search for a new partner, could try to find someone else he had this on court connection with, someone who knew what he’d do before he knew himself - but not only the improbability of that was a big dampener. They were a Team , him and Markus, had always been; all the way from the sightings matches in their youth to where they were now: training for Olympia. Even though it was still a long way, and if he wanted to, Dan knew he could do it… It was more the way there that made Dan question if it was even worth the effort.

It was his life’s dream. It was everything he’d ever worked for, the only thing he’d ever wanted to achieve. He’d never cared much about education, graduations or even degrees. He had dedicated his life to this sport, had given it his all for several years - just to get thrown off course basically only moments before achievement.

He didn’t blame Markus for any of it, obviously. He had torn the front ligament in his right knee, which would take several months to recover from, and had several other projects in the making, a musical career to fall back to and an amazing husband that supported him every step along the way.

He wasn’t like Dan.

Dan had nothing but his goal - he was nothing but his goal.

He drank, breathed, lived this sport, and he wouldn’t have quit had he been the one getting injured - but he wasn’t, and finding a perfect partner was harder than recovering from an injury. Chances were he’d never find anyone else who understood him on court like Markus did.

So, naturally, the situation hit Dan like a brick wall and metaphorically had him lying in a ditch somewhere for several weeks. He put off looking through the documents of the aspirants his trainer had sent him, just flipped through them halfheartedly, barely noticing what he saw before he gave up and frustratedly threw them in the vague direction of his desk.

He slumped around at home, missed training sessions and basically stopped strength training altogether. He even shortened his morning and evening runs. Only in the night, when the sun sunk below the horizon and normal people went to sleep, all the energy he hadn’t used over the day caught up with him; he became agitated and restless until he finally gave in and went for a jog.

It was during one of those midnight runs that he met Sascha.

Dan was running through the park a few blocks from his apartment, letting the night air cool his skin and ruffle his wild locks. As usual, he didn’t pay much attention to where he was going - nor did he even look. His eyes were up in the clouds, watching them as they drifted by, getting illuminated by the almost full moon standing proudly up in the sky. He knew this park like the back of his hand, could probably run his way through with closed eyes and covered ears, so he had started on his usual route and let his feet do the rest.

Panic ’s This is Gospel just started playing when there was a strange cracking noise that had Dan fearing for his headphones - he’d literally justbought new ones, they couldn’t seriously be broken again already?! - then something colliding with him mid-step and suddenly, he found himself sitting on his ass.

For a second he was completely disoriented, unable to even distinguish between up and down, just sat there, blinking like an idiot. Then his brain caught up with his body, his sight cleared and he could make out a figure standing over him. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry. Fuck, I didn’t look where I was going -” A male voice started rambling and a hand reached out to help Dan up.

Dan took the offered hand and got pulled to his feet. The first thing he noticed was the height difference - which was basically nonexistent. The guy was tall , almost as tall as Dan, which said something, and fairly athletically built. “Hi, nice to meet you - I’m Sascha.”

That’s how it all started - somehow it spiraled from there.

Sascha insisted to buy Dan a drink for the inconvenience, even though it was as much Dan’s fault as it was his, at least in Dan’s book. They started talking, and it didn’t take Dan too long realize he was a Beach Volleyball player like himself. When he asked about a partner Sascha just shrugged and told him he hadn’t found the perfect one yet - and a plan started building in Dan’s head.

Half an hour later they had a training session scheduled for the next day, numbers exchanged and on his way home, Dan’s steps felt a lot lighter.

The training went even better than anticipated. From the first minutes on court Dan understood Sascha and vice versa, and Dan had rarely felt this connected to a person that wasn’t Markus on an athletic level. Sascha was a few years younger than Dan and not officially seeking a partner, so he hadn’t been among the documents Dan had gotten from his trainer, but he was adamant to try out this partnership, wherever it would lead them.

Dan’s trainer met with Sascha’s and it was settled - they’d be going through a month long trial and training period, but Dan already knew this partnership was what he’d been searching for.

It didn’t take too long to discover his new partner didn’t only come with fresh energy and new plans, no - he also came with a bunch of associates. There was Mischa, his older brother and one of Dan’s biggest rivals since forever, almost immediately offering to bury all bad feelings and try to be friends, which Dan agreed on without a second thought. There was Marcelo, Sascha’s best friend and training partner - also the one Sascha gazed at whenever he thought no one was looking, and Dan made a mental note to ask him about it as soon as a foundation of trust had been built.

And last but not least, there was Phil - tall and handsome Phil, with a black quiff and striking blue eyes and a smile that basically lit up the room. He was Sascha’s physiotherapist and tested Dan’s restrain to the max.

Dan’s first rule had always been no dating - no distractions on his way to gold. For years it had held up; no relationships, only sex, no strings attached, but within days Dan could tell upholding that rule would only get harder with Phil around.

Overall the group was so tightly knitted that Dan wondered if they’d even find room for him. He had always been somewhat of a lone wolf, but something about them made Dan want to belong .

And no, it was not the fact that Phil was too hot for his own good and Dan regularly forgot his own name when he looked at him. Not at all.

Well, at least not solely that…

___

For some time things were calm.

Training with Sascha was going well, great even. The connection on court Dan had felt from the very first minute wasn’t wavering, and he was more than happy about having found a new partner that seemed to fit even better than the last one. He even felt like he finally got somewhere with the group - they started inviting him to outings, Marcelo included him in jokes and Phil had seemingly made it his goal to make Dan lost for words any chance he got. Only Sascha seemed still a bit wary of him - at least in the group. He was incredibly protective of them, even though he was the youngest, and had trouble trusting Dan for a reason that was beyond his imagination. When Dan had asked Phil about it, he’d smirked and told him it was just a matter of time, but he was getting more and more agitated.

About two weeks after Dan and Sascha started playing together, the group talked about going to a nearby pub to celebrate something, but Dan hadn’t paid much attention since he hadn’t expected to be invited.

As he made his way to the locker room, Phil surprised him by suddenly appearing in front of him, looking more than excited. “Dan! We’re going out for a couple of beers. Wanna come?”

For a few seconds Dan just stood there, stunned, blinking at Phil like he’d spoken latin instead of english. He risked a look at Sascha and Marcelo to confirm - while Sascha looked a bit miffed he still smiled kindly and Marcelo nodded invitingly. “I - I mean - Sure,” he stuttered out and Phil’s pale blue eyes shined so brightly that for a second, Dan was blinded.

About half an hour later they arrived at the pub and placed orders for the first round of beer. Dan, still not sure what the occasion was, opened up the conversation. “So - what are we celebrating?” he asked and the table had mixed reactions. While Marcelo’s previous wide smile seemed to dim a bit - Dan was convinced that man would probably smile in the face of death, he’d never seen him not smiling - there was a wide grin on Phil’s face and Sascha…

Dan couldn’t believe his eyes. Was he really blushing ? What was happening ?

It was Phil who took it upon himself to catch Dan up to speed. “So, a few years ago -”

“I was really young!” Sascha interjected, and there was definitely a red tint there. Dan smirked. That seemed promising.

“He had this crazy girlfriend. Like - she was completely nuts. She was... ” Phil traded off.

“Insane!” Marcelo provided, seemingly trying to be helpful, and Phil chuckled. “Not what I was searching for, but thanks, Marcelo.”

Both grinned at each other with a side glance at Sascha, who stared at the beer in his hand, cheeks still red.

“Anyways, Marcelo is right. She was jealous as fuck, controlled him any step he took, posted private pictures of him online, that sort of thing,” Phil said, moving his index finger in circles around his temple, emphasising his words. He waited for Dan to nod in understanding before he continued. “But he just let her. Like an idiot.” He snickered, Marcelo nodded and Sascha acted scandalized, calling out an offended hey! that the other two ignored.

“He -” Phil started up again, but Sascha interrupted him again. “I thought I loved her!” he tried to defend himself, seeking help with Dan. He just chuckled. “What happened?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’d bug him about it for weeks , but nothing happened. He found excuses for her over and over again and I was so tired of it -”

“And then I knocked some sense into him!” Marcelo heckled, obviously proud of himself, and Phil shot him an unimpressed look. “Can’t a guy finish a story in peace around here?!” he asked and the rest chuckled.

“But yeah, Marcelo’s about right. They weren’t that close at the time, it was when Marcelo was still active, but Sascha talked to Marcelo during his strength training and when he came to his appointment a few hours afterwards he told me he wanted to break up with her. And that’s the story of how Sascha finally broke up with his crazy ex.” Phil’s smile was wide and his eyes bright, and Dan struggled not to loose focus. He’s fucking adorable… He silenced his own brain. Shush! Not gonna happen!

“Since then we come together at that joyous day to celebrate,” Marcelo explained and Dan just couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s quite the story,” he pointed out and the rest chuckled.

“You won’t get bored around us, I promise,” Phil said and caught his eyes. “I believe you,” he answered, not looking away, lost in the other’s blue irises, like he was trapped in a kaleidoscope of blue and gold and green.

Goddamnit .

When he finally managed to break the spell and avert Phil’s eyes before they’d suck him in yet again, Sascha gave him a somewhat satisfied, somewhat encouraging look, and this time, it was Dan’s turn to blush. This group would be the death of him, he was almost certain already.

After that incident, Sascha’s wariness decreased, which made it even harder for Dan to avoid Phil and the temptation he caused, but at least it gave him a lot more confidence. Sascha was his one way ticket to gold, and he intended to use it. If he’d become friends with the guy on the way there - even better.

Since his weeks of doing basically nothing Dan had kept to his midnight routine of going for a run in the park next to his house.

The problem, Dan mused as he jogged along the familiar path, was probably that they were similar in a lot of ways, in their drive for success and in the fact that originally, they were lone wolves. Dan couldn’t know what had happened, how Sascha had come to such a tightly knitted group of friends around him, but it shone through in every movement he made that he once hadn’t had a lot of friends - if any at all. Sure, he had a brother, but Dan could tell from his own experience that bloodlines didn’t form friendships of their own. Now Sascha and Mischa seemed close, but who knew what had lead them there?

Dan wanted to know more about them, he realized. He was the most interested in Phil, he’d admitted that much to himself already, but he’d closed that door for himself, shut it forcefully and locked it as often as he could - and surprisingly, the others didn’t leave him cold either. Originally, Sascha had been supposed to be his way to reach his goal, but now he - all of them - had become more. He had a feeling they could be great friends - if he’d just let them.

Completely lost in thoughts, Dan continued down his usual route, contemplating what to do about the whole Sascha situation. There was something wrong with the guy, something laying heavy on his heart, but he had no clue what exactly. He knew there had to be something he could do - the question was what . He wasn’t really skilled in handling other people, had spent his life refraining from relationships that would only serve as distractions for his main goal.

Now, though, it seemed different - a lot was different. Sure, he had no plans on getting a relationship - No, not even with Phil! - but what about friendships? To play his best he had to be open with his teammate, to let him in and truly become a team, he knew that now. But how was he supposed to do that when his teammate obviously hadn’t come to the same conclusion yet?

A voice ripped him out of his thoughts mid-step. He came to a slithering halt, looking up and finding himself just a few centimeters away from someone else - someone he identified as Sascha within seconds.

“Sascha!” he got out between gasps, “What are you doing here?”

There was a smirk on Sascha’s face as Dan struggled to catch his breath, and he had to stifle a grumble. Stupid youngsters and their stupid fitness.

“You okay?” Sascha asked, smirk still in place. Dan shot him an intimidating look, but Sascha only grinned. The wild, dirty blonde locks on his head were hardly contained by the headband he had on and stuck out left and right. His striking green eyes shone even more in the pale moonlight and their bright colour reminded him of someone else - for a second, the eyes were blue as the sky on a sunny day, with a black quiff framing a beautiful face, coming closer towards Dan, closer and closer until his lips finally…

No! Forget it!

Then Sascha snickered again and Dan’s vision of Phil shattered like a mirror. He shook his head quickly, trying to order his thoughts and get back to reality, while Sascha still observed him with a smirk. Dan shot him another look but again, Sascha seemed entirely unimpressed.

He sighed. “I’m fine,” he grumbled, finally focussing on the situation at hand. “So what are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing in a park in the middle of the night in my running clothes?” He raised an eyebrow, then: “I’m about to rob a bank, obviously.”

For a second, Dan just stared blankly, desperately trying to hold in a laugh. It wasn’t even that funny, he wouldn’t - then his eyes met Sascha’s and he lost all restrain. He broke out laughing, so loudly it scared up some birds in the area that flew away with irritated squawks.

That was the start of joint jogging sessions at night and an unforeseeable friendship. They grew closer every day, and Dan was glad Sascha seemed to open up to him more. He trusted him with his group of friends, invited him to hang out with them, and sometimes, when they were alone, Dan could see that he was moments away from talking to him - truly talking. It was obvious Sascha had a lot on his mind, in his heart; and it was also obvious that for some reason, he didn’t think he could talk to the others about it. But there was still something holding him back, something that kept him from talking to Dan about it, and Dan didn’t know what to do to get him to talk. So he waited.

Their trial period ended without acknowledgement. No one even talked about breaking off their partnership - as a matter of fact, Dan forgot about the deadline completely until a month later. He and Sascha were training together for two months at this point, and while on one hand, the training went by so fast he couldn’t believe it had already been two months, on the other hand it felt like they’d been partners forever.

Sure, Dan loved his sport, loved the sand, playing and giving it his all, but training had still tended to stretch out and drag - at least before Sascha. Now, sessions were filled with laughter and jokes, small pranks and friendly competitions; with Marcelo and Phil sitting on the sidelines cheering them on and clapping. Sometimes, Mischa was there, obviously impressed with the progress they made, and even Dan’s trainer basically forgot to nag half the time, silently watching instead, in awe about their teamwork.

Phil’s part in Dan’s life became bigger the more he was around all of them, and he shook Dan’s beliefs to the core. He distracted himself with the mystery around Sascha, with training and group outings, where he tried to keep more to the others, but it got harder by the second to resist. He was pretty sure Phil was interested - he kept flirting, leaning into Dan’s personal space or placing a hand on his thigh voluntarily - so Dan was glad he wasn’t required to spent a lot of time alone with Phil. His restrains slowly started to run thin, and he did not want to push his luck any further.

The partnership between Dan and Sascha continued growing. They started with strategy meetings in preparation for their first tournament together. They played a friendly match against Mischa and his partner which they won by far, and work progressed even faster than anticipated. Sascha still kept silent about his problems, but as he became more familiar with him and their group Dan at least gained enough insight to observe and draw reasonable conclusions.

One night they were out bowling, Dan, Phil, Sascha and Marcelo; and while he spent the most time conversing with Phil - damn the guy for being interested in the same things as Dan, how dare he? - Dan really paid attention to the way the group worked. While trying not to focus on Phil leaning into him with his hand on Dan’s knee, he noticed how often Sascha and Marcelo would look at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. How they always seemed to touch in one way or the other. How they sat so close there was no room between them even though it wasn’t necessary, and how many inside jokes they had.

