#lmao imagine i toss it into the welcome home tag

[bratkook]

eleven months. (m) myg. one.

masterlist.

pairing: min yoongi x reader genre: fluff, slow burn!!!, eventual smut, warnings: none this chapter. word count: 2.8k author’s note: this chapter is on the shorter side, just diving into them meeting and giving you all a small glimpse into them as individuals! im really excited for this story so let me know what you think, feel free to scream about anything in my inbox bye ily lmao summary: it’s been years of yoongi living his routine life, accustomed to his pace of living, going with the flow and simply existing. until you come along. yoongi absolutely can not see the logic in the way you live, but he weirdly craves it. craves the feeling of not being afraid of not knowing what’s coming, being able to just let the cards fall wherever they land. and maybe you can help with that.

Yoongi loves the rain, really he does. The way the clouds gloom over the city, encompassing it in this darkness that reminds him of underexposed film. He wishes he could always see the world through this filter, always smell the scent of wet soil and tarmac as he makes his way through the streets. Something about hearing the soft patter hitting the sidewalk, bouncing off the rooftops and dripping from the gutters calms him. A soft smile spreads across his face as he exhales the smoke in his lungs, letting the stick hang loosely off his lips while his hands clutch onto his umbrella.

When he stomps his foot into a wide puddle, the cold water splashes up onto his ankle and he grimaces. He hates being caught in the middle of rain. It didn’t matter if he had his umbrella or not, or if he managed to bundle enough for the downpour, he hates stepping into puddles and getting his socks wet. Hates how some of the raindrops that slipped under his umbrella—since it was now raining sideways—have managed to make his cigarette slightly soggy.

Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth this time, he holds it in front of his face with a frown. It was halfway done but no longer burning properly due to how wet it had become. 

What a waste.

As he passes a trash can, he stubs it out fully and tosses it inside, a small pout on his face at the loss of something to fidget with. But then he sees the glowing sign inching closer, the bright neon yellow standing out in the grim weather. The illuminated Rkive360 in the distance stops him from slipping out another smoke, choosing to stuff his unoccupied hand into the pocket of his jeans, moving his legs a little faster to get to his destination.

The bell at the top of the door jingles as he stumbles in, his foot tripping over the small lip of the mat by the door. That was a safety hazard he’d playfully bitch to Namjoon about later. 

“Yoongi, hey!” When he balances out, closing his umbrella and giving it a good shake by the door, he looks up and grins at Taehyung. He spots him standing by a flat spread of clothes a few feet away, folding out some new items as he stares at Yoongi with a genuine smile. His curls flop over his eyes and Yoongi chuckles to himself as he wonders how a guy like him was here folding shirts when he should probably be the face of Gucci or something. 

Well, that’s life. 

“Hey man,” Yoongi mumbles out, his eyes catching the plastic bin beside the door that’s labeled ‘umbrellas here’ in a messy scribble he can only attribute to Taehyung. Not needing to be told twice, he sticks his dripping umbrella upside down into it and shuffles inside the shop, taking a minute to look around like he always did. 

Record stores have always been his safe space, even as a teenager. The amount of time spent in one after school, loitering inside with his friends as he sorted through the racks of CDs and vinyl, exiting with his bag of new goodies that left him excited to get home and play them. It was god sent that his best friend decided to open up his own place years ago, keeping it fully stocked with anything he could imagine. Maybe Yoongi was a little biased, but this was definitely the best shop in the country. 

It’s a welcoming place, pops of color in every corner, tall standing sculptures mixed in with displays of music, autographed albums and posters framed onto the wall behind the counter. It’s the full embodiment of his best friend, down to the tiny KAWS figurines perched beside the register and the music playing through the speakers. The small melody in the background fills his ears once the door is shut, recognizing the song playing as Dang! by Mac Miller and he bobs along as he approaches Taehyung.

“Quick question,” he starts, his hands coming up to shake at his gray hair that was slightly damp from the rain. Taehyung sets the shirt down, resting both of his palms on the table as he leans towards Yoongi with interest. “Any chance you guys miraculously got Seventeen Seconds in your stock this week?”

Taehyung hums in thought, his brows furrowing together as he tries to mentally sort through the massive boxes of new vinyl Namjoon had brought in a few days ago. New shipment comes once a week but every now and then Namjoon goes out of his way to find specific records, never missing with his selection. 

A small flash of blurry trees crosses his mind and then he's smiling at him. “Yeah, we actually got it the other day. Pretty sure Namjoon hunted it down for you since you’ve been asking. It should be in the back.” His thumb points behind him, towards the display tables that held all the LP’s available at the store, a very familiar spot. 

Yoongi mumbles out a thanks as he makes his way over, eyes already locked onto the bin that he knew would hold his prized possession. It’s not until he gets a few feet closer that he sees your crouched frame over a box, figure slightly hidden by a giant CD rack. You’re rummaging through the records, almost making him flinch when you quickly stand back up and find their proper spot in the display. You don’t notice him approaching until he’s right beside you, eyes once again glued to the bins lined in alphabetical order once the initial shock of another person subsided.

That’s when you give him a glance, sending him a soft smile as you slip the record in its rightful spot, crouching back down to grab the next bunch. His hand pauses on the edge of the bin at the glimpse of something familiar, momentarily distracted by your shirt. When you stand back up, feeling him staring at you, you slowly turn to face him once more with your eyebrows raised up in question.

He takes note of the tag clipped to your shirt, it reads Sana but he’s used to dealing with Sana and you are definitely not her. You’re new.

The smile remains on your lips as you rest your hip against the edge of the table holding up the record bins, preparing to put your best customer service voice to use. His eyes glance at the writing on your shirt again, cracking a grin when he confirms it's a New Order shirt tucked into your black jeans. “You like New Order?”

