#sorry for the chic flick moment guys but sometimes i can be just a little bit cas coded like this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

diabolik-trash-heap · 5 years

Note

Ranmaru + 18

For smut prompt “I’m still mad at you” with Ranmaru x reader.A very, veeeery late birthday present for @ranmarukurosakis. I’m so sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy it.

“30 minutes until we are live, Kurosaki-san.”

You were jolted from your thoughts by the loud rapping on the door, followed by a man’s muffled warning of Quartet Night’s impending interview. You glance over to Ran, hardly fazed, still fussing with himself in the green room mirror.

“I really hate these damn things…” he groans, straining his fingers through his hair one last time to get it to that perfect level of rocker chic. “Hopefully they will talk to the other guys more than me. Maybe a drink or two would help. What do you say?”

Ran turns his attention to you, the bottle of whiskey in hand. The tiny smirk melts away when he sees the frown still plastered on your face from earlier.

“H-hey…are you okay?” The usual gruffness of his voice had dissipated entirely.

“I’m still mad at you.” You shift your weight back, bringing your knees close to you. Staring at a crumpled wrapper on the ground seemed to be the more viable option than looking at his face knowing you would soften immediately.

“Look…I’m sorry about earlier.”

“I know you are. But it still hurt.“

“I know I say some dumb shit sometimes.”

“Oh?"

Ran squeezes the back of his neck, hesitant with his next words.

"Oi…okay a lot.” he confesses, punctuating with a sigh. Arms folded, he digs a heel into floor, waiting upon your next response.

Truth of matter you didn’t want to dwell on it any longer, but your stubbornness was putting you at a standstill and not wanting to forgive him just yet. Unfortunately, Ran caught the small snort in response to his admission, and you try to cover it up immediately with a cough and more pouting. A poor attempt.

“Guess I gotta earn your forgiveness." A conniving grin spreads across his face as he unfolds arms and glides over to you. He leans into you with one knee to your side, pinching your chin between his fingers and jerking your head up towards his.

"You know if you keep making that face there’s no way I’m going to just leave you alone.” He lowers his face to yours, eyes dark and intense. A hand wraps around your neck, shoving your body against the back of the couch. Before you could even come back for air, your lips meet in a searing kiss, his tongue slipping between yours to take over, tasting quite sweet. Any lingering negative thoughts you had dissolved into an exchange of wanton moans, your eyes closing to absorb yourself in his touch and scent.

His wandering fingers find their way underneath your shirt and bra, cupping your breast and rolling your nipple between his thumb and finger. Your body clenches at the sudden intrusion, the whimpers muted with kisses so deep and greedy it felt like he wanted to consume all of you. You come back to your senses for a split second, grabbing his shirt and pushing him off of you.

“Ran.” You had to take another gulp of air before you could finish, eyes darting to the clock hanging on the far wall. “You have less than 25 minutes.”

“Tch! You think I don’t know how to get you off by now?"

You roll your eyes. "I would rather not risk.. .GAH!”

Ran interrupts you when he yanks you down by the ankles, landing you on your back with a thud. He tugs repeatedly at your belt, undoing it with a clank and tossing your pants and underwear onto the floor before you can argue. He dives between your legs, inhaling your scent with a faint growl, his ashy hair tickling the inside of your thighs as he nips at them.

“Heh."

Bemused, Ran runs his thumb along your folds, gathering the wetness already forming and licking it off with a smirk.

"Looks like I already had you going.”

He wasn’t wrong. The sudden rush of his mouth and hands all over you made your body hot and craving it elsewhere.“That’s not the point Ran, I don’t want you being….ahhhh, fuck.”Your hips jolt when he plays with your clit, flicking it with his tongue and sucking hard on the sensitive nub, relishing the sight of your squirming hips underneath his ministrations.

“Fuck you taste amazing. Open up more for me.”

His hands wrap around your thighs, demanding you keep them spread wide, latching his mouth over your entrance. He knew how to put his tongue to good use, wriggling it about inside, darting in and out of your cunt, watching your every reaction like a ravenous wolf. Ran never was the type afraid to get a bit messy, evident by the slickness covering his lips and chin. Two fingers ease inside of you, curling up and pressing into your g-spot as he vigorously thrusts into you. His lips wrap around your clit again, sucking in perfect marriage with the thick digits buried in your gut. Every stroke of his fingers made your legs shaky and weak, yet you wanted nothing more than squeeze your thighs like a vice around him. You glance back over to the clock. Really was a shame it couldn’t last.

“15 minutes Ran,” you warn between shallow pants, the fabric of the couch noticeably wet underneath you. You loved the way his fingers filled you, but your body was aching for his cock to be buried inside of you.

“Guess it’s time for the main show huh? A shame ‘cause I could eat you out all damn day.”

You hear the grind of the zipper, shifting his hips enough to free his straining cock, his fingers still knuckle-deep in you. He plants a single kiss on your swollen clit before moving on, dragging himself up between your legs and joining you in another kiss, the entire weight of his body pinning you down. You swipe your tongue across his lips, cleaning your own juices off for him.

“Dirty girl.” he groans into your mouth, grinding his cock against your clit.

He slides his cock between your folds several times, lining it up at your entrance. He moves his hips forward, pushing inside, the flared head of his cock stretching you out by every inch. The heat rises to your cheeks as he fills you to the hilt, clenching around him when the initial shudder passes through you.

“Always so tight for me.” Ran pulls back, thrusting inside again with strained words. “Even after everything we did to you last night.”

You scoff. “You know I don’t break that easily.”

“You sure about that? I seem to remember you saying how you ‘couldn’t take anymore’ a few times…”

Your face starts to burn from ear to ear, frustrated there was no hiding your embarrassment from him. It only served to make him beam harder.

“…shut up and fuck me already.”

“Heh, I love a woman who knows what she wants."

Ran raises one of your legs back, obeying your demands without a fuss and slams harder into you. You grab at his shirt for leverage, arching your back with every crash of his hips against yours, swearing every time he somehow buried further inside. It was getting harder to contain the noises coming from you, biting the back of your hand to keep your voice down. It felt like he was trying to make you falter.

“You still mad at me?”

“Maybe a little bit.” you tease, reaching for his tie. Twisting it in your hand, you jerk him towards you, lips locking in a rough kiss.

Playfully, you thread your fingers through his hair, his hips slowing as the new sensation of you scratching and kneading takes over. But the sadistic part of you lashes out when you hit the base, grabbing a fistful and jerking his head back to expose his neck. Ran spits out a loud moan at the sudden pain surging down his back and you trace your tongue along his Adam’s apple, sensing every muscle tense in his lean figure.

"You like that, huh?” you purr, a smirk creeping across your face as your teeth graze across his neck.

Ran snatches you by the wrists, pinning both of them with a single hand with ease.

“You keep doing that shit and I’m definitely going to miss my interview.” Ran growls, fire burning in his eyes. He angles your hips even higher, driving himself even deeper into you with a manic thrust. If it weren’t for a swift hand slapping over your mouth, the yelp that flew out of you that instant would have indubitably exposed the two of you.

“Hey Ran Ran…you alright buddy? We’re going to be on in about ten minutes.” Reiji knocks a couple times, waiting upon confirmation.

“Ran Ran? Oh…”

Ran didn’t miss a single beat, ignoring his band mate who stood mere feet away as his cock tore you in two. He was too close to stop now, and he knew you were too. He buries his face into your neck, biting down and kissing the red spots beginning to bloom. It was a welcomed pain. His grip loosens on your wrists and migrates to your hands, his long fingers entangling with yours.

“You know he’s still out there right?” Ran reminds you between strained groans, his breath hot against your neck. “You should let him know we’re just about finished."

He was right. And the image of Reiji standing outside, listening in on every moan, every cry, every slap of flesh against each was enough to shove you over the edge, your mind hazing over when your body finds its release. Your legs begin to shake uncontrollably, Ran holding your hands tighter with every wave he felt pass through you.

"Let it all out. I wanna cum with you."

Head thrown back, your hoarse cries become unfiltered, no doubt being heard by the party that stood outside. His own body starts to tremble, his breaths shallow and hips erratic in their movement, dancing right at the edge himself. He ruts himself inside you one final time with a deep growl, his cock twitching as he pumps load after load of cum into you. Sliding his arm around your neck, he embraces you tight, peppering your face with kisses between pants.

"I love you. Don’t you forget that.”

His face and chest were flushed a light pink, accented by a sheen of sweat that already had formed across his face, looking so vulnerable yet tranquil even as his heart still pounded away.

“I love you too.”

He presses his forehead against yours, savoring the moment. It was pretty safe to say you weren’t upset with him anymore.

“SHIT.”

It dawns on Ran what time it was, and he leaps up from the couch to fix his himself up. He checks the mirror, surveying the damage, especially to his hair, running his hand through a couple times to try and fix it, with no avail. It just would have to do at this point. Despite his usual calculated appearance, he would have to chalk this one up to bedhead.

Even in his rush, he found a few seconds to spare, rushing over to you for a chaste kiss as you struggle to fix your own clothes.

“Make sure you keep it all in there for later when I can properly fuck you.” Ran whispers, sliding his hand between your legs for a moment before running off again.

He swings open the door, leaping back when he sees Reiji standing there. Reiji peeks over Ran’s shoulder at you, shit-eating grin plastered on his face, and then looks back at Ran.

“That’s a good look for you Ran Ran. Does onii-san gets a ride after the interview too?"

"Oi! REIJI!”

“Mengo mengo~!”

Ran barges through Reiji, nearly knocking him over. Reiji starts the shut the door and whine something about him being mean, but stops immediately when your eyes meet.

“Guess we’ll be seeing you later.” Reiji winks, closing the door behind him and running after the grumbling rocker.

#reader x ranmaru #kurosaki ranmaru #ranmaru #my writing #utapri smut #ask #prompt #uta no prince sama #utapri

144 notes · View notes

danfanciesphil · 5 years

Text

Some Kind Of Folliful (New Chapter)

Edgelord!Dan x ObliviousBisexual!Phil AU [CHAPTER THIRTEEN] (based off the 80′s classic Some Kind of Wonderful)

Synopsis: Dan has one friend, and only because he was forced into it. Phil is loud, excitable, and irritatingly happy all of the time. Phil seems to find Dan’s perpetual attitude funny, and despite Dan’s best efforts to shun him and everyone else, wants to be around him all the time. That is, until Phil starts talking about Amanda Jones. Word Count: WIP (Estimated 12-15 chapters) updates every Tuesday Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smoking, swearing, heavy drinking, drug mentions, implied prostitution, broken home, class divide/classism, pining, light homophobia, sex

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six] [Chapter Seven] [Chapter Eight] [Chapter Nine] [Chapter Ten] [Chapter Eleven] [Chapter Twelve]

[Ao3!]

This chapter is NSFW. Explicit. Sex happens.

From: Dan To: Louise 13:23pm Can I have the weekend off?

From: Louise To: Dan 13:24pm This better be a damn joke

From: Dan To: Louise 13:25pm I worked the entire school holiday! Double shifts!

From: Louise To: Dan 13:25pm You also skived off two shifts to go get beat up by some rich kid

From: Dan To: Louise 13:27pm Please.

From: Louise To: Dan 13:30pm ughhhhhhHHHH FINE. I will give you today and Saturday off. Only because you never ask so I assume ur either violently ill or have a serious dick appointment.

From: Dan To: Louise 13:32pm :D thanks. srsly.

From: Louise To: Dan 13:33pm I expect details.

From: Dan To: Louise 13:34pm Don’t suppose I could wrangle Sunday too?

From: Louise To: Dan 13:34pm Don’t push it, Howell.

From: Dan To: Louise 13:40pm xxx

Despite his best efforts to remain cool and aloof, there eventually comes a point where Dan truly can’t resist looking over his shoulder any longer. He half-expects Phil to be looking right back at him. Instead, Phil is hunched over the small wooden desk in front of him, scrawling onto a pad of paper. His tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth, a tiny pink rose petal, resting on the jut of his lower lip. Just then, Phil looks up, as if he can sense Dan’s break in resolve. His eyes are shining with excitement, which makes no sense, as they are stuck in detention with Mr Richardson for at least another twenty minutes.

