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reincarnated70sbaby · 3 years ago

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maritime madness

led zeppelin x reader

warnings: swearing, drug use

an: so I was sailing yesterday and I was thinking about this the entire time I might have nearly capsized the boat

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“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this” I spoke, staring out at the large blue yacht that rested on the waters of Normandy. It all started the day before, when we were all throwing around tripped out ideas in our hotel room.

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” Jimmy asked. I sat by his side, my head resting on his bony shoulder. My dose of LSD had just kicked it, and as it was my first time it probably hit me quicker than the others. I tried to speak, but it felt like every time I moved my mouth, it felt like I would stretch my mouth out of shape, like putty.

“Let’s go explore that cathedral, the big massive one, y’know? The one with the hunchback. Maybe we could bump into him or something”

As soon as the words left Robert’s lips, our entire entourage burst out in giggles. I myself, was having hard time controlling my breathing. I had to rest my head in Jimmy’s lap, Jimmy being doubled down over me clutching his stomach.

“Percy, you dumb fucker, y-you know that’s not a real story” Jonesy informed, all his words all broken up by loud chuckles.

Roberts jaw immediately dropped open in shock, along with his eyes widening and brown trashing in confusion.

“Nah, yeah it was, the uh, the hunchman did the um, bells. Yeah, the bells”

“No he didn’t, because he never existed you nonce. It’s a fairytale from the 19th century” Jimmy piped in, adding his extensive knowledge of mythology and folklore into the conversation.

“But me ma said he existed, you’re gonna say my mum lied to me all those years?”

“Well obviously Perce, it’s just a bedtime story” Jonesy added, still chuckling to himself at Robert’s gullible nature.

“Fine then, someone else give an idea since all of mine always get ridiculed” Robert stated, crossing his arms and craning his head back against the footboard of the bed and staring at the ceiling in a huff.

“How about Père Lachaise?”

“What the actual fuck is pear la chair Pagey?” Bonzo asked, pronouncing the words all wrong in his thick Englishman accent.

“It’s Père Lachaise” Jimmy corrected in a perfect French accent, “and it’s a graveyard in Paris, loads of famous people are buried there - Oscar Wilde, Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf”

“Jimmy you must be as mad as Morrison to think we would waste our day off in a fucking dead person museum. Jesus Christ how did we pick you up” Bonzo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, what about Mont Saint-Michel? It’s this cool island off of the coast. There’s a bridge but once the tide comes in you can’t get in or out. Wouldn’t that be good craic eh?” Jonesy suggested

“No” Bonzo, Jimmy and Robert all said at the same time.

“Ah! You’ve been outnumbered Mr Jones haha. Maybe you and I could go out another time Jonny boy, we could go exploring and see the spirits trapped on the island” I said with a chuckle, the psychedelic in my system making this whole situation very funny.

“Jesus Christ what the fuck did she even say. That her first time on acid?” Robert asked to Jimmy.

“Must’ve been, it hit her pretty quickly” Jimmy replied, staring into my largely dilated pupils. He swore he could’ve seen something dancing in my pupils, but maybe that was just the drug in him.

We all sat in silence for a couple minutes, all of us enjoying our high.

“Innnnnnnnnnnnnnn fourteen hundred ninety two, Columbus sailed the ocean blueeee” I sang, the lyrics being the only words of a song I could think of to fill the silence. A beat of silence passed and I wondered if everybody suddenly passed out, either into sleep or another dimension.

As I started the next line, everyone else joined in with me. We eventually finished the entire song, even an encore requested by the boys. I sung the encore in a horrendous, deep operatic voice while prancing round the hotel room. A round of applause sounded, and I took my theatrical bows in front of my supportive crowd.

“That’s It! I know what we can do tomorrow. God that is a good idea!” Bonzo declared, jumping up to his feet, not before nearly tumbling backwards.

“Go on then Bonz, don’t leave us guessing mate” Jonesy suggested, breaking the dramatic silence that had ensued.

“Rent a yacht! We can go out early in the morning and stay overnight since our flight back home is in the evening anyway! All we need to do is hire a skipper or something”

We all were stoked at idea of having a private boat to ourselves. Sure, none of the boys were experienced sailors, but that’s what a professional skipper was for, driving rich people around in yachts right?

“Do we really have to do this” I said, making our way through the marina to our yacht.

“The skipper will probably dive off the boat when we get started tonight” Jonesy commented, sharing my lack of enthusiasm for the maritime adventure. “We should have ditched them and gone to Mont Saint-Michel”. I only hummed in response, dragging my overnight suitcase over the gaps in the planks of wood on the dock.

“Um yeah, about that skipper. We couldn’t exactly book one on such short notice” Cole confessed.

“What the actual fuck Cole? Are we just supposed to sail ourselves and drown? I can’t tie a knot to save my bloody life” Robert shrieked. We all stopped in our tracks and turned to the tour manager, glaring at him through our sunglasses.

“Of course not Percy, why would we do that to our cash cows hm? And this is a motorboat, no ropes involved. It’s basically like driving a car. In water. In fact, all you need to drive it is a drivers license, which I’m positive you all have judging by your expansive car choices. Forgot to mention that myself and Peter have opted out” With that note, Cole dropped the yacht keys into Bonzo’s hand and scuttled away.

We all stood there, bags in hand, confusion over our faces as we watched Cole’s figure disappear behind the hundred of other boats.

“Well shit” Jonesy said, the sourness in his voice barely hidden.

“Let’s just go check it out, we don’t even have to leave the marina if we can drive it, we’ll just park out all night” Bonzo affirmed, being unusually optimistic.

We all found the boat and as the boys started embarking aboard, I thought out loud.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Cmon darling, let’s just see what it’s like. If you hate it we’ll do something else” Jimmy compromised, outstretching his hand to me.

The boat bobbed a bit on the water as I stepped on.

“It’s not hating it I’m worried about, I was practically raised on a boat Jim, I’m just not sure 4 rockstars and a boat is a great combination”

“It’s okay we won’t go too hard, at least one of us won’t, I guess. Anyway, you were raised on a boat? Like a houseboat or something?”