Your smile falters slightly, your arms crossing in front of you as you narrow your eyes at him in defense, not entirely sure how to take his tone. “If you’re about to ask me to name five of their songs I’ll have to walk away to avoid getting fired.”

His smile widens at that, soft and gummy, breaking his cold appearance as his arms raise up in front of him in surrender. “No, just an observation.”

Your demeanor softens again, your arms sagging back down to your sides and smiling once more. “Good, it's my first day on the job and I’d really like to keep it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly, going back to his searching for his precious album, leaning over the third bin dedicated to bands starting with the letter C. His nimble fingers flip through the LPs until he gets to the Cure, sorting through Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, passing Pornography until he reaches Wish and his brows furrow, flicking back and forth as if the album he wanted would magically appear.

“Need help finding something?” You speak up again when you take note of him sorting through the same chunk of vinyl. He grunts lightly, letting the stack slant back in a heap as he purses his lips.

“Yeah actually, Taehyung said you guys got the album Seventeen Seconds but I don’t see it.

You step back from reorganizing the bin labeled S, trying to remember if you had brought the record out or if it was still sitting in the second box ready to be unpacked. Your brain was already overwhelmed from all of the information you had been given on your first day, trying to unscramble the entire backroom and it’s countless boxes—most of which were unlabeled because Taehyung said it’s not necessary since he knows where everything is. 

Much like Taehyung, you recall seeing a flash of the album cover when you sorted through the new box of records, knowing exactly where it was tucked away since you had been the one to store it. You were under strict orders to not put it out on the floor, because according to Namjoon, if someone else took this album you’d be attending his funeral. 

“Oh, uh gimme a sec.” You shuffle away, leaving him behind as you approach Taehyung, still folding away. “Hey, Tae?”

He hums in question, turning to stare at you with a small smile. “Whats up?”

“That guy is asking for Seventeen Seconds but Namjoon told me he’d be murdered if I gave this out to anyone.”

Taehyung starts laughing instantly, setting the shirt down as he stares at a confused looking Yoongi still standing by the LP’s. “Yeah, he was saving it for him specifically.”

“Got it, okay. Thanks.” You make a beeline back to the tables at the back, passing Yoongi with a polite smile. “Be right back!” you exclaim, wagging your finger at him as you make your way towards the back room, clearly on a mission.

Yoongi just stands there as you enter the employee stock room, not trying to cross any professional lines and follow you since you have no idea who he is. It's only a few feet away and you left the door propped open so when a few minutes pass and he hears rustling, followed by a heavy sounding thud and some curse words, he can’t help but wander over and peak his head in.

“You okay?” he asks, leaning against the door frame with a smirk on his face when he sees the way you’re frozen, one foot on the ledge of the shelf and the other on a not so sturdy looking stool, caught in the act of a poorly made decision. Below you lay two brown boxes that carry shirts you’re meant to unpack later, definitely the cause of the loud thud he had heard.

“Yep,” you confirm as you pluck out the record you need, shoving the box back into its safe spot and hopping down haphazardly. “Here you go.”

Grabbing the record carefully, he flips it over to skim the track list and smiles widely when he looks back up at you. That familiar warmth fills his chest as he holds the new item, making him feel the same way he had as a teenager when he bought his first LP. He had been searching for this vinyl for months now. It wasn’t as if it was no longer in production, he just couldn’t seem to find it in stock anywhere he looked and buying it internationally was the last resort he would take since the shipping fees were downright illegal. “Thanks.”

You’re already hunched down on the floor as you open up one of the boxes that had fallen in your haste to scale the shelves, deciding to just unpack in now since you were here. 

“Yeah, no problem. Tae can ring you up at the front.” Sending him off with a smile and a wave, he takes that as his cue to exit, making his way to the front again. 

When he leaves the backroom you flop onto your butt with a huff, your legs sprawling out with the second box in between them. You were hoping your words didn’t come across as rude to him but you couldn’t take the way his sharp eyes stared at you. Had he lingered any longer you would have embarrassed yourself, it was a miracle your footing hadn’t slipped on your way down from the shelves. You can’t imagine your ego being able to recover from a tumble like that. 

Taehyung spots Yoongi leaning against the front counter, setting the final shirt down and going to stand behind it with a smile. “Did you find everything okay?” he asks automatically, the general phrases they had to use coming out without a thought and Yoongi scoffs, sliding the record across the counter and nodding.

“Of course I did, you let Namjoon know that I said your customer service is unmatched.” His finger gently rubs against the first black KAWS figurine, smiling at the remaining four as he remembers how Namjoon had excitedly told him that this was their friend group, representing them all perfectly. 

Taehyung grins with a roll of his eyes, scanning the album and slipping it into the brown paper bag they provided. “Wonderful. Your total is 40,000 won.”

“Wow, your customer service voice is phenomenal.”

Taehyung laughs now, his nose crinkling up at Yoongi's sarcastic tone, watching how Yoongi grins back at him, succeeding in getting him to crack. “Fuck you, man.”

“Ah, there he is.” Yoongi hums with a chuckle as he pulls out his wallet, sorting through his bills and handing them to Taehyung. “Who’s New Order girl?”

Tae raises his brows as he enters the amount into the POS, the drawer popping open against his hips. “Oh, Y/N?” Yoongi only shrugs, you had Sana’s name tag on so how the hell should he know.

Taehyung stuffs the money into the drawer and slams it shut, ripping off the receipt from the machine and slipping it into the bag. “She just started today, can’t remember where she moved from, some place far though.” He shrugs as he hands the bag over to Yoongi.

The older boy ruffles his damp hair up, accepting the bag with his right hand. “Oh, cool. Well thanks, I’ll see you guys later then?” Taehyung just waves him off with a smile, similar to the way you did and he laughs to himself when he realizes Taehyung must be the one in charge of training you.

