#I CANFT BREATHE

[tubelight-404]

FIRST TIME GIVES INEFFABLE HUSBANDS VIBES AND I DONT THINK I CAN HANDLE IT 😭😭😭

[sukisukidaysook]

@faerociousbeast

HAPPY PRIDE HAVE SOME HORRIBLE YAOI

[tinithebini]

OH MY GOD I AM LITERALLY FREAKING OUT IVER THE ANIMAL CROSSING DIRECT I AM SO EXCITED I FEEL LIKE IM GOING TO THROW UP

[4jimn-remade]

[peteywillproceed]

All The Lies

Author’s Note: I’m so glad you guys liked the teaser for this yesterday, I hope the full thing lives up to expectations! As always, I hope you enjoy! x

Summary: Admitting you got cheated on is hard. Being cheated on by the person your best friend set you up with is harder. But telling your best his girlfriend was the other woman? Impossible. What good could even come from it?

Word Count: 3,582

“I cannot believe you!” You yelled, hands in your hair, jaw almost on the floor. “You told him what?”

Harrison just laughed, wiping the dish you’d unceremoniously dropped in his hands after the revelation and putting it back in the rack. “I didn’t know it was a private thing.”

“My breakups are not a matter of public interest,” you told him pointedly “and why did you even feel the need to tell him about it anyway?”

“I dunno, we were just out and you came up and he asked what you’d been up to recently.”

You almost screamed, biting down on your lip before you could snap and say something you’d regret. “You could’ve answered that with ‘she’s good’, there was no need to tell internationally beloved actor Thomas Stanley Holland that my relationship was a complete and utter failure.”

He snorted, draining the sink of washing up liquid and chucked the tea towel into the washing machine. You leant against the counter, staring out of the window whilst you wondered what the most effective way to kill your best friend was and whether this constituted a well meaning kicking-out-of-your-flat. Sighing, you shook your head and blinked back the tears that had pooled in your eyes when you were distracted – you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t think about it, after weeks on the sofa and tonnes of ice cream. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

“Y/n?” Harrison said softly, moving behind you so his chin rested on your shoulder.

You took a deep, shuddery breath, plastering the best fake smile you could muster on your face and spun around to face him. “Yep?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you weren’t ready for people to know yet,” he pursed his lips and rubbed your arm, pulling you into a tight hug when a sob wracked through your body. You clung onto his shirt, feeling the material dampen as you pressed your face against it, trying to remember to breathe, trying to forget the loss of a two year relationship.

“It’s okay,” you finally managed, choking back the sobs, even though it definitely wasn’t. “I just didn’t expect you to be so blunt about it. Or to tell Tom.”

“Well he was going to find out sometime, or were you planning on leaving it till he came over and Justin wasn’t in the flat anymore?”

You laughed between tears, wiping your face with your palms. “That one.”

“And, may I ask, have you been Googling Tom again? Since when did you know his middle name?” Harrison poked your chest playfully and you rolled your eyes, batting his hand away.

“Since he wouldn’t stop teasing me about mine last time he came over, I figured I needed some ammunition.”

“Ahh, you never were that good at revenge, were you?”

“Excuse me?” you gasped, pretending to be offended “what are you implying?”

“Y/n, Tom’s an actor – he’s been teased so much about that name I honestly don’t think he gives two shits.”

You could hardly breathe between laughs, the tears drying up faster than they ever had before, and you wondered if that was what progress had looked like. You’d thought it was progress when you’d gotten out of bed, when you’d stopped eating two tubs of ice cream a day and finally brushed your hair, but the truth was Justin had still been in the back of your mind, always there, always reminding you of that night you so desperately wanted to forget. Except for the first time in months, for that little split second, he hadn’t, and it had just been you and Harrison in your own little bubble.

“Anyway, speaking of the dipshit, he’s home tomorrow,” Harrison pulled his coat off the back of a chair and slid his arms into the sleeves.

You frowned, trying to remember what Tom had told you the last time you’d spoken to him. You’d known both Harrison and Tom since you were young, always that little bit closer to Harrison, and you’d been nervous about Tom coming home because he’d missed so much. You’d dreaded telling him everything that had happened, because he was the one that had set you up with Justin all those years ago. So, when he’d invited you and Harrison out to Morocco a few weeks back you’d stayed behind, too scared to face up to reality. You thought you’d have more time to prepare yourself – he was supposed to be on set for another month. “Oh really? He’s done filming already?”

“Yeah, something about a schedule mixup,” Harrison shrugged and fished his car keys out of his pockets “there’s a welcome home party at Nikki’s tomorrow night, are you coming?”

Oh, that. You remembered the invite, burning a hole in the pocket of your jacket. You’d seen the little white note card lying on the floor last week, but you’d been so caught up in Justin and that stupid picture you’d barely had time to process it.

“Sure, I think it’s in my calendar.”

“I can’t believe you still have a calendar,” Harrison rolled his eyes.

“Hey, some of us like being organised!” You chased after him as he made for the door “Some of us actually make it to appointments!”