“No, my dad was a skipper. Whenever he was home from trips, he would teach my and my siblings to sail. Y’know the whole nine yards, all the different knots, pulling in the ropes, steering, navigating charts. It’s just been a while since I’ve been on one and I hope I can remember everything”

“Gosh you are fabulous, my dear, I learn something new about you everyday” Jimmy said, pulling me in for a kiss. There was a loud bang of the engine, which we both jumped apart at.

“What the fuck are they at now, Christ” Jimmy sighed.

“Here, go set down our stuff in the biggest room, I’ll go see what they’re messing with”

We both parted, Jimmy heading downstairs, myself climbing onto the helm.

“Oi, Bonz, Percy, step away from the wheel until I get us out of this parking lot” I commanded. Both Robert and Bonzo looked at me funny, before slowly raising their arms and stepping away.

“And you know better?” Bonzo asked, still not sure where my bossiness came from.

“I think I do, unless you have your skipper license on hand?”

“Wait, you have a sailing license?” Robert interjected.

“I actually don’t, but I know everything you need to not drown. My father was a sailor and he taught me how to run a boat. Thank god we have a motorboat, as we might’ve been a little trouble if we have a proper sailing yacht. If we were, it wouldn’t have been as relaxing as simply steering a wheel” I answered, switching the engine on.

We warmed up the engine for a couple minutes, then casted off and finally escaped the madness of the marina. Soon were out on the French coastline. We continued sailing perpendicular to the coast, not wanting to stray too far. All the boys took turns steering, with Jonesy being the best skipper in-training out of all of them. Only once had we had anchored the boat again was the real party going to start.

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if only sailing was this easy in reality 😒

anyway I’m gonna do a spicier part 2 riiight now😎

leave any comments/ideas down below!!!!

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tag list : @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey @dreamersdrowse

#led zeppelin #led zeppelin x reader #jimmy page #john bonham #john paul jones #robert plant

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danfanciesphil · 7 years ago

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L’Histoire Française (New Chapter)

Teacher AU (Part 10)

(Part One)

(Part Two)

(Part Three)

(Part Four)

(Part Five)

(Part Six)

(Part Seven)

(Part Eight)

(Part Nine)

(Now Available on Ao3!)

“Sir, can you tell me how to conjugate verbs?”

“Hm?” Dan says, distracted.

He’s crouched beside a Year Eight student named Anna, a sweet young girl with a few learning disabilities. This period, he’s helping out in the Rainbow Rooms - a section of the school reserved for providing extra support to students that might need it. Anna suffers from Down Syndrome, and has dyslexia, so she’s somewhat of a regular here. Usually, aside from Phil’s classes, Dan’s absolute favourite lessons to assist in are these.

The kids here are all at different levels of progress, so their teacher is more of a supervisor than anything else. The students are told to get on with the work provided by teachers from their actual classes, and Dan and the other TA’s are asked to wander around the class and help with whatever they might need.

Soft, classical music is played to help concentration, and the classroom is decorated in soothing pastel colours, making it very aesthetically pleasing. Usually, these lessons pass by in a calm, tranquil breeze. Today however, Dan does not feel particularly relaxed. The Chopin playing is weaving under his skin, the sharp violin creeping beneath his fingernails, putting him on edge.

There’s a coloured-glass windchime rattling beside the open window, and the sound of the tinkling is making him cringe. He turns his attention to Anna’s workbook, trying to force himself to concentrate.

“I thought I’d remembered how to do it, but it’s confusing,” Anna says, sighing.

“Oh, right,” Dan says, refocusing. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”

He reads over the page, not taking anything in, and then reads it again, tutting at himself.

“Right, so verbs - that’s just the term we use for ‘doing words’.”

Anna scoffs at him. “I know that. I’m not stupid, Mr Howell.”

Dan laughs, glancing at her annoyed expression. “I know, Anna, I’m sorry. I’m the nonce here, not you. I just need to spell it out for myself sometimes.”

“We’re gonna be here all day at this rate,” Anna says.

Dan laughs again. “Hopefully not. So, um, conjugating… well, I bet you’re doing it without even realising. Think of a verb.”

“Break,” Anna says, unexpectedly.

Dan blinks at her. “Break?”

“Yeah,” she giggles. “It’s break-time soon. It’s the first thing I thought of.”

“Well, break-time is a noun…” Dan says, mind already slipping back into a panic as he considers how close break-time really is, and all that it might entail.

“Yes,” Anna says, exasperated. “But break is a verb, too. To break a glass. To break into dance. To break a heart.”

Dan swallows. “Yep, um… okay. You’re right. As usual.”

Anna beams proudly. “It’s like I’m teaching you today, sir.”

“So, how would you conjugate the verb ‘break’ if you put the pronoun ‘he’ in front of it?”

“He breaks,” Anna says at once. “Ohhh, I get it.”

Dan nods, smiling weakly. “Try and put it in a sentence.”

“He breaks your heart.”

It’s like a slap to the face.

“Great,” Dan grits out. “Try and write a few sentences down.”

Dan thinks about getting coffee again, but he knows he’d just be stalling for time. He doesn’t need to be any more caffeinated for this, anyway. He walks slowly through the halls, urging a teacher to spot him and force him to do some menial task for the next twenty minutes.

He doesn’t even know what it is that he’s wanting to avoid, but his gut is telling him it’s nothing good.

As if fate specifically told everyone to leave Dan alone today, no teachers even spare him a glance. He’s left with the full twenty minutes of free time, which has not happened in days.

He finds himself outside of Phil’s classroom door far too soon.

He knocks out of politeness, and hears a familiar voice call, “Come in!”

He pushes open the door. Phil is sat at his desk, frowning at his sticker-covered laptop, open before him. There are no cat whiskers on his face, today. There’s nothing zany on the whiteboard. The classroom is actually rather mess-free, unusually.

“Hey,” Dan says. His voice is smaller than he means it to be.

Phil looks up at him, closing the lid of his laptop. “Hey.”

Dan shifts from foot to foot, feeling awkward. How is it that just yesterday he strolled in here full of pep and happiness, and let Phil kiss him against the closed classroom door?

“You wanted to talk-”

“How are you today?” Phil interrupts, voice strained. “I didn’t get to ask, earlier.”

“Um,” Dan says, thrown. “Fine. Well, I’m a bit…” Dan flaps his hand in the air, a demonstration of his inner turmoil. “Can you just tell me what John said to you this morning? Before I came in.”