Marcelo and Phil on the other hand were a lot closer than Dan had first anticipated. They shared looks sometimes, like they were conversing wordlessly, and when Marcelo hesitated in his movements or speech - usually because Sascha came close to him, or touched him, or laughed particularly brightly - Phil would immediately step in and try to distract from it.

All that only served to raise more questions for Dan. It seemed clear to him that Sascha and Marcelo had feelings for each other, but didn’t act on it; and Dan simply couldn’t get behind the reasons. And that, Dan realized, might’ve even been the reason Sascha had been wary of him. He made a mental note to ask Phil about it - which brought him to a whole other problem.

Phil, hot, precious Phil was testing Dan to the max. Most of the times it seemed obvious he was flirting with Dan, dropping hints that he was single and searching while complimenting him, leaning forward and suspiciously into Dan’s space. He grinned at Dan with that honest, open smile of his, probably aware of the fact that it made Dan’s knees go weak. He even asked Dan if he needed treatment, being a physiotherapist and all, and after some hesitance, Dan agreed to make a plan quite similar to the one Sascha had, with regular appointments.

In summary: Dan’s life did not become any easier.

_____

It was during one of those appointments that Dan finally decided to ask Phil for help to unravel the mystery around Sascha.

It had been a particularly weird training. Sascha had had obvious trouble concentrating; he was occupied with looking up at the stands where Marcelo was sitting instead of tactic training. He continued to sigh, but whenever Dan would bring it up, he’d say it was nothing.

Dan was fed up with it.

So, while he was lying on the treatment couch, Phil’s hands kneading his muscles and therefore in desperate need of a distraction anyways, he just blurted it out. “What’s up with Sascha and Marcelo?”

The hands on his back stilled for a moment and Phil took a deep breath. He continued the treatment when he’d let it out slowly, but didn’t say anything, and Dan became worried. Had he said something wrong?

When he’d finally worked up the nerve to apologize - for what, he had no clue, but there had to be something - Phil spoke up again. “As much as I want to,” he said with utter sincerity, “It’s not my secret to tell.” The utter defeat in his voice made Dan’s heart hurt for him. He just wanted his friends to be happy, Dan realized, but was about as powerless as Dan was.

“Okay,” he croaked and they didn’t talk about it again.

Dan would have to go straight to the source.

___

For around two months not much changed. Dan gradually affiliated into the group, he continued to withstand the temptation that Phil posed, just Sascha’s unceasing silence still had Dan worried.

At least until the international beach volleyball association - IBVA in short - uploaded one of their “behind the scenes” videos to their Youtube channel.

Usually, Dan didn’t pay much attention to the videos they uploaded. In all honesty, he followed their channel more out of guilt than anything else. Just this time, he’d anticipated that video: in their catching up with... series they interviewed former athletes that had retired from the sport for one reason or the other. Athletes… Like Marcelo.

Marcelo had been practicing the sport for over ten years until he had won gold at the olympics for the second time, when he had decided to retire; him and Sascha had already been friends at that point. Now he recently turned thirty and worked with different TV Stations broadcasting beach volleyball tournaments, allowing him to travel around with Sascha and the others. The IBVA had interviewed him a week ago, and he’d told the others to tune in when it came out.

The first few minutes was nothing too important, just about Marcelo’s life shortly after his career, how he was handling retirement and if he missed the sports. Then they reached the present, and with it, Sascha - a promising youngster of only 22 years who’s recent switch of partners had caused a lot of frenzy in the community.

Marcelo breached upon the topic with nonexistent ease, with all the awkwardness he held, but the interviewer ate it up. She dug deeper about Sascha, how he was doing, how close the two were.

That’s when he spoke the sentence that had Dan hurting for Sascha. “Yeah, Sascha is my best friend. Like the little brother I never had, you know? I wouldn’t want to do without him for the world.”

He paused the video out of pure panic - even though Sascha wasn’t even in the room - and for a moment, the world seemed to stop, halting in its rotation to give Dan a moment to grieve for the happiness of a friend that had become so dear to him. He couldn’t believe Marcelo just said that - had he no idea how Sascha felt? Did he not care? And what about his own feelings? Dan would’ve bet all his money on Marcelo having feelings for Sascha as well.

Yet again more questions appeared and this time, Dan was more than dumbfounded. He’d never expected this to come out of this interview.

It took Dan minutes to calm down enough to continue watching the video, but no more important things happened. They moved on from the topic Sascha fairly quickly after; Marcelo said a few words about Dan and how well they worked together, with some kind of dull shimmer in his eyes that Dan just couldn’t decipher, then it was mostly about the sport itself and other contestants in the upcoming tournament.

When the video was over Dan sat in silence, staring at the still illuminated screen of his laptop for multiple moments, then he took a deep breath and got up. He had some strength training to do before he met up with Sascha for their nightly jogging session.

___

When Dan arrived at their usual meetup-point Sascha was not there yet. By itself, that wasn’t a big deal since he tended to be always late for literally everything, but after the video it had Dan a bit worried. Sascha was like Dan in a lot of things - like the fact that he tended to work twice as hard whenever something bad happened. He concentrated on work to not think about his problems. Dan could truly relate.

For almost ten minutes Dan waited relatively calm. Then he became increasingly worried. Sascha still wasn’t there, and he had neither answered Dan’s messages nor picked up the phone when he’d called.

After half an hour Dan was beside himself. He’d finally called Phil, and while he didn’t know where Sascha was either he at least gave him the useful advice to check his apartment Phil wondered what the fuss was about, though, so Dan just told him to check the video the IBVA had put up.

It took Dan less than five minutes to get to Sascha’s apartment block. When he first rang the doorbell, cautiously and unsure, there was no answer, but he wasn’t about to give up that easily. So he just kept ringing.

After a few seconds that felt like an eternity to Dan the door finally opened. He climbed the stairs up to Sascha’s floor where he found him, leaning powerlessly against the doorframe, and Dan was shocked. He’d never seen Sascha looking like this - so completely drained of energy, without a flicker of mischief in his green eyes. Instead of standing tall his shoulders were hunched over, his cheeks glistened wet and even behind the glasses Dan could see that his eyes were red and swollen. He wore a shirt of the IBVA that seemed a bit older, but wasn’t too suspicious, until he turned around to make his way into his apartment, revealing a big brazilian flag on the back, and Dan understood that it was probably an old shirt of Marcelo, who was of brazilian origin.

“Oh, Sascha,” Dan murmured as he followed him inside, closing the door behind him. Sascha didn’t even say a word as he let himself fall onto his couch, gesticulating vaguely for Dan to take a seat as well.

Afterwards, Sascha was completely quiet, staring off into space motionlessly, and Dan was busy taking in his surroundings. There were several tissues thrown about on the living room table. Sascha’s laptop peeked out under some of them, still blinking, indicating that it had just been closed and pushed away mindlessly. The TV was running, showing a beach volleyball match that Dan had been sure was chosen randomly, until he realized that it was an old one of Marcelo and his partner.

Dan sighed, unsure of what to do, but then he got up and decided some tea wouldn’t hurt. He’d been in Sascha’s kitchen a few times, so it didn’t take him too long to make some.

When he got back into the living room Sascha hadn’t moved an inch and when Dan gently handed him the mug it took him a few moments to even become aware of his presence. Dan sat down again as well, observing worriedly as Sascha cradled the hot mug in his hands. He was sure there were new tears running down the youngster’s cheek and for a second, he wished he’d taken Phil’s offer to come over as well.

He had no idea how to handle this, what to do or what to say. Everything that came to mind seemed useless, meaningless. He felt completely powerless. Phil, caring, empathetic Phil would’ve known how to handle the situation, he was sure of it; but he took a deep breath and threw all of his anxiety over saying the wrong thing right out of the window. Anything was better than utter silence.

“Sascha…” he started, turning towards his friend now, one leg perched up on the couch. His voice was deep and rhusty, worry so evident in it he had to suppress a wince. He didn’t say more than that, but the intent was clear.

Sascha didn’t answer at first, but at least he moved to take a cautious sip from his tea, which Dan counted as a win. Then, when Dan had already given up hope, he started talking.

“How did you know?” he asked, not even looking at Dan, who sighed. “That you have feelings for him? Honestly, it doesn’t take a genius to figure that one out.”

Sascha’s response was a humorless laugh. “That obvious, huh.”

“Yeah.”

Another moment of silence passed and Dan took his mug of tea into his hands as well, looking at the TV to keep himself from looking at Sascha, who seemed like a wild animal - any sound or direct eye contact could have him running in the opposite direction. For a second he was tempted to text Phil - but deep down he knew he could do this, and that it had to be him. Sascha definitely had a reason to not talk to Phil about it, and Dan would honour that.

“Please talk to me.”

Dan really didn’t think it would work, but it finally seemed like he’d gotten through to the normally so confident youngster.

“I don’t even know why I still have hope. I just get knocked down over and over again. When will I accept the truth?”

Dan physically flinched hearing the defeat in his voice. He’d been through a lot with Sascha already, had grown as a person and stronger as an athlete, and after the initial hesitance, he’d also grown closer to Sascha as well. Seeing something hurting him like that - it made him hurt too. And it made him think of Phil, and how lucky he was to at least know his feelings were reciprocated, even if he’d chosen not to act on them. He’d be okay.

The question was, would Sascha be?

“I just can’t believe it’s one sided. The way he looks at you….” He trailed of, making a vague gesture with the hand not holding the mug. He wasn’t sure if it was wise to give Sascha even more hope after everything, but Dan just wasn’t ready to give up. He’d get behind this, and then he’d get them together, even if it’d be the last thing he’d do.

“I don’t know, Dan, I just - I just don’t understand what’s going on. It’s like - Like…” He stumbled over his words, and when Dan looked over he could see there were new tears shining in the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath.

“When I first met him, I never thought - I never even imagined. We didn’t talk a lot, simply because we never ran in the same circles, you know? But then the shit happened with my girlfriend and… He saw me, during strength training, asked me what was wrong, and I just… I felt like I could trust him. So I told him everything. And he told me I was worth more than that. More than the person she wanted me to be. And he said it in a way that…” He visibly faltered for a moment, shooting Dan a quick look before taking a deep breath.

“He looked deep into my eyes. Like I was the most important thing in the world. Like he was able to see what she couldn’t.”

Again there was a pause, and Dan didn’t even dare to move. Sascha seemed so fragile, like the most gentle breeze could scatter him into a million directions.

“Looking back, I think I started fancying him then,” he whispered, almost soundlessly.

The following silence was so looming, so comprehensive it made Dan shudder. It was pretty clear to him that Sascha had never said it out loud before, and it meant a big deal, so he waited patiently for him to continue.

“After I broke up with my girlfriend we truly started talking, and to hang out. He was so nice and easy going, so awkward and adorable, we were interested in the same things and we just - clicked. We grew so close, but every time I think This is it he just… backtracks. He’ll look into my eyes and hold my hand like we’re a couple, like he has feelings for me, and the next thing I know he calls me his brother. And still I-” He stopped short, choking down, and Dan intuitively scooted closer.

“You should say it,” Dan prodded softly. “It might help.”

Still in tears, Sascha looked up to meet Dan’s eyes.

“And still I love him,” he choked out between sobs, then he broke down.

_________

Surprisingly, not a lot changed after that. Dan and Sascha were closer than before, sure; and during training or hangouts when Marcelo would look a certain way or sit closer to Sascha than strictly necessary they would exchange looks, have entire conversations with nothing but their eyes. After practice, whenever they didn’t do things as a group, Dan and Sascha would come together, watch a movie, play video games - be there for each other.

Dan himself was doing pretty good. He and Phil had been growing close as well, but Dan tried to mostly refrain from being alone with him, and so far, it seemed to be working. Sure, sometimes he mourned for the what if , but mostly he was just happy to have gained a friend as amazing as Phil was.

He knew, though, that Sascha needed him. The youngster hadn’t been particularly happy with the situation - or over all. Dan had to stand on the sidelines and watch as his best friend became more closed up and silent by the minute, at least around Marcelo, and he didn’t feel good about that. He didn’t understand what Marcelo was doing, but that didn’t mean Dan wanted Sascha to completely lose someone so dear and close to him. On the other hand, he also understood why the youngster was spending less and less time with Marcelo.

Overall he felt like he was looking at a doom loop and he had no idea how to break it. The state of affairs dragged on for weeks. Dan and Sascha went through their first tournament together, which they ended on an amazing second place, and played against Sascha’s brother and his partner again, who they beat once more.

After the game, Mischa took Dan aside and asked for news, but Dan couldn’t give him anything. Marcelo on the other hand seemed to struggle to understand what was happening, continuously cornering Sascha and asking him what was wrong. The situation seemed to pain him considerably, too; but that made things just more confusing to him. How had the older man still not figured out what Sascha felt for him?

It took more than two months to break Dan. He’d had the same talks with Sascha over and over again - “Talk to him!” “I can’t! He can’t know what I feel for him, it would destroy everything!” - “It can’t go on like this. It’s starting to affect your play!” “It has to. I’ll just have to get over it.’’ - etcetera, and he’d had enough.

Dan also couldn’t imagine how things could get any worse, but he wasn’t about to tell Sascha that.

Sasch had lost his touch and was struggling to get it back, and Dan had to watch helplessly as he lost more and more motivation to Marcelo, so one Tuesday during one of his routine treatments from Phil after a particularly bad training - Dan kind of just... spit it out.

He knew it was wrong, somehow. But it wasn’t like he was able to stop himself, either.

“It’s so bad. My trainer averted his eyes, and I can’t even blame him. I can’t look at it anymore either,” he groaned when Phil asked him about how training was going. The physiotherapist halted in his movements, just for a moment, hardly noticeable, but Dan sensed it anyway.

“Why?” Phil asked before continuing working on his back. Dan was almost used to it by now, at least when it was unspectacular places like his back, so he didn’t even have to bite his lip anymore to keep down a moan.

The question confused Dan, just a bit, but it was like Phil’s calm and trustworthy presence had finally broken his self-imposed spell of silence on the matter. Sascha hadn’t particularly told Dan to stay quiet, but it might have been implied somewhere. He honestly couldn’t remember, and at this point he didn’t care. He couldn’t just stand by and watch as his best friend got more and more broken by the second. He’d kept silent and not done anything for too long. But not any more. Not for a second longer.

“Is that really a question? After the video? He’s in pieces. Every time I’m picking him up something happens and he’s breaking apart all over again.”

He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to do. I’m completely helpless.”

Phil’s hands on his back stilled, then they vanished. “You’re done,” he croaked out, breathless, and took a step back as Dan sat up. He gulped visibly, then: “Get dressed. We’re going to my place, and then you’re telling me everything you know. I’m tired of this.”

______

“So, what you’re saying is - Sascha has actually had feelings for Marcelo the whole time?” Phil looked at him with wide eyes, so innocent and unaware Dan wanted to scream. How could someone be that pretty and that clueless at the same time?