“It’s 2020, Y/n,” he smirked, looking over his shoulder as he got the flat door open “It’s time to live a little and take some risks!”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and tutted. “And what if I don’t want to?”

“Then life is going to make you,” Harrison called, already disappearing into the hallway outside “and I, for one, am going to enjoy watching.”

***

You pulled up to the Holland house later than you meant to.

Mostly because you’d spent half an hour in front of the mirror wondering if it was a better idea to just stay home. But also because you’d tried putting makeup on for the first time in weeks and somehow you just looked worse.

You’d ended up back on the floor, sobbing so hard you thought your chest would cave in and wondering if it was even worth going tonight. You hadn’t seen your best friend in months, and it sucked that you had to ruin it by having a conversation you never wanted in the first place.  By the time Harrison texted you asking when you were gonna get there, it was way past six and you were embarrassingly, stupidly late.  

You shouldn’t have gone.

Yet here you were.

And everything felt so much worse.

“Y/n!” a familiar voice yelled as you hopped out of the car and spun around. Harry was running down the steps and launching himself towards you, pulling you into a tight hug before you’d even locked the car. “Harrison told me, I’m so sorry, Justin’s a dickhead. No wonder you didn’t wanna tell Tom.”

“Yeah, well we didn’t need to ruin two relationships did we?” you laughed, pushing away the pain. You’d practised what you were going to say, run your lines like you were rehearsing a movie. You figured there was no way you were going to make it through this without crying, but you could at least try.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, clearly confused by what you’d just said, but you were interrupted by Harrison flying down the stairs and yanking you into the house. “Finally, thought you’d died or something.”

“Nope just car trouble,” you lied, more than grateful as he dragged you away from a frowning Harry. “Where’s Tom?”

“Right here, darling,” he said, stepping into the hallway and swinging you into the air.

“Jesus Christ, Thomas let me down!” You laughed, bashing his back as he spun you in a circle. Harrison grinned as Tom tipped you upside down, spinning you so violently the black and white floor blurred into one, meaningless grey, and you had to close your eyes or else you would’ve ended up vomiting.

“Six months, SIX MONTHS its been since you graced me with your presence!” Tom turned you back upright and pulled you against his chest, arms wrapping around your waist. “You can let me have this!”

“Yef but canft breafthe,” you mumbled into his shirt.

“Don’t care, you owe me.”

“TOFFAS!”

“Alright alright,” he relented, letting you go. You could feel the heat flooding your cheeks as you smoothed down your hair and fixed your top, rubbing your palms against your jeans. “But you do owe me a proper cuddle.”

“Should’ve stayed in England, mate, there’d have been plenty to go around,” Harrison smirked, but you eyed him wearily, knowing exactly what he was referring to. For a good three weeks after the break up, you were pretty certain Harrison hadn’t left your side.

Tom seemed to pick up on the double meaning, sliding his eyes between you and Harrison in turn. “Am I missing something here?” he asked.

“Depends how you interpreted it,” Harrison said, turning towards the living room. “But you two probably need a catch up. I’ll go find Sam and give him a hand with dinner.”

You glared daggers at his retreating back, mentally cursing him for not even allowing you to take your shoes off. You felt Tom’s hand rest gently on your shoulder, the other tilting your face to face him, and you took a deep breath, knowing that if you didn’t get it over with, you’d never be brave enough again.

“Yeah, he’s right, we probably should,” you sighed, and Tom’s frowned deepened.

“Is everything okay, Y/n?”

You hesitated, gnawing at a loose piece of skin on your thumb. “Not…not really. Can we go sit in your bedroom? I feel awkward doing it here.”

Tom nodded, not taking his eyes off you as you took your shoes off. You could feel him staring at your neck, knowing his brain was working over time to figure out what was going on that was so bad you had to wait to tell him. You knew he’d be thinking the worst, it was just what he did, and usually you never had to make that a reality.

But today…today was different - and you had no idea how he’d take it.

***

“So,” he said, closing the door and pulling you onto the bed “what’s up?”

You pushed your tongue against your cheek and looked everywhere but his face, knowing you’d lose all the confidence you’d built the moment you looked into his eyes. His room was clean, a few pants chucked across the floor and a couple of dust bunnies lurking beneath the bed, but he’d only been a day. He had more than enough time to dirty it up to its usual standard.

“Seriously, Y/n, you’re scaring me now.” Tom’s voice reminded you he was still sitting in front of you, the two little lines creasing his brow even deeper now.

“Sorry, it’s just…I don’t really know how to phrase this.”

Tom smiled, taking your hand in his, and you almost snatched it back in shock. His palms were warm and clammy, just as trusting and open as they’d always been. You had a feeling this might change things. “It’s just me, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“But’s that’s not the point. It’s just…well, it’s about Maura.”

“Maura? As in, my ex-girlfriend Maura?” Tom drew back slightly, confusion still written across his face. “What about her?”

“Well I- wait, your ex girlfriend?” you stopped mid-sentence, realising what he’d just said, mouth hanging open in shock. Tom gulped, flicking his eyes away from yours, and shuffled backwards on the bed. He wouldn’t meet your eyes, desperately looking for anywhere else to focus on, and this time it was you getting more and more confused. “Since when did that happen?”