Furtively, Phil looks to the front of the room, where Mr Richardson is steadfastly refreshing his LinkedIn page, and then back to Dan. He lifts the pad up to show him, beaming. Centre of the page is a pencil drawing of Dan, slumped over his desk, forehead resting on his hands, in the exact position he’d been in until about a minute ago. Dan rolls his eyes, mouthing ‘creeper’.

Phil puts the pad down, then holds up an index finger to Dan, a signal for him to wait a moment. Dan sighs, pretending that keeping his eyes trained on Phil is some great effort. Truthfully, he’s incredibly grateful for Phil’s presence here. Dan has spent a great deal of time in this very chair, at this very desk, wishing for any kind of distraction or entertainment. Usually he wishes for something banal, like Mr Richardson’s pen exploding, or the stoner kid who sometimes sits in the corner desk to catch his dreads on fire with the lighter he’s always flicking under the desk. But having Phil here is a miracle that Dan had never so much as dared to dream about. He’s a gorgeous beacon of pure light, sat just the other side of the room, all too happy to return Dan’s mildly creepy staring. He holds the pad up to Dan again; this time, there’s a message on it.

Still up for coming over for the weekend? After work obvs.

P.S ur cute

Shaking his head, Dan mouths ‘no work today’. The joy of this news lights Phil’s eyes an even more radiant blue. Dan lets the smile teetering on the edge of his mouth fall across his face. A cough startles Dan out of the moment, and he turns to the front of the classroom in time to watch as Mr Richardson strides down the few desks towards Phil. He lifts the pad close to his nose to read it, then sighs heavily.

“Touching,” he says, drily. “But I think Daniel can wait to hear how ‘cute’ he is until after detention, don’t you?”

Mr Richardson lets the pad fall to Phil’s desk with a loud thwack. It makes Phil jump in his seat, adorably.

“How’d you know it was directed at me, Sir?” Dan finds himself asking. It’s too tempting to resist; that little pulsing vein in Mr Richardson’s neck is pounding away as always, just begging to be engorged. “I think he was angling it your way.”

Mr Richardson whirls around to face him. “Would you like for me to double your sentence, Mr Howell?”

“He’s just kidding, Sir,” Phil jumps in quickly, which is probably good as Dan had been about to suggest he and Mr Richardson skip the courting stage and go straight back to his place. “I won’t write any more notes. Sorry.”

With what seems to be a great deal of effort, Mr Richardson lets go of the tension in his shoulders and nods to Phil, then makes his way back to the front of class. Phil sends Dan a look, which obviously reads ‘stop being a prat’, so Dan smirks down at the homophobic graffiti on his desk, and tries to be a good student for the next eighteen minutes.

On his way out of detention, Dan is so steadfastly trying to keep his head down and not meet Mr Richardson’s eye that he barrels straight into Megan, the girl he sees in here most days. Her jet black hair is pulled into two ponytails either side of her head; it’s too short to be tied up properly, so they stick out like bundles of feathers, secured by bright pink and purple bobbles. If Dan cared enough to ask her about her unusual style choices - the shiny lime green Doc Martens, the string of ropey bracelets and sweatbands up her wrists, the chunky neon beads she wears around her neck when she can get away with it - he imagines she might say she’s ‘Scene’. It doesn’t seem to bother her that the era of the Scene Kid has, thankfully, for most, been abandoned in the late noughties.

“Shit, sorry,” Dan tells her when he crashes straight into her, hot on Phil’s tail.

She glowers at him. Her kohl eyeliner is thick and scary-looking. “Sorry? That’s rich.”

“Uh, what?”

“You and the art ponce?” She jabs a thumb towards the classroom door, where Phil is lurking, watching Megan with a startled expression. “Really?”

Bewildered by her sudden hostility when he’s spoken less than a sentence to Megan in all the time they’ve been stuck in detention together, Dan just stares.

“Is there some kind of a problem?”

“After all this build-up between us, you go and date a random dude?”

“Build up?” Dan’s stare becomes a little panicked. He glances at Phil, who appears to be sniggering into his hand.

“You mean to tell me that you're in detention every time I am by chance?” She sneers derisively. “Pull the other one.”

“Um, Megan, is it?” Dan asks tentatively, taking a hasty but hopefully discreet step backwards.

She claps loudly. “Round of applause for the acting skill. Dan, is it?”

“Right, yeah.” He swallows. “I’m sorry but… I’m gay. Did you think…”

Something falls across her pale face, as if she’s been struck. “Gay,” she repeats, voice at a far more reasonable volume now. Her thick eyeliner just looks panda-ish, suddenly. She tugs her chewed cardigan sleeves down over her hands. “Not bi?”

“Nope,” Dan says. Crap, this is awkward. He’s never had to come out to a random stranger before. Although perhaps Megan would argue that they’re close friends. “Just boys.” He glances at Phil. “One boy, actually, now.”

“Oh,” Megan says. She looks hurt. “I thought… because you’re always in here when I am...”

“I’m in here pretty much every day,” Dan tells her. He gestures to Mr Richardson, who appears to have fallen asleep on his own shoulder. “Thanks to my number one fan over there.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head. “It’s just… everyone’s bi now, y’know? I heard rumours about you some of the guys around town but… I thought you were just playing the long game with me.”

Dan is finding it very difficult to put himself in Megan’s shoes here - he can’t even remember a conversation he’s had with the girl, let alone a moment that might lead her to think he had some kind of romantic interest in her - but he nods sympathetically anyway, hoping it might lead to a faster escape.

“Sorry if I gave off signals or something,” he says, awkwardly.

She shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“Um, I’m sure you’ll find someone?”

She nods, sadly. “I guess. I mean, you did, right? Nobody saw that coming.”

“Yeah,” Dan says, inching around her towards the door. Phil is looking at him, eyes tinged with amusement. Dan sends him a withering look, then turns back to Megan. “Guess if I can snag someone, anyone can, right?”

“...you’re like one of those horses with the blinders on,” Phil tells him, hands either side of his eyes in demonstration. “You’re so oblivious to all the people lusting after you every day-”

“Oh, come off it,” Dan interrupts, eyes rolling backwards. “Lusting. Please.”

“Dan, you’re off-the-charts gorgeous,” Phil says. He grabs hold of Dan’s hand and tucks it into his coat. It’s because Dan doesn’t have gloves on - doesn’t own any, even. It’s a sweet gesture, but it makes walking beside Phil a little awkward, especially when other people are walking the other way and have to squeeze past them. “You must see how people look at you.”

Dan shrugs, embarrassed. “Creepy guys at Ozone maybe. Girls, though? Like, actual, reasonably attractive girls. Why the fuck would they want a lanky, perpetually bruised idiot with too many holes in his flesh?”

Phil stops them mid-pavement, pulling Dan towards him, until they’re chest to chest.

“Because, in an emo, heroin chic way, you’re extremely sexy,” he says, then kisses him. Dan tries to be annoyed that Phil basically just called him a 2002 Pete Wentz, but Phil’s tongue is distracting. It flicks against Dan’s lower lip, where the cut is still healing. “Miss the lip ring, though,” Phil murmurs. “That completed the look.”

“I can prob’ly re-pierce it,” Dan replies, muffled because Phil won’t stop kissing for even a second. “If it turns you on that much.”

Phil laughs, breaking away. “You don’t need a lip ring to do that.”

“I don’t like detention,” Phil says, then licks a long line up Dan’s throat.

“No?” Dan gasps out, fingers digging into Phil’s shoulders. He can feel one of the framed, childhood photos of Phil digging into his back, threatening to fall once Phil releases him. “I find Mr Richardson’s lectures on respecting teachers truly scintillating.”

“No, I don’t,” Phil says, pushing their mouths together greedily. “Two hours in a classroom, staring at you, nothing to do but think about all the time wasted that I could have spent doing this.”

“An hour and a half,” Dan corrects, so Phil kisses him harder to quiet him, hands planted on Dan’s hips.

In his time, Dan’s had plenty of selfish, greedy assholes backing him into corners, but nobody he’s ever actually wanted this badly. They’d barely gotten in Phil’s front door before Dan found himself pressed up against the wall of the entrance hallway; they’ve not even taken off their shoes. Vaguely, Dan registers a noise in the distance, and reasons it must be a dog in another room. Phil doesn’t seem to notice the noise, too focused on how far he can slide his hand up Dan’s shirt without removing it entirely. The noise gets closer, and Dan realises blearily, belatedly, that Phil doesn’t own a dog.

Just as this realisation crests, Mrs Lester rounds the corner. “Phil, love is that- oh!”

Phil jumps back at the sound of his mum’s voice, but it’s too late. She’s already seen the worst of it. Dan waits for the ground beneath him to split into a gaping hole into which he can tumble, but presumably because God hates him, it doesn’t happen.

“Mum!” Phil exclaims, breathless.

Dan runs a hand through his hair. “H-hi, Mrs Lester. Kath. Mrs Lester.”

She’s wide-eyed, cheeks rosy pink. In her hands she holds a pair of socks, which she seems to have forgotten are there. “Phil, could I have a quick word?”

Phil tosses Dan a look of apology, then follows him mum through the lounge and into the kitchen. Dan waits for a minute or so, straightening his shirt, trying not to think the worst, and then can’t battle his paranoia any longer. He creeps into the lounge, listening hard to the hushed conversation from the next room. If he stands in the space beside the bookshelf, he can just about make it out, whilst avoiding being seen.

“...thought you’d be gone already.”

“Yes, I can see that, love.”

There’s a pause; Dan can hear his own heart thumping.

“So, you and Dan are…”

“Yeah.”

“I see. How long have you been…?”

“Um, about two weeks? Just over.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“Mum,” Phil says, clearly embarrassed.

“You could have told me, you know.”

“I was going to,” Phil insists. “I just… I wanted to make sure it wasn’t all going to explode. I don’t wanna pressure him. He’s even told me he doesn’t like people at school talking about us. He doesn’t even care about them. But he likes you, I know he does. I haven’t had a chance to ask him what he’d think about you knowing. If it might be a bit much for him. I’m just- I’m so scared I’m gonna say something wrong and he’s gonna bolt. You know what he’s like.”

Dan frowns. Phil is really worried that he’s going to bolt?

“Okay, I understand your concerns,” Kath says, kindly. “But I still think if he’s going to be staying here, I ought to be aware-”

“Yeah, I know, you’re right. I’m sorry,” Phil says. “But nothing’s changed really. He’s just been coming over for Buffy marathons and hot chocolate after he’s finished work, like always.”

“Hmm, well that certainly was not a Buffy marathon I just walked in on.”

Phil laughs, and Dan thinks he hears Kath tittering too. “Sorry you had to see that. So embarrassing.”

Kath sighs, and there’s shuffling noises. Dan thinks maybe she’s giving Phil a hug. “I’m happy for you, sweetheart. Hope you know that.”

“You are?” Phil’s voice is muffled, like he’s speaking into her shoulder.

“Just took me by surprise is all. I mean, I always wondered if maybe you had a little crush on him…”

“I think, in hindsight, it was quite a bit more than a little crush.”

Another long pause. “Well, Dan’s a very lucky boy, then.”

“You’re really okay with it? He can still come over in the week and stuff?”

“Of course,” Kath replies in that kindly, mumsy voice Dan loves her for. His heart aches at the sound of her easy, ready acceptance. She makes motherhood seem so simple. She’s an open book, filled with endless words of love and support, more than happy for anyone who needs it to rip out a page. She saves the best of her chapters for Phil, of course. But there’s some passages bookmarked especially for Dan, too. “Do be careful with him, won’t you, Phil?” Her voice is thick with concern. “That scary mask he wears might fool some people, but you and I know it’s made of thin, breakable glass.”