Dan’s eyes felt like they were falling out of their sockets as he stared at Phil, completely dumbfounded. He wasn’t - he couldn’t actually - it wasn’t possible -

He was. He could. And yes, it was possible.

“Please don’t tell me you didn’t know.”

“I had no idea!”

“Are you blind ?”

For a moment, Dan felt bad about it, but he got over it pretty quickly. Honestly, Phil kind of deserved it. The physiotherapist still looked shocked by the news but was now also blushing profusely, avoiding Dan’s eyes.

Dan sighed. “You cannot be serious, Phil.”

More blushing, then: “Marcelo said Sascha didn’t love him back. So I didn’t question it.”

Silence settled in until the words properly registered in his mind, then Dan’s head shot up, fixing Phil’s eyes in a gaze. “Back. So I’m right. Marcelodoes have feelings for him!”

Phil nodded, picking up the coffee mug he’d placed on the table in front of him and taking a huge sip while pressing his foot firmer into Dan’s thigh. “He’s been in love with Sascha for ages.”

Then he furrowed his brows, staring into the dark liquid like it held the answers to all his questions.

Dan wished .

“Wait, but if it was that obvious - he knows Sascha better than anyone else. He must have known about it. Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he lie? What is he doing?”

Dan sighed again. “That’s the one million dollar question, isn’t it. What’s Marcelo doing?”

_______

When Dan asked Sascha why he hadn’t talked to Phil about the situation yet, he told Dan he was scared the physiotherapist would tell Marcelo everything, so Dan cleared up the misunderstanding. Luckily, Sascha wasn’t mad at Dan for telling him, and the situation dragged on. The one good thing about it was that Dan was so enrolled in the mystery that Marcelo posed, he didn’t even have time to think about Phil - to question how close they had become. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that as soon as things were resolved he’d probably break down and throw himself at Phil like a lovesick fool, but he ignored it completely.

Maybe he was falling for Phil. Hard. So what? He’d just have to restrain himself. He’d been doing that for months now - what could possibly go wrong?

Never in the history had that sentence not lead to things going horribly wrong, but he ignored that as well.

As a team, Dan and Sascha continued to make progress, but as an individual, Sascha’s performance didn’t improve significantly. Sure he had trainings where things were going a bit better - for example when Marcelo was gone for a week, visiting his parents in Brazil and Dan kept him distracted as well as possible - but that wasn’t a lot. Overall, the brash, mischievous Sascha whom Dan had met months ago was missing in action.

It didn’t take long for Dan and Phil to start worrying. Group hangouts became less and less frequent and Sascha was asking for time alone, so they spent most of their time together, worrying about their friends and planning how to get them back on track. Sometimes, they’d put on a movie or play video games, and Dan’s restraint around Phil would falter, just for a moment, for a lingering touch or an endearing look, but he managed to keep it at that - as long as it wasn’t more it would be fine. As soon as his lips would touch Phil’s, though, it would be over, and all attempts of abstention would have been in vain.

Their attempts to get Sascha and Marcelo to talk were mostly unsuccessful. They refused to talk to each other openly, and that did not help calming Dan and Phil’s nerves. The first qualifying matches for the Olympics were approaching with big steps, and they knew: with Sascha being like this, they’d be lucky to even stand a chance.

That was why, only a month from their first match, Dan finally lost his patience. After practice he lured Marcelo into Phil’s treatment room and kept him there while Phil brought Sascha for his daily checkup. He sat them down onto a couch in the corner of the room, refusing all protests, and took a seat on some chairs facing them.

He and Phil shared a look, squeezing each other’s hand - something they had started doing only recently and completely without Dan’s conscious approval - then he took a deep breath and turned his attention to the men on the couch.

“Guys, we’ve been patient. Really patient. We’ve sat by and watched as you drift further and further apart, but it has to stop.”

“This is an intervention. You two need to talk and because you’re obviously not going to do that on your own, we’re forcing you to,” Phil explained further, and Dan nodded. The look of utter betrayal in Sascha’s eyes weighed heavy on Dan’s heart, but he knew that this was the only way. Sascha was too stubborn to try to improve the situation, and Marcelo had simply given up. Someone had to do something, and there was no one else that would.

“Anything one of you wants to share with the group?”, Dan asked, gesticulating with his hands like they were in group therapy, and Phil gave him a grin. The other two didn’t seem particularly impressed with this joke, though.

“I have nothing to say,” Sascha said, breathless, hardly making a sound, and Marcelo flinched like someone had punched him. “Who’s surprised,” he mumbled under his breath, and Sascha’s sharp, green eyes turned to him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” His voice was nothing but a hiss, low and dangerous, and Dan was glad it wasn’t directed at him. His partner was a few years younger than him, sure, but he was also tall and well trained and his look could be so sharp Dan swore it could pierce through skin.

“You haven’t talked to me in weeks!” Marcelo accused, and Dan and Phil shared a quick look. It was true, sure, but that didn’t mean Sascha’s silence wasn’t at least justified. They had tried to get him to talk as well, but they weren’t the ones causing the behaviour.

Sascha’s eyes narrowed and Dan swore the temperature in the room dropped at least ten degrees within a second. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he hissed, pure venom in his voice.

“Why?”

“Because you’re the goddamn reason!” Sascha blurted out forcefully, short of seething. “You’re the goddamn reason for everything! For me being distracted, for my sadness, for my performance dropping! You and that fucking video!”

“Sascha -”

“No! Just no! Not again! I’m tired of it, okay? I’m tired of all of it! Do you know what it does to me, every time you say something like this?” There were tears in the corners of his eyes and Dan unconsciously reached for Phil’s hand. It hurt him, too, and he didn’t have the strength to go through it alone.

“Do you know how fucking much it hurts ?”

For a second, it was silent, and Dan couldn’t help but look at Marcelo - who looked close to tears, obviously trying to avert Sascha’s eyes. “But -”

Sascha cut him off again, shaking his head silently. “No buts, Marcelo. Not again,” he said, his voice close to a whisper, and from one second to the next he looked so broken Dan couldn’t help but strengthen his grip on Phil’s hand.

Then he got up, attempting to leave the room. Dan was about to get up as well, to keep him there for just a second longer, just to give Marcelo a chance to explain, but the brazilian was behind Sascha and taking a hold of his wrist so fast Dan didn’t even have the time to move a muscle.

“That is not fair, Sascha. You were the one telling me off years ago and I can’t know you’d still react like that -”

“I did what?”

“Telling me off. During the first interview you did. Remember?”

Sascha shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“When the reporter asked you about the rumors concerning that woman you played a match with for charity. You laughed and told him she was too old for you anyways.”

Sascha blinked, obviously dumbfounded, but at least a lot calmer than before. “How could you have possibly applied that to yourself?”

Marcelo’s look was so sad Dan’s heart would’ve broken in his chest would he not be holding onto Phil’s hand for dear life.

“She’s exactly my age, Sascha. I got the message, bright and clear. I did my best to keep away from you and that aspect, I swear, but you’re just so irresistible and I was already so fucking much in love with you -”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Dan mumbled to himself, and the physiotherapist next to him nodded affirmatively, but the other two guys weren’t even aware of them anymore.

Sascha choked out a sob, tears streaming down his face as he continued to stare into Marcelo’s eyes. “You idiot,” he whispered without any malice, “It was never about you. I just wanted him to stop asking about her. Especially because I had feelings for you …”

That was the point where Dan had to avert his eyes, where the connection between Sascha and Marcelo became too much and he just felt like he was intruding on a private moment. He carefully tugged at Phil’s hand, gesturing him that they should go. So they did, leaving Sascha and Marcelo and any further developments alone.

____

Training was a lot better the following week. Sascha’s performance improved and went back to normal within minutes on court; he was able to concentrate, he smiled and laughed with Dan and his technique was back to top quality. Dan was more than relieved. The first qualifying tournament for Olympia was less than a month away and they needed to be at the top of their game.

Within the week after that, though, Dan got a feeling something was different - or, to be more precise, something wasn’t different. A specific something.

Sascha and Marcelo didn’t act differently at all. They were obviously back to being friends, sure, participating in group outings, joking with each other; but if anything, the touching had decreased . No teasing about their relationship, no suggestive comments, and definitely no kisses, not even on the cheek. Something was definitely not right.

He knew he needed Phil’s opinion, so during his physio-treatment - while desperately trying not to get a hard-on because Phil literally had his hands all over his body - he asked.

“What’s wrong with Sascha and Marcelo by the way?”

There was no hesitance in the hands kneading his left thigh dangerously close to his ass and Dan had to stifle a moan.

“What do you mean? Everything’s the same as before.”

“Exactly,” Dan answered with a raspy voice, trying to hide the pleasure. “Shouldn’t something be different?”

Phil was silent for a moment, switching from the thigh to the calf - slightly less dangerous territory - and Dan allowed himself to relax before the physiotherapist spoke again. “You know what? Now that I think about it… You might be right. They don’t act like a couple at all. Or, well, at least not more than usual.”

“Precisely.”

After twenty more minutes of treatment - and therefore, twenty more minutes of Dan feeling ridiculously underlaid - they agreed to do some digging.

The first task fell to Dan. Him and Phil had agreed that - after everything they’d been through with Sascha - it was unfair to not give him the chance to speak. So during their midnight run Dan asked Sascha about it, about the relationship and if they were in a romantic one, but the youngster’s answers were unsure and vague. After some prodding, he straight-up denied it, claiming him and Marcelo would “work better as friends”.

Needless to say that Dan was furious.

Just to confirm the story, Phil asked the same questions during morning practice, when both him and Marcelo were on the stands. The answers were pretty similar.

Both Dan and Phil were more than disappointed about that outcome. They got together for some Mario Kart that afternoon, and while Dan was half a round ahead and Phil was fighting for the third spot, they realized they couldn’t just… Leave it at that.

In reality, they could. They just refused not to. For their friends’ happiness, but also for their own pride.

“That can’t be it,” Dan observed as he was skillfully maneuvering around a banana peel on track, “They love each other. Why the fuck not start a relationship?”

Only after saying it out loud did he realize it was basically a stab into his own guts, and he was lucky Phil was too preoccupied with the game to look at him.

“True,” Phil confirmed, sticking out his tongue in concentration.

For a second, it was silent aside from the sounds of the game, then Dan made a decision as his car was driving past the finish line. “You know what? Not on my watch.”

Something misschievous glinted in Phil’s eyes when he turned to look Dan into the eyes. “No. Not on our watch.”

____

Two weeks later they were in the car on their way to their first Olympics-relevant tournament and nothing had changed. Nothing at all . They had tried (and, well, failed) to get them together multiple times, had shoved them together for practice, had given Sascha the opportunity to say something, but so far, all their attempts had been in vain. Not only Dan, but even the bubbly, optimistic Phil was rapidly losing confidence in their ability to meddle.

It was Marcelo’s shift to drive, so Sascha had, naturally, chosen to sit shotgun - “working better as friends” my ass , Dan thought - leaving the backseats to Dan and Phil.

Dan, sitting behind Sascha, hadn’t been paying a lot of attention - he was fairly occupied trying to get Phil to relax, with his car sickness and all - so when he looked forward for the first time, trying to get a look on their navi, and he saw a dark spot on the back of Sascha’s neck, almost at his shoulder, for a second he didn’t think anything of it. Then he processed what he’d seen and - Huh?

He couldn’t be sure, his view was obstructed by both Sascha’s hair and his shirt, but - he leaned over towards Phil, whispering in his ear. Phil’s face, slightly less green than before, showed surprise, then he exchanged a look with Dan, the same question in his eyes.

Is that… a hickey ?

___

The tournament went amazingly well. They’d survived the group phase and the first knock out round and were now on for the quarterfinals tomorrow. They’d agreed to have a light training session around midday, but Dan had spent the day hiding from Phil since they’d had a near slip-up the other night playing Fifa (Dan had lost, so he’d started tickling Phil and ended up closer to him than intended and almost kissed him), so he went directly to the training court instead of meeting the others at the hotel. When he arrived, Sascha and Phil were already there, laughing while Phil tried - and failed - to warm Sascha up.

When they noticed Dan, Sascha gave a wave and a grin, walking over to his bag to take a drink, but Phil came sprinting towards him through the deep sand. “That is Marcelo’s shirt,” he said in lieu of greeting, and Dan blinked dumbfounded before he understood what Phil was getting at.

He took a closer look at Sascha’s outfit, and sure enough he was wearing a light blue shirt with a Volleyball emblem on the breast pocket that he’d seen Marcelo wear before.

“Oh my god, you’re right. He wore it just two days ago!”

For neutral parties, it probably wasn’t a big deal, but to Dan and Phil, it definitely was. They were invested in this relationship - more than they would’ve thought before.

“Are we becoming fanboys?” Dan asked as they walked over to Sascha. Phil’s stunning blue eyes were glinting in the shining sun and for a moment Dan forgot how to breathe.

“Absolutely.”

___

Dan and Sascha made it through the quarterfinals relatively easy, beating their opponents in two straight sets. The match directly after was determining their semi-finals opponents, so Dan and Phil decided to stay to spy on them and get a feeling for how they were playing, but both Sascha and Marcelo chose to go back to the hotel, claiming they wanted to skype their families.

The stands built up for the sake of the tournament went up fairly high, and to be less likely to get spotted Dan and Phil decided to search for seats in a far up row, which were mostly empty. From up there, they had a really nice view of the ocean far off to one side - and, coincidentally, the hotel they were all staying in. They were looking straight at their floor and with it, their shared balcony - between the five of them, including the trainer, they occupied the whole side of the floor for themselves. The rooms were connected by a long, shared balcony, which made going over to one of the other rooms for a treatment or a talk with their coach a lot easier.

While the teams on court were still warming up Dan looked over to the hotel. He found Sascha at his balcony door, looking out to the court. He had changed into a red shirt and grey shorts shining brightly in the sun, and Dan softly elbowed Phil in the side an gesticulated for him to take a look as well.

They watched as Marcelo appeared behind Sascha with his boring white clothes immediately recognisable in the compared darkness of the room. He stepped closer to Sascha, reaching out with his hand, then Sascha let the curtain drop and the scene was out of view. Phil and Dan shared a look. Skyping their families, huh?

Throughout the game they kept a close eye on Sascha’s balcony door, but the curtain didn’t move again - until their tainer stepped onto the balcony, making his way to Sascha’s room. When he knocked on the glass nothing happened for a while. Then the door opened and Sascha stepped out in his red shorts and white shirt -

“He’s in different clothes than before!” Phil pointed out, voice somewhere between excited and surprised, and Dan’s eyes widened as he realized that Phil was right. “So - They went in together, no one comes out for half an hour, and now he’s suddenly in a completely different outfit, even though he’d been freshly showered before?!” Phil summarized and Dan nodded, dumbfounded.

“Well, that’s not fishy,” he mumbled, “Not fishy at all.”

___

When Marcelo showed up to dinner with a red shirt Dan and Phil were set on investigating further. Something was going on there and they wanted to know what it was.