As he approaches the front door he pulls out his pack of cigarettes once more, sliding one out and slipping it between his lips. He finds himself looking towards the back of the shop again, seeing you resuming your organization, but your head lifts up as you feel him staring at you from his spot at the door. The spark of his lighter flashes across his face when he lights up his smoke, opening his umbrella once more now that he's partially outside. When your eyes meet, he smiles around the stick, giving you a nod before turning and walking back out into the rain.

You watch as his figure disappears down the street, his dark silhouette blending in with the rest of the people roaming the city, and when you can no longer see him through the store window you turn towards Taehyung. He’s stood at the POS, fidgeting with the screen, but when you call his name he glances up at you. “Is he a regular?”

He nods in response, eyes going back to stare at the screen as he begins to print out a sheet to fulfill the online orders the store received. “Yeah, he comes in at least once a week. Buys strictly vinyl. I think Namjoon mentioned he’s a music producer, or maybe it was a DJ, I can’t remember.”

Taehyung evidently doesn’t have the best memory, that much had been made clear in the short span you’ve known him. He had forgotten your name twice during your interview, Namjoon having to subtly repeat it for him, he had also asked you three times where you were from and at first you thought he was joking but when his face remained serious you realized he had really forgotten already.

“Hey, where’d you move from again?” he asks one more, genuinely curious as if you hadn’t told him a handful of times already. 

“I told you, Iceland.” It’s a lie, but when he hums in thought—pretending to suddenly remember—you chuckle at the newfound way to mess with him. 

He’s quick to start questioning you about Iceland, nodding along to the lies you spill while you both go back to your tasks of sorting albums and folding shirts. It makes your first full shift eventful, passing jokes back and forth as the sky grows gloomier. As distracting as your conversations get, you can’t help but glance up through the windows whenever a dark clad figure walks by, the thought of the sharp eyed stranger lingering in your mind. 

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Three out of Ten - Fred Weasley

Title: Three out of Ten Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred loves having his girlfriend work at the shop, but some days are significantly *ahem* harder than others Warning: No explicit sexy times but there is some heavy making out and illusions to sex. A/N: the summary is shit but that’s pretty much expected from me at this point lmao. This is for an anon who wanted Fred’s girlfriend having a difficult time walking while working at the shop. Feedback is always welcome, and request are open! Tags: @feltondarling​ @pandaxnienke​ @raerae27​ 

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“Good morning, beautiful,” Fred murmurs as Y/N starts to stir in her sleep. The sunlight is peaking in through the curtains in their bedroom, signaling that it’s time for them both to get up and start their day.

Y/N groans, snuggling further into Fred’s warm embrace. “Five more minutes, Freddie,” she pleads her lips brushing against the bare skin of his chest.

“Tired you out last night did I?” Fred teases with a chuckle. He watches as Y/N’s cheeks flush pink and he leans down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

“Eh it was alright. I’d give it a three out of ten,” Y/N jokes, pulling away so she can look up at Fred. She laughs when Fred’s mouth downturns into a deep frown, causing Fred to dig his fingers into her side and start tickling her.

“You wanna make jokes and laugh?” he asks, rolling them over so Y/N is underneath him. “I can make you laugh.”

Y/N giggles wildly as Fred tickles her, squirming to try and get away from him. “Oh,” she gasps suddenly when a pain shoots through her lower body.

Fred immediately stops poking at her sides and sits up, reaching out to cup her cheek. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No, Freddie,” Y/N chuckles, reaching up to smooth out the worry lines in his forehead. “I’m just a uh, bit sore from last night as all,” she admits with a blush.

“From only a three out of ten?” he teases with a cheeky grin, far too pleased with himself. “Can’t imagine what you’re like the night after a ten out of ten.”

Y/N rolls her eyes and pushes Fred off of her. “Considering that’s never happened I guess we’ll never know,” she jokes.

Fred slaps Y/N on the thigh lightly before pulling her into a brief kiss. “You’re going to regret that later.”

“Gonna try for a four out of ten tonight?” she asks with a laugh, rolling away from the pillow Fred tosses at her.

-

Fred watches with a smirk as Y/N creeps down the stairs into the shop a little bit later. It’s still a few minutes from opening, but Fred had escaped downstairs a tad earlier than normal to avoid watching Y/N limp around the flat as she got ready for work. Not only does seeing her struggle to walk from how hard he had given it to her the previous night make him proud, it also turns him on. He gets off on watching Y/N cry from pleasure as he ruins her every night, and to see the after effects of it the next day has left a problem in his trousers that is sure to scare customers away.

“You feeling alright, Y/N?” George asks as Y/N finally reaches the shop floor. She had let out a small noise as she stepped off the final stair, her hand gripping her side.

“She’s fine, Georgie,” Fred answers with a chuckle, sending his brother a wink. “Just a bit of a rough night, she didn’t get much sleep.” Y/N’s cheeks flush pink and she flips her boyfriend off.

George pretends to gag as he looks between the two of them. “I don’t even know why I asked. It’s you two of course it was some weird sex thing.” George grimaces as he heads away from them to unlock the front door.

“You’re going to traumatize your poor brother,” Y/N scolds as she shuffles over towards Fred.  

“It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Fred says with a laugh, placing his hands on Y/N’s hips. He starts to massage them lightly, causing Y/N to let out a satisfied groan. “There was that time we forgot the silencing charm, remember?” he asks with a wink.

“Mm, how could I forget. Your first ever five out of ten,” she teases, pulling Fred’s face down to kiss him briefly.

Fred pouts, but it immediately turns into a smile when Y/N kisses him again. “You’re such a brat.” The bell above the shop door jingles as a few customers walk in and Fred gives Y/N a soft pat on the ass. “Take care of the till for a bit, yeah? You’ll be able to sit and uh, take a rest.”