“Since before I went away,” he sighed, scratching the side of his head as if that was enough of an explanation. “I figured we weren’t right for each other.”

“But I thought-” You’d been going to say you thought he loved her, thought she was the one for him and that was who he was going to end up with. This all seemed so…so random, so out of the blue you couldn’t even have written it as a surprise twist in a book. You could barely process what he was saying, a thousand thoughts crossing your mind at once. Why hadn’t he told you? What the hell had happened for him to break up with her? But the most important one of all, the one you didn’t really want to let yourself believe, kept flashing in front of your eyes like a neon sign.

If they’d broken up before he went away to film Cherry, then that meant Maura had been single that night.

“Justin cheated on me,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “He cheated on me when you were away and I’ve had no idea how to tell you.”

“He did what?” Tom’s eyebrows shot up so fast they were a blur, and before you could process what he was doing he had his phone in his hand and was scrolling through his phone. “I’m gonna kill the bastard.”

“Wait, no, Tom, stop,” you desperately reached for the phone, clawing it from his grip as he tried to turn away from you.

“That arse hole cheated on you, Y/n, he’s not getting away with it!”

“But you don’t know what happened!” You finally grabbed the phone and yanked it away, panting from the effort. “There’s more to it than that!”

“Like what? What possible excuse could he have for cheating on you, Y/n?”

You huffed, folding your arms across your chest. Tom’s face was red with anger, his hands curled into fists at his sides. “We’ve kind of gotten off topic here.”

“Well you were the one that brought up getting cheated on,” Tom stepped towards you, holding his arms out “I honestly had no idea.”

You collapsed into his reach, remembering how much you’d craved his smell and warmth over the months he’d been gone, and sighed against his chest. “That’s because I didn’t want you to know. I made Harrison promise not to tell anyone.”

“But why? It’s not like I would’ve blamed you for it, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No,” you admitted “but, the thing is…he cheated on me with Maura and-”

“And you thought we were still together,” he finished the sentence for you and the relief that washed through you was like water poured on a wildfire. You’d kept it bottled up for months, sobbing to Harrison and wondering how the hell you were supposed to tell him about it. To finally say it, to finally hear him understand, was worth more than you’d realised. “You didn’t want to hurt me too.”

“Especially not whilst you were filming. I knew how much you loved her and I couldn’t bear the thought of upsetting you when you were thousands of miles away.”

He laughed, the sound hollow and unnerving as he guided you back to the bed and held your fingertips with his. His gaze was fixed on the door, barely acknowledging you as you turned to stare at him in bewilderment. “The irony is, you did still upset me.”

You frowned, your lips parting in confusion and your heart beating wildly in your chest. “What?”

Tom raked a hand over his face and lay back against the bed, his chest heaving a sigh as you fell down beside him. His curls were gone, the stubble of his head prickling your fingers as you reached up out of habit to run your fingers through it, trying not to panic. You’d worked so hard to keep everything to yourself so it wouldn’t mess up his work, that the thought you somehow hadn’t even managed to do that was crippling.

“When I set you up with Justin two years ago, it was for a reason other than just wanting you to get out more,” he said eventually, turning to face you. “I couldn’t admit something to myself and I figured the best way to…stop thinking about it, was to pass the problem on.”

“What problem?” you shook your head, still not really understanding what he was trying to get at. Tom’s hand reached to cup your waist and you gasped at the contact, not used to being this close to him.

“You,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “You were my problem. Y/n, I’ve been in love with you for years and I couldn’t admit it to myself. I thought if I saw you happy with someone else it would make everything go away, but somehow…somehow it just made it worse.”

You couldn’t breathe, paralysed by Tom’s revelation from your head to your toes. Your eyes were locked with his, filled with desperation and a sadness you’d never seen before, and your heart almost broke at the thought he’d held himself back from this for years.

You’d never given much thought to it really, there’d been the usual teasing in secondary school but once Tom had gotten with Maura it had pretty much stopped. There’d never been any confusion, no wondering about what might have been – to you, he’d always been Tom, the boy who’d wiped a booger on you at six, and copied your chemistry homework for four whole years and never been caught. Sure, you knew exactly what people saw in him, why girls chased him on the streets and oogled him in the gym, and now that you thought about it you’d always liked it when you went swimming.

But he was still just Tom.

“I…I don’t really know what to say,” you said at last, pulling away from him slightly. You saw hurt register in his eyes, and it killed you to be the one that caused it. But what else could you say? You couldn’t tell him you loved him too because it was a lie...

...wasn’t it?

“Anything - anything but that this has scared you away.”

You held back a sob, somehow feeling more conflicted than you had than when you’d come here in the first place. “It hasn’t, I’ll always love you Tom,” you saw hope flare in his eyes “but I don’t think I love you like…like that.”

He nodded, pushing his tongue against his cheek and pulling away from you. Suddenly the air went cold, all the energy disappearing with him, and you wanted to sob at the loss. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, his back blocking you from seeing his face, and you ran a finger across your lips, at a loss for what to say.