Dan frowns again, mildly irritated that she sees him as a fragile little flower, but he has to begrudgingly admit that Kath has never once fallen for his tough-guy façade. The first time he ever met her, he was his usual cagey and brooding self, unconcerned with making a good impression on any parent. But much in the same way Phil had, she wore his shell away with persistent sweetness. She invited him to stay for dinner, and gave him second helpings without asking, then chocolate biscuits with tea. She asked him a thousand questions, and didn’t mind if he preferred not to answer them, but listened intently if he did. She told funny stories about Phil as a kid. She told him to come back anytime he wanted, even though he was basically a dick all night. She’d been unrelentingly nice and caring, in a way that Dan had never before felt from an adult.

“Don’t worry,” Phil assures her. “I think I’d give him the whole world if I could.”

“And… what happened to that Amanda girl you brought round? I thought you were besotted with her?”

Dan’s stomach clenches.

“We’re just friends.” The surety in Phil’s voice is like a blanket Dan wants to clutch to his chest.

“Okay then. Well, I guess I’d better get going,” Kath says in a sigh. “I was just finishing packing.”

“Tell Auntie Pat I say hi,” Phil says. “And stroke Mittens for me.”

Alarmed by the movement he suddenly hears, Dan sneaks back through the lounge towards the hall, managing to make it out just before Phil and his mum exit the kitchen.

“Phil, just one last thing,” Kath says from the lounge, her voice so quiet Dan can hardly pick it up. “You two will be safe, won’t you?”

“Oh my God, Mum, please-”

“Phil, I’m asking for your own good-”

Dan has to clap a hand over his mouth to stop the laugh escaping.

“Yes, fine, wow, we’ll be safe I promise.” Phil says in a rushed garble. “Now I never ever want to speak about this again.”

Kath laughs quietly. “Fine. You’re sensible, I know. But I am your mother, I have to make sure.”

When Phil rounds the corner, he looks vaguely traumatised. Kath is right behind him, a calm smile on her face. Dan smiles back, unsurely, trying to seem as though he has no idea what they’ve been discussing. Kath crosses the hall towards him at once, and wraps him in her arms. Dan feels a little choked up, but manages to remain composed enough to return the hug, gently patting her on the shoulder. She releases him without comment, for which Dan is incredibly grateful, and then starts up the stairs.

“There’s plenty of food in the house boys,” she says as she goes. “Help yourselves, both of you. I’ll be back on Sunday.”

Once she’s out of sight, Phil begins spewing apologies. “...had no idea, I thought she’d have left ages ago because we were all that time in detention-”

“Phil, it’s okay,” Dan says, laughing. “Mortifying, obviously. But not the worst position I’ve been caught in by someone’s mum. And your mum is by far the coolest.”

“Bit of a mood killer, though,” Phil says, sighing.

Dan grimaces. “Yeah.”

They stand in silence for a moment, both reliving the look on Kath’s face as she’d first caught sight of them.

“Wanna watch a film for a while? Take our minds off it?”

“Absolutely.”

Three hours after Kath leaves, and they’re on their second film of the evening - Forgetting Sarah Marshall. It’s not helping ease the tension hovering around them, because Phil had said right at the beginning that he’d always kind of fancied Russell Brand, and now it’s all Dan can think about.

“Would you have sex with him?”

Phil wrinkles his nose. “Dunno.”

“Like, if he was here right now,” Dan persists. “Leather trousers, birds nest hair. Asks you to pop your kit off and join him in the cupboard.”

Phil laughs, playing with a popcorn kernel from the almost empty bowl. “Um, no.”

“No?” Dan turns, avidly interested, as ever, in Phil’s elusive sexual preferences. “Why not? He’s had the experience. So, he’d probably be decent at it, at least.”

“Yeah, well, even so.”

There’s something halting, maybe even reluctant about Phil’s tone. Dan might be imagining it, but he thinks Phil’s mildly uncomfortable with this discussion. Dan decides to prod just one last time, to see if he can get whatever the discomfort is out of him, and then he’ll drop it.

“Is it ‘cos he looks a bit, like, grubby?”

Phil laughs again; his cheeks have turned pink. He flicks the popcorn kernel away. “Look, I’m sure Russell’s great in bed. Fantastic, maybe. But right now, I only wanna have sex with you.”

The breath catches in Dan’s throat. As the unexpected statement sinks into his skin, the tension he and Phil have been stewing in fizzles away. He crawls across the sofa - Dan had jumped to the opposite side of it after a startling reappearance of Kath, hands over her eyes, shouting something about leaving her scarf behind and that she wasn’t looking - until he’s close enough to straddle Phil’s lap. He winds his arms around Phil’s neck and kisses him, slowly, taking his time, because they have oodles of it.

Phil is eager and responsive in the way that Dan imagines he might have been himself, if his first time had been with someone he actually liked. Dan had been too young to appreciate what he was losing, and to whom; he regrets it immensely. He’s determined that Phil’s experience will be different. This sweet, incredible boy deserves so much more than some vaguely nauseating fuck in the back of a car that’s over in less than a minute, and that the other party won’t even remember. If Dan is honest, he believes that Phil deserves more than anything Dan can possibly offer, but if Dan is what he wants, then Dan will do his best to make it perfect.

They’re just getting into it, just starting to find their way beneath hems and waistbands, when the doorbell rings.

They break apart, a little dazed.

“We could ignore it?” Phil suggests, and Dan is more than on board, so swoops back in to kiss him again.

A minute passes, and then it rings again.

Dan sighs, reaching for the remote to shut Russell up once and for all, then climbs off Phil’s lap. Phil stands a little shakily, smoothing down his school uniform, and goes to get the door. Dan idly flicks through his Twitter timeline on his phone, waiting for him to return.

“Amanda,” Phil says, somewhere in the background. Dan shoots upright, swivelling to look. He can just make out Phil, and a vague, familiar silhouette on the doorstep. Her brown curls give her away.

“Hey,” Amanda says. “Is this a bad time?”

Dan gets up, his feet marching him to the door without his permission.

“Well, actually,” Phil starts to say, but then Dan is at his elbow. Phil blinks at him, worriedly.

“She wanted to talk to you,” Dan says. “She told me. You should invite her in.”

“I can leave, if you want,” Dan says, because nobody is saying anything.

Phil sits up straight, staring at him. “No, don’t.”

“It’s okay, I can go for a walk or-”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to both of you.”

They both turn to Amanda, vaguely worried. She’s got her hair in a messy ponytail, and is wearing jeans, which Dan cannot remember ever seeing on her before. He doesn’t remember her being at school today either.

“Okay,” Phil says. “Did you want a drink or something? I’ve got tea, or-”

“No, it’s okay. I won’t stay long.”

Dan stares at her hands, clasped in her lap. Her French manicure tips are peeling off. She’s sat in the exact spot on the sofa where Dan had been perched atop Phil’s lap not ten minutes ago.

“I basically just wanted to tell you both that there are no hard feelings,” she says carefully. She aims a smile at each of them, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. “At least on my end.”

“That’s good to know,” Phil says, softly. The guilt is still coursing through him, it’s plain to see.

Dan doesn’t respond. He can feel his fingernails digging into his palm, the way they tend to do when he’s trying to suppress some awful emotion he doesn’t want to feel.

“I really am happy for you both,” Amanda continues. She clears her throat, a tiny, perfect crease between her plucked brows. “I know you feel like you used me, Phil. And Dan, I know you must think I’m, like, the ultimate cockblock.”

You have no idea, Dan thinks privately.

“But I’m glad that, even though I didn’t know it at first, I was able to help you both to get what you really wanted.” In her following sigh, Dan’s suspicions are confirmed; this touching speech is not the real reason she’s here. “But - and again, I’m not blaming you guys - after all that’s happened, I’m sort of... in a tricky spot.”

Phil is immediately alarmed. “Is it Hardy? Is he bothering you again?” Dan considers ramming his fingers in his ears so he can drown out the concern in Phil’s voice. He turns to Dan. “You said you scared him off.”

“How is this my fault?” Dan snaps. “If he’s harassing her it’s not because I didn’t punch him hard enough. It’s because he’s a knob.”

The response is about to trip of Phil’s tongue, but Amanda gets there first. “No, guys, it’s not Hardy. Well, not directly.” She shifts in her seat. “The Elite gang are pretty harsh about anyone that doesn’t follow la regle de jeu.”

“La what?”

“The rules of the game,” Dan mutters; Phil glances at him, surprised. “Their game. Shocker, really. They always seemed such an easygoing bunch.”

Amanda raises her eyebrows at him. “Yes, we’ve established that I’m an idiot for going anywhere near them, Dan.”

It’s infuriating that she doesn’t ever try to defend herself. Dan’s not used to having someone so readily accept their own folly. Her acknowledgments knock Dan’s insults right back over to him, and he’s never prepared to swing his racket in time to catch them.

“Wait, so, it’s all of them?” Phil asks, clearly not following the game. “The whole Elite gang are giving you trouble?”

“Have you ever seen Mean Girls?” Amanda asks. “It’s not like they’re knocking my books out of my hands, or shoving me into lockers. But they’re bitchy and they’ve got the whole school under their thumbs. Together, they’re perfectly capable of destroying my life, and they seem pretty intent on it.”

“Are you saying that going to Prom with Phil is akin to committing ‘social suicide’?” Dan asks bitterly, putting the Mean Girls term in a fake American accent. ��What a touching sentiment.” He scoffs. “I’m so sick of this stupid playground drama. What are we, twelve?”

“Dan,” Phil warns.

“No, I get it,” Amanda says, looking down. “He’s right. It’s completely pathetic. Even when I was taking part in it, I hated it. Keeping up with the Elites was exhausting. The constant battle for Queen Bee. The lies and the backstabbing, everyone secretly despising each other. And being with Hardy was just embarrassing. Everyone knew he was cheating. The whole discussed it, laughed about it, and I had to pretend like I was too ditzy, too lovesick over him to notice.” She puts her head in her hands. “I thought that, maybe, if I took a huge leap, right back over the tracks, I could escape it. That’s why I said yes to you when you asked me, Phil. I saw a chance at some normalcy and I took it. It wasn’t fair of me, I know that. But in a way, we were both sort of using each other, right?”

There’s a lull in the discussion; Phil aims a worried look in Dan’s direction. Dan begins chewing the skin around his thumbnail.

“I’m sorry that I’m even asking this,” Amanda says then. She looks up at Phil, then at Dan, eyes shining. “But I need your help.”

Phil sucks in a breath. “What is it?”

Something in Dan’s chest crumbles and breaks away. It seems so unlikely that Phil could be over her, if he’s this willing to jump to her aid, even now.

“It’s not much,” Amanda says quickly. “School is over in a couple of months. I just want to get through it. Lillian and the others are turning the whole school against me. People say horrible things. They leave notes in my locker. They spread rumours. I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Now that she mentions it, Dan does recall hearing a few strange things about her recently. He hadn’t paid much attention - he’s usually bored to tears by high school gossip - but hearing that she’d been seen leaving the Savoy hotel in a new designer dress on the arm of a seventy year old man, or on the other end of the spectrum, dancing on a pole in a poor, cheap disguise at a seedy strip club two towns over, had caught his attention.

“What can we do?” Phil asks.

Dan wants to make it very clear right now that he is not, and will not ever be, getting involved in this. His mouth won’t seem to form the words, though.

“I need friends,” Amanda says. Dan waits, but this appears to be the extent of it. “Just to hold the rumours off a bit. If they think I have people on my side, maybe they’d be less vicious. All you’d have to do is sit with me a few times at lunch, or hang out with me outside of school now and again. Maybe I could come to the café every once in a while? Then you wouldn’t even have to make the effort-”

“Amanda,” Phil interrupts. “It’s fine. Of course we’ll be your friends.”

The relief on her face is too overwhelming to be faked. Even so, Dan is not willing to offer his own services as a friend. It’s taken him this long to be comfortable with having just one. Even Lee is still on a trial period.