“How gracious of you, sir.” Y/N giggles as Fred’s eyes narrow at her. She knows that it turns Fred on to no end that he’s her boss at work, and Y/N loves pushing that button when there’s nothing he can do about it. She presses one last kiss to Fred’s cheek before heading towards the register, making sure to add more of a limp to her step for Fred to enjoy as he watches her walk away.

-

“How much longer until we close?” Fred groans, his eyes following Y/N’s every move. Her walking ability has gotten better throughout the day, but her knees still quiver, and her legs still shake every few steps and Fred can’t look away. Y/N reaches up to put something back on a shelf and Fred has to hold in a moan as her shirt rides up her back.

“Keep it in your pants,” George teases. “We’ve still got three more hours until closing.”

Fred sighs, placing his head in his hands. “Is this what it feels like to be tortured? Just put me out of my misery, Georgie. Please.” Fred winces when George slaps him on the back of the head. “What was that for?” he asks with a glare.

“It was for you being an idiot,” George answers casually. “Watching you drool over your girlfriend is one thing, but I draw the line at pining. Now go do something useful, maybe the day will go by faster if you actually get some work done.”

Thankfully for Fred the store is a bit slow, and their other floor employees are able to handle the few customers roaming around, making it easy for him to follow Y/N into the back storeroom. He creeps in behind her and shuts the door, grinning at her when she turns around in surprise.

“Merlin Freddie you scared me,” Y/N scolds, playfully smacking him in the arm. “I didn’t hear you come up behind me.”

“That was kind of the point,” he muses, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. He pulls her into his chest so he can kiss her hard.

“We’re supposed to be working, Fred,” Y/N reminds him with a gasp as his lips bite and nip at her neck. She lets her hands tangle in his hair, moaning as Fred starts to suck on her sensitive skin. Fred’s hands start to travel up the back of her shirt, and Y/N has to take a deep breath to keep focused. “I’ve got whizbangs to restock,” Y/N pants as Fred’s hands threaten to creep under her bra.

Fred kisses Y/N deeply, digging his fingers into her back. “I’ve got a whizbang for you handle,” he suggests with a wink. Fred grabs one of Y/N’s hands and starts to bring it to his crotch when the door to the storeroom slams open, causing both of them to shout and jump apart.

“Sorry if I wasn’t clear before, Fred,” George starts as he grabs the color of Fred’s suitcoat. “But when I told you to do some actual work, I meant restock some shelves or help a customer, not shag your girlfriend in our storeroom!”

Fred grins at Y/N as George drags him out of the small room. “We’ll continue this later!”

-

“Fucking finally,” Fred sighs in relief as he leans on his bedroom door.

“Long day?” Y/N teases from her spot on the bed, not bothering to look up from the copy of Witch Weekly she’s flipping through.

After George had interrupted their storeroom make out session he kept a close eye on Fred to make sure he stayed on task, much to Fred’s disappointment. Business in the store picked up towards the end of the day, and Fred barely got a chance to look at Y/N, let alone admire her as she worked. Y/N ended up grabbing dinner with Hermione and Ginny while Fred and George worked on some administrative stuff after the shop closed, and they had still been at it when she arrived back home. Y/N had just barely gotten changed into her pajamas and into bed when she heard the front door close behind Fred and George.

“Longest day in the bloody world,” Fred responds as he starts to loosen his tie. Y/N watches from the corner of her eye as Fred gets undressed, her eyes traveling over every inch of skin that he exposes. “No thanks to you, by the way. You’re too damn sexy, Y/N, it’s distracting.”

Y/N laughs and finally tosses the magazine away as Fred crawls up their bed towards her. He’s in nothing but his boxers and her hands run down his bare back as Fred settles on top of her. “Sorry, love. I’ll try and be less sexy from now on.”

“Don’t you dare,” Fred growls, kissing her messily.

Y/N moans against Fred’s mouth, her nails lightly dragging down his back. She lets Fred’s tongue in to explore her mouth as his hands shove the bottom of her shirt up so he can grip her sides. “Too bad George interrupted us earlier today. I was aching for you, Freddie. It was so hot thinking about the fact that the whole store was just outside the door while we were in there.”

“Holy hell,” Fred groans, pulling away so he can look at Y/N. “Are you feeling better?” he asks, squeezing her sides. When Y/N nods Fred grins wickedly. “Good, because we’re shooting for a ten out of ten tonight.”

-

When Y/N’s eyes flutter open the next morning Fred’s laying on his side, head propped up so he can look down at her. “You’re such a creep,” Y/N teases as she stretches her limbs out. Her bottom half is significantly sorer than it was yesterday, and she bites her lip to hide her pain.

“So? What’s the verdict?” Fred asks before leaning down to give her a peck.

Y/N looks up at him, a mischievous grin on her face. “I’d say a solid three and a half out of ten. Better luck next time, Freddie.”

[niksixx]

Finish For Me

Requested: Nope! My idea. 

Pairing: Vince Neil x Female Reader 

Description: Vince catches you masturbating

Warning: Male and female masturbation

A/N: My first smut piece in like a solid month LMAO please reblog, comment, leave your own tags, whatever you’d like! Thank you! 

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

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As much as Vince Neil loved touring, the constant traveling wore him down. Hopping from city to city, the constant binge drinking of alcohol, and running on three hours of sleep took a toll on his body. It was fun in the beginning, but toward the last leg of the tour, the constant cycle became exhausting.

By the time their last show in Asia concluded, there was nothing Vince wanted more than to come home. Home was his favorite place. After all, it’s where you were.

The reunion at the airport was filled with teary eyes, strong hugs, and desperate kisses. You hadn’t seen Vince in nearly seven months and holding him in your arms felt almost surreal. To make sure he wasn’t just some figment of your imagination, the tips of your fingers grazed his jaw which was now covered in dark blonde stubble, snaked through the wavy tufts of blonde hair, and traced the ink on his arms. Sure enough, there he was, standing in front of you with a smile stretched across his tan face.