You knew today would go badly, but you hadn’t expected it to be because of this. You’d prepared yourself to deal with the fall out of a cheating girlfriend, not a declaration of love, and now you just didn’t know what to do.

Thinking on instinct, you reached out and wrapped your arms around his waist, feeling his shoulders shake as his warm hands embraced yours and he leant back into your body. You glanced at his cheeks, reaching up to wipe away a tear, and sighed into his neck, wondering how you’d gotten here.

“I’m sorry, you probably didn’t expect that,” Tom laughed, the sound full of a profound sadness you’d never heard in him before.

“I didn’t, but I’m glad I know,” you replied, feeling more sure as soon as you’d said the words.

“Really?”

“Of course. It seemed like it was upsetting you not telling me, and if telling me has made it any easier for you than I’m glad I know.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s made things easier.”

You smiled, bending down onto the floor and cupping his cheek. “Maybe not, but things are always better out than in.”

“Isn’t that a drinking joke?”

“It applies here,” you grinned, relief filling you as he cracked a small smile. “Besides, things change.”

Tom’s brow furrowed, big brown eyes turning to look up at you as you rubbed your thumb over his chin. “What?”

Hesitating, you bit your lip and met his gaze, remembering what Harrison had told you yesterday about life and taking risks. This was either a horrendously bad idea or about to change a hell of a lot in the space of five seconds. 

You weren’t exactly known for your rational decisions after all, you barely managed to make it out of your flat alive most days. But the second he’d said it, the second he’d made you question everything you believed, you knew you had to find out what it felt like, even if it was just once and never again.

And so you went for it, without thinking, and pushed your lips against his, feeling the shock wave course through his body and his rigid mouth melting against yours as he finally registered what was happening. For a second, you wanted to pull away, pretend like it never happened, but then Tom reached for your neck and fireworks exploded behind your eyes.

It was like nothing you’d ever felt before, butterflies flapping excitedly in your stomach, your heart swelling and beating faster than ever before. Bolts of lightning raced through your veins, electricity crawling across your skin and setting your nerves on fire as his lips moved slowly against yours. Suddenly, there were no more questions, no more overthinking, just you and Tom, exactly where you were supposed to be.

And, for the first time in weeks, you were stupidly...embarrassingly...happy.

When you finally pulled away, you were both a little breathless, a little starry eyed and overwhelmed. Your lips curved into a smile, a small laugh escaping you as you fell against Tom’s arms and nuzzled your face into his chest.

“Does this mean...” he started, but you pushed your finger against his lips.

“Don’t even question it, Thomas,” you grinned, reaching up to press another kiss to his cheek. “It’s not something that needs to be thought about.”

Before you could think, his lips were back on yours and this time you were in his lap, pulled flush against his chest and he was running his tongue along your bottom lip. 

But before you could deepen the kiss, the door behind you suddenly burst open, Harrison nearly giving you a heart attack as he yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Oh FINALLY! Harry? You owe me twenty quid!”

Taglist: 

(if you want to be added, send me an ask or leave a reply with the account you want tagged!)

@jinxfanfics @zabdisamor @jillanaholland @enjoymyloves @averyfosterthoughts @ziggyspurplehaze 

[chaoticdilfkisser]

When I think of you I am reminded how wonderful the universe is and how perfect things can turn out to be. I wish I was with you so I can hug you and tell you over and over how much I love you.

GIVE ME A ONLINE HUG YOURE SO FCUKING SWEET I CANFT BREATHE-

COMEHEREFADEYILOVEYOU

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 10

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 4,286 for this chapter (45,795 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Daniel?"

Dan blinks. He blinks again, zoning back into the conversation he's supposed to be a part of.

"Er," he says, sheepish. "What was the question?"

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Daniel?" the woman asks - the interviewer asks, fuck, this is like the sixth time he's asked her to repeat herself. "I heard you were ill yesterday, weren't you?"

He wasn't. But that is what Jaime and Patrick had sworn up and down to anyone who asked, because they're good partners in crime like that. They look like they regret it now.

"Yeah, Daniel," Jaime says, stressing his name in a way that makes Dan think she's one more fuckup from smacking him in the back of the head. He'd probably deserve it, at this point. He can't remember being this scatterbrained in his whole life, and that's saying something. "You sure you're okay being out of bed?"

The word 'bed' gets stressed too, just a bit, and Dan feels a flush creeping up his neck.

It's honestly unreasonable how he can't seem to focus on the task at hand, which is answering softball questions about the show he's worked on for three years, because his mind keeps drifting back to Phil.

Phil, who he'd left in bed with Thor, all sleepy noises and grumpiness at Dan needing to leave. Phil, who has the day off and might still be mostly naked and lazy while he waits for Dan to come back. Phil, who he only has three days left with.

Three more days in London. Two sleeps. And Dan has shit to do every single goddamn day of it.

This is a work trip, technically. They've got a handful of interviews the next two days that couldn't be scheduled for their first London stretch, and then they're going to France. That's exciting, it is, a mark of success that Dan never expected for himself, but right now he's frustrated by anything that cuts into the time he could be using to kiss Phil.