Dan and Sascha finished third in the tournament, which was half the qualification norm for the Olympics, so they were happy with the outcome. They had around a week at home before they were leaving for the next tournament, and they didn’t do much else than relax and a bit of strength training and jogging.

Dan particularly despised the last part.

They spent the day before their anew departure together as a group, playing Mario Kart, Fifa and pictionary, and they had so much fun Dan’s belly hurt from all the laughing. When Sascha beat Marcelo in Mario Kart, the brazilian reached over, tickling the youngster, and Phil gave Dan a look of oh my god they’re so adorable I can’t even that Dan had to agree with.

Two hours later both Sascha and Marcelo had left - “to do the rest of packing”, sure Jan , Dan thought - and only Phil had stayed, wanting to help with the cleanup. Everything had stayed completely innocent so far, and Dan mentally patted himself on the back for being so resistant - he hadn’t reacted to either Phil’s flirting nor to his continuous physical contact. He was strong.

Until he wasn’t.

They were just finishing up the dishes. Dan was at the sink, washing the rest of the glasses and plates when Phil reached up to the cupboard directly above Dan’s head, leaning so far over his body they were touching basically everywhere. Dan could feel the blood rushing into his cheeks and somewhere lower, tightly gripping the edge of the sink - for support or to keep himself from moving, he wasn’t sure - and he stayed determined, he really did, but then -

Then Phil’s breath hit the skin on his neck and it was all over.

He turned around in a flash, exchanging a short, meaningful look with Phil, then he was kissing him and his world was turning upside down. Nothing was as it had seemed before. His self restraint vanished in a vortex of gold, his brain left his body and all that was left was lust and love.

Fuck it, he loved that guy, had had for a long time; and he’d always known all restraint would be lost as soon as his lips touched Phil’s.

His life was flashing in front of his closed eyelids as he passionately kissed Phil, showing him all the lost opportunities that they could’ve spent making out, showing him what he had missed out on. But he didn’t even have the mental capacity to process it - he didn’t have the mental capacity to do anything . He had lost all connection to his body, was nothing but a spiritual being flowing through time and space with Phil right by his side.

Within a single heartbeat he decided he didn’t care about his stupid rules and his stupid logic. If he wanted to be with Phil - and he did - then he should be, whether he was going for gold or not. It wouldn’t make him stronger, but it wouldn’t make him weaker, either; if anything, it would serve as a further incentive.

Between ragged breaths and erratic heartbeats he paused his frantic movements, keeping Phil’s face in his hands and looking him straight into the bright blue eyes. “I love you.” Opposed to the shaking of his body his voice was firm and sure, and for a second, the colour of Phil’s eyes seemed to flare brighter than ever before.

“I love you, too,” he said softly, a few tears swimming in his eyes and a smile on his lips so sweet it could give half the world population diabetes just from looking at it.

Dan stared into Phil’s eyes and somehow, the world around them vanished. Then, suddenly, he was falling, but not down, no; he was falling up, higher and higher, until he shot through a layer of clouds and all that existed was blue, blue, blue .

It took him quite some time to escape the pull of Phil’s eyes, but when he did, he sprung straight back into action - straight back to kissing and touching and… More .

The next morning, when he woke up to the colour of Phil’s eyes there was just one word on his mind. “Boyfriends?”

Phil’s eyes glinted stunningly in the rising sun, and Dan knew he’d remember this day forever. “Boyfriends.” ____

This time, the tournament was on another continent, so they went there by plane. Phil slept through almost the whole flight and Dan was busy trying to not gush about how cute he was.

They had decided to not tell Marcelo and Sascha in passing, waiting to do it over dinner when they had arrived at their destination instead. After Sascha had shown up at the airport wearing one of Marcelo’s shirts yet again they also wanted to confront them about their observations. Dan didn’t even care that they’d sound like crazy fanboys.

Well, at least not a lot.

Due to time zones it was early in the morning when they arrived, but they all decided to get some sleep anyway. When Dan woke up in time for dinner Phil was laying cuddled into his side, snoring sweetly, and he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Phil’s forehead before he got up. Thankfully, Phil was a heavy sleeper, so he just continued sleeping, giving Dan time to have a long, relaxing shower - or so he’d thought. In reality, Phil joined him halfway through, but it wasn’t like he minded. On the contrary.

When they went down for dinner both Marcelo and Sascha were already there, staring at each other over the table like they were the only people in existence. Phil sighed dreamily, giving Dan another They’re so cute look, and Dan had to stifle a giggle. His boyfriend was a major fanboy.

Boyfriend.

Dan’s heartrate picked up at the thought. Even thinking it made him happy.

When they had sat down and ordered Dan and Phil exchanged a look, quietly taking hold of each other’s hand under the table. “Phil and I -” Dan started but was unsure of how to continue, how to word what he wanted to say. He was nervous and excited and the previously picked out words jumbled together into a wild storm of letters that he had no idea how to decipher.

Thankfully, Phil was less concerned by the whole thing.

“We’re together now. And we’re really happy.”

It was quiet at the table as Sascha and Marcelo looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

“We know,” Sascha said, slowly and clearly, like he wasn’t sure about Dan and Phil’s mental state.

Dan sputtered. “Wha - What?”

“How did you know?” Phil asked, more interested than surprised, and Dan blinked at him in shock. Why did it not shock him? Was everyone going insane?!

“It’s been obvious for weeks now,” Marcelo explained calmly and finally, Dan understood, relaxing immediately.

He let out a short laugh. “We’re together since last night. Or the night before, depending on the time zone we’re going with.”

Marcelo and Sascha blinked in complete unison, making Phil giggle. “But-”

“Is that why you didn’t tell us you are together as well? Because you were mad we didn’t tell you?” Dan asked, a lightbulb going off above his head. He paused for a moment before he added: “You guys are together, right?”

Both him and Phil started grinning like a fool when the others nodded. Oh, how he loved it when things finally made sense, and when things turned out the way he planned them too. He gave Phil a high five in celebration, then he turned to Sascha and Marcelo, still grinning. “You’re idiots.”

They at least had the decency to look shameful.

“We’re all idiots,” Phil corrected and the others couldn’t help agreeing. They clinked glasses with champagne a few minutes later, and Phil literally cooed as his inquire made Marcelo lean over the table and give Sascha a passionate kiss.

They shared a lot of laughter and fun that night, and Dan had a better time than ever before. He looked at his group of friends with happiness and pride, and he had never felt more content in life.

____

A few weeks later him and Phil finally had the time to go on their first official date. The days had been crazy, packed and busy, but they’d been the best of Dan’s life. The letter with his official invitation to the Olympics weighed heavily in his pocket when he entered the old, 50s themed diner. The place looked decisively vintage with its off-white walls decorated with vinyls, black and white checkered tiles on the ground and lamps hanging from the ceiling.

The jukebox up front was playing Cry Me A River as they slid into their booth, Phil on the other side of the table. They both grinned as they mouthed along to the song. The glowing red neon lights brought out the blue in Phil’s eyes so stunningly Dan once again was blinded by their beauty.

They shared a milkshake with two straws like they were in one of these cheesy romance novels Dan had always despised, but somehow he didn’t care anymore. He embraced the romantic cliches like they were old friends - simply because with Phil, it all seemed okay. Phil had step by step teared down all of his walls and rules, what was one more in this jumble of new experiences and feelings and happiness?

He let his fingers skim over the paper in his pocket as he looked into Phil’s eyes, only listening half-heartedly as Phil rambled on about one thing or the other, an utterly lovestruck look on his face. Maybe he didn’t have gold yet, but within the last few months he’d gained and accomplished more than he’d ever dreamed of. Still, it had only been the beginning, he knew it. He was happy with Phil, Sascha was happy with Marcelo, they were happy as a group, and in a few weeks, they’d have a shot at winning gold.

Their future was golden, one way or the other.

#phan #phanfiction #phanfic au #my writing #this only took me forever #gosh I hope you guys like it

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starsailorstories · 5 years

Photo

[EDIT: now with image captions; was aware that this is a frame of reference for what a bunch of different characters and frankly species look like, so I tried to be detailed.]

[Image: a colored pencil illustration styled to look like a blue-tinted photo in a stained, worn cardstock frame. It’s a group shot of the crew of the Revelator as they were about 10,000 earth years ago. All are humanoid aliens with lights on their heads and some assorted buggy features; individual descriptions will precede their intro writeups for ease of use.]

A million years ago I asked if there were any intro posts you guys hoped I would hurry up on, @awesomesquirrelstuff said the Revelator crew, I said omg yes!! in my head and then proceeded to procrastinate finishing this picture for literally I think 6 months. I am so sorry. Anyway.

The rogue crew of the Revelator are, L-R:

Angia (ship’s medic): [medium height; medium-light eye and skin tones; comes across as fat, though she has an exoskeleton so actually she’s just shaped like that; two long fins hanging off the top of her head fall to rest on her shoulders. She wears a draped scarf and flowing dress and a pair of transparent, butterfly-shaped glasses.] A military surgeon from the imperially-annexed world of Aphacaria. Quite possibly the only sensible person in the bunch. Having immigrated to the rings as a 20something (in quinturns) and made her way through the mazes of respectability, she’s cautious about defying the system, but older memories--and new friends--push her towards rebellion.

Bash (navigator): [tallish, though she’s bending her knees here and folding her arms to lean on Angia’s shoulder; she has a light skin tone and dark hair pulled into a thick, neat braid, and the Basillan feathery antennae; her facial features are severe and look a little banged-up, and she wears a military-style coat with a bomber collar and epaulettes over a wrap dress with a sash at the waist.] A young war vet from the atmosphere-mining colonies in the rings of Shali. Got involved with the mutiny purely to sort out an intensely personal grudge thinking she completely disagreed with everything they stood for and then found out she didn’t, she just found them all annoying. She still finds them a little annoying but they’re her family now oops

Consider (science officer): [she’s only just visible at the back of the group, but she’s a tallish, very pale Basillan with equally pale eyes, wearing a dark veil that covers her hair and antennae and a second, sheer veil that covers the lower part of her face, though you can see she’s smiling through it. Her hand is also just visible gesturing ambiguously beside her face.] A vestal and botanist from a slightly posh estate in a forested queendom on Glasmiri, sent to space as part of the Revelator’s original exploration mission. She’s the most educated of the crew by far, but also (having moved from a lent-out country lodge in the middle of nowhere to a prestigious school to a literal convent) doesn’t know much about the world outside of a book. Un/fortunately, she’s now surrounded by people who are determined to help her find out.

Im (communications officer): [short--just a little taller than Lux, who’s like 4′11--and slim, although she has wide hips and legs which are kind of suggested by the lay of her circle skirt. She’s an Aeverellan, with a round face, darker skin tone, button nose, and four eyes arrayed in a radially symmetrical pattern--the lower pair are dark, the upper pair are bright blue. Her hair is a short afro and she has short antennae that bend at the top. She’s also wearing a vest over a dressy blouse and a tie, and posing with her hand around Lux’s waist.] an Aeverellan student who was tagged along with the Revelator mission by her well-to-do Basillan matrona to receive training as a secretary. She has no intention of ever becoming one; if the rebellion hadn’t come along, she would have taken the first opportunity that did--she’s a big geek with much bigger dreams. She misses her family and her world a lot, but she understands that there’s not much there for her. And she understands all too well that that’s the Hyperians’ fault.

Lux and Cepheid are introduced elsewhere :) [Cepheid is actually the second-tallest of the bunch but she’s leaning down to rest her chin on Lux’s head. She’s a Caesuran, with long gossamer antennae, shiny dark-toned skin, and wings (which in this pic are just a blur because she’s fluttering them). She has a buzz cut and you can just barely make out that she’s wearing a full-skirted party dress. Lux is very small and thin with a dark brassy skin tone and light colored hair, smiling and gazing directly out to the viewer, one hand reaching around to touch Cepheid’s shoulder and the other stretched out holding her staff. She wears a long white bell-sleeved top with a two-buckled belt.]

Teng (ship’s engineer): [small, fairly muscular; lighter skin tone and medium-toned hair styled in an absolutely wild quiff pushed up with a pair of goggles; wearing a white tank top with open sides with trousers and a bulky leather belt hapazardly laid over a long sash. She’s Melwar, an isolated astraea species, and has long, thin, featherlike eyebrows rather than the more typical astraea feathery eyelashes and a fine covering of somewhat reptile-like skin over her exoskeleton.] a former factory tech who was born in the insular Melwar enclaves of an Andromedan colony in the Milky Way known as the Fuscus Swarm. She went to sea with conflicting hopes of eventually getting to visit her people’s ancestral star system, and of finding a niche outside of her super-traditional colony. Teng tends to be brutally practical, bluntly honest, and kind of a troll, but she’s loyal, and a surprisingly deep thinker when you hang around her long enough. She’s playing it close to the chest about any other motives for sticking with the mutineers.

(top) Holiok (turret gunner): [Over 6′ tall and extremely skinny; medium skin tone, undercut hair divided into a slicked combover and a short ponytail. Holiok is an Esmrrrderian, another more isolated type of astraea. She has a long, insectlike jaw which she has pierced with a ring and a beaky-looking upper lip with a labret piercing.You can only see her from the shoulders up, but she’s wearing a leather bomber jacket and resting her elbow on Cepheid’s back, and has her mouth open like she’s in the middle of saying something. Also, she has long eyelashes like most astraeas, but has them gelled together so they’re not so soft and fluffy looking.] a career spacefarer from a shipbuilding town on Esmrrrder that continuously held its own against the exploitation of the empire mainly via labor organization. Her intention wasn’t to start any sort of movement in space, but she’s there to back up her friends and doesn’t mind getting into it with people. She’s also like...Cepheid’s anger translator.

Mag (sail deck hand): [medium height; Basillan with Basillan antennae, one of which is permanently crooked after being broken off in a fight; light skin and eyes and wild, medium-toned hair just past shoulder length. Wearing a wide-collared duster coat and a hip holster and a scarf tied around her head behind her antennae. Hanging off of Dovi and playfully slugging her in the side with a goofy smile.] Formerly of a pirate ship, recently in prison, assigned to work on the Revelator with a bunch of other convicts--most of them just debtors and pickpockets who they dropped off at a spaceport to figure things out as they wished. The only one in the bunch who’s actually Down For Murder was also the only one who wanted to stay (because she had enemies at that particular spaceport). She never really stops being openly chaotic neutral, but she’s also found the first group of friends she’s ever had who she actually trusts and relies on.

Dovi (boatswain): [medium height, broad-shouldered and sturdy, medium-dark skin tone and hair color with light eyes. She has the Basillan feathery antennae and a very sculptural, swirling hairstyle, and she’s wearing a utilitarian jumper-skirt over a frilly blouse with the sleeves rolled up and affectionately eyerolling all the other shenanigans in this picture.] is a settled, respectable middle-class mom (well, aunt) from the Rings who dabbled in political activism in her younger days and literally decided to become part of the rebellion because she and her wife had promised each other they wouldn’t become lukewarm boot-kissing suburban center-liberals. In her defense, she forgot about getting past her quarter-life crisis pretty fast once it became clear the crew needed a steadfast, supportive older sister.