“It’s just until school’s over,” she says again. “I just can’t take it on my own. I thought I could, and I tried, but they’re just… they’re terrible people. Lillian’s sister is in Aidan’s class, I’m so worried about what could get back to him-”

“It’s okay.” Phil’s smiling, happy this has all been cleared up so neatly. “I got you into this mess, it’s the least I can do.” He turns. “Right, Dan?”

Dan tears a strip of skin from his thumb with his teeth. He wants so badly to say no. He wants things to go back to how they were, for Amanda to crawl back to Hardy, who would undoubtedly be all too happy for the only believable beard he’s ever grown to fix itself back in place. But for some reason, Amanda “Elitist” Jones is suddenly hellbent on doing the right thing. Even Dan knows that to refuse being someone’s friend, for two measly months, is a dick move that cannot be justified, no matter how suspicious he might be of potential motives. If he says his no, Phil won’t understand. He’ll be angry. Their weekend will be ruined, and so might be their future.

So, Dan swallows it all down. “Yeah, totally.”

Phil beams at Amanda. “Oh, by the way, I have your jacket.” He stands suddenly, and Dan feels a little ill. “Wait here.”

He jogs out of the room before Dan can beg him to stay, leaving he and Amanda alone. She fixes him with a knowing stare. “You’re not happy with this.”

Dan thinks about lying, but decides against it. “No, I’m not. You could beg anyone to be your friend for two months. The Elites might be getting people to shun you, but you’re still Amanda Jones. Just smile sweetly and anyone in St Anthony’s would do whatever you say.”

“Exactly,” Amanda says. “I want real friends. People who I can actually talk to. Not Elite wannabes that put me on some ridiculous pedestal, only hanging out with me because they see an open position on the throne.”

“I just don’t see why it has to be him,” Dan says, gripping the arm of the chair.

“Him?” Amanda’s smile is as treacherous as it is sincere. “Dan, I want to be friends with you.”

As usual, the dust takes a while to settle in the wake of Amanda’s departure. Phil brings Dan a mug of tea, handing it over cautiously. Still sat in the same position in the armchair, Dan takes it from him, still mulling over all that’s happened.

“So,” Phil says, perching on the arm of the sofa. He sips from his own mug. “That was unexpected.”

“Mmm,” Dan says. His mind is whirring, producing the kind of noise Phil’s laptop makes when it’s overheating from excess Sims playing. “Guess we’re all besties now.”

“Is it a problem for you?”

Dan considers this, finger skimming around the rim of his mug. “I think... I can get past it.”

Phil nods unsurely, scrutinising Dan’s glazed expression. “You sure? If it really bothers you, we can try and find another way.”

Dan takes a sip of his tea. It’s faintly sweet, because Phil knows Dan too well to believe him when he says he doesn’t take sugar.

“Just don’t fall in love with her,” Dan says into the mug. He means it to come out as a joke, but inevitably it’s spoken quiet and sombre.

Phil puts his mug down, then walks to Dan. He takes him by the hand and pulls him from the chair, then wraps him in a hug. “No chance of that,” he says into Dan’s forehead. “I’ve got something a thousand times better.”

“No!”

Dan wakes up with a jolt, hands coming up to cover his face, because shouts usually mean he’s about to get smacked. He hears a quiet ‘shit’ and then arms come around his shoulders; his heart slows gradually, and then Dan remembers where he is, and that he’s unlikely to be in danger of getting pounded in Phil’s bedroom. At least not in any way he’d need to defend himself from.

He lowers his hands, blinking in the darkness. “The fuck?”

“Sorry,” Phil whispers, guiltily. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. We fell asleep.”

Dan squints, trying to piece this together. “So you screamed ‘no’ in my ear?”

“I’m annoyed at myself,” Phil explains. “We’re supposed to be in the throes of passion.”

Dan snorts, falling back to the pillows, exhausted. “Russell’s a bad influence on you.”

Phil prods him in the arm, then falls back beside him. “I’m sorry. I promised you a weekend of sordid, non-stop lovemaking. So far, the two worst people that could have interrupted us mid-sexy-times did, and now we’ve fallen asleep in our not very arousing Elmo and Game Of Thrones pyjamas.”

Dan laughs tiredly, eyes already re-closing. “We’ve got loads of time for all that.”

“Tomorrow I’m gonna ravish you,” Phil warns, though by the sounds of it he’s already half-unconscious.

“I’d better prepare my body for the ravishing ahead.”

Phil swats him in the arm. “You’d better, Howell.”

They don’t get up until noon, for no good reason other than Phil’s bed is ridiculously comfy. Dan wakes up with his nose in Phil’s neck, so he presses a kiss there, then another, and eventually Phil stirs.

“Hey,” Dan says, then rolls on top of him.

Phil’s blue eyes blink up at him, wide and surprised by the sudden change in positions. “H-hey,” he says. “What’s-”

Dan leans in and kisses the question away. Somehow, Phil still tastes wonderful, even first thing in the morning. Dan can’t be sure the same can be said about his own morning breath. He lets himself sink into the kiss regardless, hands beginning to wander beneath the covers, skidding over the strip of skin where Phil’s pyjama top has ridden up in the night.

Phil’s breath hitches, and then his hands come to Dan’s shoulders, gently rolling him off. Dan sits up, worried. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Phil says quickly, sitting up as well. The covers fall to his waist. He gives Dan a reassuring smile. “Sorry, just… too hot.” There’s a pause as Dan digests this lame excuse. “I’ll make some tea. Do you want some tea?”

“Um,” Dan says, thrown. “Coffee, maybe?”

“Sure,” Phil says, tossing the covers aside.

He stands up quickly, snatching the mugs they’d used last night from the bedside table. Once he’s left the room, Dan stays put for a second, trying to figure out the next what might have just gone wrong. Eventually, he decides to quell his pounding paranoid thoughts, and follow Phil downstairs. In the kitchen, Phil is whistling away as he clatters mugs and kettles about, happy as a clam. Though he finds this sudden turnaround odd, Dan makes the choies to just forget about it. Perhaps Phil was just hot and uncomfortable in the first few minutes of waking, like he said. Or, more likely, maybe Dan’s breath was actually too terrible to withstand the kissing a moment longer, let alone anything else.

“I’m just gonna go brush my teeth,” Dan calls to Phil, making him jump. He turns, hand on his heart, giggling at himself.

“Cool, do you want some toast?”

“Sounds great,” Dan says, then heads for the bathroom.

They eat toast on the sofa together, watching Good Morning Britain.

Licking the crumbs from his fingers, Dan says, “Piers Morgan’s definitely the kind of guy who’d refuse to go down on his wife, but expect her to give him a twenty minute blowjob.” Dan turns to Phil, who is staring at him dazedly. “Like DJ Khaled. Y’know?”

Phil’s eyes are glazed, fixed on Dan’s fingers. His plate of toast crusts is slipping off his lap.

“Phil?” Dan asks.

He focuses suddenly, snapped back into the room. “Hm? Sorry, what was the question?”

Dan regards him curiously, lowering his fingers from his mouth. “Don’t worry,” he says, turning back to the TV.

A couple of hours later, they’re still on the sofa, because they’re lazy and it’s the weekend. Dan has his feet on Phil’s lap, his back against the other end of the sofa. They’re watching Jeremy Kyle, one of Dan’s all time favourite shows, and laughing at the ridiculous drama erupting on stage.

“To be honest, if some chick told me my boyfriend had fucked her brother and her Dad, I’d probably tackle him on live TV too,” Dan says. He’s got one arm behind his head, and the other resting across his stomach, idly tickling the skin on show. He turns to Phil, amused by the antics on screen. “So don’t try anything, yeah?”

Again, Phil is doing that strange, distant stare. This time his eyes are firmly fixed on Dan’s abdomen, pupils moving in time with the back and forth of Dan’s fingers. A slow smile creeps over Dan’s face, and realisation dawns.

“Phil,” he says again. His voice is a fair bit lower now. “Phil?”

“Hm?” Phil’s eyes are still trained on his fingers, so Dan pushes them just under the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, and Phil looks up, cheeks pink. “Is there something you want?”

Phil swallows. “I was just…”

Dan sits up, feet lifting from Phil’s lap, and closes the gap separating them. He reaches for the remote, switching off the TV, and brings his mouth to Phil’s ear.

“You can have me whenever you want, you know,” he purrs. “If the staring isn’t doing it for you.”

A shiver goes through Phil, Dan can feel it. He slides onto Phil’s lap for the second time this weekend, careful to watch his face for any sign he might not be into this. There’s an uncertainty in his eyes that Dan wants to get rid of, so he settles himself atop Phil’s thighs, and brings Phil’s hands to his hips.

“You still up for some…” Dan arches an eyebrow. “Fun?”

Phil swallows again, his hands tightening on Dan’s hips. “Yes.” He sighs, eyes fluttering closed. “Sorry. I’m just… nervous, I think.”

“Of me?”

“No,” Phil says in a breath. Dan can feel his leg jiggling, because he’s sat on it. “I just… I mean, I know you’ve done this a lot.”

“Wow,” Dan says, sitting back a little. “Cheers.”

“I’m just kinda daunted,” Phil explains. “What if I suck?”

Dan has to fight the laugh that bubbles up rather hard, and he doesn’t entirely succeed. “Um…”

Phil pokes him in the side, making him yelp. “You know what I mean.”

“Hm,” Dan says, already sliding off Phil’s lap, onto the floor. He kneels on the carpet, a hand on each of Phil’s knees. “Sounds like your worries have got you quite worked up.” Phil’s mouth has fallen into a little ‘o’. Gently, Dan pushes Phil’s knees apart. “Let me…” Dan bites his lip, holding Phil’s gaze. “Help you to relax.”

He waits just enough time for Phil to have the option of refusing, but he remains blissfully, mercifully quiet, just watching Dan with wide, fluttery eyes. As Dan leans forwards, tracing his tongue along the seams running along Phil’s inner thighs, Dan imagines he can hear an Angelic chorus. He curls his fingers around the waistband of Phil’s trousers, inching them down, eyes locked on Phil’s, just in case he might protest.

“Lift,” Dan whispers once they’ve reached a point he can’t pull them past. It takes a moment for it to register, then Phil cants his hips upwards, and Dan tugs. The dark hair beginning at his bellybutton snakes down, spreading into a tight thicket at the base of a long, thick, flushed cock. Dan can feel his mouth filling with saliva at the mere sight. “Fuck-ing hell,” he breathes, wonderingly, and wraps his fingers around it, forgetting to stop and ask if it’s still okay. “Phil, you’re gorgeous.”

Phil’s hips twitch, and Dan reorients himself, remembering that this is, in all likelihood the first time anyone’s touched Phil this way, aside from his own hand. Dan moves his hand gently, watching the expressions of awe flicker across Phil’s face. He’s breathing in short stutters, hips twitching forwards, like he wants to thrust into Dan’s fist. It takes about a minute of gently pumping his curled fingers up and down, before Dan’s resolve breaks. He leans in, fist still wrapped around the base of him, and swirls his tongue around the head.

Phil sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth, one hand flying out to rest atop Dan’s head. “Fuck,” he says, eloquent as ever.

Dan lets out as snort of laughter, which comes out as a pulse of breath through his nose. Phil tastes so good. He tastes as delicious as he does everywhere else, like he’s got waffle syrup pumping through his veins instead of blood. Dan knows, the second Phil’s flavour spreads across his tongue, that he’s addicted to it. He sinks his mouth over Phil’s length, chasing more, already so blissed out it’s a wonder he can stay focused; he’s wanted this for so long that it’s practically torturous to finally receive it. Like giving a child access to an entire candy store, allowing it to gorge itself, after months of only peering longingly through the locked doors. A whimper falls from Phil’s lips, scraping past Dan’s ears on its way to the floor. Dan pockets it for later, knowing it will be very helpful for the late nights Dan spends alone, thinking about all the many, many ways he wants to make Phil come.