For the three days Vince had been home, all he wanted to do was catch up on some rest and relaxation, which you couldn’t blame him for. After catching up on much needed sleep and devouring homemade meals, Vince was finally starting to feel better and more like himself.

But there was only one thing that still bothered you. His lack of sex drive.

You knew he was still trying to adjust to life back home, but you were growing frustrated and needed an outlet. The most you were getting from Vince were kisses and cuddles, which you normally wouldn’t mind if you weren’t so hungry for something deeper.

It’s not like you hadn’t tried to get him in the mood, either. The skin of his neck was one of his weak spots, and you knew he rarely was able to resist your mouth on his body. But anytime your lips brushed over his neck, Vince politely shot down your advances.

On day four of Vince being home, the need for a release was too strong to hold back. You needed him, needed to feel something.

Vince had woken early that morning, leaving a note on his side of the bed letting you know he had gone out for a quick morning jog. It was the perfect opportunity.

Sliding your pajama bottoms down your legs, you kick them off and exhale a breath as your legs entwine with the feather light sheets.

You think about Vince.

His lips.

His tongue.

His hands.

His cock.

The tips of your fingers slide past your underwear, a soft whimper pushing past your lips as they brush over your clit. Your hips buck upward at the slight touch and you whimper, quickly ridding yourself of the thin fabric. The lack of sex, of male touch, has your body more sensitive than you anticipated.

Closing your eyes, you sink deeper into the sheets, squeezing your eyes shut to concentrate on the dirty thoughts in your head as your fingers slide between your folds.

Your touch doesn’t compare to Vince’s skilled fingers. Vince had had plenty of experience before he finally settled down with you. The thought of him having multiple different partners had bothered you at first, but you had quickly gotten over it the first night you and Vince slept together.

You let your thoughts wander to that night. Your mind’s eye sees Vince on top of you, chest slick with sweat as his hips buck forward in quick strokes. Fingertips bite into the flesh of his biceps as you hold him close, head thrown back in pure ecstasy as he fucks you hard.

Arousal pools between your thighs, coating your fingers as they tease your entrance before softly pushing them in. A soft moan sounds from your parted lips, eyes closed tightly as you picture Vince there with you, kissing you, touching you, fucking you with everything he has to offer your body.

Your free hand finds your clit, fingers brushing delicately over the sensitive bundle. You feel good, your body feels good. All the pent up frustration from lack of sex is finally being released, but you know it would feel better if Vince was the one pleasing you.

So you call out his name to pretend he is there.

“Fuck, Vince, please.”

You thrust your fingers deeper in your hole all the while your free hand rubs your clit in feverish circles. You’re a mess under your own touch, chest constricting with every desperate pant. “Vince, let me come. Please let me come.”

You’re too focused on your impending release to hear the front door shut. Vince shuffles into the house tiredly, tossing his tanktop onto the back of the couch before his ears perk up and blood rushes straight to his cock.

Quietly he stalks toward the bedroom, pressing his ear against the wooden door. He hears you clear as day moaning his name on the other side, and his dick twitches excitedly in his joggers.

To his surprise, the door is unlocked, so he gently turns the knob and opens the door, stopping in his tracks as your bare pussy is the first thing to greet him.

The way you're writhing in bed, desperate for an orgasm so early in the morning, has his dick painfully hard against the soft fabric of his boxers. His tongue darts out to slick his bottom lip, and he has to restrain himself from attaching his mouth to your clit.

“Almost there, almost there,” You repeat in choppy, breathy moans.

Exhaling a shaky breath, Vince palms himself through his tight joggers. “Go on, baby. Keep going.”

Eyes flying open, you’re met with the sight of a nearly panting Vince with his back pressed against the bedroom door, hand sliding in his pants. With his free hand he pushes the joggers down to his knees, underwear following, until his dick is free and grasped tightly in his hand. Your eyes scan him hungrily, ready to pounce, but then he requests something of you that surprisingly, you’d never done before.

“Finish for me, baby. Touch yourself. I want to watch you.”

Obediently your two fingers find your hole again, and this time to speed up your orgasm, you push in a third. The moan from your lips causes a deeper one to rumble in Vince’s chest as he spreads the bead of precum over his cock.

You watch Vince fist his shaft in his hand, mouthing falling open as you’re only feet away from each other, unable to touch him as he pleasures himself. His eyes are trained on you as his hand works his dick, and when he groans your name, biting down hard on his lip, your body arches deeper into the bed.

“Rub your clit, baby. Go on. You're doing so well.”

The praise in his voice contributes to the excessive slickness dripping down the inside of your spread out thighs. To please him, your fingers brush over your clit once more, this time only using one finger to gently flick the soft bundle.

Vince pants heavily as he watches you, hand tirelessly working his cock. Chest slick with sweat and eyes fluttering in ecstasy, he looks like a dream.

You know your orgasm is close when your thighs begin to shake violently, three fingers still pumping in and out of your hole as the one finger continues to assault your clit. “V-Vince, I’m--.”

“Me too, baby, fuck, me too.” With his head thrown back against the door, Vince lets out a string of hushed curses as a thick bead of cum shoots up onto his chest. The same time he orgasms you follow suit, whimpering as the shockwaves rock your body. It takes you a few minutes to come down from the high and when you do, your eyes lock on Vince who is visibly still shaking from his own release.

“I didn’t know you were going to be home so soon,” You say sheepishly, watching as Vince heads into the bathroom to grab a towel. He cleans his chest before sitting down on the side of the bed, running the towel up your thighs and over your pussy to collect any leftover arousal.