Dan is so busy remembering how Phil's mouth had felt against his that he forgets to answer the question. He can practically feel his eyes glaze over.

"Daniel," Patrick says, audibly exasperated.

It takes a lot to get Patrick to that point, so Dan ducks his head and mumbles another apology.

"He's fine," Jaime tells the very nice and concerned interviewer whose name Dan has long forgotten. "He's just got a lot on his mind right now and he's really shit at multitasking."

"Hey," says Dan. It's a weak protest.

The interviewer is a tall woman with kind eyes that crinkle into laughter lines when she smiles at him. She's dressed casually, has a denim jacket with patches and pins all over it, and Dan feels his eyes linger at the rainbow on her pocket.

What is that like? To be so certain and so confident that you can wear it on your sleeve even in a professional environment? Dan doesn't know that he'll be able to get there.

He wants to compliment her on it. It's the same urge he had in the restaurant with Phil's family, vocalizing that he wishes he could wear more nail polish. The same swirling anxiety of being judged for it follows quickly, but this time it's amplified by the recording device in the interviewer's hand, the knowledge that anything he says right now will be analyzed to death later.

Dan wants to live authentically, and he wants to get to a place where he doesn't need to hide, but he's frustrated by the reality of how much progress that's going to take. It's not going to be easy, it already hasn't been, and it's never going to stop.

Even with making a name for himself and having an audience, Dan knows that coming out publicly still won't stop strangers from making assumptions about him or demanding an explanation for the women he's been seen with. He'll have to come out over and over and - it's scary. It's really scary.

The compliment catches in his throat. He can't say it to someone recording him, no matter how kind her eyes are. He hasn't even told his grandma yet.

"I like your jacket," he says instead. He feels like a coward for it.

"Thanks," the woman says brightly, looking down at herself and tapping one of her bigger patches. "Customized it myself, obviously. It's a wee bit more colourful than you like to be seen in, right?"

The casual chirping helps Dan relax, reminds him that this is a laid-back interview with easy questions. Nobody is shining a heat lamp on him and asking for an expose on how he spent part of last night inside of another man.

He grins and shrugs. "Yeah, alright, I wear a lot of black. Sue me. I can still think colours look nice on some people."

Great. Now he's thinking about Phil again.

"Like Jaime," Patrick offers, tugging at one of Jaime's bubblegum braids. Dan still can't tell if it's a wig or not, but she smacks Patrick's hand away like it's her own hair.

"That's true," says Dan. "Jaime wears as much black as I do, though, I dunno that she's the best example."

Patrick nods, solemn. "At least her hair is interesting."

"Oi, fuck you. Sorry," Dan adds sheepishly. Even though this is an online print interview, he still feels a little bit of shame whenever he slips up and curses during an interview.

The woman - Cara? Catherine? Camilla? Ca-something? - just laughs and waves his apology off.

With an ease that Dan can't help but notice isn't quite as practised as Phil's, the interviewer moves on to questions about their other cast members. While they don't have any trouble making fun of each other, it's even more fun to exaggerate stories of people who aren't here to defend themselves.

Dan tries so hard to participate. He does. He laughs in all the right places and gives Jaime grief for not remembering something right, because he's given this poor interviewer nothing of substance. The thing is that Jaime is better at telling stories and Patrick is so dry and stoic with interrupting jokes that Dan knows he isn't needed for this. He lets them bicker over a story detail that he's long forgotten and feels himself start to zone back out.

He listens to Patrick's slow timbre, Jaime's trill of a laugh, and lets his mind drift back to where it wants to be.

--

Even though it's tempting, Dan isn't stupid enough to text Phil in the middle of doing his fucking job. He has to resort to checking his phone between interviews and pictures, getting more and more pouty about the lack of response to the things he's sending throughout the morning. Phil must be having a lie-in, because it takes him a couple of hours to even see Dan's texts.

ugh i should have just stayed in bed

pls send thor pics

and you pics but like give me a heads up if your dick is out im at work

i dropped my coffee on jaimes lap fml shes gonna kill me

im just so distracted lmaooo

canft believe youre just asleep thats so rude

Oh nooooooo. I always cry over spilt coffee :( you want me to bring you one? I can come hang out for lunch!

The sweet text is accompanied by a photo of Thor asleep on the sofa, his little head pillowed on Phil's knee. Phil is wearing Dan's pyjama pants and - it's hard to tell for sure, with the way the photo is angled, but Dan thinks he's got the Friends shirt on. Frankly, that should be gross. Dan wore that shirt for way too long for it not to smell like, well, his sweat, and that is objectively not sexy.

Dan feels gooey warmth spread from his stomach outwards, anyway. Maybe it is gross, but it makes him happy to think about Phil's shirt smelling like him the way that his own Yeezy shirt still faintly smells like Phil. He covers his mouth with a hand so nobody milling around will see him grinning like an idiot.

thats ok, Dan texts back one-handed. yall look comfy you should stay. i'll b back for dinner and snuggles ok?