#sweet chariot #character intro posts

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sodalester · 6 years

Text

Rest Your Head Now (Everything’s Alright)

summary: 3 times Dan and Phil napped on tour + 1 time they couldn’t sleep

genre: straight up fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.8k

written for @phandomficfests

a big shoutout to @jorzuela for being my beta! a big help considering i wrote half of this while half asleep

requests are open!

ao3 link

There was something almost soothing about the in between state of consciousness Phil found himself in. His eyes were closed, lids too heavy to open and no reason to do so. He was leaning against something warm.

Perhaps it was someone; someone with dark curly hair and a soft, fond smile as he felt Phil against his side.

He could hear the movement of the train as it travelled, wind rushing outside the window and the tracks sliding against the wheels. It was quiet inside the train, as it always was with public transportation, the noises outside were the only sound to be heard.

Phil wasn’t exactly asleep, but he was far from awake. His mind was almost scarily silent, free from any worries or burdens. It was peaceful, he felt peaceful.

He didn’t remember where he was going or what for. All he knew was that he was on a train and there was someone warm against him. That someone smelled good too, a sharp contrast to the metallic and stale air of the train. Instinctively, he moved closer, pressing his nose to the skin of the person who had unknowingly become his pillow.

He heard a gentle laugh, the sound making his heart squeeze. It was a familiar laugh, one he had heard many times. His heart had recognized it and sang because of it.

Something soft touched his arm. It travelled up and down it, continuing its feather-like touch. Phil liked it; it was drawing him farther into the grip of sleep.

“You awake?” a voice whispered. Phil could feel the rumbles of the words before he heard them, a side effect of touching the skin.

Phil wanted to respond, wanted to say something, but his mind was blank. Too tired to form sentences or move more muscle than he already had.

He felt something something touch his forehead. It was warm yet chapped and all too familiar for Phil to fight it. It made him sigh happily, melt further into the warmth of the person.

“You’re so sweet,” the voice hummed, “how did I ever get lucky enough to be loved by someone like you?”

The hand moved from his arm to his hair, pushing his quiff back. Then, it tugged on his glasses, removing them and relieving him from the slight discomfort.

“I love you, Phil.”

Phil sighed again, his way of saying “I love you” back without having to utter words. The hand was back on his arm and sleep was slowly claiming him.

He napped with a small smile on his face and close to the body of his lover.

His lover rested his head on top of Phil’s, growing tired himself. They had another four hours on the train and time felt so long with little space the move around in. Maybe they’d nap for the rest of the trip or wake up a few hours before they arrived in Scotland.

Either way, his lover was content to drift off as well, falling asleep with Phil.

Phil was, despite his friendly attitude and glee towards fans, reserved about himself and his own private details.This applied to everyone who knew him, even Dan. He liked to keep his emotions private, liked to deal with things alone.

Of course, that never stopped Dan from finding out that he was struggling, but it was a hard habit he couldn’t break.

They were neck deep into the tour, speeding across America and travelling overnight through winding roads, the sound of the engine running. Perform, pack up, travel. One minute Phil was asleep and the next he was standing on stage in front of hundreds.

He ignored the stress, didn’t talk about it or even acknowledge it. He let it fester in the back of his mind, only rising during night and stealing precious sleep from him.

When the stress found that it wasn’t being listen to, it turned physical.

Dan was sitting on the bus couch, scrolling through his phone without a care. They were in between venues and parked at a rest stop to use an actual bathroom and regroup.

Phil boarded the bus, his feet dragging and body hunched over. He made a beeline to Dan wordlessly, easing himself onto the couch next to him. He cuddled up to Dan, clinging onto his arm and resting his head on Dan’s shoulder. Dan didn’t say anything, too caught up in what he was reading to notice Phil’s clinginess.

Phil was rarely clingy, preferring to keep things lazy and natural. The only times Dan had noticed him being clingy were when he was overwhelmed, exhausted, or sick. Those were the times were Phil broke down his own personal safeguard to let Dan in and finally let himself heal.

Dan didn’t take notice until his phone alerted him of a low battery, pulling him from his realm of reading. Frowning, he reluctantly locked it and tried to stand up. He was stopped, however, by a pitiful whine from Phil who clung desperately to his arm.

Dan noticed how Phil’s face was twisted in discomfort, one he would get when he had too much lactose or had twisted a muscle the previous day. Dan’s heart faltered in sympathy, suddenly very worried about Phil.

“Phil? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Phil insisted when clearly there was something hurting him.

Dan softened, knowing he’d have to convince Phil to talk to him. He was so stubborn, it was silly. Dan pushed some of Phil’s hair back, his touches gentle and soothing. “Baby, I know something’s wrong. Please just talk to me, you don’t have to be scared.”

Phil caved in, the pet name and touches melting any stubbornness he had. “My stomach hurts and I don’t feel good.”

Dan’s worries only increased. He placed a hand against Phil’s forehead, checking for a fever. There was no heat, thankfully, though that didn’t help Dan to find the cause of Phil’s illness.

“Was it something you ate? Is it lactose?”

Phil shook his head. “Ate the same things as you and haven’t had any milk today.” He groaned as his stomach cramped unpleasantly.

Dan lowered his hand, letting it settle on Phil’s shoulder. As far as Dan knew, there weren’t any outside sources causing the stomachache.

“Is it stress?”

Phil didn’t answer, instead curling up further against Dan. His body language answered Dan’s question for him.

Dan cooed, heart melting with sympathy. “That bad?”

Phil nodded.

“Love, why didn’t you come talk to me earlier? You know I wouldn’t have minded helping,” Dan whispered, forehead creased with concern.

Phil sighed. “I know, I just thought I could handle it.”

Dan wished Phil would rely on him more, yet he knew that that was simply how Phil was. In the end, he’d always open up to Dan.

Dan leaned forward and kissed Phil’s forehead, trying to comfort him and ease his mind. “I don’t think we have any painkillers on the bus.”

Phil shook his head. “Painkillers wouldn’t work anyway. Need to relax.”

“How about a nap? I could play some soft music and cuddle you while you rest.”

A nap did sound appealing and Phil could desperately use the sleep. “Yes, please.”

Dan pulled him up gently and led him to the back of the tour bus where the bed was. He closed the door, hoping the rest of the management would understand that they needed to be alone.

Dan picked up some sweats from his suitcase that was lying open. “Here, put on some sweats. I doubt those jeans are helping with the pain.”

As Phil changed, Dan setup his laptop 0n the bedside table. He already had some sleep music downloaded as a suggestion from his therapist. The soft sounds filled the room, giving the atmosphere a more quiet feeling to it.

Phil curled up on the bed, hugging his arms around his stomach. He watched as Dan lowered the blinds and turned off the light, plunging the room into mostly darkness. There was some more rustling then Dan was climbing into the bed with Phil.

He didn’t say anything, instead pulling Phil close to him and letting his hand rest on his back, rubbing small circles. He kissed Phil’s nose, then his forehead, finally resting his head on top of his hair.

Dan listened as Phil’s breathing slowed down as he fell asleep. He smiled and closed his own eyes, the music and warmth of Phil making him drowsy.

When their manager found them curled up together on the bed, she didn’t have the heart to wake up them up.

Dan was truly something else, Phil mused.

They were celebrating another successful evening by visiting a high end club nearby. The drinks had fancy names that Phil stumbled over while Dan somehow pronounced them effortlessly. His was fruity with a certain punch to it that burned his throat yet left him wanting more.

More rounds of drinks were served. Phil was talking idly with someone from management while Dan scrolled through his phone, his body connected to Phil’s. It was his way of being clingy without being too dramatic; the warmth of Phil’s body and the physical touch was enough to starve off the affectionate monster that rose in Dan whenever he had a few drinks in his system.

Phil had finished his conversation when he finally turned to Dan. He was expecting him to still be on his phone, scrolling through twitter and looking at what their followers had to say.

Only, Dan wasn’t on his phone. Instead, his head was lulled to the side, mouth parted slightly and hair ruffled, with his eyes closed.

Phil felt his heart leap in his chest, the warm feeling of love and affection spreading through him like a wildfire. He sighed softly, a smile stuck on his face as he stared at the sleeping man next to him.

It must have been the alcohol, a sedative that worked its magic on Dan’s already exhausted body. Phil most certainly didn’t mind how fucking /adorable/ Dan looked. The steady rise and fall of his chest was therapeutic, a sign of peace and stability amidst the chaos of tour.

How could Phil not love this man?

He wrapped his arm around Dan’s waist and leaned his body into his own, adjusting it so his head fell on his shoulder. He smelled of fruity cocktails and cologne and Phil loved it. He couldn’t help but press kisses into Dan’s hair, not caring if the whole world was watching.

Dan stirred, making a whining noise and hiding his face in Phil’s neck. He let out a long breath and tried to fall back asleep.

Phil couldn’t help but giggle. “Taking a nap at the club? That’s a new one for you.”

Dan groaned, scrunching his nose and reluctantly opening his eyes. His head felt dizzy with alcohol, but with Philby his side he felt stable.

“Shush, ‘m sleeping,” Dan mumbled into Phil’s neck.

Phil merely laughed once more then kissed Dan’s hair. “I don’t think a club is exactly the best place to take a nap at, but you do you.”

Dan lifted his head to glare at Phil, only this proved to be a mistake as Phil took this as an invitation to kiss Dan’s cheeks. And once he started, he didn’t stop.

“Phil,” Dan complained, blushing from being smothered with kisses, “Stop it.”

Phil beamed and placed one last kiss on Dan’s cheek, satisfied with his work. Dan was now a flustered, sleepy mess with red cheeks and heavy eyes.

“How about we go back to our hotel room and sleep there? I think you’ll find it much comfier,” Phil offered.

Dan pouted. “But it’s so far away.”However, he knew that they did need to return, and he really didn’t want to spend the night sleeping at an unknown club. “Fine, but if I fall asleep on the ride back, you’re carrying me in.”

He did fall asleep on the ride, not that Phil was surprised. He merely smiled and tried to ignore the feeling of dread as he realized he would have to carry Dan to their hotel room.

But he’d do it for Dan, because he loved him.

+1.

This hotel had a balcony, one that overlooked the city.

They were Mumbai, one of their last tour places. It was well past midnight yet the buzzing of the city had yet to die down. It reminded Phil faintly of home, of his own city that even at night was alive.

Phil was tired, his muscles aching from their performance (along with other activities) and eyes burning with a plea for sleep. His mind, however, was far too awake for sleep.

How long had it been since he had seen home, slept in his own bed? A home that pretty soon, they’d be moving out of anyways.

His brain was plagued with thoughts of the future and past, but mostly of Dan. Dan who was fast asleep in their hotel bed, hair still damp from the shower they had shared. Phil smiled longingly, remembering Dan’s skin against his own and the way he had looked after Phil had his way with him.

He was flawed, yet somehow perfect in every sense. Phil’s mind always went to him; he was Phil’s base and Phil’s home, the one thing he could count on.

Nine years together and Phil was almost desperate to marry him.

Phil sighed at that thought, his chest aching with desire. There had always been too much going on, too much doubt, too much attention. Phil always wanted it to be perfect, yet he could never tell when that moment would be.

He closed his eyes, letting them rest. His head pounded and he knew that realistically he needed to go to sleep.

Warm arms found their way around his waist and suddenly Dan was there, resting his chin on Phil’s shoulder.

“Can’t sleep?”

Phil shook his head. “Can’t stop thinking.”

Dan hummed. He didn’t ask what it was about, knowing that Phil preferred to talk about it on his own terms. Instead he stood there, smelling of hotel soap and sweat from the heat, holding Phil in his arms.

Phil couldn’t bear it any longer, the tightness in his chest physically painful and the voices in his mind screaming at him to speak. He felt his nerves jump as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Marry me.”

Dan squeezed Phil’s waist and let out a shaky breath. “Really?”

Phil laid his hand over Dan’s and suddenly all nervousness he had, left. This was Dan, the same man who had grown with him from a clash of emo and awkwardness to an adult with a job and a house in the future.

“Dan,” he turned to face him, staring into Dan’s eyes. They reflected the moon as they stared at Phil with wonder and surprise. “There’s nothing more I want in my life than to grow old with you. To own a house and maybe even raise some kids of our own.”

Phil heard Dan’s voice hitch. He had always wanted to be a father; Phil remembered from a distinct conversation they had one night when Dan was drunk off his ass.

“I want to call you my husband and do all the things a cheesy gay married couple would do. You’re everything I want and have wanted for years now.”

Phil could see Dan smile, his eyes watering as sobs slowly built up in his throat. When one escaped, he ducked to hide his head in Phil’s chest.

“Phil, oh Phil I,” Dan stumbled over his words, too overwhelmed to even know where to begin, “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you, you stupid fucking dork. Fuck.”

Phil felt his own eyes water and he buried his nose in Dan’s hair, letting the few tears he had slip out. They were like rain on a wildfire, soothing the storm in him.

“Shit, I was going to ask once the tour was over, but fucking hell-” Dan laughed, looking up at Phil. “You’re bloody amazing and I can’t believe I’m going to marry you.”

Phil laughed softly, a bit too emotional and trying to keep himself from sobbing from relief and pure love for Dan. He hurriedly kissed Dan, overwhelmed in the best way possible. He had to pull back, however, as he let out a sob. One lead to another and pretty soon he was grossly crying.

Dan cooed, hugging him close and letting Phil cry on his shoulder. He could feel Phil trembling and his sobs coming out in uneven breathes.

“I-I love you so much,” Phil managed, clinging onto Dan for dear life.

Dan closed his eyes as his heart soared to new, dangerous heights. “I love you too. You’re my everything.”

They went to bed much later when they were both much more composed, hearts singing and permanent smiles on their faces.

It was the best night of sleep that Phil had ever had.