“I’m glad I did or else I would have missed this,” Vince grins teasingly, leaning down to kiss your pouting lips. “Did you have a wet dream or something? Woke up to get yourself off?”

“Maybe if my boyfriend wanted to fuck me I wouldn’t have had to,” You answer back quickly. The sharpness in your voice doesn’t surprise you, but it doesn’t seem to phase Vince much either.

“Ouch,” Vince snickers, squeezing your thigh. When he realizes you’re serious, he frowns. “I didn’t mean to neglect you, baby. I hope you know that. I just wanted a few days to rest my body that way I’d be able to do things with you, that’s all.”

You glance sideways, flushing with embarrassment. “Fuck, now I feel bad,” You say, your own laugh mixing with Vince’s amused chuckle. “Let me make it up to you. What do you want for breakfast? I’ll give you anything you want.”

Vince’s eyes wander to your pussy. “Anything?”

Instead of squirming under his gaze, you spread your legs wider to welcome him. “Anything.”

[dvp95]

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 3

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e (eventually)

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 3,385 for this chapter (12,653 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!

Dan has been dreading the seemingly-inevitable call from his family, now that filmed interviews are being uploaded and live interviews are starting in the next few days, so he’s almost disappointed when it never comes.

Surely his parents know he’s in London. There’s promotion for his show on a couple different channels they watch, and his dad has always been fairly good at keeping up with entertainment news. Adrian follows him on Instagram, but - and Dan isn’t proud of this - he can’t remember if Adrian still lives in Wokingham or not. He can’t even remember how old Adrian is without doing the math.

So maybe they haven’t been keeping up with Netflix shit, maybe Adrian isn’t home to tell their parents that he’s in town, but surely, surely some well-meaning friend of the family will say something? That’s always been the case when he comes to town.

After almost a whole week, though, Dan cracks. He calls his mum. It goes to voicemail.

That makes him panic a little, but she texts him an, at work … call you when I’m home x. So, questionable ellipses usage aside, Dan is comfortably reassured that his entire family isn’t dead.

Dan busies himself with catching up on the Heatwave cast interviews he hasn’t watched yet. Patrick doesn’t like to watch them and Jaime couldn’t give a shit one way or the other, but Dan is unable to allow a video of him to exist without knowing exactly what it contains. That’s a control thing, mostly, but he also doesn’t want to be blindsided by a new Daniel Interview Meme that he doesn’t understand.

He types his own name into the YouTube search bar and feels his heartrate pick up when he sees a thumbnail from BBC Radio One.

Thinking about Phil makes his heart race like he’s a teenager with a crush, and he presses play just so he can listen to Phil talk. He can barely remember what he said in the interview, so completely caught up in Phil’s eyes and grin as he’d been.

The interview itself is good. Nothing special, in terms of the actual things they talk about, but Dan can feel the difference in the way he speaks to Phil versus the way he’s spoken to anyone else - comfort. He had been so immediately comfortable with their back-and-forth, only awkward because he’d been trying so hard not to think about what Phil looked like under his nice clothes.

Dan wonders if anyone else can see the difference or if he only notices because he’s so attuned to his own body language, has the advantage of knowing the whole context.

He scrolls idly through the comments and feels heat rise to his face.

Yeah. People noticed.

Lots of comments are just about Dan or the show or the lack of Patrick or Jaime, but there’s more than a few that are about Dan and Phil’s apparent chemistry. Phil, being an out gay man with no partner and a fanbase, probably has to deal with these types of comments all the time, but it’s new for Dan.

Dan shakes his head to try and clear it. He doesn’t want to get stuck in YouTube comments and feel impotent irritation every time someone replies, ‘uh, Daniel Howell is straight’, like they know him. Like he’s ever said that.

He’s been photographed with women, because he’s casually dated them over the past decade, but he’s never said he’s straight. And it never works out with them anyway.

Dating girls is fine - they’re all softness and little sighs and hands that look so extremely small wrapped in his own - but he doesn’t think he can ever be with one for a significant amount of time. That thought is one he usually keeps locked in his mental box, but. He doesn’t shy away from it this time.

Even if he could admit it to himself proper, it’s easier for Dan to just not talk about it publicly. He hasn’t dated anyone seriously enough for it to be an issue in ten years. Nobody needs to know that every time he’s inside a woman he remembers why it never progresses past that.

It’s fine. It’s always fine. It’s just, if he’s completely honest with himself, 'fine’ isn’t what he wants to settle for.

“Moot point anyway,” Dan mumbles to himself, clicking over to Phil’s channel for a distraction. “Not like you’re gonna do anything about it, you big fucking coward.”

Phil has uploaded the video he told Dan about when Dan was busy trying not to stare at his mouth. It’s such a welcome distraction that Dan almost doesn’t clock the title and thumbnail for the buffoonery they are.

IS MY DOG PSYCHIC?

The title doesn’t change when Dan blinks. Neither does the image of Thor, edited to be wearing round glasses in front of a crystal ball.

“What,” Dan says, clicking on the video before any of it really sinks in.

“Hi guys,” says Phil. He already looks like he’s trying not to laugh. “I know you read the title and you’re like, what, but I promise it is not clickbait! As I’m sure many of you know, my grandma had 'the gift’, and sometimes I think she passed it on to me. The question is, did I pass it on to my son?”

Phil pulls an over-exaggerated thoughtful expression and then breaks, giggling and shaking his head at himself.

“I know it’s stupid, but, I also figured it might be funny? I dunno, you tell me.”

It’s exactly as silly as Dan expects it to be. Phil sits on his floor with Thor while the dog 'reads’ his tarot cards. Dan can see why this video gave Phil a hard time in editing. There are a lot of close ups of Thor and the cards, filmed more like a comedy skit than a vlog.

He finds himself laughing along and getting way too invested in what the tarot cards mean, and he knows first hand how much work Phil put into this, so Dan clicks the share button before he can overthink it.

tbh watching amazingthorgi do anything could make a believer out of me, he tweets alongside the link.