Phil’s eyes are pained, as if he’s begging Dan not to ask. Dan kind of wants to listen to those eyes, to just stall for time and exchange pleasantries until the bell rings again and they have to postpone this talk until lunch.

But he can’t live with the anxiety, so he stares Phil down.

Phil sighs, relenting.

“Can you… sit down?”

Dan takes a deep breath, and closes the door behind him. He takes one of the student chairs and pulls it up to the desk, opposite Phil. It feels strange, to sit this way. It reminds him, weirdly, that Phil is technically his boss, which is a bizarre thought, considering he’s never really acted as superior to Dan.

Dan sits straight and tense, waiting for Phil to speak. He doesn’t, so Dan jumps in for him.

“We’re not going out tonight, are we?”

Phil reaches up and removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes. He slides them back on, and clears his throat, looking very much like he doesn’t want to reply.

He drags his eyes back up to Dan, tortured. It’s unexpected, when Phil reaches across the desk for his hand, but he slips his own into it anyway, helpless to refuse.

“We can’t,” Phil says at last. “I-I’m so sorry, Dan. This is all my fault.”

He trails off, eyes fixed on their joined hands.

“What did John say?” Dan asks again, though he thinks, deep down, he already knows.

Phil sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “He said… apparently there’s a rumour going around amongst the students. Specifically the ones that were on the Paris trip.”

“Lemme guess, one student in particular?” Dan says, bitterness infiltrating his words.

He really will have to kill Jonah Frank at this rate.

“He didn’t say,” Phil says. “I don’t think it’s fair to blame any of them, though. They’re just kids.”

“So what’s the rumour?” Dan asks, tilting his chin up in defiance.

Phil looks at him, one eyebrow raised. “You know what it is, Dan.”

Dan just holds his gaze, needing this spelled out if he’s expected to accept it.

Phil sighs. “The rumour is that two of the teachers on that trip were… fraternising, let’s say.”

“Okay,” Dan says, brows knitting. “But why does it even matter? It wouldn’t affect anything. And we didn’t even-”

“It’s against school policy,” Phil interrupts, his cheeks a little pink. “That’s what John came to tell me this morning.”

Dan just stares at him, speechless. “It’s…”

“Yeah,” Phil says. He releases his hold on Dan’s hand, leaning back in his chair. He combs a hand through his hair. Dan flexes his fingers, feeling the absence of Phil’s at once. “There’s a rule about it. No romantic relationships between faculty members.”

“But I’m… I’m just a TA, I mean-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil cuts in. “John made it clear. It could affect our performance, and the kids’ safety, apparently, if it were true.”

Dan swallows hard, tears of frustration leaping into his ducts. He feels helpless, like a child being disciplined for something he hasn’t even done wrong. How can it be fair that the Universe gave him Phil on a beautiful, gilded platter… and then snatched him back again, before they’d even gotten a chance to be together, properly?

“What do you mean, ‘if it were true’?”

“That’s the thing,” Phil says. “At the moment it’s just a rumour. Student claims can’t be substantiated without evidence. If they could, we wouldn’t have jobs anymore.”

“What?!” Dan exclaims. “We’d be fired over this? But… that’s not fair! We didn’t even know-”

“I knew.”

There’s a pause as Dan tries to comprehend this.

“You knew,” he repeats.

Phil puts his head in his hands. He peers at Dan through his fingers. “Yes.”

Dan scrapes his chair backwards, feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden. He wants to run out of here, to find some fresh air and gulp down lungfuls of it, but at the same time he doesn’t want to be away from Phil.

“Dan, please understand,” Phil begs, leaning across the desk towards him. “I knew about the rule, but I didn’t think… at first I just thought it was harmless flirting, and that I wouldn’t let it go any further, but then you came to my house, and you kept being so sweet… and then you said all that stuff to me on the boat, and I just… I snapped. I couldn’t take it, I had to kiss you, to show you that it wasn’t just you, y’know?”

Dan stares at him, shell-shocked. How can something as simple as an unrequited crush have suddenly become so horribly complicated?

“You could’ve told me,” Dan says after a minute, his mind whirling. “At the very least, you could have told me the risk. Maybe then we’d have hidden it better.”

“It’s no use, Dan,” Phil says, his voice desperately sad. He’s probably been over this in his mind a hundred times already. “By the time we… y’know… it was already too late. The kids had already made up their minds about what they wanted to think. After that night on the boat, I woke up in your bed, and you were still sleeping next to me. You had this sweet little smile on your face. And I just lay next to you and tried and tried to think of how we could make it work. I thought maybe John might overlook it because we’re friends, or that you being a TA rather than a teacher might change things, but it didn’t.”

“So that’s it, then,” Dan surmises, nodding blankly. A numbness is spreading across his skin, ice cold. “There are no options for us. Apart from one.”

“I’ve been racking my brain ever since we got home,” Phil confesses. “I thought maybe I could….” he sighs, shaking his head. “John isn’t sure of anything yet. He’s just suspicious because of what the kids are saying. We can still keep our jobs, as long as we…”

His sentence trails off, but it’s all too clear what he means.

As long as we end it now.

Whatever it was.

“I’ll quit my job,” Dan declares, eyes shining with defiance. “I never wanted it anyway, I only applied here as a last resort-”

Phil is already shaking his head. “You can’t do that, Dan. You don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s the middle of the school year, no other schools will take you. And you need the money. Not to mention, the kids need you.”

Dan scoffs at this last objection, but slumps in his chair, knowing the rest to be true. If he quit this job, he’d be penniless and jobless. His rent is due soon, and he’s only just going to be able to scrape by as it is. Paris, whilst free on travel and accommodation, was not cheap.

“This isn’t fair,” Dan whispers, looking up at the ceiling to try and prevent the tears from coming. “I just got you.”

Phil presses his lips together. “If I could do something to change it, I would.” He draws his hands to his lap. “Anything. I’d do anything.”

“I almost wish you’d never kissed me at all,” Dan says.

Phil looks at him like he’s been punched, and Dan wants to hoover the words back up.

“Almost,” Dan reiterates, his voice weak.