Ok! ^_^

God, but Dan wants to be there now. He wants to be the one cuddled up with his head in Phil's lap. He recognises that it's very stupid to be jealous of a dog, but he isn't going to let that stop him.

"Hey, Howell." Patrick's voice interrupts the daydream of slender fingers carding through Dan's hair.

Dan blinks. He blinks again, looks up.

"I didn't even see you sit down," Dan tells him, bemused. They're sharing a bench in the building's lobby, not wanting to go too far in case they need to go back upstairs for more photos during the short break in their day.

"Yeah, you're on another planet," says Patrick. Dan wishes he could argue that fact. "Things went well with your whole Love Actually emergency, then?"

The reference pulls Dan up short. He feels his brow furrow as he walks through the entire film in his head. "What are you talking about? None of this happened in Love Actually."

"It's British, isn't it," Patrick says nonsensically.

"I don't," Dan starts, but then he gives up. He and Patrick are close as coworkers - friends, even - but Dan never quite understands the links that Patrick's brain makes. "It went well. It went really well. I don't know if Jaime told you everything I texted her, but I like... fully ended up meeting the family."

Patrick's eyebrows raise slightly. That's quite a reaction, from him. "You met the parents? Bro. You just started dating."

They're not in an overly crowded area, but people keep waking by them on their way in or out of the building, so Dan is pleasantly surprised to discover that Patrick can play the pronoun game, too.

"Yeah," says Dan. He doesn't want to get into the mix-up right now. He's sure that Patrick will have another incomprehensible reference when he hears about it. "But it just feels... I dunno. Right? In a way other people haven't? Maybe that's obvious."

"It's not obvious," says Patrick. He's snapping a hair elastic around his wrist idly, the gesture something Dan had thought was an expression of annoyance or frustration when they first met. Dan knows now that it means Patrick is tired, that he wants to shove his hair off his shoulders and stop it from tickling his neck. They're only halfway through their day, though, still a couple of photoshoots to get through, so he can't put his hair up just yet.

Dan knows so much about these people. He's learned it all from such close proximity for the past three years, but he also genuinely likes spending time with them. He feels, suddenly, very guilty for wishing cancellation on this thing they've all worked so hard for.

"Sorry," Dan says.

"For what?"

He doesn't really know how to voice it. He shrugs. "For being a shit coworker right now."

Patrick gives him an indecipherable look and shakes his head. "Daniel," he says, "you're not being a shit coworker."

"I kind of am, though," says Dan. "Like I can't focus at all, I'm missing interviews, and I... I don't know how much I want to go back to Atlanta. Is that bad?"

"Why would that be bad?" Patrick hums. "This is your home."

Home isn't an easy concept for Dan to wrap his head around. He hadn't had a happy one for most of his life, hadn't been able to find somewhere that felt quite right ever since he escaped that. So it's a little disconcerting when Patrick's words settle into his chest and feel like indisputable truth.

"London is home," Dan echoes, wondering it it feels just as right coming out of his own mouth. It does. His head is spinning, a bit.

"Yeah," Patrick says, like it's that easy.

Dan gives himself a little shake back into the present. He smiles, wry. "Still, I probably shouldn't be crossing my fingers under tables for the producers to shut us down."

For a moment, Patrick looks confused. Dan is all ready to apologise again, shove those feelings down, but Patrick just says, "So negotiate your contract. You know that you aren't required by law to see the show through to the end, right? You can just not come back for season four, or only come back for a couple episodes instead of a full season."

They're sat in a fairly public area, with other people walking about, but Dan could hear a pin drop in the shattering silence that rings in his ears at Patrick's use of logic.

"I," says Dan, "did not think of that."

Patrick nods. "You kind of tunnel-vision sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

--

By the time Dan returns to Phil's building, he's talked himself into and back out of quitting his job a dozen times. It's a dumb decision, but not much dumber than simply waiting for someone else to make the decision for him.

He decides to call Amy when he's in France and talk the options through with her. She's already looking for potential gigs in the UK for him, so hopefully the conversation isn't going to come as much of a surprise to her. The last thing he needs is for his agent to get upset with him over making changes in his life.

Dan's head is buzzing with it, loud enough to give him a headache. He texts Phil that he's outside and waits to be let in. He gets an intrusive domestic fantasy of letting himself in with his own key, and reminds himself to rein in this U-Haul bullshit.

"Hey!" Phil beams as he opens the door and steps back for Dan to come in. Other people live on the other floors, but Phil still leans in for a long kiss the moment the door closes behind Dan.

It sends sparks up Dan's spine and quiets some of the unending noise in his head. He sighs, leans into the kiss, wraps his arms around Phil's waist to pull him even closer.

He's cognizant of where they are, though, so he pulls back to rest their foreheads together after a moment. "Hey yourself."

"Did you have a good day?" Phil asks, his tri-coloured eyes bright and unguarded.

"Yeah, but it's better now," says Dan. He's parroting what Phil said to him yesterday, and he can tell that Phil recognises it from the little smile on his face. "You look nice. You showered just for me?"