Most of America is asleep still, but that doesn’t stop hundreds of people replying. Dan’s really got nothing better to do while he waits for his mum to call, so he settles in to respond to some of them. He makes a couple bad jokes, commiserates with some of them over not being able to have a dog yet, and ignores any mention of Phil.

Maybe that’s childish of him. He is sharing Phil’s work, after all. He sighs and replies to an innocuous question about how he knows Phil. met during this and then he let me meet his dog so now he’s not getting rid of me, Dan says with a link to the BBC Radio One interview.

His phone chirps with a Twitter notification and he taps it warily, still scrolling through replies on his laptop.

@AmazingPhil @danielhowell You saw his face now you’re a believer? He’ll tell your fortune anytime! It’s accompanied with dog and sparkle and crystal ball and, inexplicably, sock emojis.

Dan laughs, the sound of it almost surprising him. It’s impossible not to feel some kind of way when Phil is the way he is, so cheerful and dorky and fun.

He likes the tweet, but responds by messaging Phil - do you have me on notif or are you just always online - because he doesn’t want to add any more fuel to the fire that is Twitter stans. He can already imagine the argument threads about his sexuality that he usually tries so hard to avoid.

The thought of strangers picking apart something he’s not even comfortable with himself is abhorrent, makes him itch, and he puts on some older AmazingPhil videos to calm himself back down.

That depends

on?

Which one is lamer lmao

Phil’s voice filling the lonely hotel room and his words taking up space on Dan’s screen where something anxiety-inducing might have otherwise been is almost enough to make Dan as comfortable as Phil’s physical presence does.

Almost. It’s unreal how much Dan wants to reach through both of his screens to pull Phil closer.

Dan hides his smile in his hand, even though nobody is around to see it, and replies, tbh those are equally lame so you might as well go with the truth

I was on Twitter anyway. I really shouldn’t be, I’m supposed to be responding to emails. Phil keeps typing, then stops, then repeats that process a few times before he finally adds, I should go do that, but you can call or facetime me if you want to keep talking or whatever? It’s easier not to type/text while I’m doing emails lol

And, in a third message, a string of numbers. Phil’s phone number.

Well, that sounds better than using Phil’s videos as background noise. Dan shuts his laptop and gets out of bed to fuss with his hair.

“You’re such an idiot,” he tells his judgemental reflection. It, thankfully, does not respond.

Once he’s gotten his hair into some semblance of order - it’s mostly still straight from yesterday, but it got all sleep-mussed and a bit wavy in the front overnight - Dan tosses on a shirt and video calls the number Phil gave him.

Phil picks up with a big grin and sleepy eyes, and Dan almost hangs up on him to stop the heart palpitations in their tracks. “Hi!”

“Hey, you just wake up?” Dan asks, getting comfortable in the hotel room armchair. It feels weird to lie back down in bed while they’re chatting. Phil is at his desk, phone propped up so he can use both hands to type. His glasses are a little crooked and his shirt is too big on him, exposing his collarbones whenever he leans forward. Unfortunately, he looks like serious wank material right now.

“Yeah, had my first coffee already, though,” says Phil. “You would not like me before my coffee.”

“Barely like you now, mate,” Dan says to try and hide his blush at the idea of seeing Phil first thing in the morning. Phil just laughs. It’s tinny through Dan’s phone speaker, but it still makes Dan feel warm.

“You’re awfully chatty for someone who doesn’t like me,” says Phil.

“I’m only bored, don’t flatter yourself,” says Dan. “My mum’s supposed to call me in a few hours, so I’m just kind of waiting around til then.”

“Oh, yeah, you haven’t had the chance to go home yet, have you?” Phil’s tongue pokes out between his teeth as he concentrates on whatever he’s reading. “My mum would be going out of her gourd. When was the last time you went home?”

Dan doesn’t really like the way that Phil keeps calling it 'home.’ Wokingham hasn’t been home in a very long time.

He doesn’t want to get into that, though, so he just shrugs. “Uh, Christmas?”

“Dan,” Phil says, looking appalled. “It’s August.”

“I don’t live here,” says Dan. “And I’m busy. My family gets it.”

Phil hums, a little disapproving still. Dan has to bite his tongue so he doesn’t say anything scathing, reminding himself that some people actually like their parents.

It’s not that Dan doesn’t love them, because he does, it’s just. Complicated.

“Do you get to see your family often?” Dan asks, desperate to get the attention off of how shit a son he is.

“Not as often as I’d like,” says Phil. He sounds so genuinely sad about it, like he really would like nothing more than to go visit his parents every weekend. “My brother lives in town, so I see him a lot.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yeah, he’s -” Phil cuts himself off, then, and gives Dan an apologetic sort of look through his screen. “You don’t want to hear about my family.”

“I do,” Dan says, and he’s surprised by how much he means it. He shifts in the armchair. It isn’t that comfortable. “Dude, I already know every song on your iTunes, what’s so weird about telling me stuff about your family? They clearly mean a lot to you.”

He has no idea how to interpret the expression on Phil’s face, but whatever it is shifts into a smile as he turns back to his computer. “Okay, his name’s Martyn, he’s older than me, we work together -”

This time, Dan cuts him off. “You do? I haven’t seen him on your channel.”

“He’s not really interested in being on camera. We actually run IRL Merch together, although honestly it’s mostly Martyn.”

Phil explains the business to Dan, who feels himself getting more and more awed by the amount of stuff Phil does on any given day. It isn’t just sitting in front of his camera and then in front of his computer for a handful of hours.

Granted, Dan never thought that being a YouTuber was easy, or everyone would do it, but Phil seems to add things onto his plate that he doesn’t really need to do.