For once, Dan is glad he doesn’t have any classes with Phil on Wednesdays. He spends the rest of his day in a daze, barely able to function, let alone assist classes particularly well. In his fourth period he has Jonah for IT, but he avoids him, sticking by a student struggling with Excel on the other side of the class.

As the class files out, Jonah approaches him.

“Are you pissed at me or somethin’, sir?”

“Don’t be silly, Jonah,” Dan says, not looking him in the eye.

I don’t think it’s fair to blame any of them, Phil had said. They’re just kids.

“You usually say hello to me,” Jonah points out. “Did I do something wrong, sir?”

“I have to go, actually,” Dan says. It probably isn’t the best way to handle the situation, but he can’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him break down in tears. “See you next class.”

He can feel Jonah staring after him as he hurries out of the classroom.

There is one staff bathroom in the school, located just off the staffroom itself. It’s unisex, with three cubicles and three sinks. There is hardly ever anyone in it, and Dan doesn’t really know why. He thinks it might be because the caretakers only restock the soap and toilet paper infrequently. More likely though, it’s just because the staff tend to forget it’s there. The school has four other sets of student toilets, two on each floor. Most of them are probably a lot nearer to teachers’ classrooms, so they don’t need to trek down to the staffroom to relieve themselves.

Dan has a lot of time to think about all this, huddled in the farthest stall of the empty staffroom toilet for a full hour at lunch time. Nobody comes in for the entire time he’s there, and he’s incredibly thankful, because if they did, he’d have to explain why he’s been curled up in here all this time, not to mention his red, splotchy face.

He just needed to let it out, he’d told himself when he first snuck in here, one hour ago. Just a quick cry, and then back to work.

As it turns out, this was a foolish decision on his part. As soon as the cubicle door shut, Dan had burst into noisy sobs. His knees jellified beneath him, and he’d slipped to the ground.

The thoughts attacked him in their thousands. Every single naive little fantasy he’d conjured up over the past couple of days wormed its way into Dan’s head, only to be smashed to pieces by the reverberating gong-noise of Phil’s voice saying: ‘We can’t do this.’

He and Phil, walking Buffy through the park on a summer afternoon, holding hands as she skipped around their feet.

He and Phil, snuggled on his sofa, watching old anime classics and kissing in the bits they’ve seen a thousand times.

He and Phil, hot and feverish, tangled in the sheets of Dan’s bed, trying to be quiet and failing miserably.

He and Phil, sending each other silly texts during their work days, sappy messages about how much they miss each other, even though they’re right down the hall.

All of these scenarios, the thousands that Dan has created in his head since he met Phil - they’re all gone. Shattered into a million shards by a stupid rumour, an even stupider rule, and then blown away in a gust of wind.

It’s crazy, Dan thinks, wiping his nose with his sleeve. He’s reacting as if they’d been together for years. In reality, Phil was never even his to start with.

What did they have, that’s lost, really? A stolen kiss on a riverboat, fumbling and cold. A gropey make out session on a hard single bed. Some flirting and blushing, acting like the schoolkids they were supposed to be looking after. Another kiss, pressed against a closed classroom door.

Fragments of something that turned into nothing. A fleeting romance, killed by the bureaucratic system within which they both found one another. It’s nonsensical, to be so upset by something that never even was.

Not bothered with sense in the slightest, his heart aches.

The worst part is that Dan is going to have to find a way to carry on. He will have to walk the same halls as Phil, every day. He’ll have to help Phil in class twice a week, and let the cheeky comments the students make slide off his back like it doesn’t affect him. He’ll see Phil making coffee in the staffroom, or buying secret cookies at lunch.

Even thinking of Phil is enough to make Dan’s heart pang. It’s enough to bring more tears to his eyes. How can he be expected to cope, seeing him so often, for real, in the weeks, months ahead?

It occurs to Dan, as the bell rings, that one lunch hour is simply not enough time to deal with the emotions rampaging in his poor, stricken head.

“Dan, do you want in on the Dominos order?”

Teddy’s voice is muffled through the closed door of Dan’s bedroom, and even more so by the covers pulled over Dan’s head. He lifts them off briefly, pausing his episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

“No, thanks.”

There’s silence then, so Dan turns back to his laptop, un-pausing it.

“Are you alright in there?” Teddy calls, forcing Dan to pause Buffy again. “You’re not sick are you?”

“I’m fine, Teddy.”

“I could bring you some soup, or-”

“I said I’m fine,” Dan shouts, hurling a pillow at the door.

“Alright, jeez.” Teddy says. “And I thought Ty was the drama queen in this house.”

He hears footsteps retreating, and he sighs. Buffy stares at him out of the screen, fearsome and beautiful. Her wooden stake is raised at shoulder height, ready to strike and kill.

“Must be nice to have something to stab whenever you need it,” Dan mutters to himself, and presses the space-bar.

He’s watched seven episodes already since he got in. That must be some kind of record. It’s been an okay distraction, as things go, but he can’t help being reminded of Phil, just because it’s his favourite.

He hasn’t eaten anything since this morning, but the thought of food is making him queasy, so he’s ignoring the fact he probably should. Even Dominos isn’t enough to tempt him.

Just as Buffy drives her stake into the heart of the third vampire this episode, Dan’s phone buzzes, lost somewhere in his duvet cocoon. He roots around for it, and brings it up to his face to see.

Phil *video file*

Dan frowns at his screen, his heart skipping when he reads the name. He opens his messages.

The video Phil has sent him is a link to a Vine, uploaded onto YouTube. He clicks it, curious, and watches a six second clip of a corgi twerking to Snoop Dogg’s ‘Wiggle’. He snorts with laughter, not expecting it, and clicks back onto his messages with Phil.

Dan r u looking at dog vines when u should be lesson planning again

Just before he hits send, his thumb hovers above the screen, his mind catching him. Exchanging witty banter with Phil over text is not going to make this situation any easier. Perhaps the best thing to do is just ignore it and move on.

He hits send.

“I have no self control,” Dan says aloud, groaning.

Phil ...no

Phil *video file*

This time it’s a baby sloth falling out of a tree. It lands in a pile of moss, unhurt, blinking in surprise. Dan giggles to himself beneath the darkness of his duvet.

Dan Stop texting me and get back to work

Phil but i miss you

The smile slips off Dan’s face.