Phil laughs and tugs at Dan's wrist, pulling him down the stairs. They've got four left feet between them, honestly, so it's a miracle nobody takes a nosedive.

"Yeah," he says as they narrowly avoid any number of broken bones. He presses Dan against the wall next to his front door and grins at him. "But it was also for the judgey moms at the dog park. You look nicer, you didn't take the makeup off?"

To be honest, Dan had forgotten it was even on his face. He settles his hands on Phil's hips and smiles. "They made me look like the best version of me, why would I erase all their hard work?"

"Mm, you do look pretty," Phil says, and Dan is lucky to have his back against a wall. His knees might have actually buckled at the praise if he was unsupported.

"Pretty, huh?" Dan asks. He tries to keep his tone dry, like it's a big joke, but Phil's big eyes just see too much.

"Very pretty," says Phil. Dan doesn't know how to handle being complimented by Phil's deep, sincere voice, but he isn't given much of a chance to react before Phil is speaking again. "But I don't know that I'd call this the best version of you. You looked really nice when you came, y'know."

"Fuck, Phil," Dan laughs, a little breathless. "I was literally gone for ten hours."

"Ten hours too many," Phil grumbles.

Dan laughs again, but he has to admit that Phil has a point. The day had absolutely dragged on with the knowledge that his probably-boyfriend was waiting for him.

"You wanna go inside, then?" Dan suggests, running his thumbs just under the hem of Phil's clean shirt. "I'll do a lot of things, but this floor is cement, mate. I'm not blowing you out here."

The giggle that's surprised out of Phil makes Dan smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. He smacks the center of Dan's chest lightly and steps back to let them both into his flat. "I was thinking we could, like, order dinner first or whatever, but I'm not going to complain if you want to switch up the itinerary."

"The itinerary," Dan mocks, looking around for a ball of fluff running directly at them as he struggles with his shoes. "Uh, where's Thor?"

"Uh," says Phil. There's colour high in his cheeks that he tries to hide by flopping onto the sofa. The sweats he stole off of Dan don't really leave much to the imagination at all, not when he's sitting like that, and Dan almost loses his balance when he stands up straight. The pink doesn't leave Phil's face, but a knowing smirk joins it. "He's in the bathroom."

Dan's heart skips like an old CD player and he laughs to mask just how fond he is. "Uh huh, and here you are acting like you were really ordering food first."

"Well," Phil says, his smirk growing, "we could still order first, it'd be at least twenty."

"Sounds like a challenge," Dan hums, coming around the sofa to sit on the other end and lean forward, kissing the sliver of skin where Phil's shirt is riding up. "Why don't you do that, and I'll go get a bloody condom."

Phil blushes, proper blushes, and pulls a packet out of his pocket. "Ta-da," he jokes, weakly. "For my next trick -"

"If you say you're going to make your penis disappear," Dan says, flat, "then I'm walking out."

They just look at each other for a long moment, like a staring contest neither of them initiated, and then Phil snorts. That sets them both off and soon enough they're laughing, Dan's nose tucked against Phil's hipbone and Phil's hand over his mouth.

"I wasn't going to say that," Phil insists, still giggling. "I wasn't."

"Sure you weren't." Dan grins up at him and slides up his body, a little less graceful than he'd imagined it in his head. He presses their smiles together and licks into Phil's mouth. A little noise passes between them when Phil's hands find their way into Dan's hair, but Dan isn't sure which of them it comes from.

The giddy feeling of laughter doesn't leave Dan's chest. He lets it make a home there as he trails kisses all over Phil's long, pale neck. He doesn't need to guess when Phil likes something - he squirms and makes these little huffs of noises, grip on Dan's curls tightening just a bit before it loosens again. It feels impossibly powerful to learn how to take Phil apart like this, like they're teenagers snogging on the sofa in their first relationship.

It's strange that this does feel like a first relationship for Dan, in a lot of ways. He loved his first girlfriend and cared about other women he's dated, but it's not the same at all.

Finally, Dan is allowed to feel all the things he's supposed to have felt when he was younger. He's allowed to let budding affection and lust and friendship all wrap up in one person.

"So, the piercings," Dan murmurs, letting his hand slide up Phil's shirt to toy with one of them.

"What about them?" Phil asks. He already sounds impatient and needy, like he had last night, and the sound of it goes straight to Dan's dick.

Dan laughs and sits up, helping Phil get his shirt off over his head. "I mean, do they do things for you? Do they feel good when I touch them? How do you want me to touch them to make them feel good?"

"Do you always ask this many questions during sex?" Phil asks, dry.

There's no point in lying. "Yeah, I tend to babble." Dan gives him a winning smile and taps at Phil's hips, a silent request for him to lift up. Phil does happily, arching up for Dan and letting his stolen sweats get tugged off. "Guess you'll have to shut me up somehow."

Phil laughs, muffling the sound of it with his palm, and shakes his head. He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, giggly and naked and starting to get hard against his thigh. Dan has no idea how he got this lucky.