“Dan…” Phil chokes out, sounding strained. Blindly, Dan reaches out a hand, and Phil threads his fingers through it immediately. “Dan, fuck. I don’t think I’m gonna last very l-long.”

Ignoring him entirely, Dan just sinks deeper, unable to suppress a groan, born from the thrill that courses down his spine as he feels the length of Phil’s cock sliding down his throat. He goes slowly at first, letting Phil slip in and out of him gently as he bobs his head. But Phil’s whimpers are turning into needy little whines, his hips are threatening to push further into the cavern of Dan’s mouth. So Dan places a hand on Phil’s upper thigh, and picks up the pace. It’s beyond any kind of pleasure Dan’s ever known, to watch, to feel, to taste, as Phil completely falls apart under his ministrations. He meets Phil’s eyes, holding the gaze because he wants to witness every last second. Phil’s got a hand threaded into Dan’s curls, pushing the hair from his eyes. Dan’s name falls like dewdrops from his reddened lips.

And then, just as he warned, it seems he can’t hold on any longer. He tastes like sweet, sun-warmed rainwater as he floods Dan’s mouth. In Dan’s wildest imaginings of this moment, of which there have been many, he never once dreamed of spitting it out, and now, he wouldn’t do it if you paid him. He swallows all of it down, then lets Phil slip out of his mouth slowly, missing the thick, heavy weight of him on his tongue the moment it’s gone. He sits back on his ankles, breathing ragged, and untangles their fingers.

“Feeling a little less tense?”

Phil still appears to be struggling to glide back down to the real world. He sits up, with some effort, and latches his pupil-blown eyes onto Dan’s. “Come here,” he demands, croakily.

Dan’s never been one to deny Phil, and it would be hopeless to think he could start now. He hops up, clambering back into Phil’s lap happily. The moment he’s close enough, Phil drags him in for a kiss. Dan tries to stop him, knowing he’ll only be tasting himself, but apparently this doesn’t seem to bother Phil. He kisses Dan deeply, hungrily, hands slipping straight under his t-shirt, and then pulling it off entirely. Dan chuckles at his eagerness, and then abruptly stops laughing when Phil reaches between them, to press his palm against Dan’s erection, through his pyjamas. Instinctively, Dan bucks into the touch, hands going for the back of Phil’s head. Phil strokes his thumb across the very spot where the tip of Dan’s cock pokes against the fabric. Dan tilts his head to one side, and Phil’s mouth goes straight for the exposed neck, kissing and biting at it.

“Not fair,” Dan complains, though he’s urging Phil onwards with a hand on the back of his head. “You know that’s my weakness.”

Phil finishes sucking what Dan imagines is a very large bruise, then leans back, eyes sparkling. “I warned you I’d give you another one to match.”

“Lesters always follow through,” Dan jokes, and Phil wraps his arms around Dan’s bare waist, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Will you come upstairs with me?”

Dan is a little surprised, but he nods regardless. He climbs off Phil’s lap, realising for the first time just how ridiculously, achingly hard he is, mostly because of how lightheaded he feels when he attempts to stand. Luckily, Phil, pyjama trousers pulled back up, takes hold of his hand and leads him up to his room. As soon as they’re inside, Phil shoves Dan backwards, sending him sprawling across the bed.

“Hey,” Dan complains, though he’s laughing. “Didn’t know you were into BDSM.”

“You would look pretty hot tied up,” Phil says unexpectedly, scooting around the bed to dig in his bedside drawer. “But maybe we could try that another time, when I’m less terrified.”

For a moment, the smile on Dan’s face freezes. “You’re terrified?” He watches Phil, concerned. “You don’t have to do anything, you know. We can just leave it for now-”

Phil jumps up onto the bed, pulling off his t-shirt. It’s a very effective method of shutting Dan up, as he’s got a gorgeous body, lean and tapered, with big shoulders and a defined waist. Dan reaches out to grab at him, his hopeless arousal muddying his conscience.

“I think I’d be terrified even if we waited for the wedding day,” Phil says, which makes Dan splutter. “You’re just…” Phil trails a hand down Dan’s torso, lightly sweeping across the skin, side to side. “You’re unbelievably beautiful. On top of everything else.”

Dan thinks about asking what ‘everything else’ is, but knows all too well that Phil’s misguided notions about Dan’s personality are difficult to listen to. Instead, he asks, “what can I do to make you less scared?”

Instinctively, Dan’s hand lands on Phil’s, stilling him as he brushes over the burn scar on his left side. But Phil reaches down and removes it, then leans down to press soft, careful lips against the shiny pink skin. Dan’s eyes sting.

“Just tell me if it feels good,” Phil says as he leans back up. He plucks what looks like a small bottle of lubricant from the pocket of his pyjama trousers.

“Phil, if you knew how many times I’ve dreamt of you... of this...” Dan starts to say, then shakes his head, smiling faintly. “I don’t think it’s possible for you to not make me come, like, ridiculously hard.”

He looks a little dazed at this information, but Phil nods, then slips his fingers into Dan’s waistband, and pulls. Dan lifts his hips so Phil can slide them off, watching Phil’s expression closely as he drinks in the sight of Dan’s entirely naked body for the first time. Dan’s cock twitches, as if it knows it’s being closely observed.

“Shit, Dan,” Phil breathes. His hands are free-roaming over the miles of Dan’s skin now on show. “I want to draw you like this,” Phil says. He trickles light, teasing fingers from Dan’s sternum to his pelvis. “Would you let me?”

“R-right now?”

Phil laughs. “No, not right now.” He settles into a position, half laid on top of Dan, then sends him a mischievous glance. “I have things to take care of.”

Phil picks up the bottle of lubricant, which has fallen to the bed, and uncaps it. He pours some into his palm, then pauses, and squeezes out a little more. He rubs it between his hands for a moment, then, before Dan can stop him, wraps a hand around Dan’s erection.

“Ah! Shit,” Dan exclaims, laughing a little.

Phil freezes instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s just freezing,” Dan replies, still chuckling. “Maybe warm it with your hands a little more next time?”

Phil joins in the laughter, nodding. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t get a chance to expand on his apology, because right then he starts moving his hand, the slick lubricant creating an indescribable friction, one that pushes a moan from Dan’s throat, has him arching his head backwards into the pillows. Phil drapes over him, hand still slowly pumping around Dan’s cock. He presses damp, messy kisses against Dan’s neck, bracing his face above Dan’s with an elbow beside his head.

“Does it feel good?”

Dan groans, hands finding Phil’s shoulders. “So fucking good.”

Spurred on by the news, Phil speeds up, at which point Dan’s eyelids screw shut, and he bows forwards into Phil’s neck.

“Look at me,” Phil whispers then. It’s an unexpected command, but Dan does it nonetheless, lifting his head to stare into Phil’s eyes.

He can only hold it for a moment before he has to look away again, but Phil is not having it. He releases his hold on Dan’s erection, which briefly makes Dan want to die. Phil reaches up to tilt Dan’s chin back around, forcing their eyes to meet again.

“Please, I want to see you,” Phil whispers, pressing their lips together. “Will you?”

Tears sting Dan’s eyes, and he’s not sure why. There’s something about this that feels too much, like he’s about to slip under a turbulent, roiling ocean. The press of Phil’s body on top of his is overwhelming; Dan can feel connecting of their skin seemingly at every join, can feel their hearts beating in rhythm, their breaths synchronised. Phil is warmth, and light, and sweet, pure love; it sounds absurd, but pressed together as they are, Dan can feel all of it sinking into him, through his pores, to the sinew and muscle beneath. He feels the incredible swell of Phil’s adoration, and it’s dizzying, maddening to know, deeply, that it’s all for him.

Phil’s hand wraps back around his cock, and Dan tries with all he has to keep his eyes locked on Phil’s like he wants. But two tears spill over, and he has to shut them, to blink them away. Phil kisses him fiercely, like he’s been missing out on the taste of Dan’s mouth for years. Like he’s been battling far away in some great unknown war, with Dan left alone, waiting for him, and now he’s returned, and he’s determined to drown them together, in the love they couldn’t swim in whilst they were parted.

Something cataclysmic builds in Dan’s chest, something terrifying and enormous, so unfamiliar that Dan wonders if he’s on the brink of death. He feels everything Phil is pouring onto him in this moment through their locked eyes, feels the weight of his suppressed yearning. And then it explodes through him, a tidalwave of blinding, electrifying ecstasy, ebbing out to the very tips of his toes. He breathes heavily, gripping onto the only life raft he has: Phil, still above him, floating on the edge of this tsunami, sure, and strong, and safe.

When it’s over, Dan washes ashore, back into the familiar blue and green bedclothes he’s been curled in so many times. Phil rolls to the side, and Dan crashes onto his chest, limp and utterly boneless.

“Was I okay?” Phil asks, tentative and unsure.

Dan doesn’t think words could ever possibly express the pure, raw, visceral phenomenon that he just experienced, so instead, he leans up, spreads himself over Phil however he can, and tries his best to show him.

(Chapter Fourteen - FINAL CHAPTER - Coming Next Tues!)

#skof #some kind of folliful #phan #phanfic

47 notes · View notes

quickeningheart · 5 years

Text

Ten

“Hey, you hungry?” Chris asked as he and Chex followed Alley out of the office. “There’s a great bar and grill right on the school grounds. They’ve got the best seafood chowder this side of the country.”

Alley hesitated. She really should get back to the garage and let Charley know what she’d seen, but she was a bit famished. She hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, and it was already past six o’clock. Her stomach gave a long, low gurgle at the reminder, and she grinned as Chris laughed. “I could use a bite to eat,” she agreed.

“Then right this way, if you please.” He steered her away from the parking lot and toward another smallish building that was only two stories tall. “This is the Atrium,” he explained. “Well, the first floor of it is the actual atrium; the upper level is offices for the teachers and staff. It’s pretty much the hangout for students. The bar is inside, a few small gift shops, the school bookstore, and lots of seating for just hanging out and relaxing.”

“Best part of the whole school,” Chex put in. “Although if you plan on drinking, you’ll have to show ID.”

“I’m only twenty,” Alley admitted.

“Really? I kind of thought you were older than that,” Chris said, looking surprised.

“He’s into the older chics,” Chex teased, poking her brother in the ribs.

“Why? How old are you?”

Chris looked embarrassed, scratching his head. “Actually, we’re only eighteen. Just graduated high school.”

Alley’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? I thought you were like my age or something!”

“You’re only a college freshman, too, right?” Chex wanted to know. “Shouldn’t you be in a higher grade?”

“I took a year off after graduating to work full-time and save up extra money. And to figure out what school I wanted to attend. I did take a couple of weekend courses at the community college to get in some of my credits and stuff, but nothing full-term.”

“Hey, that’s fine. In college, age doesn’t really matter. We’re all still consenting adults,” Chris said.

Chex smirked at him and waggled her eyebrows. “Consenting for what, I wonder.”

“Aw, shut up, Red. Nobody asked you.” Face flushed, Chris stomped into a dimly-lit restaurant and made his way to the bar.

Chex laughed. “He’s such a weenie around girls.”

Alley grinned. “He’s kinda cute, though. For a kid,” she teased, earning a dry look in response.

~*~*~*~*~

The food really was good at the Atrium Grill. Not only the chowder, but the thickest, gooiest grilled cheese sandwich that Alley had ever had the pleasure of biting into. “I’ve died and gone to nirvana,” she sighed, wrapping the cheese that had oozed out of the bread onto her plate around her fork. “What was in that sandwich?”

“Cheese.” Chex took a bite of her fried chicken.

Alley snorted a laugh. “Well, duh. I meant what kind?”

“Not sure. Trade secret, but I’m pretty sure they use a blend,” Chris replied. “And they grill it using mayonnaise instead of butter. Supposed to be healthier or something.”

“Right. Because six different blends of cheese in a single sandwich is the absolute epitome of health food,” Chex said blandly.

“How do you know that?” Chris eyed her suspiciously, and she smirked.

“I have my ways.”