Dan u cant say that to me

Phil sorry

Not knowing how to respond, Dan just locks his phone, placing it to one side as Willow and Xander flip through some ancient lore. The phone whispers to him, begging him to text again, but he stays strong, though it kills him a little.

Phil what are you doing? o.o

Dan srsly phil if u wanna break this off u cant send me cute texts

Dan its too hard as it is

Dan im already gonna have to see you every day and pretend like im not miserable

Phil you’re miserable?

Dan of course i am

Phil me too.

Phil *video file*

Phil that might be the actual reason im looking at cute animal vines

Dan is it working?

Phil no :(

Dan clicks the link Phil sent him with a sigh. It’s a video of a Pomeranian in a party hat, scoffing a cake with the words ‘Happy Birthday Pom Pom’ written on the top. Its cute little face is covered in white frosting.

Dan tht dog looks a bit like Buffy

Dan mayb u should turn her into a vine star

Phil vine is dead dan

Phil and buffy says she’s too good for vine anyway

Dan hahaha. tell buffy i miss her

Phil buffy misses you too.

There’s a stinging sensation in Dan’s left eye. He can feel a lump positioning itself in the middle of his throat. Dan rolls onto his back then, his right hand coming up to ghost over the bruise at the base of his neck.

It’s all he has left of Phil now. In a few weeks, it’ll have faded, and then what will he have to remind himself that this was real? A few half-faded memories? A couple of texts?

It’s not enough, he thinks, a tear leaking out of his duct. It slides down his temple, splashing onto the pillow behind his skull.

His phone buzzes again.

Phil *picture message*

Dan opens it warily. As the image flashes up, he lets out a pained little noise.

The photo is of Phil, in his muppet pyjama trousers and a black Pink Floyd t-shirt. He’s got Buffy under one arm, and she’s licking his face, making him laugh. His other hand is taking the photo.

He looks so soft, so homely. He looks just as Dan dreamed he would, in the fantasies where he and Phil lounge around his pretty, colourful house together, in casual clothes or pyjamas, Buffy clambering over their laps.

Dan a low blow phil

Phil Buffy insisted on sending u a selfie

Phil i just helped her

Dan buffy is such a tease

Dan she looks very cute in that photo

Dan i really really wish she was here

Phil she wishes that too.

On Thursday morning, Dan is sitting at his own kitchen table, sipping coffee and debating whether to call in sick to work. He’s got around fifteen minutes still, before he has to walk to catch his bus. It’s not very often that he isn’t rushing to get out of the door, but he woke up early and his anxious mind wouldn’t let him get back to sleep.

He takes another sip of coffee, staring at his phone.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be that suspicious, if he were ‘sick’ suddenly. John might be a little annoyed, as he didn’t work Monday either, because they were coming back from Paris.

At that moment, Tyler strolls into the room, immaculate and pristine in his navy suit. He looks at Dan in surprise, walking to the fruit bowl to grab an apple.

“Dan!” He says brightly. “You’re up early.”

Dan just nods slowly, still thinking.

Tyler takes a bite of the apple, leaning against the counter. “Everything okay?”

“Fine,” Dan says distractedly.

“It’s just, usually you’re tearing around the house at this time, looking for your other sock, or a tie, screaming at me that you’re gonna miss your-”

“Look, I’m up on time for once, okay?” Dan snaps. “No need to alert the media, I’m not always a total fucking mess, you know.”

Tyler stops chewing, eyes wide. He lets out a low whistle. “Fucking hell, no need to bite my head off.”

Dan shuts his eyes, breathing out slowly. He can feel the irritation sitting beneath his skin, but he shoves it down as best he can.

“Sorry,” he grits out, scraping his chair backwards. “We can’t all be morning people.”

He throws the remainder of his coffee down the sink, splashing it everywhere. Tyler jumps back from the spray, looking at his suit jacket in alarm.

“What’s up with you, Dan?” Tyler asks, sounding a little annoyed. “I thought you were on cloud fucking nine at the moment. Why are you being such a twat to us?”

Dan just grabs a cloth, wiping up the coffee he just splashed everywhere, his teeth clamped shut.

“Dan, if you don’t tell me what’s up your ass, I’ll-”

“What?” Dan asks, spinning round to glare at him. “You’ll annoy me to death? You do that just fine anyway.”

Tyler looks momentarily angry, but it passes quickly. He places the apple to one side, his expression melting into one of sympathy.

“It’s hot teacher, isn’t it,” he surmises, his voice filled with pity. “Did something happen?”

Dan wants to shout at him. He wants to yell that it’s none of his fucking business, and that he should butt his big head out of it. Instead, he opens his mouth to scream, and instead starts to cry.

He takes one step and falls straight into Tyler’s chest, sniffling. Tyler holds him readily, not hesitating for a moment, his arms coming round Dan’s back.

“Aw, Dan, love,” Tyler says softly. “You’re gonna get my suit all damp.”

“You can stand one day of looking not-perfect, Ty,” Dan says, sniffling.

“What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dan sighs, leaning away from him. Tyler’s arm stays on his back, rubbing lightly. “It’s over, that’s all.”

“I don’t understand,” Tyler says. “I thought you were so into one another?”

Dan shrugs, checking his watch. “Things got in the way.”

“Things?” Tyler asks, confused. “I don’t-”

“Look, Ty, thanks for being nice, but I have to go.”

“Sweetie, if you need to talk about this-”

“Yeah, um, later,” Dan says vaguely. “I’ve got to catch my bus.”

“Wait,” Tyler calls, just as Dan is about to bolt out of the door. He pauses, turning back, despite really wanting to flee this conversation. “Don’t you have a class with him today?”

Dan nods dejectedly. “Third period.”

“Shit,” Tyler says, pitying. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

The one time Dan wants his lessons to stretch on, they go double speed. Mercifully, he’s given a load of copying to do for Mr Richstein during break-time, so he doesn’t see Phil all morning. But all too soon, it’s 10:55am, and he has nothing to do except make his way down the corridors to Classroom Nine.

He drags his feet and dawdles, but it doesn’t make any difference. He ends up there in no time, hovering outside the partly open door. This time, he doesn’t even bother knocking.