Dan listens for a little while, changing positions in the armchair a few times before he gives up and flops back onto the bed.

“Phil,” he says, holding his phone high above his head and making a face at the angle. It’s fine, really, Phil has barely been glancing at him this whole time. Now that Dan has some kind of idea about the number of people Phil works with, he gets the hours of emails thing. “Do you ever take a break? Hang out with your friends?”

“What friends?” Phil jokes, but Dan senses there’s some truth behind it.

“Okay, first of all,” says Dan, “big mood.”

Phil’s laugh seems like it’s surprised out of him, and his eyes flick to his phone again. They linger on Dan for a long moment before turning away again. Although, to be fair, that may be lag from shitty hotel wifi. “Is it?”

“Yeah, man, like I’ve got any fucking friends. Second of all, you need to take some breaks or you’re going to burn the fuck out.”

“Trust me, I know,” says Phil.

“I know Thor already reminds you to take breaks,” says Dan. “But he can’t force you to. I can.”

“You’re gonna force me to take breaks?” Phil hums, his eyebrows raising. “How exactly are you going to manage that when you’re back in Atlanta?”

“I can be very annoying with nothing but an internet connection,” Dan promises. “You wanna see?”

“No, no, I believe you, and I need to get this done, please don’t.”

They both laugh, quiet, and Dan curls up on his side to just watch Phil work for a little while. Phil runs his fingers through his hair every so often and mouths along to whatever he types. Dan has no idea how one person can simultaneously be the hottest and the most adorable thing ever.

“I have a brother too,” Dan offers.

“Do you?” Phil asks, more surprised than Dan expects him to be. “That’s not on your Wikipedia.”

“He doesn’t like the attention,” says Dan. It’s a half-truth. Most of what he says about his family are half-truths. “But you’re not, like, a stan account or the media or whatever.”

“Technically, I am both,” Phil jokes. “I’ll keep it to myself, though, don’t worry.”

Dan isn’t worried. He trusts Phil not to go blabbing about him on the radio, even with something as small as Adrian’s existence.

It feels a little strange to trust someone so immediately, and part of Dan wants to pull back, put some distance between them, because the combination of trust and a deepening crush can only spell disaster. He’s not going to do that. He’s only got Phil nearby for another two weeks.

After they’ve finished their media circus in London, then Edinburgh, then Dublin, Dan is off to France with Patrick and Jaime. They’re only hitting a handful of international media press, but that’s more than they were asked to do last year. It’s exciting to be expanding this way, to have something to point to and say, 'I did that before I was 30’.

And when they’re done with the press tour, Dan… goes home. Back to Atlanta, where his apartment is being sublet during his summer travelling.

They don’t even know yet if Heatwave will get a fourth season. It’s a bit of an industry joke that Netflix shows rarely make it past the third. Dan doesn’t even want to consider how Atlanta will feel without a steady filming job down the street.

Probably not much like home. Nowhere feels all that much like home, if Dan’s honest.

“Hey, you still with me?”

Dan blinks away the doom and gloom of his uncertain future and refocuses on the conversation he’s supposed to be a part of. Phil is looking at him now, the sort of undivided attention that makes Dan’s cheeks burn.

“Yeah, sorry,” says Dan. “I’m still here. Have you made a dent in those emails?”

Not the most graceful change of subject, but Phil allows it with a small snort. “No, for I am Sisyphus, doomed to answer a dozen emails only for another dozen to arrive.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have, like, three jobs, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Dan points out. “I get maybe two important emails a day. It’s great.”

“Maybe,” says Phil. He’s still just looking at Dan, his chin resting on an open palm.

“What?” Dan asks, feeling a smile tug at his lips.

Phil smiles back, brighter. “Nothing.”

There’s a warmth in his face, visible even through the mediocre FaceTime quality, that makes Dan’s stomach twist all up in knots. He doesn’t know how to handle that at all. “My mum’s calling I gotta go bye,” he says in one breath, hanging up before Phil can even react.

While he waits for his heart to stop pounding, Dan stares at the hotel ceiling and wonders what the fuck is wrong with him.

–

Dan’s mum does call, eventually. He’s been fucking around on Guild Wars and cursing the wifi for god only knows how long, refusing to check his phone so he doesn’t have to be faced with another message - or the lack of one - from Phil. Dan finishes the raid and then calls his mum back.

“Daniel, hi,” she says, sounding frazzled in the way she always seems to.

“Hey, mum.” It feels weird, now that he’s got her on the phone, but he pushes past that discomfort. “I was just calling to let you know that I’m in London.”

The sound of a door slamming comes through before his mum says, “Well, yes, dear. I know that.”

She doesn’t sound upset with him. More than anything, she sounds confused. Like she doesn’t know why he’s even telling her this. Like it hasn’t even occurred to her to nag her son for a visit. Dan has to swallow past a lump in his throat, not sure why he wishes she was angry.

“Oh,” he says. Allows a long moment of quiet to pass, just in case she wants to explain herself. She doesn’t. “Well. Okay. Do you - are you busy weekend after next? I could come see you before we leave for the continent.”

“That’s quite short notice, dear,” his mum says, and Dan experiences a dizzying rush of relief and distress before she continues. “But I’m sure I can make some time for dinner.”

Dan exhales. Dinner. He can do dinner.

“That sounds good,” he says. Another half-truth. “I’ll text you?”

“Yes, yes,” his mum says, already sounding distracted. “Text me and we’ll make a proper plan. Work hard til then, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye.”

The call ends almost as abruptly as his call with Phil, but Dan is okay with that.

im going to see my fam before i leave england jsyk, Dan texts to Phil. Phil sends him celebratory emojis in response. And maybe dinner with his family will be horrible, maybe it will be great, most likely it will be slightly uncomfortable, but at least he isn’t disappointing Phil on top of everyone else he’s let down.