“You boinked the head cook, didn’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Actually, I really, really wouldn’t.” He shuddered as Alley sought to hide her grin behind her soda glass.

“How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching for her bag, but Chris waved her off.

“Don’t worry about it. My treat,” he replied.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! What kind of gentleman makes a woman pay for her own meal?” He ignored Chex’s derisive snort and flashed a smile at Alley. “I invited you, so I’ll pay this one, okay?”

She consented with a nod and a smile. “Well, if we do this again, let me pay for you as thanks. Both of you,” she added, not wanting Chex to be left out.

“Oooo. Friend-zoned!” Chex sang under her breath, earning a kick under the table. She just smirked at her glowering twin.

Alley bit her lip, hoping she hadn’t offended him, but he gave her another charming smile and pulled some bills out of his wallet. “School year is just beginning,” he said casually. “I’ll definitely take you up on the offer for another meal."

“Yeah. Me, too,” Chex added, grinning. “You seem like fun. Even if you do look like a Barbie doll.”

~*~*~*~*~

It had grown dark by the time they left the Atrium. Alley had stopped by the bookstore to pick up the last two textbooks she needed for her classes. Chex said her goodbyes before heading toward the dorms, where she was staying. “More privileges of being the dean’s kid. Really cheap boarding, and I don’t have to live at home with the wicked step-mom,” she explained with a smirk.

“She’s not that bad,” Chris said with a frown.

“Not to Mr. Perfect Son. But she doesn’t like me very much. I refuse to bend over and kiss her ass.”

“Well, maybe if you wouldn’t dress like—”

“Like what? Like someone with her own brain and a willingness to use it?” Chex stopped walking and faced him with a fist planted on her hips. “I’m my own person. I have my own way of living, and there’s nothing wrong with how I dress. You might be willing to let her groom you like a little lapdog, but I refuse. She’s not even our real mom, and she hasn’t done anything to earn the title.” She flipped her cherry hair. “Besides, you’re one to talk. You’re living in the dorms, too!”

“Because there’s no point in driving to school when we can live right on the grounds,” Chris sighed, clearly used to this conversation.

“Right, whatever. I’m heading back. See you around, Alley. We should hang out sometime.” She stomped off, skirt swishing.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Alley called after her.

Chris flashed her a sheepish grin, shrugging. “Typical sibling spat. They never last long,” he apologized. “She’ll be over it by morning.”

“You said you had a step-mom?”

“Yeah. Our real mom took off when we were just little.” He shrugged uncomfortably. “Dad was always busy in the school, so we were mostly raised by nannies. Then he came home one day a few years back and said he was getting remarried. Her name is Victoria. She’s a real classy lady. She comes from money, you know? I guess Dad had met her at some associates’ function raising money for the college. Anyway, I was okay with him getting married, but Chex took it hard. I guess … she was always holding out hope that Mom might come back someday. Or something.” He shrugged again. “We were seven when she left. Chex took it the hardest. Mom hardly ever contacts us. Maybe a birthday or Christmas card here and there. But she made it clear she just wasn’t willing to be a mother. She’s living it up on some tropical island somewhere.” His smile was brittle.

“I’m sorry,” Alley said softly. “I didn’t mean to pry or bring up bad memories.”

“Nah. Not your fault. Anyway, guess you should be getting back, huh?”

“Yeah, Charley’s probably getting a little worried by now.” Alley juggled the books as she fumbled for her keys in the bottom of her bag. Chris pulled his phone out of his pocket, fiddled with the touch screen for a few seconds, and then the camera flash flicked on, effectively giving her light to see by. “They need to install more lights along the walks. Dad’s been after the board to get on that for years,” he complained.

“The parking lot is lit well enough.”

“Yeah, but getting to it can be dangerous after sundown. Not everyone around here is as nice as I am, and you’re a really pretty girl.”

Alley blushed a little, charmed by his fumbling attempts to flirt. “That’s sweet of you, but I can take care of myself. I’ve got pepper spray with me. And I also know self-defense. Dad made me take some classes when I started growing boobs.” She laughed at the expression on his face. “The truck is right … over…” Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on the pickup. Or, more precisely, on the three very large men who were standing around the pickup, talking amongst themselves. “Aren’t those…?“

“Limburger's thugs,” Chris huffed. “What’re they doing? Where’s the boss?”

Alley slowed and ducked behind a large SUV parked in the nearly empty lot, trying to see what they were up to. “Are they trying to break into the truck?” she whispered.

“No, looks more like they’re keeping watch. Or waiting for someone.”

“For me to come back?” Alley shifted nervously. “Why would they be waiting for me? They don’t even know who I am.” Unless somehow they’d figured it out … but how would they? She hadn’t given Limburger her name, and there was no reason for him to ask for it. She doubted she even registered on his radar enough for him to get curious. There was absolutely no way he could have figured out who she was in those few brief moments of passing.

Unless…

“The truck,” she breathed, smacking her forehead. “It’s got the garage’s name on the doors. He must’ve seen it and recognized the name, and thinks Charley is here. And he’s sent his thugs to wait for her to come back.”

“Planning on jumping her?” Chris whispered.

“I dunno. Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s a nasty piece of work, from what I heard. And he really doesn’t like her friends.”

“We should call the police. They won’t touch Limburger but his thugs aren’t off-limits.” Chris pulled his phone out again, but was stopped by Alley’s hand on his.

“Wait. I think … they’re leaving,” she said, slowly standing up. Indeed, the men had backed away from the truck and were currently sauntering across the lot to a pair of what looked like dune buggies parked in the shadows.

“Hey, weren’t there three of them?” Chris asked. “Where’d that fourth guy come from?”

“Who cares? I’m just glad they’re gone.” Alley made a beeline for the truck, only to be brought up short by Chris’s hands on her shoulders, bringing her to a staggering halt. Just as a large, gleaming, vintage 1930s Rolls Royce cruised slowly past them. Alley’s jaw dropped. It would have been a beautiful car … had it not been painted an eye-gouging shade of purple. She knew instantly who it belonged to. To prove it, the car came to a gliding halt and the window rolled down. Alley instinctively held her breath as Limburger’s cold, gleaming eyes met hers.

“So, young lady. We meet again.” His voice was cultured, refined, smooth as an oil slick. His eyes left hers, darted to the truck she stood only two feet away from, slid back with a raised eyebrow. He said nothing, but his gaze was suspicious. She bit her lip, feeling light-headed from lack of breath, and prayed he’d just leave before she passed out. “Be careful out there,” he warned, a humorless smile tugging at his thick lips. “There may be … unsavory people lurking about.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she choked out, and let loose the breath she’d been holding when the window rolled up and the car moved on. “Okay, I’m totally freaked out. Are you totally freaked out? ‘Cause I’m totally freaked out,” she babbled.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Chris soothed, putting an arm around her shoulders and rubbing her arm vigorously. “The creep is gone, we’re fine. Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” she groaned, staggering to the truck to lean heavily against the door. She looked it over, checking the locks, but nothing seemed out of place. Then she frowned as she recalled the fourth thug who’d popped up from nowhere, a niggling suspicion forming. “Lemme see that light again,” she grunted, kneeling on the ground beside the truck. “Shine it under here.”

He complied, and her worst fear was confirmed: Something dark and liquid was leaking in a steady drip under the cab, steadily forming a large puddle. “Holy shit,” Chris breathed. “What’d they do?”

She sighed. “I’m pretty sure they cut the brake line. They were aiming to murder me. Well, my cousin, anyway.” She flashed him a weak smile. “Still think he isn’t a threat?”

“I’m calling the cops.” His voice left no room for argument.

“And tell them what? Limburger has it in for my cousin so he got his goons to sabotage her truck in order to kill her? There’s no proof he had anything to do with it. We didn’t get a good look at those guys, either, so we have no descriptions.”

“Well, what else can we do?” he huffed, frustrated.

“Can I borrow your phone? I have to call Charley. She’ll have to come tow the truck back. And she’ll want to know I’m okay.” Alley sighed. “Maybe you should take off. If Limburger figured out I’m related in any way to Charley or the mi--her friends, he’ll be back. And you’ll be targeted, too. Just by association.”

“If it comes to that, I’m a target, anyway. He’s after this place, too, and I am the dean’s son, after all.” Chris handed her his phone and crossed his arms. “I’m not about to take off on you now. So don’t even bother trying.”

“Thanks.” She smiled at him gratefully and dialed Charley’s number. “Come on, pick up. Pick up!”

The line clicked. “Last Chance Garage, this is Charley speaking.”

“Charley? It’s me.” Alley held the phone away from her ear as Charley immediately started in on her.

“Where the hell have you been? Do you know what time it is? I mean, I know you’re a grown-ass woman and all but for cripe’s sake couldn’t you at least call and let me know you’re not gonna be home for supper or something?” Charley bellowed.

“Ma? Is that you?” Alley deadpanned, earning an indignant huff on the other end.

“I can see now why your mom worries to death over you,” Charley grunted. “You don’t even have a phone! Where are you calling from? And what’s the matter?”

Alley sighed and rubbed her temple. “It’s a long story. To make it short…” She took a deep breath. “I’m still at the college and Limburger showed up ‘cause he’s after the land and he saw your truck and I’m pretty sure he cut the brake line and I’m calling you from my friend’s phone to ask if you can please come pick me up ‘cause I’m really kinda freaking out right now,” she said in a rush.

There was a moment of silence. Then, “What?”

“I said—”

“I heard what you said. Are you okay? Is he still there?” Charley’s voice radiated genuine concern.

To her horror, Alley felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes, her emotions dangerously unstable. “No, he’s gone,” she replied, voice trembling despite her best efforts to steady it. “He drove off in that hideous car. His thugs are gone, too.”

“You said you’re with someone?”

“Yeah. His name is Christopher Archer.” Alley sniffed and swiped impatiently at her tearing eyes. “He and his sister were hanging out with me today and showing me around. They’re really nice.” She flashed a watery smile at a concerned Chris.

“Listen, go back inside the school and wait, okay? I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

“I think…” Alley bit her lip. “He saw me at the truck. I think he’s suspicious about who I am. I’m pretty sure it was you he was aiming to murder.”

Charley muttered a curse under her breath. “Well, he’d figure it out one of these days anyhow. Just … go inside, and if he shows up again, hide until we get there.”

“We?”

Charley chuckled. “The guys overheard. Big ears and all. You won’t keep them away even if you tried. So maybe lose your friends before we show up, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll be in the Atrium. It’s the small two-story near the back of the property.” Alley ended the call and handed the phone back to Chris. “Look, thanks for all your help. You’ve been so great. My cousin is on her way, so if you want to take off now, I promise I won’t be offended or anything.”

“Pfft. Right. I’m just gonna leave you by yourself after all that?” He shook his head. “Not happening. Come on, we’ll go to the Atrium like you said. I don’t know about you, but I could use something to drink!”

“Hey now, Mr. Dean’s Son. Aren’t you a little young to be imbibing in alcohol?” She gave him a teasing poke in the side.

“Who said anything about alcohol, old lady,” he teased back. “There’s a vending machine that sells fantastic hot chocolate. I could really go for a cup. How about you?”

“In the middle of an August heat wave? On top of all that hot food we just ate?” Alley shrugged. “Sounds like a plan.”

~*~*~*~*~

The chocolate was good, and Alley savored every sip of it as her jangled nerves slowly calmed, but no matter what she said, she couldn’t talk Chris into leaving her alone. Part of her was annoyed (she wasn’t a little girl, for cripe’s sake), but a larger part was relieved by his persistence. She doubted the Purple People Eater would be back, but she felt safer having someone by her side. Even if that someone was essentially a perfect stranger.

Half an hour passed, and Alley spent the time curled up on a cushy sofa, paging through her textbooks as Chris delved back into his novel. It was quiet, with only a few students hanging around the Atrium. That’s why, when the front doors suddenly burst open with an ear-jarring clatter, Alley just about jumped out of her skin, nearly falling off the couch and dropping her book in the process.