#my fics #my cat is on top of me help hes so fluffy #phanfic #phanfiction #phan proposal #dan and phil #phandom #dnp #phan fluff

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boo-cool-robot · 6 years

Text

Lesbian X-Men Slice of Life AU

hello I finally typed out all my character notes for the AU that lives in my head where everyone is a lesbian :

Maxine “Max” “Magneto” Lehnsherr, age 27, probably

Looks: Powerclashing stud with big douchey mirrored sunglasses, hair in a dumb pompadour thing, lots of freckles, very tall

Dumbass/incompetent lesbian, world’s stupidest butch

Part time freelance repairwoman, part time mutant vigilante. Not very good at either. If you want something unstuck from your metal appliance, she’s on it, but if anything complicated needs fixing, the insides will fall apart a day after she has it back to you. Looks great in the tool belt tho

Hasn’t been to the doctor in like 15 years. Has several broken bones that healed crooked. Orders hormones off the dark web (not the real dark web, she can’t work that)

Absolutely in love with Charlotte Xavier and very annoyed about it

In bitter enemies with Logan for some unspecified reason. (Logan doesn’t remember why so this is entirely one-sided)

Charlotte Xavier, age 25

Looks: White as hell, stocky, hair in wavy bob, frumpy sweaters, a million bags hanging off her chair at all times (there’s a flask in at least one of them)

World’s stupidest femme

Working on her third degree because she’s rich and a genius and depressed

Is reading your mind and thinks you’re boring

Only hasn’t gotten punched because people are hesitant to hit a girl wheelchair user (more fools them)

Semi-benevolent dictator of all the local lesbians

Constantly starts hobbies and then drops them after a week

Keeps trying to get Raven to move back in with her, has yet to succeed

Extremely in love with Max Lehnsherr after she saw her do massive property damage

Raven, Logan, Emma, Darwin, Alex, Angel, Hana, Jean, Ororo, Scout, Kitty, Jubilee, and Laura under the cut because this is crazy long

Raven Darkholme Xavier, age 20

Looks: Blue because fuck you, trying out some different clothing styles through shapeshifting though

Aura of anger

Ran away from home

Is really good at sabotage, really Max Lehnsherr could take some tips

Showy but actually a very private person

Genderqueer and refusing to tell Charlotte about it

Has very cool clairvoyant girlfriend, also refuses to tell Charlotte about that

Jamie “Logan” Howlett, age ???

Looks: BIG MUSCLES, BIG HAIR, very short. Either has lots of plaid or wears the same flannel all the time, it’s hard to tell.

Adopted a daughter about a year ago, probably? In any case a tiny girl showed up and follows her around everywhere

Constantly has cigar in her mouth, but doesn’t light it since she got Laura

Freelance handywoman, but actually competent

Reluctant friends with Charlotte Xavier, calls her Chuck all the time

Is learning Spanish through a course at the library

Remembers almost nothing from before 3 years ago

Emma Frost, age 26

Looks: Tall as hell, hair that she dyes blond, constantly psychically projecting the image of her wearing a white corset at everyone but in reality she’s wearing much cooler suits

The alpha femme

Is running a pyramid scheme for fun

Used to date Charlotte Xavier. It was a terrifying time for everybody.

Almudena “Darwin” Munoz, age 23

Looks: Cool and neat, short natural hair, occasionally A Rock

Works part-time at the coffee shop while she’s in grad school, is basically the manager

Over the nonsense of all the people she insistently refers to as Alex’s Friends

Occasionally teleported away by her mutation

Dating Alex Summers, is probably going to marry her eventually and she’s okay with that

Alexandra “Alex” Summers, age 22

Looks: Messy blond hair, straddles the butch-twink ambiguity line, looks like a juvenile delinquent but from the 50s

Everything dropout

Bike messenger who works insane hours bc she needs to take care of her kid sister who has a TBI!

Honestly kind of a jerk

Angel Salvadore, age 22

Looks: Dark hair she chopped short a couple months ago, 1 million backless shirts (obviously)

Slam poet and camgirl, total night owl

The only one with good social media

Has done radical actions with Raven Darkholme

Semi-ironically trying to seduce Emma Frost

Hana McCoy, age 21

Looks: Plaid but the nerdy kind, recently got buff but doesn’t know what to do about it

Extremely anxious, technically a genius

Completely devastated about being recently dumped by Raven Darkholme

Will probably never figure out that her friendship with Charlotte Xavier is bad for her

Jean Grey, age 17

Looks: Tall and freckly, big windbreakers and short shorts, just got her first Gay Haircut

An Angsty Teen, but she’s transitioning AND developing her telepathy/telekinesis/pyrokinesis at the same time, she thinks she’s allowed to be angsty

Actually very athletic but it’s a secret

Best friends with Ororo Munroe

Wishes Charlotte Xavier would stop giving her advice

Ororo Munroe, age 17

Looks: Floppy lil quiff of silver hair, extremely cute homemade punk outfits

Burned through her angsty phase quick, is very well-adjusted

Class president at school. Keeps plants in her locker that she waters with her powers

Has cool punk girlfriend, Yukio

Keeps trying to convince Jean to start a band (none of them play any instruments)

Sophie “Scout” Summers, age 16

Looks: Polo shirts, dorky red visor

Not only allows but encourages people to call her Scout, and that’s everything you need to know about her

Class treasurer

Was blind trained when she was younger and didn’t have her visor, still retains some habits

Has big obvious crush on Jean Grey, dropped all her books the first time she saw Jean after her Gay Haircut

Thinks Charlotte Xavier is mentoring her, BIG MISTAKE

Katherine “Kitty” Pryde, age 13

Looks: Big curly hair, dorky cat sweaters, glasses she refuses to wear because she already has braces, c’mon

Captain of the middle school math team, making her the only gay around who can do math

Has written fanfiction, but will only let Logan read it (Logan absolutely does not understand any of this)

Went to the school dance with her best friend Illyana

Thinks Charlotte Xavier is a jerk

Jubilation Lee, age 12

Pixie cut, bubblegum, constantly wearing shorts

Chirpy sk8r boi

Making a lot of money selling slime to other kids in her grade

Laura Kinney, age 6?

Looks: Small for her age, sunglasses

Constantly climbing on chairs and counters to spring up onto Logan’s shoulders for rides

Doesn’t talk

Does stab

#sounding writes fic #temporary x men tag #god I need a real x-men tag #professor xavier is a jerk!!!!!!#magneto was right #lesbian x men au #xmen.txt #to the x men then! who do not die the old fashioned way

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abunchofsemicoherentwords · 7 years

Text

What are roommates for?

Summary: She has an Anatomy exam tomorrow that is really important. Tom and Haz, being the wonderful roommates they are, take good care of her.

Pairings: Reader (?) x Tom Holland x Haz Osterfield

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: None?

A/n: I could have used roomies like this (Tom and Haz specifically, is what i mean) when I was dying over exams two weeks ago tbh. Man I hope you guys enjoy this, its been like a month and a half in the making. It’s basically a fluffy domestic piece and I really pray to god its not boring af :/ This part of @spxderman-s and I’s Roommates Collection. We’d love to hear what you guys think of that, our collection. Any requests or ideas maybe? Anyways, hope y’all like this and I’m so sorry it took me so long to get something posted, I appreciate your patience x

Masterlist

She came out of her room, messy bun drooping to one side, feet dragging with each step. It was late. She rubbed her temples with one hand, her empty mug loosely grasped in the other. She was drained. She had one final exam tomorrow – Anatomy, her worst subject. Despite managing to ace all her assignments throughout the semester, this exam would determine whether she passed or failed.

Stupid exams worth 70%. Ugh.

She heard the television playing quietly in the living room and found herself wandering in, drawn to the emanating light like a moth. She needed a break anyway. Harrison was on the couch, a Friends rerun playing in the background as he scrolled through his phone. She flopped down beside him with a heavy sigh.

“How’s the study going?” he asked, locking his phone and turning to her.

“I just can’t wait for this thing to be over,” she groaned.

“You’ve been studying your ass off for the past fortnight. If anyone is going to ace it, it’s you,” he encouraged, patting her leg.

“Thanks, Haz,” she smiled half-heartedly.

“You look really tired though, shouldn’t you sleep?” he questioned, voice full of concern.

“I should. I feel a headache coming on, but I feel like there’s mo–,” he cut her off.

“Nu-uh, no more; you’ve studied as much as you possibly can. You literally can’t cram any more information into that brain,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You know everything. You’re going to nail it tomorrow, ok? I believe in you. And so does Tom.”

“Now, I’m going to make you some tea, and then you gotta go to bed, alright?” he finished, standing up and taking her mug.

She nodded helplessly, accepting his truth. As he left, she pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She settled in, watching Chandler and his own roommate, Joey, up to their usual antics.

Not too long after, Haz returned with a steaming cup of tea. He lowered it into her outstretched hands and sat back down beside her, careful not to spill the hot liquid.

“I added some honey and lemon, I know that’s how you like it.”

“Thanks,” she smiled gratefully, taking a sip.

“No problem.”

When her cup was empty, she placed it on the stool and snuggled into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

“How’s your head?”

“Better.”

“Good,” he leaned his own head atop hers.

As she watched the television absentmindedly, her eyelids began to feel heavy. She strained to keep them open, before she finally gave in, closing them and stilling her mind. She fell asleep, snoring softly.

As the credits started rolling, Tom walked in. He noticed that she was asleep and gestured at Harrison.

“Is she okay?”

“She’s really tired,” he responded in a whisper. “Can you put her to bed? I don’t want to wake her.”

Tom walked up to them and slowly slipped his arms beneath her knees and around her shoulders. He gently picked her up, so as not to interrupt her sleep. As he cradled her against his chest, she nuzzled her face into his neck, seeking warmth. She seemed so small, curled up in his arms. He carried her to her bedroom where Harrison pulled back the covers of the bed. Tom lay her down and she turned onto her side into a more comfortable position. He tucked the covers around her and stroked the loose strands of hair out of her face.

“Goodnight, love.”

The boys tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“Poor thing, she’s exhausted. I’ll be glad when she’s done tomorrow,” Harrison said sympathetically.

“We should do something tomorrow night.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, a movie night or something? Just buy all her favourite stuff and watch whatever she wants,” Tom suggested.

“She’d love that,” Haz agreed.

“Sweet, it’s sorted then.”

The blaring alarm woke her with a start. She poked the screen blindly until it shut off. Snoozed for nine minutes. Warm and cosy under the covers, she sunk a little further and drifted off again.

The second alarm made her sit up straight, disoriented. She checked the time as she turned it off. She had four hours before her exam, plenty of time to get a little extra revision in. Clambering out of bed, she headed straight for the kitchen to make herself some coffee. She wasn’t normally a coffee drinker, but exam season was brutal and she needed all the help she could get.

Wafting down the hallway was not only the smell of freshly brewed coffee, but bacon as well.

“Mmmm,” she swept in through the doorway, mouth watering at the delicious smells.

“Hey, you’re up. How did you sleep?”

Harrison was at the stove, stirring eggs in a pan.

“Great, but I need coffee. And some eggs. And some bacon too, please,” she beamed.

He poured her a mug of coffee and handed it to her.

“Waffles, too?” he asked.

“Mmm yes, please. You’re too good to me, Harrison Osterfield.”

“Well, we need you at your best today. Don’t get used to this though, alright? It’s only because you have a super important exam.”

She poked her tongue out at him as she took the heaped plate. She was pouring maple syrup when Tom walked in. He yawned, rubbing his eyes and pushing his unruly curls to the side.

“Morning,” she said to him cheerfully.

“Morning, love. You seem to be in a good mood… which is a little strange considering what today is.”

“I’m just excited to nearly be free, I guess.”

Tom took a mug from the cabinet and poured himself a coffee.

“What are your plans? Anything special?”

“Mm, not really, I might just sleep,” she shrugged, scooping a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“Fair enough,” Tom nodded, taking a sip from his steaming mug.

“What time do you finish?” Haz asked, sitting next to her at the counter.

“4:30.”

“I’ll pick you up after your exam,” Tom said.

“What, no, you don’t have to do that.”

She stood and picked up her plate.

“I’ll just catch the train home.”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. “You’ll be burnt out after your exam; I’ll pick you up. We can grab dinner on the way home, it’s no biggie.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to go out of your way,” she was still unconvinced.

“Yes, I promise, it’s totally fine. I’m happy to do it. What are roommates for?”

“Okay, fine,” she laughed, rinsing her plate and mug at the sink.

“Thanks for breakfast, Haz.”

As she moved past him to the door, she gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Anytime.”

“Where’s my kiss?”

She turned to a pouting Tom.

“Oh, sorry, kisses are reserved for those who actually do things for me.”

“What? I just offered to pick you up.”

“Ah, but you haven’t picked me up yet,” she pointed out.

Haz sneered as she spun on her heel and left.

“I see how it is,” Tom grumbled, finishing his coffee.

“Smooth, mate.”

“Shut up, Harrison.”

“Students, you have five minutes remaining,” a monotonous female voice rang over the speaker system.

Crap.

She reread the last couple of lines she had written before hurriedly adding a concluding statement to her answer. Her hand cramped and she shook it vigorously. Oh come on, not now. She had one question left. Almost done.

Three marks, three key points. She knew the answer to this one. She scribbled out a short paragraph. God, please let them be able to read my handwriting. The muscles in her hand were tight as she released the pen from her grip, having stabbed a full stop onto the page. She flicked through her exam in the last two minutes, making sure she hadn’t missed anything.

“Pens down, students. Your time is up. Anyone caught writing after this time will immediately be given a fail.”

She fell back in her chair with a sigh of relief. Done.

Ten minutes later she was outside, allowing the filtered sun to shine down on her. She faced the great hall in which she had sat so many exams. Ugh.

Turning away, she walked down to the street, checking her phone. There was a message from Tom. He was parked near the fountain. She made her way there, spotting his car immediately. She strode over and swung open the door, getting in.

“Hey, how was it?”

She pulled the door shut and looked down at her lap.

“Not great,” she said forlornly.

“Aw no, what happened, love?”

He waited for her to answer, ready to offer comforting words.

A grin spread across her face and she looked at him, eyes twinkling.

“Pretty sure I totally nailed it.”

Her contagious joy spread and he grinned too.

“Yeah! See? I knew you could do it,” he raised his hand for a hi-five. She slapped her palm against his.

“Couldn’t have done it without the support of my loving roommates,” she nudged him.

“Yeah, yeah,” he started the car.

“Seatbelt,” he reminded as he checked for traffic. She pulled the strap over her body and clicked it into place.

“What’s for dinner?” she asked. “I’m starving.”

“Up to you. What do you feel like?”

“Pizza, duh.”

“Of course, how stupid of me.”

“Tom, if there is ever a day where you ask me what I want and I don’t say pizza, please know something is very wrong.”

“Yes, princess,” he teased, rolling his eyes at her dramatic words.

Soon after, they were walking through their front door.

“We’re home,” she sing-songed.

“Haz! Guess what?” Tom called out.

“I’m in here,” came a shout from the living room.

She and Tom took off their coats and went in. They found him with a stack of blankets and pillows so high, only the top of his blond quiff was visible. He dropped the pile onto the sofa with a huff and put his hands on his hips.

“So?” he asked, looking between the pair.

“Our girl totally nailed the exam, Anatomy has got nothing on her,” Tom answered proudly.

“Well done, babe! I knew you could do it.”

He stepped over to her and gave her a hug.

“Thanks, Haz.”

“But, is, uh, someone sleeping on the couch tonight?” Her face expressed confusion at the heap of blankets.

“Actually, this is for you.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch?”

“No,” Haz shook his head.

“We’re celebrating,” Tom clarified. “We’re celebrating you finishing all your exams. We thought you’d like a night in, just the three of us.”

“It was Tom’s idea. We bought those sour strips you like, mini m&m’s-”

“Because they taste better,” Tom added excitedly.