Phil is, for some reason, rolling out an enormous sheet of white paper across the length of the floor. It reaches from wall to wall, covering the entire classroom. He’s pushed all the tables and chairs to the edges of the room, leaving a huge gap in the middle for it.

As Dan edges inside, Phil looks up, his glasses slipped a little way down his nose. “Oh,” he says. “Hi.”

“I’m scheduled to be here,” Dan blurts out. “Today. At eleven. To assist.”

Phil smiles at him. “I know.”

Dan swallows, nodding. “Cool.”

Phil stands up then, stepping on tiptoes to the edge of the paper. “Um, maybe we should take our shoes off.”

“Right,” Dan says, obeying immediately. It’s only as he’s untying his second pair of laces, one hand braced against the wall, that he thinks to ask why. “Uh, any reason I’m getting my feet out?”

Phil chuckles at him, pulling off his own shoes. “So we don’t make any marks on the paper.”

“Right,” Dan says again. “God forbid.”

Phil laughs again. “I’d tell you what we’re doing today, but-”

“But you want it to be a surprise.”

“Oh no,” Phil says, standing up in just his socks. “I’m becoming predictable.”

“Never,” Dan replies, honestly.

There’s an awkward pause, and Dan uses it to find somewhere to stow his shoes for the next hour.

“By the way,” Phil tells him conversationally. “The timetable’s changed a little. We’ve got the Year Nine’s today.”

Dan looks up in shock. “What?”

“Yeah,” Phil shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Because they missed their History class on Monday due to the trip. So I switched with Mr Hawkins. He’s taking the Year Eight’s for Religious Studies, and I’m getting the Year Nine lot for this period. Just for this week, obviously.”

“But… but why?” Dan asks, a swell of panic rising in his chest as he considers the idea that they students from the Paris trip - the very students that blew up a very promising budding relationship with their cruel gossip - are going to be here in less than two minutes.

“Well, we just thought it was more important that they have the lesson today,” Phil shrugs, eyeing Dan confusedly. “They’ve got their mock GCSE’s coming up after all… and… Dan, are you okay?”

Dan is not okay. He’s struggling to remain calm.

“I just… didn’t realise.”

Phil watches him carefully, then steps onto the paper on the floor, as if he’s about to walk over.

“They won’t say anything, Dan,” Phil says quietly, dithering in the middle of the paper. “It will be okay.”

Dan meets his gaze, badly wanting to believe that. “How do you know?”

Before Phil can reply, three girls - Savannah, Caoibhe, and Gaeul all walk in, giggling about something. They stop short at the sight of the paper across the floor, looking at Phil for guidance.

“Shoes off, girls!” Phil cries, all seriousness wiped from his expression. “We’re having a socks-only lesson today.”

The girls laugh, slipping off their ankle boots and ballet pumps, then walking carefully across the paper to place them neatly at the side of the room with their bags. As the others file through the door, they follow suit, each bringing another bubble of excitement to the atmosphere.

Dan, perched up on one of the tables at the side of the class, just watches anxiously, waving and smiling as best he can at the familiar faces.

“Hi, sir!” They call brightly, sensing nothing amiss.

“Hey, Mr Howell, how’re you?”

“Bonjour, Mr Howell!”

Finally, Jonah bowls through, grinning and calling his greeting to Mr Lester, like nothing is wrong, like he hasn’t destroyed everything with his carelessness.

Dan hides a scowl, and tries to tell himself to remain professional.

Once everyone is inside, their shoes removed, they sit cross-legged on the large blank canvas beneath them, and Phil introduces the class. They’re going to be creating a mural, based around the Paris trip. Everyone will draw their favourite memory, and relate it to a piece of Parisian history from the time period they’ve been focusing on. They can draw anything, as long as it’s relevant and appropriate.

Penises, Phil reminds the class, are not permitted.

The class get to work at once, grabbing the coloured pencils, chalks, and pens Phil hands out in big tubs. They talk amongst themselves, busy creating their masterpieces, so Dan hops down to wander through them all, peering at their drawings.

“Sir, you’ll smudge my design!” Katie complains, batting at Dan’s socked foot as he walks by her.

“Oops, sorry,” he says, stepping backwards.

“Sir, you’re walking on my Eiffel Tower!” Matthew cries.

Dan apologises profusely, and makes his way quickly to the edge of the class, where Phil’s desk is, trying to avoid any more disasters. Phil giggles at him, perched on the edge of his desk like a deity overlooking his Kingdom.

“Perhaps you should design something for the mural too, Mr Howell,” Phil suggests, holding out an array of pencils to him.

Dan gives him a withering look. “I knew this was all a ploy to get me to draw again.”

Phil chuckles. “Told you I’m becoming predictable.”

Dan sighs, rolling his eyes, and takes a few of the pencils from his hand, trying not to focus on the way his fingers drag over Phil’s.

“What do I draw, then?”

“What’s your favourite memory from the trip?” Phil asks.

Seconds after the question leaves his mouth, he seems to realise how loaded it is, and blushes, looking away.

Dan doesn’t look at him either, trying to focus on coming up with literally anything remotely appropriate to draw.

“As if you need to ask him that, sir,” Jonah calls to Phil, smirking.

Dan fixes him with a glare. “That’s enough, Jonah.”

“Aw, lay off, sir,” Jonah replies, glaring right back at him. “I’m only sayin’ what everyone already knows. Your favourite memory of Paris isn’t gonna be the fuckin’ Champs-Elysee is it?”

“I mean it, Jonah,” Dan says, standing up straighter. “Pipe down.”

“How exactly are you gonna draw you and Lester suckin’ face, anyway?” Jonah asks, chin jutting out defiantly. “Chalk and charcoal?”

“I said that’s enough!” Dan shouts.

“Dan,” Phil says softly, his voice a warning. Dan ignores him.

“For God’s sake, Jonah, it’s not appropriate for you to make those kind of comments!”

A slow smirk spreads over Jonah’s face. “Struck a nerve did I, sir?”

“Jonah, I am warning you-”

“Oh go blub to your boyfriend about it,” Jonah says, rolling his eyes.

The rest of the class have stopped drawing now. They’ve stopped their chattering too, nineteen pairs of eyes fixed on Dan and Jonah, their mouths open in shock.