"That's such a terrible line," Phil informs him, grinning wide. He doesn't seem bothered by Dan being dressed when he isn't. He just settles back against the cushions and wiggles a bit, either trying to get comfortable or just teasing Dan. Either is possible at this point.

"It's not a line," Dan protests, shrugging his jacket off and settling back between Phil's legs. He presses his mouth to Phil's soft tummy and, unable to help himself, blows a raspberry.

Phil kicks out at him, instinctive, and his tongue is trapped between his teeth as he tries to hold back giggles.

"My nipples aren't sensitive," Phil tells him, voice wavering with some combination of amusement and arousal. He drops a hand to wrap around his own cock, thumbing at the metal on the tip of it. "This is. It, like, tugs. It's nice."

Biting back a groan at the sight, Dan digs around for the condom. He impatiently knocks Phil's hand out of the way to get him hard enough that he can roll it on. The piercing just above his balls settles nicely at the bottom of the latex, almost like it's holding it in place. Dan rolls it between his fingers, watches Phil's eyes flutter closed. "And this one?"

"Not as much. Still good, though." Phil's tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Dan grins at the unconscious reminder of what he's meant to be doing.

It's not the most comfortable for them to be laid out on the sofa like this, lanky as they are, but Dan isn't nineteen anymore. His knees do not hold up the way they used to. He wraps his hand around the base of Phil's cock and lets the tips of his fingers idly play with the metal bar as he finally gets his mouth on Phil.

Dan isn't used to the taste of latex accompanying a blowjob, but it isn't unpleasant. He gives Phil a couple of long licks and then sucks lightly at the head, not sure how much pressure Phil likes yet.

That's something he thinks he'd love to learn. He wants to know everything about Phil's body, wants to make him tremble with it.

Dan is extremely offended when he glances up and sees that Phil is tapping something on his phone, but the offense settles when Phil huffs a laugh and says, "Put in for takeaway. All yours, now."

The phone gets put down and Dan tongues at the bump of Phil's Prince Albert ring through the condom. That makes Phil's breath hitch, his hips jerk just a bit.

It's been years since Dan has had a cock in his mouth, but he likes to think it's like riding a bike. He takes Phil deep, hollows out his cheeks, repeats any motion that makes Phil let out soft groans. He forgot how much he likes this, fuck.

Much like everything else, it's somehow impossibly better with Phil.

Phil keeps a hand in Dan's hair and braces the other on the back of the sofa, breathing hard, and Dan doesn't want to close his eyes and miss a fucking moment of this.

"Fuck," Phil breathes, and Dan responds with an answering moan around his dick. "Yeah, alright, that's - fuck, Dan, you feel so good, look so pretty like that."

The praise still makes Dan shudder. He sucks Phil harder, feeling the weight of Phil's cock on his tongue as he speeds up his movements.

Dan remembers blowjobs to be pretty fast. He also never gave one to a man older than twenty, though, and his jaw starts to ache once he realises that Phil isn't going to be pushed over the edge as quickly as he's used to.

He pulls off to give his jaw a break, stroking Phil and pressing his open mouth along the side of him.

"You think I feel nice?" Dan laughs, pleased by the way the gust of air makes Phil's cock twitch. "Fucking, forgot how good this feels."

"Yeah?" Phil prompts, his voice deep and breathy and so, so nice to listen to. No wonder he's so successful on the radio. "You like sucking cock?"

Dan shivers. "Yeah," he says. He's unashamed, because he feels safe here with Phil. He can admit to liking a cock in his mouth, a hand in his hair, being called pretty. "Yours specifically, though."

Phil laughs. "That's good. I like specifically your cock, too." He looks over at his kitchen for a moment and raises his eyebrows. "I'll get dressed and answer the door when the pizza gets here if you can make me come in the next five minutes."

Well. Never let it be said that Dan Howell backs down from a challenge.

[homestuckkinsafespace]

i dont know if yuou guys arw still doing positivity but if you cam please jus..,please just give a reason to live or somerthing. pleaas im ,,, bgim hcang cant do it i wanna. do it sO BADLY I DSSERVE IYT I DESERVVE IT ji. cant..,m uim ,,m,, vscant do it BUT I NEED TO but i cantgmm,, so yuseless cantt eveb do this im partethic,,, uimnhsastijresates ji m sorry jm sorryyb im v sORRY i jusrrr cant canft do it anymoree im soo,,m, sorry sorry fef slfry im sofryy

hey, hey, hey, it’s okay! it’s okay! i want you to live. i need you to live. please keep living for me, if not for me, do it for all of the mods here. we want you to live and we want, NEED you to be safe. please don’t do anything drastic, we’re here for you. it’s okay, i’m sure fef will forgive you, it’s okay! you’re forgiven. you deserve to live. take in some breaths, think. i don’t know you, but i care about you, i want you to be okay and i want you to be safe.

-mod nep

[serpentroad]

Jack: i never wanted you OR YOUR UGLY BABY

me: what baby

jack: VAUGHN

[bitterstyles-blog]

louis has such nice thighs they're so big and thick imagine running your hands up and down his thighs sweet jesus