“And ice cream. Plus you pick the movies.”

“Triple chocolate ice cream?”

“Definitely.”

She squealed. She threw her arms around their necks and pulled them into her.

“I love you guys!”

Upon release, she smiled broadly.

“You guys are actually the best. Thank you!”

“We know,” Tom said with mock arrogance.

“Get comfortable and choose something good. We’ll get the snacks.”

“Pizza should be here soon too.”

The boys left. When they returned, they were confronted with the sight of their roommate cocooned, head to toe, in fabric. She was scrolling through Netflix’s rom-com selection.

“What do you think of 27 Dresses?” she asked, eyes not leaving the screen.

“If that’s what you want,” Harrison replied, sitting on her left and opening the tub of cold dairy. He handed her a spoon and dug his own into it.

“It is. James Marsden is gorgeous,” she swooned.

“He is.”

She clicked play and spread the blankets over herself and Harrison’s laps. She held up one end of the covers.

“Hurry up, Tommy.”

He jumped in next to her and the three of them wiggled closer together. He held a piece of candy out to her whilst popping a piece in his own mouth.

Shortly into the beginning of the film, the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Harrison handed her the ice cream and stood up.

She paused the movie as he left and looked at Tom.

“Thank you for this, and for picking me up today. It’s really sweet of you.”

“Anytime, darling.”

She leaned over and lightly kissed his cheek.

“I owed you.”

Harrison entered with the pizza, managing to catch the tail end of his roommates gazing at each other. He subtly smiled to himself.

Full stomachs, multiple bathroom breaks and a rom-com and 80’s adventure movie later, they were struggling to decide on a third film.

“Maybe we should just go to bed,” said one.

“It’s only nine o’clock. I’m not tired.”

“Me neither.”

“Nor me, to be honest.”

“Then what should we watch?”

“How about something Disney?”

“Yeah, I love Tangled!”

Two heads turned to look at Harrison in surprise.

“What? It’s a great movie about finding yourself and being your own person.”

“Right,” Tom said skeptically.

“I love it, too,” she declared. “Actually Haz, Mother Gothel kind of reminds me of you.”

“It’s the eyes, right? Same blue,” Tom teased.

“Absolutely,” they cracked up.

Muttering curses at them, Harrison reached over and picked up the ice cream. He shoved a spoonful into his mouth, brow knitted in annoyance.

“We’re just kidding, Haz,” she soothed. “I happen to think you have very pretty eyes.”

Having been appeased, he put the ice cream on the stool and shoved her into Tom.

“Move over.”

“Why?”

“I wanna lie down.”

“Fine.”

She and Tom scooted over, Tom into the corner with his body angled towards her. She pressed her back against his side, resting her head on his chest. He let his arm fall around her waist loosely, content to have her in such close proximity. Harrison shifted his body to lay down on what was left of the space. He rested his head on her knees. She grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head, stroking his hair.

“Everyone comfy?” he asked.

“Yep.”

“Uh-huh.”

He found Tangled and put it on.

By the time Rapunzel had discovered she was the lost princess, the three roommates, cuddled together, were fast asleep.

Tagging: @tommysdarlin @nadiacth @everythinguncharted @lionfart @settlebackeasy @johnmurphys-sass @bisexualmomfriend @tomrannosaurusholland @girlwith100names @jjgirl4797 @spideytomsbutt @spideyontherun @unfoxs @fandomscombine @oswald-1998 @spxderman-s @timemngmtoptimisationproblems

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #haz osterfield #haz osterfield fic #harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield fic #haz osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield imagine #peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagines #peter parker fics #what are roommates for?#roommates collection

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loveinthebones · 6 years

Text

Not On My Watch

Alrighty! It’s a little late but Merry Christmas, @kthnwss. Christmas is the time for fluff before we jump back in with our project. XD I was originally going to write some more Florist! Phil but decided to change it up once I stumbled across this post and well..

I hope you like it. <3

Title: Not On My Watch

Rating: T

Tags: Alternative Universe- Video Game Shop and Suit Shop, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Jealous! Dan {I am weak. Sue me.}

-Not On My Watch-

If you would have asked Philip Lester a couple of months ago about the shop across the way, he would have hummed a noncommittal response before adding, “They seem like nice lads.” with a courteous tooth-bearing smile.

If you would have suggested that he’d be staring out the window of Lion’s Games, chin propped in hand, to wait for the boy with the three-buttoned, fitted silhouette jacket… he probably would have giggled with pink cheeks and a quiet, “Yeah.” However, if you continued on to insist he would see him every day, well… he would have denied it with a hearty laugh and disbelieving, “No way!”

He would have been wrong, of course. (But that’s not a bad thing. Not at all.)

He doesn’t know when it became a thing but Phil was glad that it did, indeed, become routine.

It had started with the determined click-click-click of dress shoes clacking against the bright linoleum of the hallway that hadn’t been crossed until that day and really, why would it have been?

Phil wasn’t a suit guy. He preferred his soft, loose well-loved but zany t-shirts and his faded dark jeans. Somedays, there would be a hint of skin peeking through a hole he had been too unmotivated to fix and on the day, Daniel waltzed into the store…he had been in one of his oldest, hole-ridden pair as he shelved the games a few little ones had scattered about, singing quietly to himself.

“Hello.”

Phil sprang a full foot into the air, slippery cases running through his fingers as if they were water instead of plastic. He groaned lowly but smiled as he turned to face the man with the carefully gelled quiff and tired eyes, putting on his customer service persona with ease. “How may I help you?”

“Uh-well-“ The man stared at his polished shoes, flicking the last button of his jacket nervously. “My boss was wondering if we could use your microwave until ours comes in? It might be a while though…” He reached up before stilling his hand from touching his styled hair, clearing his throat. “And I would like to not starve. That’d be great.”

Phil chuckled at the dry, level delivery of that last sentence and bent to pick up the fallen games when Chris rushed out of their backroom, arm still littered with cellophane and colored stickers with a: “I’ll be back as soon as possible! Pray for safe travels!”

“Safe travels,” Phil replied absently, waving a hand at Chris. “Bring me back some popcorn if you’re going to flirt with that caricature artist again.”

“It’s not my fault the bathroom is on the other side of the world!” Chris hollered, trainers squeaking on the floor outside the shop already. “Sorry, Phil!”

Phil only rolled his eyes with a huff that lacked any true irritation in response, standing with the games shoved into the crook of one elbow. He extended his free hand to the man from the suit shop. “I’m sorry about not introducing myself properly. I’m Phil.”

“Daniel.” Daniel shook his hand briefly and Phil caught the flash of a dimple carved into the apple of his left cheek as he straightened the lapel of his suit exaggeratedly. “Charmed.”

Phil laughed, tongue slipping between his teeth. “Likewise and yes,” Phil spun on his heel, motioning for Daniel to follow him to the back room. “You guys can use our microwave.” A soft whoosh of air left his lungs as a couple wandered into his shop, holding hands. “Too bad you guys don’t have a bathroom. Chris is going to take forever and I can’t man the floor and do inventory.”

“Actually…” Daniel blurted out, eyes sparkling. “We do. Let me talk to Harry. Maybe we can strike up an agreement?”

“Symbiosis,” Phil commented distractedly, hand curving over Daniel’s side as he gently guided him around the boxes strewn across the floor. “Sounds good to me.”

“Y-Yeah,” Dan replied and if Phil didn’t move his hand until they reached the red microwave, well… Phil would neither confirm nor deny anything.

“Hey, man,” Harry called out to Phil as soon as he crossed the threshold, glancing up quickly, before gently scolding the small boy with fair hair when he dropped his arms. “No, no. We’re almost done, buddy. Just a few more things, okay?”

“My arms are tired,” The little one whined, sticking out his full lower lip and Phil giggled. The boy narrowed his eyes as did the mum sitting cross-legged in the corner with a jiggling foot but his eyes widened. “Your shirt is so cool! Gengar is my favourite!”

Phil grabbed the hem of his purple shirt to stretch it out, nodding. “Gengar is pretty great. Very troublesome.”

“I know!” The boy squealed, letting Harry raise his arms without a fuss, completely focused on chattering to Phil. “I’ve been working on training my Ghastly but you have to trade to get a Gengar and I don’t have anyone to swap with…”

Phil fought the urge to fidget and ease his full bladder, lamenting sympathetically with the obviously disappointed child. “That’s no good.”

“No, it isn’t!” The boy agreed instantly, squeaking in surprise when he wobbled unsteadily. “Ah-“

“It’s alright, buddy,” Harry reassured as he steadied the boy. “I got you.” He peeked at Phil from his peripherals with a small nod and Phil dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“It was nice talking to you.”

“You too, mister!” The boy beamed at him, showing the gap where a tooth was missing.

Phil weaved through the racks of carefully positioned jackets and pressed pants rapidly, feeling that uncomfortable pressure in his mid-section that told him he had waited a tad too long.

“Never seen you run so fast,” Dan’s sardonic and amused observation dampened as he sped past him and without a second thought, Phil raised a hand to wiggle his fingers…taking care to draw attention to the middle one.

Dan’s laugh echoed behind him, obnoxious and riddled with snorts, and Phil couldn’t help but think to himself that he wouldn’t mind hearing it more often.

“Philly!” Dan slanted into the corner of the bright purple couch, laying the galaxy pillow across his lap. He held the instant cup of ramen between both palms and inhaled deeply, eyelashes brushing his skin as his eyes closed. His pushed back hair had fallen into a slightly curled fringe and Phil’s fingers twitched with the desire to stroke it. “Steaming silk is just- put me out of my misery.”

Phil watched as Dan stabbed at his noodles with his fork, letting the pasta slip from the tines. He waited for Dan to take a bite but he didn’t, stirring the juice as he complained: “It’s just…there’s so much you have to do to make sure the material doesn’t have even the faintest crease. I swear, there’s always a fucking crease.” Phil watched as the noodles splattered into the broth again. “Nothing can be touching it on either side and-“

“Dan,” Phil interrupted, warmth curling in his chest like a sleepy cat soaking contentedly in a ray of sun at the exasperated venting of the tired brunette. “Are you alright?”

“Yes?” Dan answered, raising an eyebrow at Phil’s unexpected question. “I’m just having an off day.”

“I have those, too,” Phil nodded compassionately before scooting to the edge of the stool he was perched on, ghosting the very tip of his index finger under the slight purple tint under Dan’s eyes. “Are you not feeling well?” He laid the back of his hand against Dan’s forehead.

“Phi-“ Dan tried, cheeks darkening to resemble a freshly bloomed rose. “Y-you spork. I’m fine- I just haven’t been sleeping well. I’ll be fine once I get over it.” The last part was garbled with the slight slurring of words that Dan was doing.

He must really be tired.

“Get over what?” Phil wondered out loud, hand still resting against Dan’s skin. Dan reached up with a puff, wrapping his fingers around Phil’s wrist to pull it away before playfully swatting at him.

“Nothing,” Dan dismissed before disarming Phil with a small but genuine smile, “What is one of your favourite games?”

Phil’s eyes instantly lit up and he jumped to his feet excitedly, “What consoles do you have?”

Spending snippets of time every day with Dan and Harry must have rubbed off on him because when the man with steely grey eyes sauntered into his shop, Phil’s eyes catalouged the nearly unnoticeable but off-putting fit of the man’s navy suit- the way it sagged sloppily off his shoulder line and the fact that the lower of his two buttons was fastened.

“Oh my god,” Dan gasped and Phil could practically hear his teeth protesting from the subtle grinding he was surely doing. “He can’t be serious.”

“Bear,” Phil said pointedly, utilizing the nickname like a weapon, and Dan’s pupils flicked to him immediately. “Be nice.”

Dan stared at him with a jutted jaw and wide incredulous eyes for a second before he composed himself- the strained, gentlemanly show of teeth reserved for customers coming into play as the man drifted closer.

“Hello. I’m the manager for the jewelry shop that just opened up,” The man dipped his head at them before raking his eyes slowly down Phil’s form and back up to his face again. “I was wondering if the manager was in? I would like to meet him.”

Phil forced his shoulders to stay loose, widening his stance behind the counter unconsciously, while he struggled to mirror the man’s polite tone sincerely. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Phil,” He reached for the man’s hand, relishing in the flash of surprise that crossed his face. “Looks like we’re neighbors.”

Dan squirmed restlessly on the solitary black stool Phil had in the store (that Dan had drug behind the register so he could sit beside him while they talked) and Phil adjusted his weight to his left leg so he bumped Dan with his thigh, warningly.

Dan kept quiet (if only just barely by the shifting of his lower jaw) and if his knee bumped Phil’s hip from his perch, he didn’t react to the touch.

“I’m Richard,” The guy introduced as he accepted Phil’s handshake then continued: “I’m sorry.” His scrutinized Phil’s outfit. Phil tugged on the pocket on the front of his bright yellow Jake hoodie to pull the hem a bit lower over his tight skinny jeans, an unpleasant writhing feeling creeping up the notches of his spine. “You look quite young to be a manager.”

Phil managed to fake a laugh as Dan cut in smoothly, “Phil is young. He’s only twenty-four but he has some of the best sales in the shopping center.”

Phil gaped at Dan, taken aback by his adamant words. He had no clue if the information was accurate but he wasn’t about to correct him while Richard attempted to pin Dan under his stern stare.

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” Dan drug out the ‘s’ for a second too long and his knee jammed itself even more into the flesh covering Phil’s hipbone. “The casual atmosphere of his shop and his friendly, approachable presentation draws people in. He should really get some more help and he’s a bit stubborn but,” That last line was fired at Phil, dripping with fond annoyance but still saturated with respect for his business choices, and Phil scoffed habitually. “He has a knack for business.”

“I see,” Richard’s eyes darted between them. “Are you his partner then?”

“Oh, no.” Dan clicked his tongue as he swiveled his head. “I’m Harry’s problem, fortunately for him.” Dan lowered his legs to the floor and stood. “I should get back actually.”

He clapped a palm on Phil’s shoulder, pausing briefly, then retrieved his jacket from where it was hanging from the only wired shelving unit neatly.

“Tell Harry to let you measure this time!” Phil teased as Dan made his way out, ignoring the pang in his chest. Dan froze in his tracks, swaying from foot to foot uncertainly, before making a purposeful beeline for Phil.

Phil’s breath stuttered as Dan cupped his cheeks, thumbs caressing the sharp arc of his cheekbones. His tongue darted out to lick his lips as his eyes drifted to Dan’s own, heart drumming a staccato rhythm against his ribs painfully.

“Teal is a horrible color,” Dan whispered as he gently turned Phil’s face to kiss him feather-light on his cheek. “If he’s going to be condescending, he needs to learn how to be in season.”

Phil could only grin, love drunk and dopey, as Dan patted his cheek with an audible, “I’ll see you later, dear. Let me know about dinner tonight, yeah?”

Later (when they have shoved their too tall legs underneath the cramped space of a table in the mall’s food court), Phil stroked Dan’s cheek softly with a low, “What was that?”