Dan grits his teeth. He can already feel the anger rushing through his bloodstream, churned up by Jonah’s insolent behaviour. He’s not going to be able to choke it down this time.

“Get out,” he snarls. Jonah stares in surprise.

“What?”

“I said get out of this classroom, Jonah Frank.”

“Dan,” Phil hisses at him, one hand on Dan’s arm. Dan pulls free of him, furious. “Dan, you can’t just-”

Dan stalks over to the door then, stamping over several students’ drawings as he goes, though nobody says a word. He pulls open the door, fixes Jonah with a hard stare, and gestures to the hall outside.

“I’m not going to ask again.”

“Sir, can he do this?” Jonah asks, turning his attention to Phil.

Phil swallows, turning to Jonah. “Mr Howell is just as much of a superior to you as I am, Jonah. If he feels you are misbehaving, he can discipline you however he sees fit.”

“So, you agree wiv’im?” Jonah asks, cross now. He gets to his feet, throwing a piece of chalk down in anger.

“Yes,” Phil says, though he doesn’t seem happy about it. “Do as he says, Jonah.”

“This is bullshit, an’ all,” Jonah growls, but stalks through the open door into the hallway, pulling it closed behind him.

“Wait out there, Jonah!” Dan calls.

“Alright everyone,” Phil says weakly. “Back to work.”

Reluctantly, the kids return to their drawings, whispering quietly. Dan doesn’t need to wonder what they’re all saying. He passes a hand over his face, wondering what the fuck he’s doing.

As Dan looks up, he notices Phil starting to pick his way through the kids towards him, and swallows, sensing the incoming storm. Phil is calm, aiming strained smiles and encouraging comments at the students, but as soon as he gets close enough, he takes Dan by the arm. Dan just lets it happen, allowing himself to be led without a struggle to the very edge of the classroom, as far from the students’ earshot as possible.

He tries to brace himself for a telling off, and has a quiet word with his own body that no matter how stern and teacher-y Phil gets with him, he is by no means allowed to get aroused by it.

“Look, Phil, he was being disrespectful,” Dan says immediately, wanting to try to get his word in first. “He’s been saying that shit for way too long, it’s not appropriate-”

“Dan, do not even try to tell me that this wasn’t a personal vendetta against one individual.”

Dan shuts up, sighing. “He had it coming.”

Phil groans in exasperation. “Dan, you have to see how bad this is. You can’t just send students out of my class without telling me.”

“You said you agreed!”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Phil asks, his voice low so the others won’t hear. “Say you were wrong? Undermine you in front of the whole class?”

“But I’m not wrong!” Dan fires back, frustrated. “You know his behaviour is inappropriate, I’m only doing what you should have done weeks ago-”

“Do not tell me how to do my job, Dan.”

Dan blinks at him, taken aback by the harshness of his tone. Phil has never spoken to him so sternly before. His serious expression is gone in a flash, but it doesn’t matter. It will stick in Dan’s mind forever, probably.

“Fine, whatever, I’ll go and get him back in.”

Phil sighs, catching Dan’s wrist as he starts to head for the door. He drops it quickly, remembering where they are. Dan feels the fingers slip over his skin, and winces.

“No, look,” Phil starts. “It’s fine. It’s done now. I’ll go and speak to him, tell him not to say that stuff anymore.” Phil looks heavenward. “Not that I have any idea how to begin that conversation…”

“I’ll do it,” Dan says softly. “This is my mess. I’ll clear it up.”

Phil pauses, considering. He chews his lip. “Okay. But… can you do me a favour?”

“Anything,” Dan says, too quickly. He curses himself for saying it, eyes slipping shut.

“Just… don’t be too harsh on him,” Phil says, his voice a little croaky again. “He’s not a bad kid. He just teases people. But it’s a sign of affection.”

Dan looks at Phil, a realisation dawning over him. “I screwed up the rapport you’ve built with the most troubled kid in school, didn’t I?”

Phil shrugs, tiredly. “I hope not.”

(Part 11!)

#phan #l'histoire française #teacher au #phan teacher au #my fics #sorry for the sadness!

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transformationstuck · 7 years ago

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“dude i know youre into some sappy romcom shit but damn that is the weirdest-ass sappiest-ass mess of words ive ever heard come out of your shouthole”

“LOOK YOU FUCKING NONCE, IT’S A COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY NORMAL ADVANCE TO BE MADE BY SOMEONE WHO IS IN THE THROES OF A CONCUPISCIENT COURTSHIP. NOW DO YOU WANT TO DO THIS SAPPY TROLL JOINING HORSESHIT OR NOT? KANAYA WAS KIND ENOUGH TO LOAN ME THIS SHIT, I WANT TO GET TO USE IT.”

The Knights of Time and Blood sat in the meteor lounge, Karkat astride Dave’s lap and holding a large, crystalline bottle three-quarters filled with a murky and uncertain fluid. Both their faces were a rosy red, Karkat’s sweater off and Dave’s god-tier robes half pushed up from a rather heated little session that was just getting started when Karkat deployed the flask. A little hazy-eyed behind his shades, Dave panted and frowned at the strange decanter. Karkat said he got it from Kanaya, who’d apparently used it on Rose for some of the ‘Best Pailing Ever’. Kanaya did look quite smug lately, though he hadn’t seen Rose in a bit… maybe they just fucked so hard she didn’t even want to get out of bed anymore, or maybe she was just doing her usual Rose thing and withdrawing.

“well... fuck dude were both already packin fuckin heat here so like whatever floats your dick boat…” Dave replied after a moment of thought, lifting his shirt (and cape) the rest of the way and tossing it across the room. As he started squirming beneath Karkat to try and remove his pants, he asked - “so what its some weird lube or some shit”

“NO. WELL. FUCK SORT OF? I RUB YOU DOWN WITH IT AND THEN MY BULGE, AND THEN…”

“whatever dude, just get on with it.” Dave cut him off, pushing his pants all the way to the ground to expose his pale legs and stiff excitement. He wasn’t too sure about what was going on, but… fuck it, right? Live a little. Even if it just turned out weird, he could get off on the irony, or something.

“TRUST ME DAVE, YOU’RE NOT GOING TO REGRET THIS. I GUARANTEE IT. JUST SIT BACK AND ENJOY.”