She looked up, wide-eyed, as a tall, slender man dressed in head-to-toe black strode through the doors, paused to look around, and then honed in on her. He headed right for her, head encased in an oddly-shaped biker helmet. She started to panic, wondering if Limburger had sent someone back for her after all, before she caught a gleam of reflected light, saw the long, metal tail lashing behind him. She relaxed, recognizing him. Stoker.

She didn’t know where he’d dug up the leather biker clothes, but it was astonishing how different he looked in them. Without the fur and mousy features to distract her, she could appreciate for the first time how built he was, the dark material hugging his lean, muscled body. He moved with purpose, strides smooth and graceful, like a dancer. A traitorous thought worked its way into her mind that, under all the fur, he was really kind of beautiful. And she wondered if all of the mice had such beautiful forms. She hastily banished the thoughts from her mind.

Chris had put himself between her and the agitated mouse, nearly a head shorter, but still determined to protect her as he faced down the intimidating figure. “Who’re you?” he growled, voice cracking just a bit.

Stoker just chuckled.

Alley’s eyes widened when she saw Chris’s hand clench, quickly scrambling up from her seat to grip his arm. She didn’t even want to think of what might happen if he took a swing at the war veteran. She didn’t think Stoker would hurt him, but then again, he was a trained soldier. He might not take kindly to physical violence. “It’s okay,” she said. “He’s a friend … of my cousin.”

Chris relaxed by degrees, his fist unclenching.

“Where’s Charley?” Alley asked the mouse, who hadn’t bothered to take off his helmet. All the same, she could feel his gaze on her, assessing.

“She’s looking over the truck with the others,” he finally replied, voice muffled behind his helmet. “I came to find you. You okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m fine.” She flashed a bright smile, and turned to Chris. “Look, thanks for everything today. I mean it. It was so nice meeting you and Chex. I hope I’ll see you around, once classes start."

Chris’s gaze slid away from Stoker and he offered a weak grin. “Yeah, same here,” he replied. “We’ll do this again. You know, when things get a little less crazy around here.”

“Definitely.” Alley squeezed his hand. “Tell Chex I’ll call her sometime. When I get a phone, that is. Maybe you can both come with, help me pick one out? You can show me around Chicago or something, too. And I can buy you lunch like I promised.”

Chris chuckled, sounding nervous as Stoker cleared his throat and crossed his arms, impatient. “Sounds good. Well…” He shifted, casting an uncomfortable glance at the tense, black-clad man. “Your family’s here, so guess you don’t need me around anymore. Take care, yeah? Hope I’ll hear from you soon. I’m gonna grab another cup of chocolate and head back to the dorm.” He gave an awkward grin, a polite nod to Stoker, and then he turned and walked off.

Alley released a breath and picked up her bag, cradling her books to her chest. She turned to leave, and jumped when a heavy arm abruptly settled around her shoulders, as Stoker led her gently but assertively out of the building. “Hey, do you mind?” she hissed, red-faced, as she caught the stares of the few remaining students in the building. She tried to balk, but Stoker was stronger than he looked. “I know where the parking lot is.”

He didn’t answer. His hand merely tightened on her arm, leading her away from the Atrium, and then off the walk and into the darker shadows cast by a towering oak. Only then did he remove his helmet, and she was taken aback by the genuine worry etched across his features. “Are you okay?” he repeated, his voice soft. “Did he lay hands on you in any way?” Under the concern, she heard simmering anger, and she shifted uncomfortably.

“He didn’t even get out of the car,” she mumbled, looking away from his intense gaze. “It was his thugs that killed the truck.”

“But he saw you at the truck? You sure he knows you’re associated with us?”

“I was headed right for it. The lot’s pretty much empty.” Alley shrugged. “I doubt he could mistake which car I was aiming for.”

He sighed, running his hand over her hair in a soft caress. “Sorry, honey. Looks like you might be involved in this war now, like it or not.” He quirked a grin. “Don’t suppose I could talk you into runnin’ back to Florida now, can I?” He chuckled at the look she gave him. “Didn’t think so.”

Alley, uncomfortable with his proximity, not to mention the way he kept looking at her, stepped out from under his hand and continued to the parking lot, where she found Charley and the three other mice hooking the pickup onto the back of her tow truck.

“Alley Cat!” Charley handed the winch to Vinnie and threw her arms around her cousin. “You okay, kid?” she asked. “You sounded really upset on the phone.”

“Yeah, a little shaken up, I guess.” Alley offered a small smile. “I’m okay now. Chris stayed with me until you came. He’s a really nice guy.”

“Do tell.” Charley raised an eyebrow with a catty smirk. “Not even started classes yet and already have the boys wrapped around your finger.”

“Well, that’s nothing new,” Alley replied, earning a laugh from her cousin as she clambered into the passenger seat of the tow truck and leaned out the window. “Was there really any need to bring the entire army?” She gestured to the mice.

“They were worried. And who knows if Limburger would come back and wait for me to show up, if I really was the target. No sense taking chances.” Pickup secured, Charley climbed into the driver’s seat. “Okay, guys. Let’s head back now. Thanks for coming out with me.”

“Not a problem, Charley-girl,” Throttle replied. “Glad you’re not hurt, Alley.” He smiled up at her, gave a signal, and the four bikes took off down the road with the tow truck following close behind.

#Biker Mice from Mars #bmfm fanfiction #OCs #Stoker

2 notes · View notes

fictionalthrill · 7 years

Text

The Auror (Series) Chapter 2: One Day At A Time

Percival Graves Imagine

Description: In this chapter, Y/N begins her first day at MACUSA, and showcases a bit of her skills in the Auror’s Training. Meanwhile, Graves works on being the man he once was.

According to Microsoft Word: 3799 words

February 4th, 1928.

It was another winter day. Yesterday, it had been rather cold in the city, and luckily the sun delivered some warmth throughout the day to make it less wintry. Today, however, no one was safe from the low temperatures of the bitter cold. Overnight, the sky had decided to lay a blanket of snow across the city landscape. The streets were impossible to walk in, there were barely any cars on the roads, and the wind felt like tiny daggers stabbing the flesh of anyone left exposed.

Among the little amount of people lurking the city’s avenues, was Y/N. She, like the very few, was on her way to work- her first day that is. She walked- more like stomped- her way through the snow, until she finally made it to MACUSA. Once inside, she tried to shake of some of the freckles of snow that had landed on her black, wool trench coat. When she was snow free, she walked up the ramp, admiring the magnificent surroundings of the MACUSA headquarters. I’ll never get used to this. She thought.

She stepped up to the elevator to wait for its arrival. After a few moments, it arrived, and Y/N marched inside.

“Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Wand Permit Office, please.” She notified the elf. As the door was closing, a small voice came from outside.

“Hold the elevator, please!” The person said. The door reopened and there stood Queenie and Tina.

“Thank you, Red.” Tina spoke, as both she and Queenie stepped inside.

“Good Morning, Y/N!” Queenie said vibrantly.

“Good Morning, Queenie. Good Morning, Tina.” Y/N replied.

“Good Morning, Y/N. How are you today?” Tina asked.

“I’m good. Thanks for asking.” Y/N answered, “And, you gals?”

“Great!” Both sisters said at the same time and then looked at each other. All three girls broke into a fit of laughter before they landed in the Wand Permit Office. Y/N and Queenie walked out, but Tina remained inside.

“You guys go ahead. I’m supposed to be handling an interview and some files for Mr. Graves.” Tina told the girls.

“Ok. We’ll see you later, Tina.” Y/N said, and the door to the elevator closed.

“Follow me, honey. I need to show you what you’ll be doing while in this office.” Queenie told Y/N as she guided her over to a desk. Suddenly, Y/N was shivering, still carrying that blistering cold from the streets.

“Oh, Honey! Your freezing!” Queenie exclaimed, but her voice was low and fruitful.

“Just a bit. Y-you know I tried to be as p-prepared as possible, but that weather got the best of me…” A shaky Y/N said.

“Well that’s because you didn’t clean up in the entrance.”

“What?”

“With flick of your wand you would have managed to shake some of the snow and wetness off!” Queenie told her as she giggled.

With that statement, Queenie took Y/N’s coat and cleaned it with a flick of her wand. Then she hung the coat at a chair nearby and examined Y/N’s appearance. Y/N wore a pair of trousers again, paired with a top and a soft cardigan. She studied her up and down, and noticed her brown ankle heel-boots were a bit wet with snow. She waved her wand again and dried them right up. Then, glanced up at Y/N.

“Oh, Honey! You look so chic!” Queenie told her.

“I- Thank You. For the complement and the cleaning.” Y/N said, amazed by what she had just seen.

“It’s no problem. Just remember, you’re a witch! I know your work in the no-maj world got you used to not using magic every day, but you can use it now. Especially now.”

“So, your sister told you about my years in-” She was cut off.

“Accounting? No, she didn’t. I got all that myself.” Queenie said with a bright voice.

“Then how? I mean, yesterday you did the same thing. It’s like you can read my mind or… something…” Y/N was catching on.

She must me a legilimens. But it’s so weird. They are…

“Rare? Not really. There’s a few around.” Queenie said as she giggled.

“So, that’s how you knew about me yesterday. You read my mind.”

“I did. I’m sorry, I can’t help it sometimes.” Queenie’s voice lowered.

“No, no. It’s alright. It’s good to know.” Y/N said, and Queenie smiled at her. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but please don’t read my mind all the time. I think it’ll take away from us actually communicating. Not to mention, somethings I’d like to keep private.”

“Understandable. Many people aren’t as nice about as you’ve just been. I respect that, plus I think we’re gonna be great friends, and I know you do too…” Queenie said in a lively voice. Y/N smiled at her, knowing her mind had just been read, but she let it sly seeing as Queenie didn’t mean any harm.

“That I do.” She answered.

“Oh, goody! Now, let’s get to work. There’s things I need to teach you so you can work with the mail and Wand Permits.” Queenie said.

With that final thought, Queenie proceeded to teach Y/N the basics of her position. There was some mail sorting, filling, and some revision on many wand permits. From the looks of it, the girls had a busy morning ahead of them, never the less, at least Y/N catches on quickly.

Later in the morning, down in the lower floors, in the Major Investigations Department, Percival Graves awaited the presence of Madam President. After receiving her note yesterday, Graves had reported himself to the department, but the President was nowhere to be found. He had then received word from Tina that their meeting had been canceled for certain reasons she didn’t know. Today, he was summoned once again, and like yesterday, he awaited her arrival.

He sat in one of the wooden chairs of the grand table in the center of the room. He was reading the paper; it’s images showcasing different ruins across New York and Great Britain. The dark arts were growing stronger and attacking the different locations, creating panic among both the wizarding community and the no-maj community. Graves closed the paper and tossed it aside. Suddenly, the doors of the room were open and Graves rose to his feet. Still, it wasn’t Madam President who was walking through the doors, instead it was Queenie and Y/N who strutted in, each carrying small piles of letters. Queenie appeared to be giving Y/N a brief explanation of the department and its offices.

“This entire floor is the Major Investigation Department. This space is used as a meeting room. Mainly the President, the director and the aurors meet here. Its good you know about it, you’ll be gathering here pretty soon. And-” Queenie had been rambling as they walked around the room. When she spotted Graves near one of the cabinets, she came to a stop, making Y/N bump into her.

“Mr. Graves, sir. I apologize, I didn’t expect anyone to be here.” Queenie said in a low voice. Y/N stood next to her looking between the two.

“Yes, I figured. Miss Y/L/N.” He said while looking at Y/N with a straight face.

“Mr. Graves.” Y/N only responded and nodded.

“Miss Goldstein, if you don’t appear to have any business here, I suggest you head out immediately. Madam President will arrive here soon and its best that neither of you are here, for we have important business to attend to.” Graves said in a gravelly tone.

“Yes, sir. My apologies.” Queenie immediately replied, grabbing Y/N by the hand and leading her back out.