“He was a prick with a bad suit,” Dan grumbled, leaning into Phil’s chilly palm. “I couldn’t let him try and bring you down. Not on my watch.” A hot gush of breath drifted around Phil’s thumb as Dan nuzzled into his hand, fringe flopping into his face.

He’s trying to hide.

“Never on my watch.” Dan confessed finally when Phil combed the strands back into their usual position.

“Why’s that?” Phil coaxed, skimming his fingers over Dan’s lips.

“I like you, duh.” Dan deadpanned, that rosy glow staining his cheeks like diluted watercolour on a canvas. “I have for a while. I never got over it.”

“That’s what you were trying to get over!” Phil burst out, giggling. “You are an absolute idiot!”

“Hey!” Dan protested half-heartedly and Phil leaned forward, ignoring their second rate but yummy mall Chinese food to press his nose to Dan’s.

“Can I kiss you?”

Dan bit his lip, nodding and Phil connected their lips.

Dan’s lips were rough and the chapped pieces slid against Phil’s own but he didn’t mind. It was a pleasant sensation that had butterflies whirring crazily in his stomach.

His heart fluttered erratically as they kissed unhurriedly and Dan reached out to curl his fingers in the strands of hair at the nape of Phil’s neck.

Phil slowly pulled away to sit in his seat once more, tongue smoothing over his lower lip in a daze. “Want to go on a date?”

Dan snorted, red-faced. “Is that even a question?”

Richard and Dan are civil to one another but there’s always an undercurrent of well-worded snark. It’s just another thing that has become routine and Phil only questions his boyfriend when Dan has decided to lean against his back, heavy and heated. His own personal blanket.

“Why is whatever there is between you and Richard…there?” Phil tilted his head back to rub the back of it against the top of Dan’s. Dan gave a derisive snort as answer, pulling away a centimeter. “Seriously, love. I don’t get it.”

“Besides the fact that he has a high horse so tall that aliens are using it as a landing pad?”

Phil vibrated with the effort it took to reign in mirth he was containing. “Besides that.”

“And the fact that he can’t wear a suit to save his life?”

“You’ve already told me many, many times that he is an uprofessional slob,” Phil jostled Dan as he fought to slice open the box he was trying to unpack. Dan took the bright orange tool from him and with a deft jerk of his wrist, the flaps popped up. “How do you do that?”

“Magic,” Dan joked, laying the cutter carefully on another box. He drummed his fingers on the carboard before tapping a single finger in the center of Phil’s scalp. “He wanted you, you know.”

“What?” Phil exclaimed, jerking his head up.

“Richard. It just…rubbed me the wrong way.” Dan’s gaze darted everywhere but Phil as his thumb traced the curved of his nails. “It still does. The way he looks at you sometimes- it’s just- ugh.” Dan scrunched his nose for emphasis and Phil instinctively tugged lightly on Dan’s shirt so he would hunch down to Phil’s level. “It doesn’t matt-“

Phil silenced him with a messy, heated kiss, yanking Dan’s shirt from his pants, as they crashed to the floor unceremoniously.

(Dan was right. It didn’t matter...Not when Dan was gripping his hair and a high pitched note of need skittered across Phil’s mouth, causing his nerve endings to tingle.

No. It didn’t matter at all.)

#Phan #Phanfiction #First meeting #Strangers to Lovers #Fluff #AU #Kat's writing #Ambrose's writing #I GOT BOTH CHRISTMAS FICS POSTED YAY #ON DEADLINE TOO #*Collapses happily*#I AM SO SLEEPY #I BLAME YURI ON ICE

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itsteaveetime · 7 years

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An AU where the Wonka kids aren't completely messed up from the tour and go on to live decent and somewhat fulfilling lives.

[Prompt meme: drop a prompt in my inbox, get a one-shot/drabble]

((Thanks for this prompt, anon! Sorry it took so long.))

He can feel someone’s eyes on him. The man seated next to him is giving him a very long look. And this isn’t really that kind of bar.

“Didn’t you used to be Mike Teavee?” The man asks, shaking his finger like someone has tried and failed to pull a fast one on him.

It’s going to be one of those conversations.

Mike Teavee turns on his stool and gives the man a close-lipped but not unfriendly smile.

“I like to think I still am,” the twenty-seven year old says.

The man laughs, like they always do, and it only grates a little.

“Man, that Wonka contest,” the man says, shaking his head, and Mike lets him go on, because that’s all people really want, and it’s not like he doesn’t have the time. “I spent an entire month’s allowance on Wonka bars. Can you imagine doing something like that now?”

“Not really,” Mike replies, chuckling politely, even though he never spent a single penny in the first place.

“Still,” the man says, pointing at him again. “You got to see inside. You lived the dream.”

“I definitely lived it,” Mike agrees. “It was a trip.”

“Lucky sonuvagun,” the man says. “Oh, and hey, my little nephew? He loves your games.”

By which, Mike has learned over the years, the man means: he has no nephew and is speaking of himself, but is too embarrassed to admit he still games in his thirties.

“Lemme buy you drink,” the man offers.

Mike waves him off.

“Thanks, I don’t drink,” he says. And then, because he can feel the question of why he is in a bar at all start to form in the man’s mind. “I’m here meeting some friends. But: it’s always great to hear people are enjoying my stuff. I gotta go; nice meeting you though.”

He gives the man a firm but distinctly final handshake, and moves toward a back corner where he has spotted her lurking.

“I think you did not even roll your eyes at this one,” she says, her Russian accent slightly more muted than it was at twelve. “I am impressed.”

“Prozac,” Mike insists.

Veruca laughs, and it doesn’t grate at all. The slender young woman is wrapped in a scarf he thinks might be longer than she is tall, a slouchy sweater, leggings, and well-worn over-sized boots. This seems to be one of the default uniforms of all off-duty ballerinas (and some models). Her blond hair is pulled up into a tidy bun. His own hair, by comparison, is a spiked quiff that is a mess by design.

“It’s good to see you,” he tells her.

“Hug me, you idiot,” she demands flatly.

He does. When he pulls back, a meaty hand lands on his shoulder. He turns to face its owner.

Augustus Gloop looms over him. Augustus Gloop looms over almost everyone. A growth spurt at fifteen that Mike cannot help but envy eventually left the German six feet and six inches tall. It thinned him out somewhat as well, and although he will never not be big-boned, Gloop is no longer as wide as he is high. He retains soft edges, a rounded stomach, a slightly ruddy complexion, and a warm friendly face.

“Hallo Michael.”

Like Mike, Augustus has long since lost his high pitched prepubescent voice, but he has retained more of his German accent than Veruca has. He has also retained his blond hair, but it no longer looks like it was placed under a bowl to be cut. In a flannel shirt and hoodie that his mother did not knit for once, Gloop looks pretty cool.

Mike lets the German envelop him in a nearly rib crushing bear hug that momentarily lifts him off his feet. Once released, he goes immediately for Gus’ messenger bag, crouching down, because Gus wears the bag low on his hip, and running a hand over the soft leather.

“This is one of yours, right?” Mike asks.

The German nods.

“Goat leather. Mother had gotten more orders for them, so she had sent me more hides.”

Sewing, apparently, runs in Gloops’ blood as much as sausages do.

“I have made a batch,” Augustus continues, “and that same shop downtown will take them. But also there is a crafting fair that maybe I will go to if I have the days off at the restaurant to-…”

“Shut up and take my money,” Mike says.

Augustus laughs.

“Michael, you know I never charge you. In black, you will want it?” Gus guesses correctly, because Mike remains somewhat predictable about certain things, and Mike is already imagining studding the strap of such a glorious beast as Gloop embraces Veruca somewhat more gently.

“Do we wait for her?” the blond woman asks, more or less rhetorically.

Mike shakes his head.

“We all know she’s gonna be late,” he says.

They head through a door and down a flight of stairs few people know about. A girl at the bottom recognizes Gus from restaurant circles and ushers them into an intimate space where they take a seat in a comfortable booth with privacy curtains. Gus is only still a rising star on the chef’s circuit, but it’s funny how small New York actually is.

It’s funny, how they all ended up in New York, at least, for the time being.

(It’s funny that they are here at all.)

Well. Not that funny. Each of them walked out of Wonka’s factory exactly as they walked in. It was their parents who were altered (although also: not physically).

No magic spells, no potions: just as the Candy Man promised, but one thing Wonka certainly was, was an illusionist. And he had seen immediately who needed to be shown the error of their ways, and few things are as motivating to a parent as the idea of their child in peril.

“I was barely in the chocolate,” Augustus had been the first to explain, the first time they all reunited. “I fell through a bottom. I was not in a pipe at all. It was, I think, a doll to look like me. The falling in was still startling.”

“Yeah, the bloating was not fun,” Violet had said. “But those Oompa guys gave me some antacid and it went away. I got no idea what my dad thought was me that exploded, or what he medically thinks is inside of people, but, uh, thanks for groovin’ on a bop while y’all thought I was dying.”

“Also doll,” Veruca had told them. “How could I call for my pappa with my head removed?“

“…V.R.,” Mike had reluctantly admitted. “I thought I seriously got shrunk and teleported inside the internet, but then it went black and I was just down a trap door with a V.R. headset on. I was kinda bummed, honestly. But on the plus side: I did get a eight inch remote control replica of myself. That was pretty awesome.”

And they had all watched as their parents had reacted to their apparent untimely demises. Had realized the peril their parenting (or lack their of) had placed their children in.

(It had taken Mike slightly longer to realize that his mother had not really been happy about the idea of him being shrunk; that the idea of seeing something like that done to her son and not being able to do anything about it had actually driven his mother temporarily insane, which is probably the strongest and most negative reaction it is possible to have. But he had gotten there.)

After the factory, things had been…different.

None of them had been punished (because none of them had been truly to blame), but all of their parents had certainly changed their tunes.

And somehow it hadn’t been so difficult to get used to after all.

They sit around a table now, well adjusted young men and women. Or: woman, at the moment.

Augustus Gloop has been making a steady name for himself as a gourmet chef. He is working under a celebrity at the moment, producing the epic tasting menu’s the Swiss establishment is known for, but he has headed his own pop-up’s and food carts to great success and reviews.

Veruca Salt is currently a soloist at ABT, after training and dancing at the Bolshoi and the Vaganova. They have all seen her perform: she is generous with her comp tickets. She is also undeniably talented. There have been rumors circling that she may be promoted to principal next season.

Mike Teavee designs video games. Because of course he does. Immensely popular games that require strategy, and critical thinking as much as hand-eye coordination. Some of them have won awards for serving educational purposes. These games, along with several well-received apps have left him unexpectedly wealthy. His first apartment is in San Francisco, but he likes the vibe and the weather in New York so much so that he has a residence in the city as well.

And Violet Beauregard is always late.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry!” She says, breathlessly, as she joins them. “A thing. But you all know. I don’t even gotta tell you.”

Violet is a celebrity hair and make-up artist. She made her name on YouTube, but she’s as legitimately trained as Veruca and Augustus are. She’s in high demand from both companies and clients.

She frowns at Mike’s hair.

“What happened to the blue?” She pouts.

Mike runs his hand carefully over his ‘do.

“It faded really fast and I didn’t wanna rebleach,” he explains. “It’s fine.”

“I know you’re punk rock as all hell, but seriously: let me do it,” Violet insists. “I will do it in yo’ bathroom sink for the sake of your authenticity if I gotta.”

He eventually agrees.

“Your mothers are having the good time,” Veruca says, with a smirk.

Both Mike and Augustus freeze, because it is their mothers she is talking about. Mrs. Teavee and Mrs. Gloop have long since struck up an unexpected single lady friendship and enjoy taking vacations together. They are currently on an Italian river cruise making the most of Italy, Italian food, and Italian men in a photograph that is burned in both Mike and Gus’ mind that neither of them are sure they were meant to receive and both are afraid to ask about.

“Yes,” Augustus says, smiling a little more rigidly than usual. “…jah.”

“Did she drop a new post on Instagram?” Violet asks Veruca.

“I will never get over the fact that you follow my mom on Instagram,” Mike says.

In her retirement, Ethel has joined Instagram. Instagram is very about her retro aesthetic. She has been interviewed for ‘Racked’.

“She is crushing it,” Violet tells him. “Did you teach her hashtags?”

He maybe guided her in her hashtagging.

“Annnnnnyway,” Mike says, changing the subject and turning towards Veruca. “How’s what’s-his-face?”

“We do not speak his name,” Veruca hisses. “Ballerinos! все мужчины сосать. All men!”

She looks pointedly at Gus and Mike, who know better than to argue with her.

“Yeah, speaking of,” Violet says. “No more 3am Teavee specials?”

“What is this?” Gus asks.

“I kept getting these late night texts from him, and I’m all jazzed because I think Teavee’s got some serious tea for me that can NOT wait and instead I get bull. What was the last one?” Violet asks, while scrolling through her phone. She stops and reads:

“‘Treasures in disguise as monsters’. What in the Dungeons and Dragons is that supposed to mean?”

Mike has buried his face in his hands, but he’s laughing behind them.

“It was the Ambien again, I swear,” he swears. “I got off it. At least I didn’t buy any more non-refundable plane tickets to Shanghai.”

“That was fun, though,” Augustus points out.

“Yeah, it was,” Mike admits.

Off of Paxil, it turns out Mike likes to eat. Like, a lot. And still has the metabolism to mostly deal with it. Gus had been very willing to join him on a tasting trip through Shanghai, lest the tickets go to waste. The trip had left both with fond memories of Ci Fan Tuan, and You Dunzi, as well as up a pants size, but that’s what vacations in your twenties are for.

Gus, Violet, and Veruca order and then sip cocktails. Mike sticks to ginger ale and truffle fries. He has never had a problem with alcohol, because he has never let himself have one, and he knows himself (and his family history) well enough to know that he too easily could.

Things are too good to wreck like that, you know?

He checks his phone.

“Hey, it’s time,” he says.

The others put their drinks aside, and Mike…unfolds his phone. The palm sized device becomes twice its size, then three, until it is a twenty-inch tablet with an extendable stand that Mike places in the middle of the table, and then taps on.

An app connects. A screen pops up. A hand reaches through the screen. They all help Charlie Bucket until he is sitting in the booth with them.

Bucket is thin, for a chocolatier. He is only a little taller than Mike, who is short. He has the same boyish grin he had back when he and his family had nothing.

Mike refolds his device, until it looks like just a phone again. He spends the rest of the evening wedged comfortably between Gus and Violet. Plans are vaguely made for another trip like Shanghai, and more concretely for a sort of pub crawl that consists of, instead of drinking, eating dollar slices of pizza until they have located the best one. Veruca refuses to take part, but will still come along. Charlie cannot make it: he has a factory to run, but they promise to send him a winning slice.

It’s just one of many good days in a more than decent life.

#charlie and the chocolate factory #catcf broadway #fanfic #mike teavee #Augustus Goop #veruca salt #violet beauregarde #a lil' adulting

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