Grinning rather toothily, Karkat popped the cork from the crystal flask, the powerfully aromatic scent within wafting up between them, like cloves and perfume and potent musk all blended together. He poured a slow trail of the milky off-white fluid down Dave’s chest, relishing in the soft gasp from the pale Texan. With one hand he slowly pumped Dave’s erection, thumb grazing over the glans every few strokes, while the other began to smear the slick fluid across his body in slow, massaging circles. Dave could make such cute noises and gasps when he felt nice, it was almost a shame… But while cute fluttery moans and breathy pants of ‘oh fuck’ were all well and good, Karkat knew what Kanaya had shared with him would be so much better.

Once Dave’s frontside was fully anointed with the potent-smelling fluid (and his human prick twitched and quivered from the constant teasing), he was like putty in Karkat’s hands, so pliant and willing. The troll crawled off his lap and dropped his own pants at last to bare his stout, squirming red bulge - a little shorter than average, but it made up for it in girth. Of course, that was all going to change in the next few minutes. He rolled Dave over, continuing his work of anointing him with Kanaya’s salve while grinding up between his cheeks. Try as he might to keep his classic cool-kid composure, Dave was now needy, breathless and moaning - the salve made him feel so sensitive, slick and eager to receive every little touch he could get from Karkat. He couldn’t even bring himself to stammer out a shaky half-joking jab.

“f-fuck dude, im fuckin dripping in this stuff, just fuckin put it in already… my whole fuckin body is just tingling, dude...” murmured Dave, reaching back to spread his cheeks a little more and expose his quite-ready pucker. Karkat decanted one last little dollop of the salve into his hand and pumped his bulge to full excitement with it, relishing the potent tingle of its activation. Then without further ado, he sidled up behind Dave and guided his wriggling, writhing bulge into that waiting tightness. Dave groaned loudly at the slow, steady insertion, belly-muscles clenching and tensing teetered on the brink of orgasm -- but not quite cresting it..The lotion had him feeling so needy, so tense and hypersensitive, as if every part of him was as sensate as the very tip of his cock. He writhed against Karkat, pressing back against him vigorously with each thrust as his lover’s bulge squirmed and wriggled within.

Karkat cooed over Dave, half-whispering little murmurs of affection and approval into his ear and giving him a few affectionate nips to the earlobe and neckline, all while meandering further salve-slicked fingertips all across Dave’s body. From Kanaya’s primer on the matter he knew how nice it must feel, and how important it was to keep the soon-to-be bulge happy and stimulated. He could already see a brighter-than-normal reddish sheen rising to Dave’s body, slick with more than just the musky lotion. Somehow the knowledge of their coming bonding just made it even better, and he redoubled his efforts, pumping as hard as he could.

Dave’s head was swimming, his entire body alight with sheer electric bliss. It was hard to focus on anything but getting fucked, on cumming - as blissful as the salve made him, he was left teetering right there on the edge of release for so very long. He drooled, absently taking note that despite not having sucked Karkat off at all today, his drool tasted a little musky, a little thick... A little like Karkat. That was fine, right? It was normal to drool your owner’s precum after getting fucked in the ass for an hour, right?

Wait, where’d that thought come from? It felt unbidden, and yet… unsettlingly natural at the same time. Some little part in the back of his mind just wanted to relax, let go, feel it all slip away and enjoy the feelings coursing through his body - or was it his owner’s body now? The thrusts felt so shallow despite Karkat’s obvious fervour, and yet at the same time, deeper and better than anything he’d ever felt. He tried to trail his hands down his own body to grasp at his own cock, only to find his arms couldn’t quite reach it; through hazy eyes he saw his hands - fingers merging, arms shortening and connected by a webbing of cherry-red flesh to his torso, no - the rest of his shaft. He could feel himself getting softer, more slippery, and wet - slick with the same musky precum that was one of his favourite things to suckle from his owner’s bulge.

“THERE, ISN’T THIS MUCH BETTER, DAVE? YOU’RE LOOKING BETTER ALREADY. JUST RELAX, SOON YOU’LL BE AN EXCELLENT BULGE.” cooed Karkat as Dave felt himself shrinking. He opened his mouth to reply, but all that billowed forth was a sticky spurt of cherry-red excitement, its potent tangy musk further filling his mind with haze. It felt nice to let that out, it felt nice to just squirm and writhe on Karat’s bulge - as Karkat’s bulge. The troll’s hands felt bigger and bigger on his shaft as he continued changing, features melting and washing away. And as the troll’s hands moved faster and faster along his thick, nearly-complete new bulge, what had once been Dave could feel only a rising bliss in his - its? - owner’s body, and he began to tense and twitch. With one last rough yelp of pleasure from the redblooded troll, an all-encompassing rush of pure bliss tore through them both. The last thing Dave felt before his final transformation was the hot-blooded rush of cherry-red geneslime gushing through what had once been his mouth, pint after pint of sticky seed that cascaded across the couch in a dramatic arc as the two joined eternally in a wave of searing ecstasy.

Karkat continued stroking the bulge that had once been Dave for several long minutes, drawing out his pailing-session until the entire couch was utterly sodden with scarlet fluids and he was entirely spent. Finally he sat back with a relaxed sigh on an un-soaked seat, just idly stroking the now foot-long member that roiled affectionately against his belly, cooing little affectionate words that he might never have spoken to Dave un-altered.

“HAH, MARYAM REALLY WASN’T KIDDING AROUND, THAT WAS… THAT WAS THE MOST INCREDIBLE PAILING I COULD’VE EVER HOPED FOR. I WONDER WHAT HARLEY AND EGBERT ARE GOING TO THINK OF ALL THIS… GUESS THEY’RE IN FOR A BIG FUCKING SURPRISE...” he muttered, watching the wrist-thick red appendage that had been his matesprit twitch and coil between his fingers. What had once been Dave Strider, Knight of Time, now just spurted a little jet of ruby-red pre across its new owner’s hands, now nothing but a pleasure-seeking tendril. As Karkat slipped off into a well-fucked nap, the new bulge slowly retracted into the warm embrace of his grey-lined sheath, safe and sound - that little bit of Dave that still remained - still gave that bulge the little mind of its own - had never been so content.

#mod gg #the long-awaited sequel to the Kanaya/Rose CTF!

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