“Actually, here’s a letter for you, sir.” Y/N suddenly said while pulling out a letter from the small pile she carried.

“Thank You.” Graves said as she handed him the letter. As a reply, Y/N nodded and walked back to Queenie who waited by the doors.

He continued to stare at them as they left. He thought about how Miss Y/L/N displayed a calm appearance. She -unlike others- didn’t appear intimidated by him. She was rather cool and collected around him. Then, he averted his eyes to the letter.

British Ministry of Magic.

That was odd. He rarely received any mail from the ministry. Something must be wrong. He thought. As he slipped his finger across the top of the envelope, the doors of the room reopened, and in entered Madam President at last.

“Madam President.” He greeted.

“Graves. Forgive my tardiness, things have gotten too hectic for me.” She said to him.

“I know. I suspect that explains yesterday’s absence.”

“Not quite. Yesterday I received an urgent call from the British Ministry of Magic. I had to leave and attend a conference they held.”

“Was the call similar to this one?” Graves said as he held the letter up between his two fingers.

“Yes. They are contacting us separately to speak privately. They are planning on taking over our investigation. They are worried we might fail to recapture Grindelwald on our own.” Madam President replied, a disappointed tone in her voice.

“Really? They are one’s to talk, seeing as Grindelwald’s escape was their fault in the first place. If it weren’t for their carelessness, we wouldn’t be in this mess!” Graves spoke.

“Control yourself, Graves.” The woman demanded, her voice monotonous.

“Forgive me, Madam President.” He said to her.

“They are well aware it was there carelessness that caused this. I’ve made sure of that. But the wizarding community is growing worried about their safety. If these attacks are not controlled, we will have no choice but to allow them to take over.”

“Well, it’s not as if I can offer much assistance. You’ve had me sidelined for more than a year now.”

“That was for your own safety, Graves. You’re lucky you weren’t very much removed from all your positions here. You have no idea how much I had to do to prevent that from happening.” She said calmly.

“And I thank you, Madam President. But don’t you think it’s been long enough. I took my time to come back, I was given the greenlight by the council to come back, and I’ve respected my distance from the field. If my work inside the headquarters has shown something, it’s the fact that I am more than able to be present in a working environment, let alone to perform my duties as an Auror.” Graves stated, his voice practically pleading.

“I know. I’ve kept a close eye on you and you’ve proven yourself. Still, I can’t just let you out in the field. You’ll have to attend to some of the Auror training, to get you back in shape; set in motion your performance.”

“Training?” Graves questioned, his face contorting an unpleasant emotion.

“Yes, Graves. You may train with Julius when you feel comfortable. He shall then report your performance to me, and I’ll decide when you may finally step out. Given your talents I’m sure you won’t disappoint; you’ll be in the field in no time.” Madam told him, her voice straight and never faltering.

“Auror Training commences today. Should I be present?” He asked her.

“Yes. Keep an eye on the new-comers. Make sure to assist Julius in the final decisions. We need the best of the best if we intend on putting an end to Grindelwald.” She said and then looked towards Graves, “What of the recent applicants?”

“They seem sure of what they want. We actually welcomed a female yesterday. She’s young, but shows to have a future as an Auror.” Graves answered.

“A woman? At last, I was beginning to worry we wouldn’t have any more female Aurors. The lack of applicants showed that. But, if she shows some promise as you state, then we have nothing to worry about.” She smirked at Graves, then she began to head towards the exit. “Thank you, for meeting with me, director. Make sure you work with Julius.”

Graves didn’t say a word as the President left. His face showed a mixture of disappointment and determination. While he was glad he’ll be able to assume his position as lead Auror, he wasn’t content with the fact that he had to train.

As if I were an applicant. He thought. Still, I have no other choice but this. He decided he will do whatever he could to be the man he once was, and he will prove that not just to the President, but the entire council as well.

At long last, it was the afternoon. Y/N had been anxious since midday for the time to arrive. She didn’t know what to expect now that the Auror training would finally take place. She had Queenie accompany her and show her where the Auror Office was located. The entire trip there was very silent, neither Y/N nor Queenie spoke. All she could do was think about how she might fail to prove herself. Yet, as she thought this, she felt Queenie squeeze her hand comfortingly. All Y/N could do was thank her through her thoughts. When they arrived to the offices, they saw a couple of gentlemen spread around the room. They all looked at them as they strutted inside, but quickly returned to what they were doing. Some had a conversation among themselves, and others just stood there, as if waiting for something. Both Y/N and Queenie were confused as to why everyone was standing around, so they decided to ask one of the gentlemen that stood alone in a corner of the room.

“Hi, honey! Do you know what’s going on?” Queenie asked the man who had his back turned to them. When he heard Queenie’s question, he turned around and looked at both women.

“Hi. Everyone’s just waiting for the trainer to arrive. We’ve yet to know where we’re supposed to go.” The man answered in an appealing voice.

Queenie leaned in towards Y/N and whispered, “That explains why everyone’s mind is on Mr. Weaver…”

“Julius Weaver?” Y/n questioned.

“Yeah. I guess he’s who will be training this time around. You know him?”

“Sort of.”

Queenie wondered how Y/N knew such a critically acclaimed Auror, but she decided not press the issue. She didn’t want to question her too much. Suddenly, she heard the thoughts of the gentleman they had approached, and she decided to introduce Y/N and herself.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Queenie, and this here is Y/N.” Queenie spoke spontaneously.

“It’s nice to meet you, Queenie and Y/N.” The man said as he extended his hand to Y/N. “My name is James Henry.” He added shyly.

Y/N shook his hand and smiled. “Nice to meet you, James.” As she spoke, she took a minute to study him. He was quite tall, and fairly built. He wore a creamy button down shirt, with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. It went well with his brown trousers that were held by a pair of red suspenders.

Unexpectedly, the doors of the Auror office burst open. In struts an impeccably dressed man, all dressed in black, passing every single person in the room, without so much as a stare. He abruptly stops in front of a door in between a set of book shelves, opens it and steps inside.

As everyone stares blankly at the door, Queenie whispers to Y/N, “That’s Mr. Weaver.”

“I know.” Is all she says before she begins to walk towards the door. Queenie steps closely behind her and the rest of the gentlemen follow.

When she opens the door and steps in, she is blown away by what she sees. The room is absolutely ginormous. A wide-open field of marble floor rests underneath her feet. On each wall, a series of wooden bleachers stand, up to half of the room, and at the end in a small corner was another door. Y/N continued to step inside slowly, and stood near the bleachers on the right side of the room. Queenie, who was just behind her, climbs to sit near where Y/N is. As the others walk inside, their trainer stands on the other side of the room with his back to them. His wand is out and he appears to be summoning a heavy wooden doll. He begins to walk towards them, the doll trailing behind him.

“Afternoon. I am Julius Weaver, Senior Auror.” He states as he finally stands in front of the bunch. The doll holts behind him and he faces the group, “This is the Target Room. Throughout the following weeks, we shall meet here to take forth the training. Any and all practices of magic are to be done here. The room is open to you all, as long as you fulfill your primarily given duties in the headquarters. Questions?”

The entire group remained silent as they nodded their heads.

“Very well. Might I remind you that not all of you will be assigned Aurors, so I suggest you really demonstrate your skills throughout the course of this training. Today, I will have you all face Sabina, our dear practice doll. Individually you will all step up and perform a blocking spell. Once you’ve done so, I will give you the opportunity to impress me by taking on Sabina here. Let’s begin.” Weaver stated as he scurried aside to give the others space.

Slowly, one by one, each trainee stepped up to the challenge. Some had difficulty blocking the doll, seeing as she was faster than they expected. Others barely managed to flick their wands before she sent them flying across the room. Y/N was getting quite nervous as her turn approached quickly. As she watched the others face Sabina, at the end of the room was a silent Graves, laid back, watching everyone as they performed. Nobody had noticed him when came through the door in the corner of the room and quickly sat in one of the seats of the bleachers. He thought about how much work Julius had on his hands with these trainee’s.

Suddenly, James was called and he stared at Y/N with a timid expression. She smiled at him and he proceeded to the center of the room.

“Ready. Begin.” Weaver commanded.

The target doll began to move across the room, James following her movements. Out of nowhere she shot at him. He moved his left arm over his body, creating a transparent shield. Then, we he tried to hit the doll back, his spell only graced her right arm.

“Hmm. Must work on your aim, Mr. Henry.” Weaver commented.

“Yes, sir.” Said a deflated James.

“Up next, Miss Y/L/N. Come on up.”

Hearing the name, Graves straightened his relaxed posture. He leaned forward in his seat, and watched as Y/N stepped to the center of the room. Y/N looked at the doll, and then looked to Queenie. She smiled brightly at her and waved. Y/N went back to the doll and waited.

“Ready. Begin.” Weaver ordered, and soon enough both figures moved across the room.

Y/N observed the dolls actions as she anticipated the attack. Her steps were firm on the ground, and her watchful eyes never faltered. Just then, Sabina performed an attack at Y/N. She abruptly stopped and flicked her right arm in front of her body.

“Protego.” She said quietly, and deflected the charm. Once safe, Y/N flicked her arm further, pointing her wand at the doll, “Bombarda Maxima!”

The doll erupted into tiny pieces that flew around the room. Queenie clapped enthusiastically, smiling quite brightly. When everyone stared at her, she immediately stopped and bowed her head.

“Very impressive, Miss Y/L/N.” Weaver claimed.

Y/N looked at the man and only nodded. She then skirted over to the where the rest of the group stood. Julius proceeded to stand in front of them.

“That is everyone. Unfortunately, the session must end for I have some business to tend to. I recommend you continue familiarizing yourselves with your morning posts and responsibilities. You are all dismissed.”

Instantly, one by one they all shuffled out of the room. The last to leave are Y/N and Queenie and suddenly, Weaver calls.

“It’s very nice to finally have you here, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Sir?” She says. Weaver then moves towards her.

“Last I saw you, you assisted our investigation to find our missing colleague. I’m afraid I never extended my gratitude for your help, so thank you.” As he states his gratitude, Graves listens in carefully.

“Anything I can do to help, sir.” Y/N stated.

“It really is nice to have you here. I assume your mother persuaded you to finally join us?”

“That she did, sir.”

“Swell. Welcome, then.” Weaver told her.

“Thank you.” Y/N added, and turned to walk towards Queenie who waited by the door.

Once the girls left, Graves eased himself over to Julius. “You picking favorites already?” He said as he lowly pointed to the door.

“No. But that one holds promise as an Auror.”

“So, you are choosing favorites.” Graves stated and smirked at the man.

“Ha! Jealous, are we? Afraid a female will take your place as renowned Auror?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. And what if she does? I have nothing against exceeding women.”

“Oh, Graves. Always the gentleman.”

“Thank you. I- uh, overheard your conversation. She assisted an investigation?” Graves asked Julius.

“She very much did. Yours to be exact. She deciphered many of Grindelwald’s clues and statements when we held him here. I believe we owe it all to her. She’s a bright young woman.”

“How did you find her?”

“I’ve known of her talents since she was in Ilvermorny. I met her on one of my school visits. I got to experience what a brilliant witch she is, and recommended she become an Auror. At long last she did.”

“Hm…”

“Something the matter?”

“No. I actually wanted to talk to you about something else.”

“No, worries. I’ve very much been informed of your requirements for the field. We may begin tomorrow, after I finish with the trainee’s.”

“Excellent. Thank You, Julius.”

“Not a problem. Now, I must see to my meeting. Clean this up will you.” Weaver commanded as he pointed to the mess of wood in the room.

Then, Julius was gone, and Graves was left alone in the Target Room. He thought about how Y/N was in part responsible for finding him when he was kidnapped. He knew very little about his investigation, much more than he imagined. Still, he was very amazed by Y/N. He wondered if she knew it was his investigation she assisted. He thought of how her performance was quite impressive, there was much to see from her. Graves was looking forward to see just what else she was capable of. A little too much for his own liking.

62 notes · View notes